The Busters slowly climbed the knoll in rather woebegone fashion. Their feathers certainly were drooped, as Frank remarked.
“Well,” said Dave, throwing himself down on the sward, “we must hand it to you Go-Aheads. You’ve got us ’way out on the limb, and if you shake the tree very hard we’ll drop off.”
“No, thanks!” snapped Bess. “We don’t care for green fruit.”
“Oh, oh!” squealed Ferd. “I bet that hurt me.”
“Now, there’s no use quarreling,” said Dave. “We admit defeat. Where under the sun you girls could have hidden our canoes I don’t see. And your own haven’t been used this morning, that’s sure.”
Wyn and her mates broke into uncontrollable laughter at this.
“Who’s the joke on now?” cried Bess.
“What will you give to find your canoes?” exclaimed Frankie.
“Aw–say–don’t rub it in,” begged Tubby. “We own up to the corn. You beat us. Where are the canoes?”
“Ahem!” said Wynifred, clearing her throat loudly, and standing forth.