"It isn't snakes!" cried Cleo. "I almost wish it were. Oh, aren't they horrible! Run, girls, run back, or you'll be eaten up!" and she beat such a hasty retreat, meanwhile wildly flinging her arms up and around her head, that she collided with Margaret, and nearly toppled her into a sassafras bush.
"Oh, I feel 'em, too!" Margaret cried. "Oh, what pests!"
"What in the world is the matter?" demanded Grace, from the rear. "If we're ever going to fish let's get to the water."
"I'm never going to fish if I have to fight such things as these!" cried Cleo. "Back! Back to the tents!"
"What is it?" cried Captain Clark. "Are you girls fooling?"
But a moment later, as she felt herself attacked on hands and face, she realized what it was.
"The flying squadron!" she exclaimed. "We must retreat, girls, and get ammunition. I forgot about these."
"The flying squadron? What does she mean?" murmured Cleo, to whom knowledge had not yet come.