“A clue!” sang out Rosa gayly. “Depend upon Nancy to notice things. Tell the man to steer in there, Dell. And let’s hope for the best.”
Like the other islands this was small in area; and as the girls jumped ashore the boatman took out his “picture-paper” to look that over while he waited, for they all knew the search would take but a comparatively short time.
“Yes, she’s been here,” declared Rosa, almost as soon as she had stepped on land. “See these bushes? They’ve just been trampled down—”
“Here’s a regular path,” interrupted Nancy. “And see all these pieces of paper.”
“We are certainly on the trail,” agreed Dell. “Nancy, we’ll follow you; this was your clue, you know,” she pointed out tersely.
Quietly they followed Nancy. The little path was leading some place, certainly, for it was marked out clearly in the heavy grass and undergrowth.
Suddenly Nancy stopped. She felt she was near someone, and the path was opening into a cleared spot that was faced around from the other side with the low scrub pine trees.
“Orilla!” she said, instinctively.
“Nancy!” came a feeble, faint reply.
“Where—is—she!” demanded Rosa, close upon Nancy’s lead. “Oh, look!”