“Do you realize that it’s a quarter of twelve now, and Marjorie and Daisy aren’t back yet?” she asked.
Her husband dispelled her fears with a reassuring suggestion.
“They’ve probably decided to go all the way, and share the boys’ meal. There would be enough. We had better go right on with our own lunch.”
“Yes, for we want to get started early,” said Bob. “It’s going to rain before night, I think, and it would be nice if we could reach the top of the mountain and get our tents up before it starts in.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” agreed his father, glancing at the sky.
They were counting on a long climb with a rather late supper that night, and for this reason, the cook had prepared an especially large meal for the middle of the day. Ethel, Alice and Florence sat down to it rather reluctantly, for they hated to think of Marjorie and Daisy missing it, and sharing only a frugal repast with the Melville boys.
They were just finishing their usual dessert of stewed fruit, when they heard welcome pistol shots in the distance. The wanderers were coming back, and there was plenty of good, substantial dinner left for them to make up for their slim rations. Alice jumped up joyfully, letting out a wild war whoop, and Arthur fired off a couple of blanks.
But as they rode into view, everyone’s heart sank at the sight of them. The boys were alone!
“Where are the girls?” demanded Alice, frantically, as soon as they were within earshot.
“In the flivver,” replied Tom, smiling. “And you never saw anybody so happy as they all were!”