“I’ll lend you mine,” grinned her boy friend. “But isn’t there anything you girls can wear?”
“I’d like a dip,” sighed Ruth. “We can let the children go in with you boys. And then Agnes and I will take our turn by ourselves.”
“You think of so many nice things, Neale,” said Agnes. “Why can’t you invent us some bathing suits?”
“I might paint the lily and adorn the rose,” grumbled Neale O’Neil. “But I am no modiste. I—guess—not!”
However, after the heat of the day was over they all found means of getting a cool dip. Meanwhile they compared notes. Neale had supplied a most excellent stew of turtle meat, for they had plenty of seasoning, and he had likewise discovered specimens of the plantain, the fruit of which added to the variety of the repast. He was acclaimed a wonderful chef by all.
On the part of Mr. Howbridge and Luke, although they bore upon their hands and faces plentiful marks of toil in grease and smut, they could not report that much progress had been made in repairing the engine. That matter really seemed almost hopeless.
“But there is something of even greater importance,” Mr. Howbridge said the next morning to Neale and Luke. “I am worried about the water question.”
“What fell day before yesterday, I suppose, was soon burned up,” Luke reflected.
“You said it,” agreed Neale.
So, following the usual siesta, for nobody could work even at this time of year in the full heat of the sun, the boys and Mr. Howbridge set off through the brush to sound every likely spot for water, leaving the girls at the dish-washing. They did not have a shovel but they had a broken oar and sticks with which to prod the ground for any dampness that might promise a living spring.