“That’s the one Marj and Frieda took!” cried Ruth, with assurance. “And you can mark my words, they’re ahead of us right now! They just thought they’d be smart and beat us!”
“But they’d have to make portage,” objected Ethel. “And with all those peaches——”
“Portages mean nothing in Frieda Hammer’s young life!” contradicted Ruth. “She’s as strong as an ox!”
“Well, if they did, I call it mean,” said Florence. “I’m dying for a peach.”
“Me too!” put in Alice.
They fell silent again; the creek as it approached the river was becoming swifter, and the canoes required more attention. Miss Phillips alone was worried about the missing girls; it did not seem like either Marjorie or Frieda to play such a trick. Had Ruth been one of the two she would hardly have given the matter a thought, but under these circumstances she was afraid that something had happened.
By the time four o’clock came they were approaching the locality which the captain had designated for their final night in the open. All the girls looked eagerly for the signs of a canoe or of their missing companions, and hoped at every instant to hear the familiar whistle. But they heard nothing except the sounds of nature, the dip of the paddles, and the lapping of the water against the sides of the canoes.
“They’re hiding, I’ll bet!” exclaimed Ruth, as she pulled in to shore.
“No, they’re not either!” said Miss Phillips, who had already landed her canoe. “I’m afraid something has happened.”
“I’ll go right back, Captain!” offered Ruth. “Who’ll go with me?”