“It’s coming from No Man’s Land and it’s a woman’s voice,” declared Rosa.
“Can we row over there?” asked Nancy. “She’s in distress, surely.”
“Maybe you could, but I can’t row worth a cent,” confessed Rosa. “I’ll answer her.”
She again cupped her hands to her mouth and called the megaphone call.
“Whoo-hoo! Where are—you!”
“Here! Here!” came a shrill reply. “On the island! Come—get—me!”
“Guess we’ll have to try,” sighed Rosa. “I suppose it’s some one marooned out there and naturally afraid of night coming. It might storm to-night, too.”
Without further ado Nancy turned the boat and headed for the island. The dot of land was not more than a dark speck on the sunset-lighted waters, for although it was late evening, the glow of a parting day was still gloriously strewn over the great, broad lake and mountains, flanking every side of the basin and adding to its depths. The usual craft were rather scarce just now, social dinner-times absorbing the lure of the great Out Doors.
Valiantly Nancy tugged at her oars, while Rosa directed verbally and steered at the helm. The distance was much longer than it had appeared to be, but after safely passing Dead Rock and Eagles’ Lair, the little boat was now bravely skirting the island.
“Here! Here!” called a woman’s voice shrilly. “Thank the mercies you’ve come! I thought I was here for the night and I’ve got to—”