“Hardly,” laughed Betty, adding, reasonably: “It must be pretty serious to keep him in town, you know, when he’s crazy to be here with us. Well, what in the world——” she broke off to stare as they came out into the open space before their camp.
Frank and Will had returned from their fishing trip and, unlike Mollie and Grace, they had not returned empty-handed. No wonder the girls stared. There were at least a dozen good-sized fish in the pan, all cleaned and ready for cooking. Having got thus far in their preparations, the boys had turned their attention to the making of a fire good enough to do justice to the day’s catch.
When they espied the girls they beckoned to them gleefully.
“Come hither and look what we have brought,” called Frank, invitingly.
“We see it!” exclaimed Betty heartily. “You sure did have good luck!”
“Good luck nothing,” snorted Will. “That’s all the credit you ever get for being a high-class sportsman.”
“I suppose,” said Mollie, with elaborate sarcasm, “that you simply whistled to the innocent fish and they came running.”
“Swimming,” corrected Frank, gravely, at which nonsense they were forced to laugh.
The delightful days passed one after another till it was almost time to look for Allen and Roy again. They fished and hiked and took long rides in the Gem and generally and thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
However, even in the height of their fun the girls never forgot Miss Weeks, their little Old Maid of the Mountains. They even one day enticed her down to their camp, taking the easiest and shortest way, later giving her a ride in the motor boat.