"If there is anything easier than getting lost in the woods it must be getting caught at whispering in the eighth grade," grumbled Madaline. "I wish my old heel had behaved itself."
"And all the plans for my brave stunt gone to naught," put in the now breathless Grace. "I would never have made up the hike if I had not determined to get a glory mark out of it. Now see where we are! Miles from home, and darkness coming on at each end. Where could those girls have gone to?"
"Sure as shooting they have gone on searching for us. There's the reservoir road, going in the opposite direction, and also Chestnut Hill. To go either of those roads meant getting entirely away from the foolish little scouts who stopped to chatter and chin. Just shows what we can do when we don't know we shouldn't."
For some moments they brushed their way through the thicket, beating down briars with their stout sticks, then coming to a broad clearance they found themselves in a great grove of pines, clean as a floor, except for the layer of savory pine needles, and almost dark as night from the density of the pine canopies.
"My, how lovely!" exclaimed Grace.
"Yes, if we could only enjoy it," demurred Madaline.
"Grace! What's that? Over under that thick tree!"
"A man! Let's run!"
"And there is a big bag beside him," whispered Grace. "See the things sticking out of it!"
"No, I don't want to see anything. Run, I tell you!"