“I wish we had shovels and things,” Betsy said.
“I’ll tell you what!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Let’s pretend we are Indians, really, and, of course, they would have had no utensils or implements. Now, if they wanted to dig, what would they do?”
“They would find rocks, perhaps, that had been hollowed out by waves,” Margaret had just said, when Winston leaped up from the ground where he had been kneeling and gave a whoop, as an inspiration came to him. “You girls wait here,” he said, “while Peggy and I run down to our hut. We have dozens of huge shells. We’ll each bring back as many as we can carry. They’ll make the best kind of trowels.”
Away the sister and brother ran and during their absence, the girls knelt on the dry pine needles to inspect more closely the Indian grave.
“I wonder how long it has been here. Years and years I suppose,” Eleanor said.
“If we did find interesting relics in this mound, to whom would they belong?” Megsy inquired.
“Why to Winston and Peggy, I should think, since they first discovered it.”
“I don’t know when I’ve met a boy I like better,” Eleanor said, seating herself on the ground. “I felt right at once as though I had known Winston for a long time. Don’t you like him, Virginia?”
“Yes, indeed.” The older girl rising had turned to look toward the mainland. She shaded her eyes and gazed into the gleaming sunlight, but she could not see far because of the cloud of mist.
“A boat might be nearly here and we could not see it,” Eleanor began, when a shout announced that Winston and Peggy were returning.