Nancy did not say that she too had expected to see Orilla, but the three girls assured the worried mother that they surely would locate her daughter, and once more they faced that almost continuous task of searching the woods.
Driving through the woodland roads at the rear of the lake front, was by no means as easy as sailing on its smooth waters, but this was the way the girls were now compelled to go.
“Those logs she cut down must have been for something,” Dell reasoned. “Have either of you found out what she did with those?”
“She intended to build a camp,” Rosa answered, “but I don’t know where. She was as secretive as a—fox.”
“She told me too she had a place in the woods, and spoke of loving the wilderness so much, but she never said anything to me about where it was,” Nancy also explained.
“Well, we’ll drive along toward Weirs,” Dell suggested. “But we can’t expect to get out onto the islands from the land side.”
Thus they journeyed in the late afternoon, over the rough hills, up and down, in and out, but among the camps picked out along the road, where summer folks had pitched their tents, no sign of Orilla was discovered.
“Could we hire a boat here at this landing and go along the water front?” Nancy suggested. “I feel we must have been near her place that afternoon we helped with the little trees.”
“Yes, we could do that,” agreed Dell. It was rather late for sailing parties, and the man in the sailor’s uniform literally jumped at the chance of taking them on his power boat.
“I believe she is on that island over there,” pointed out Nancy, “because when we were on the water that afternoon, I saw a flash of light in that clump of low pines.”