They had hurried on from the rather inhospitable farmhouse of the German—inhospitable not so much from intention as misunderstanding.
“Oh, if we ever get to our dear, old camp again!” murmured Marie, as she clung to Natalie’s arm.
“We’ll never go Gypsy-hunting again; will we?” spoke Alice from the rear guard.
“Never! I wonder if the boys had any better luck?” asked Mabel.
“At any rate they don’t mind being lost, and getting wet,” said Marie.
“Oh, we’re not so wet,” voiced Natalie. “These khaki suits are just dandy for shedding rain. They’re like a duck’s back. Really, I’m not at all damp—except outside.”
“But don’t you think we might have stayed at that German place?” asked Mrs. Bonnell. “Really, the farther on we go the more I worry about you girls. Where are we going to come out?”
“Somewhere on the shores of Green Lake,” declared Mabel. “And if once we get there we can surely find some one to help us. There are cottages all around the lake, and it isn’t so late, though it is dark. We can give our camp cry, when we get a little nearer and some one will come out to see what’s the trouble.”
“When we get a little nearer what?” asked Alice.
“Green Lake,” replied Mabel. “If you’ll notice we’ve been going down hill for the last ten minutes. Green Lake lies lower than Bear Pond, and we must be getting down to the lake level. Sooner or later we’ll get to the shore, and then we won’t be lost.”