My spirit was too far broken to make reply. But to my relief I saw
that in leaving the beach Edgar had some second purpose. With each
heavy step he was drawing toward two high banks of sand in a hollow
behind which, protected by the banks, were three stunted,
wind-driven pines. His words came back to me.

"So many what-you-may-call-'ems." Were these pines the three
somethings from something, the what-you-may-call-'ems? The thought
chilled me to the spine. I gazed at them fascinated. I felt like
falling on my knees in the sand and tearing their secret from them
with my bare hands. I was strong enough to dig them up by the
roots, strong enough to dig the Panama Canal! I glanced tremulously
at Edgar. His eyes were wide open and, eloquent with dismay, his
lower jaw had fallen. He turned and looked at me for the first time
with consideration. Apology and remorse were written in every line
of his countenance.

I'm sorry, he stammered. I had a cruel premonition. I exclaimed
with distress.

"You have lost the map!" I hissed.

"No, no," protested Edgar; "but I entirely forgot to bring any
lunch!"

With violent mutterings I tore off my upper and outer garments and
tossed them into the hack.

"Where do I begin?" I asked.