“Yes, indeed!” cried the girl, jumping up immediately. “Something might have happened to them, and we really ought to trace them before it gets dark.”
Mrs. Hilton thrust some bread and dried fruit into their hands, and they were gone. The others turned their attention to supper.
“I do believe Kirk is crazy about Marjorie!” remarked Bob Hilton, when the canoe was out of sight.
“No, I think it’s Daisy,” said his mother. “Marjorie has just got the best of him, and he wants to conquer her.”
“Well, anyway,” concluded Tom Melville, “he takes more interest in those two girls than in anything or anybody since he’s been out here. And, by George, I’m glad to see it!”
Irene said nothing; she was too disappointed to think of anyone but herself. But she no longer blamed Marjorie, or felt any resentment against her; she only wished that she might adopt the same attitude toward men that the other girl maintained. It seemed to be so entirely successful.
When the party finally reached the ranch in the late dusk of the evening, they found Kirk and Clayton on the porch. But the girls, they said, had gone to bed.
“And did you catch Marjorie?” asked Alice, laughingly.
“No,” replied Kirk. “It takes someone as clever as Clayton to catch her. Not that I really wanted to,” he yawned, “but I did enjoy the chase.”
These last words sent Irene to bed a happier girl.