To their astonishment, Libbie burst into a fit of hysterical weeping.
"Don't go through the woods," she begged, her teeth chattering. "We'll fall into that awful Indian Chasm."
Bobby's heart reproached her for her thoughtless joke and she put an arm around her cousin.
"Libbie, you never thought I was serious about pushing you into the chasm, did you?" she asked anxiously. "Is that what has been making you act so queerly ever since? I was only fooling."
So, thought Betty, Bobby, too, had noticed Libbie's unnatural behavior.
"Oh, it isn't that," sobbed Libbie. "I can't explain—but if we go through the woods, I'm sure I shall go crazy."
"Well, then, that settles it," said Bob comfortably. "Better to be drowned than to go crazy. Can you turn up your sweater collars, girls? I wish we'd brought some raincoats along."
Splashing and stumbling, they followed Bob down to the shore and began the weary walk that would lead them back to the school. After fifteen minutes' steady walking they came to a dense undergrowth that was impossible to penetrate.
"No use, we'll have to make a cut through the woods," announced Bob. "Up this way and over, ought to bring us out right."
He was so cheerful and patient that the tired, rain-soaked girls could not do otherwise than follow his example. Libbie was crying silently, but the others tramped along cheerfully, singing, at Betty's suggestion, old college and school songs.