“Talk of the Dead Sea!” murmured Natalie. “This is it.”
“It does remind one of that,” spoke Alice.
“No wonder the Gypsies came here,” remarked Mabel. “It is the most lonesome spot I ever saw.”
They stood looking at the black and uninviting water. Occasionally a fish moved in it, or leaped for a fly that ventured too close to the surface. The hoarse cawing of the crows added to the desolateness of the scene. There was no sound save that of the voices of the Camp Fire Girls.
“Reuben said,” spoke Marie, “that few people come here. There is good fishing at times—catfish are plentiful, and there are lots of pond lilies. But I’d never venture out on that water,” and she could not repress a shudder.
“Neither would I,” said Mabel. “I’d keep fearing that a long, bony hand was about to reach up from the depths and pull me down.”
“Oh!” screamed Natalie.
“What is it?” demanded Mrs. Bonnell with a little start.
“Something—something moved.”
“A bird in the bushes, likely. Silly! This place is getting on the nerves of all of us, I guess. Marie, can’t you locate the Gypsy camp, and then we’ll go?”