"Well—let's mote!" exclaimed Grace. "I've got some chocolates, so that if the wind does out——"
"Wind! You forget we don't use a sail," cried Betty with a laugh. "We can get home in a dead calm. So if that's your only excuse for bringing chocolates——"
"We might run out of gasoline," Grace interrupted. "I'll take them, anyway."
"That's right, angel child!" murmured Mollie, "and I'll help you eat them," and she calmly appropriated the box Grace had produced, and selected some choice confections.
Just as the girls were about to leave, having shoved the ice boat out away from the dock so as to get a good start, Mr. Franklin, the camp care-taker, who had been over to a distant section, came running down to the dock.
"Do you think your father is back from his Western trip yet, Miss Ford?" he asked.
"Yes, I had a letter from home to-day, saying he would be home to-night. Why?"
"Well, those Jallows are acting mean again. They're cutting timber on land I'm sure belongs to your father, regardless of the strip in dispute. I'm going to wire him to come up here. This thing ought to be stopped."
"Oh dear! More trouble!" sighed Grace. "Well, do as you think best, Mr. Franklin. I think you'll find papa home. Oh, I wish this was all settled. I wonder why there are such people as the Jallows, anyhow?"
"Probably for the same reason that there are mosquitoes," said Betty. "It's so we will appreciate nice people all the more. But don't worry, Grace."