Both girls kept close watch on their pursuers. They could not make out the faces of its occupants—it was still too dark—nor did they recognize the voices that hailed them frequently. It was plain, however, that the pursuing launch was gaining.
“It must be Jones,” cried Shirley. “Be ready to jump the minute we run aground, Mabel.”
Mabel signified that she understood, and gathering up her skirts, she stood up in the prow of the launch.
A moment later the little craft grounded with a shock. Mabel leaped lightly ashore, and turned to lend Shirley a hand. But this was unnecessary, for the moment she realized the boat had struck bottom, Shirley dropped the oars and also sprang ashore.
Quickly she grasped her friend by the hand.
“Run!” she cried, and suited the action to the word.
Swiftly the two girls sped over the uneven ground toward shelter of a dense clump of trees not far away. And they disappeared among these just as the second launch grounded and several figures leaped ashore.
The first of the pursuers caught a glimpse of the two figures disappearing in the woods, and immediately gave chase. The others followed him.
Hearing pursuing footsteps, the girls redoubled their efforts and were soon, they believed, safe from pursuit. They sat down quickly, to take a much-needed rest.
There came the sound of footsteps crashing through the underbrush. Shirley glanced about.