“Water—water,” moaned the girl. “I am so sick!”
As the eyes of the Camp Fire Girls became more accustomed to the semi-gloom of the room, they caught a glimpse of the gay colors in the dress of the figure in the corner.
“It’s Hadee! The Gypsy!” gasped Natalie.
“Yes, I am Hadee,” murmured the girl. “You have found me. Oh, I am so glad! I feared no one ever would. I thought I would die here, and—my leg is broken!”
“Oh, you poor creature!” cried Mrs. Bonnell. “Girls, we must have a doctor right away. Marie, run down to the shore and see if you can find a boat anywhere about. Signal to them—wave your handkerchief—scream!
“Mabel, see if you can get me some water—bring it in anything—in some of the dishes—in our baskets. Natalie, get me some sticks I can use for splints to bind up her leg until the doctor can get here. Alice, you help me with—her,” and she motioned toward the Gypsy girl.
Thus did the Guardian effectually assume charge of matters. It was the best thing she could have done to take the minds of her charges off the startling events that had happened in the last few minutes.
“Which leg is it, dear?” asked Mrs. Bonnell, as she went over to the figure in the corner. “I’ll try not to hurt you, but—I must look at it.”
“The right one. I fell night before last as I was coming up the stairs, but I managed to drag myself in here.”
“And you’ve been here alone ever since?” asked Natalie.