“We’d better work back toward the camp,” said Dolly, excitedly. “It wouldn’t do to have them see us—not until we know more about them.”
“I wonder if they’ll come back this way, toward the camp? And why do you suppose they’re acting that way? It seems very funny to me.”
“It does to me, too. I’m beginning to think Miss Eleanor had a good reason for being nervous, Bessie. I don’t believe that yacht is here for any good purpose.”
“It’s a good thing we came up this way, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is, if we can manage to find out something about them. I say, do you remember where the spring is? Well, right by it there’s a mound, with a whole lot of bushes. I believe we could hide there, and be waiting as they come along.”
“Let’s try it, anyhow. Maybe there’s something we ought to know.”
They found it easy to hide themselves, and when, a few minutes later, the three men came along, they were secure from observation.
“Do you think it’s Mr. Holmes?” whispered Bessie, voicing the thought both of them had had.
“It’s just as likely as not! It’s the sneaky way he would act,” said Dolly, viciously. “They’re pretty careful about the way they walk—see?”
But then the men came into the range of their eyes, and the sigh of disappointment that rose from them was explained by Dolly’s disgusted, “It’s not Mr. Holmes, or anyone else I ever saw before.”