To the credit of the outdoor girls be it said that even in this nerve-racking emergency they did not altogether lose heart and courage. Of course there was that first instinctive fear, and something like a gasping for breath, as when one plunges into cold water. But the reaction came, and the girls were themselves once more—brave and self-reliant.
"I only hope we don't pass the stream up which we went to have our lunch," spoke Mollie as they went on. She and the others were peering from side to side in the gloom.
"Oh, I'm sure we can find that," declared Betty. "There is a big, dead cypress tree, with a lot of moss on it, just at the turn. We must watch for that."
There were one or two false alarms before they saw it, but finally they were all sure of the turn, and Betty made it.
"Oh, are you going all the way back to where we ate?" asked Grace, as Betty guided her craft into the branch stream.
"I think so," answered the Little Captain. "It will not take much longer, and we may find Tom there. If we do, all our troubles will be over. I think we had better go up."
"But it's getting dark so fast," objected Grace.
"Then a little more dark won't make much difference," returned Mollie with a shrug. "Go on, Betty."
The Gem chugged her way up "Alligator Brook," as the girls had named it. Eagerly they looked for some sign of their missing escort, and listened for any sound that would indicate he was coming to meet them. But the forest was silent. Night was settling down, and birds and beasts were seeking their resting places.
They reached the place where the boat had been tied, and could see where they had eaten their lunch. Over in the gloom there fluttered the paper Betty had fastened to a tree to indicate to Tom the fact that his charges had left.