Both Ethel and her captain found it an entirely different matter to paddle up stream instead of down; their shoulders ached and their hands were blistered when, about three o’clock in the afternoon, they finally arrived at the farm-house. All along the way they had looked for a canoe and listened for the sound of girls’ voices, and had whistled and called, but in vain; only the echo of their own voices answered their appeals.
It was unfortunate that their sneakers made no sound as they walked across the grass, and that Marjorie and Frieda at the time happened to be lying on the bed, out of view of the window. Nor did they hear the voices, for their room was at the other end of the house from the kitchen. Their captor saw the visitors approaching, and went to the kitchen window. In a soft voice she asked what they wanted.
“Did you see anything of two girls who came here yesterday to buy some peaches?” asked Miss Phillips.
The woman had to think quickly, in order to decide upon the best reply to make. In a second, however, she answered,
“Yes, I sold ’em a dollar’s worth, and they went down yonder and got into their boat again.”
“Did they say anything about playing a joke on us?”
“Yes, they asked me if there was any different way, and I told them about that little branch off to the north. They laughed, and said they’d take it, and mebbe beat you. They ain’t lost, are they?”
“They must be!” sighed Miss Phillips, in extreme distress. She was sincerely alarmed now.
“Any tramps around here?” she inquired anxiously.
“No—hardly ever. And what there is, is harmless. Nothin’ could have hurt them. Mebbe their boat sprung a leak, and they had to stop and get it fixed.”