“Oh, no, do let Marjorie——”
“I have placed you, Ruth; and you are all to obey my orders. They are final!”
Ruth turned away crestfallen. For some reason unknown to the girls, she was not nearly so eager for the adventure as they would have expected her to be. The others all chafed at the hour of idleness their captain insisted upon enforcing, before starting upon their search. By nine o’clock, all but the scouts designated to remain at camp were in their bathing-suits, ready to take the plunge.
Marjorie was eager for the undertaking. She stood on the shore, one foot dipped into the water, anxiously awaiting the signal for departure. At the first sound of the whistle she was in the stream, swimming with a long, even stroke for the opposite shore. Ethel Todd was by her side.
“I do hope somebody finds them!” she called, as she brought her head out of the water. “But I guess we won’t be the ones to do it!”
“No, it will probably be the girls who went down stream—with Miss Phillips!”
“Then I hope it’s Frieda, and not Ruth! She has a swelled head already.”
“Right you are!” agreed Ethel.
They swam silently for several minutes, making good progress. As they neared the opposite shore they perceived how thick the undergrowth was, close to the shore.
“The boats could be hidden there,” observed Ethel.