"Wah-whoo-wah! Wah-whoo-wah! Come back, Cricket! Wah-whoo-wah!" Eunice sent her clear, strong voice ringing across the smooth waters, but with no better success than before.
"You don't suppose she's purposely hiding somewhere, do you?" asked Edna, doubtfully.
"No, indeed," returned Eunice, promptly. "She's only forgotten, if anything, unless something has happened to her," she added, somewhat anxiously.
"Nothing could happen in Marbury Bay," replied Edna, positively. "It's the safest old hole. And since we are not really in the South Sea Islands, there aren't any cannibals to eat her up."
The island was only about a mile and a half from shore, and they could plainly see grandma's house on the Neck. Not a soul was in sight, not even Eliza and the children.
"Let's wave a handkerchief," suggested Eunice, looking for hers, "for the boys may see it and come out for us."
"It's not much use," said Edna, "for I don't believe any one would notice a little white handkerchief fluttering over here, and, besides, I'm getting dreadfully afraid that there isn't time for any one to pull out here and get us in before the tide would be so far out that we would stick in the mud. You see the bottom is so flat that the water goes out very quickly. But let's try a handkerchief."
"I haven't any with me," said Eunice. "Take yours."
"Bother! I haven't either. Oh, there's a boat coming past. If that man would take us in, we might just get to the shore. Wave something. Call! Call!"
The girls shouted vigorously, but the little rowboat aggravatingly kept on its way, the oarsman having his back towards them. Then he turned his course a little, keeping in the channel where the water was deeper.