"That'll keep the sun off," said she, "while I'm gone for help."
CHAPTER XIII
Breaking the News
"I WONDER," said Marjory, who, perched on the edge of the bank, was shaking the sand from a dried bathing suit, "what's happened to Mabel. She's running down the beach like mad. And calling! I guess she wants somebody."
"If you'd keep quiet," suggested Henrietta, "perhaps you could hear what she says."
"It's 'Mr. Bla-a-a-a-a-ack!'" mimicked Marjory.
Mabel was breathless by the time she reached the foot of the steep sand bank, just below the camp.
"Oh," she panted. "Mr. Black—get him, quick. And, Jean, you come. And, Mrs. Crane—scissors! I must have scissors. Phew!"
"Be quiet a moment," advised motherly Mrs. Crane, from the bank. "Sit right down where you are and rest till you get your breath. Marjory, you're the quickest—you run for Mr. Black; he's just started for the wigwam to see if he can find Dave. Jean, I'll trust you with my scissors; but I'm going to tie them to you with a piece of string. There! Now we'll go down to Mabel.