“How fine! I wonder how it happened that there are so many picnic parties today.”
“There are so few Saturdays left, you know. The Greycliff will be busy every Saturday that offers fine weather.”
All the girls helped carry the lunch up the shore to a shady green spot on the bluffs, where some beautiful trees stretched protecting branches and there was a fine view of the mainland shore. Perry, a stout young fellow who was one of Mickey’s chief assistants and who was to remain with the girls, toiled up the ascent with the heavier loads.
“Out on that rock,” said Juliet, pointing, “is where we build our fires, Cathalina. Let’s gather our wood and stuff now and have it all ready. No green wood, girls!” she called as they scattered to find material for the fire. A little oven of stones had been built by former picnic parties and needed only a little repairing. Perry was fixing some fishing tackle and Diane called to him as they all started away, “If you hear us scream, come a-running to rescue us!” And grinning Perry promised that he would. “There will probably be nothing more dangerous that a garter snake,” laughed Juliet.
The Island, as it was called, had only one stretch of beach, where the party had landed and where bathing or swimming was safe. About the rest of its circumference, steep cliffs rose from the water and were especially high where the island was separated from the mainland by a narrow channel, through which the water rushed and boiled as the waves came in or retreated. There was one pretty descent where steps had been cut in the rock and led down to a broad platform and a tiny cave, called by the girls from Kentucky “Mammoth Cave,” because “it wasn’t.”
Some of the girls had brought field glasses and found quiet spots where they could watch the birds, or strolled by a little trail through the trees and bushes in the center of the island. Others hunted wild flowers and several sketched a little, sketches intended more for their diaries and “stunt books” than for artistic purposes. Two or three lazily stretched out on blankets high upon the bluff, to read or watch the sky and water.
“I am so glad that we were the earliest party to come out,” said Cathalina to Betty Barnes. “Isn’t it funny that I don’t want to sketch these days? I just want to tramp around and see things. Diane said that there are some eggs on those rocks over there. Let’s go and see. I wonder if the gulls and terns nest here.”
“They say so,” answered Betty. “Come on, Hilary, have you seen the place where the gulls nest?”
“No.” Hilary came running, her field glass in hand, the leather case bobbing about her shoulders. Myrtle came hurrying to catch up with Hilary. Through bushy tangles and over rocks the girls climbed to where several others, Lilian among them, were trying to see the eggs, placed with wisdom in the most inaccessible spot. Hilary braced herself behind a little tree and was focusing her glass when her foot slipped and she slid out over the cliff, losing her hold on the tree, but clutching at the roots and bushes.
“Run, Juliet,—call Perry!” screamed Lilian, running toward Hilary. But sturdy Pauline was first, and knelt, throwing one arm around the young tree and giving her other hand to the white-faced Hilary. “Hold on to me, Lil, and I’ll keep Hilary up!” Lilian, as white as Hilary, held Pauline, while the little tree creaked and swayed.