The wind continued to blow steadily–a little harder, indeed, as time passed; but the sun grew hotter. It came noon, and they knew that those at Green Knoll Camp had long since expected them back.
Finally a figure appeared upon the path far down the hill. They recognized Tubby Blaisdell trudging painfully up the slope in the hot sun, evidently an unwilling messenger from Mrs. Havel and Professor Skillings.
They began to shout to Tubby, although they knew very well it was useless. He couldn’t have heard their voices down there, even if the windmill hadn’t made so much noise.
But the girls fluttered their hats from the window and, bye and bye, the stolid fat youth, glancing up while he mopped his brow, caught sight of the signals. He halted, glared up at the window from under his hand, and then hurried his steps.
“Oh, you Tubby!” shouted Frank, at last, thrusting her tousled curls out of the window. “Can’t you help us?”
He heard these words, and looked more bewildered than ever.
“Say! what do you want?” he bellowed up at them. “Don’t ask me to climb up those ladders, for I can’t. And Mrs. Havel and the prof. say for you to come back to camp. They think a storm is coming. Besides–aren’t you hungry?”
“Hungry! why, Tub,” yelled down Ferd, “if we could only get at you, we’d eat you alive!”
Tubby looked more than a little startled, and glanced behind him to see that the way of retreat was clear.
“Well, why don’t you come down and get your lunch, then?” demanded young Blaisdell.