“Stop it, Ag!” cried Ruth, shaking her sister. “You can think up the most perfectly awful things——”
“Bet they got out of the boat on the shore somewhere, and let it drift away again,” suggested Neale, rather feebly.
“It wouldn’t be like Tess to do such a foolish thing,” said Ruth, shaking her head.
“They didn’t have anything to tie the boat up with. There’s no painter in her,” said the observant Neale.
“Of course there’s a painter!” cried Agnes, jumping up. “A nice long one——”
“Where is it?” demanded the boy.
“Oh, Ruth! That’s gone!” gasped Agnes.
“Say!” said Neale, very seriously; “ropes don’t come untied of themselves. Sure it was fastened to the boat?”
“To that ring,” Ruth declared, confidently.
“And little Tess, or Dot, wouldn’t think to untie it themselves—I’m sure,” the boy observed. “They are with somebody who has taken them out of the boat—be sure of that.”