"Don't go, Jack!" cried Molly. "Its so dark and wet, oh, Jack, don't go! I've still got my matches left--never mind yours now."
But Jack was hardly listening. "It's only just down the hill--won't be a minute--you wait here--I must get them, Molly--we may need them. It isn't so dark--I can see all right."
"Wait, wait, Jack. Oh, I know--let me strike one of my matches and see if it can find the other box for us." Molly was fumbling in her satchel quickly. But Jack hadn't heard her, and had started off impetuously, calling back, "Shall be back in a minute. Wait there, Moll."
"I'm coming too," called Molly, but the wind howled past and Jack did not hear as he raced down the hill.
Fastening up Jack's satchel and slipping it over her shoulders together with her own satchel, and clasping her own box of matches firmly in her hand, Molly set out after her brother, calling his name as she ran. It was very silly of Jack to tear off like this, she thought, but she was only anxious to get him back safely in the porch again out of the darkness and the rain. She did not stop to light one of her matches until she was about half-way down the hill. Then she stopped and struck one. No ordinary match would have kept alight a second in such a storm, but Old Nancy's matches, as she already knew, were not ordinary. The light gathered all on one side as usual, pointing straight down the hill.
Molly had just time to see the figure of Jack running in front of her--he had reached the bridge--when the match flame veered right round and pointed up the hill.
Molly turned and looked, but there was nothing to be seen there. What did it mean? She hastened on down the hill, and as her match went out, she lit another one.
This time the light from the match showed her that Jack was on the bridge and had crossed over to the footpath, and was bending down to pick something up. So he had found his matches! But even as she saw Jack, her eye caught sight of something coming from the direction of the Orange Wood along the river bank, toward the bridge. Then the flame from the match veered round and pointed up the hill. But not before Molly had seen what it was that was creeping toward Jack on the other side of the river.