“I think it came from yonder,” and the girl from the Red Mill pointed to a big, round rock ahead of them.
“Maybe it did, Ruth. We’ll–yes, you are right!” exclaimed the boy.
As he spoke there was a scraping sound ahead of them and suddenly a tousled black head popped, up over the top of the boulder from which fluttered the bit of white linen that had first attracted Ruth’s attention.
“Gracious goodness!” gasped Helen.
“It’s Nita!” cried Ruth.
“Oh, oh!” shrilled the lost girl, flying out of concealment and meeting Ruth as she leaped ashore. “Is it really you? Have you come for me? I–I thought I’d have to stay here alone forever. I’d given up all hope of any boat seeing me, or my signal. I–I’m ’most dead of fear, Ruth Fielding! Do, do take me back to land with you.”
The Western girl was clearly panic-stricken. The boldness and independence she had formerly exhibited were entirely gone. Being marooned on this barren islet had pretty well sapped the courage of Miss Jane Ann Hicks.
CHAPTER XXIV
PLUCKY MOTHER PURLING
Tom Cameron audibly chuckled; but he made believe to be busy with the painter of the catboat and so did not look at the Western girl. The harum-scarum, independent, “rough and ready” runaway was actually on the verge of tears. But–really–it was not surprising.