"Oh, for our Mary—the queer Mary?" exclaimed Grace.
"They call her Maid Mary," went on Jack, "but she ain't big enough to be no maid. She couldn't cook nor nuthin'."
"Maid Mary!" repeated Cleo. "That's awfully romantic. Wherever did she get the maid tacked on?"
"That's her name," insisted Jack. "She al'lus says it is, when you ask her."
"But where is she now? We want to see her," said Grace.
"Come along then and I'll show you where she's diggin'. She's al'lus diggin' roots."
Now, all keyed up, and plainly excited that Jack and Mally should lead them so readily to their quarry, the girls followed the boys in silence—the boys, however, did plenty of talking to fill in the breach. They evidently cared less for Maid Mary than they did for "Sunnies," and as the creek was their hunting ground for the wily little fish and they were now going away from the pools and puddles that ran and swelled into the creek, both lads were inclined to travel faster than even scout girls could follow over the rough hills.
"There she is!" exclaimed Mally, pointing to a white speck in a green field. "Better run up quiet or she'll dash off like a deer," and making some mysterious sign to Jack, the erstwhile pathfinders darted off themselves toward their clew.
"There she is," repeated Grace, "and as brother Benny would say, Now it is up to us!"