CHAPTER IX—THE TRAMP CLUB TO THE RESCUE
“Look out, Miss Elting,” warned Harriet again. “The girls are in the mud.”
“So am I,” cried the guardian in a voice of alarm. “Oh, it’s deep. I’m sinking.”
“Stand perfectly still,” advised Harriet. “You will get in deeper if you struggle. I’ll see what I can do. I may get in, too.”
“Be quick, Harriet,” urged the guardian. “This is serious. I can’t move an inch.”
“I’ll do the best I can. Oh, I wish I had some good sized limbs of trees to throw to you. Here’s one. Where are you, Miss Elting?”
“Here. It’s no use. I can’t pull myself out.”
Margery was screaming at the top of her voice. It seemed as though her cries must be heard throughout the woods. No amount of urging could induce her to be quiet.
“Let her yell. Let her make all the noithe she can. Maybe thomebody will hear her,” wailed Tommy.
This was good logic. Miss Elting told Buster to shout as loudly as she could. The other girls now added their voices to Buster’s frantic screams. Harriet was moving about as rapidly as she dared, but she was unable to find any limbs large enough to be of much use to Miss Elting, who was nearest to the trail over which they had come. Harriet tried another experiment. Breaking down a sapling that grew beside the path she thrust this toward the guardian.