She called the others to her, speaking quickly.
"We are going to catch some fish," she announced eagerly. "Or at least we are going to try to."
"Try is good," murmured Frank, but Mollie continued, unheeding.
"It is strange that I didn't remember before," she went on, "what Aunt Elvira said about the wonderful fishing pool about a mile away."
"A mile!" groaned Grace. "Do you mean to say that we have to walk a mile in this blazing heat?"
"Nobody has to," Mollie retorted. "It's only a question of wanting to. I'm going if I have to go alone."
"Oh, come on, Grace, be a sport," Frank coaxed. "Just think how nice and shady and cool it will be when we get there. It will be nice and shady and cool, won't it, Mollie?" he added, turning to her for confirmation.
"Nice rocks with great, big trees shading them and clear, cold water with lots of fish in it and—and—oh, everything!" she agreed in a burst of enthusiasm.
"That sounds mighty good to me," said Roy. "Now for the fishing tackle—where is it, fellows?"
"Oh, wait a minute," called Mollie, as they made a rush for the tents. "There are some rods up at the house, too. We might as well take all we can get."