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"I'll tell you a secret," said Charlie, trying to give Jo something good to think about, "I happen to be a good friend of Wallace Shipley, and when we get out of here, I promise that you'll have a chance to meet him. What do you think of that?"

"You're just trying to get my mind off the pain," replied Jo, disbelievingly. "It was a nice try, though."

"You don't believe me?" laughed Charlie. "I wish more people took that attitude. I'd have much more privacy in my life. Jo, I'm 'that Charlotte woman' you were just talking about."

"You are not!" giggled Jo, wincing at the last, because she forgot not to move.

"Seriously, I am Charlotte Overholt," insisted Charlie.

"Then show me your driver's license," challenged Jo, enjoying the game Charlie had come up with.

"I don't have a driver's license," explained the young woman, sheepishly. "Kevin, my bodyguard, does all the driving."

"You're good at this game!" said Jo with admiration.

"I'm completely serious," said Charlie, incredulous that she was unable to convince one eight year old girl that she was who she was. "I know! I'll shine the flashlight in my face, and you'll be able to recognize me!"

Charlie grabbed the flashlight and shined it directly onto her face.

"You don't look anything like Charlotte Overholt," frowned Jo, suddenly bursting into laughter at Charlie's fuddled expression.

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie.

"She was prettier!" contradicted Jo, through her peals of laughter.

"Oh, is she really?" laughed Charlie, hugging the child. "Well, I give up. My promise about Wallace Shipley still stands, though. If you continue to be brave, like you have been, I promise that you'll get to meet Wallace Shipley, if I have to drag him to Montana, myself!"

"That would be nice," sighed Jo, still not believing her rescuer's identity. "Maybe, I could get his autograph. There was this guy on the Internet, who auctioned off a genuine autographed CD jacket, and it went for a couple hundred dollars."

"Really?" smiled Charlie. "I'll have to remember that," she laughed.

As the cave became colder and colder, Charlie took out all of the extra clothing she had in her backpack, and put it on Jo, who was in worse shape than herself.

"I wish morning would come," whimpered the girl, through her loudly chattering teeth.

"You won't, when the bats return," joked Charlie.

"You mean, they're coming back?" cried the girl, in dismay.

"We rode it out once before, and we can do it, again," rallied the teenager. "Are you warm, yet? Here, give me your hands."

Charlie rubbed the girl's hands between her own, and then Jo did likewise for hers. As the night wore on, Jo fell asleep. Charlie wasn't sure if she should try to keep the girl awake or not, but at last decided to give her respite from the pain by letting her rest. Charlie checked Jo's lips, and they were still pink. It looked as though the shock was successfully being staved off. Before long, Charlie, too, fell asleep.

Charlie's fourth day in the wild, began with a flurry of wings and squeals. Jo cried in horror as the bats passed once more over their heads, to their roost at the back of the cave. Something happened, though, that Charlie hadn't counted on. As they hid beneath the sleeping bag, they heard the sounds of what sounded like large rain drops hitting their cover. From the smell, Charlie didn't have long to guess what it was.

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