Another and more careful survey of the entire tent was made, and could the girls have seen Miss Mackin’s face now, they might have guessed how intense was her alarm, for really, the little fat Madaline was nowhere to be found!
Realizing this everyone jumped up and quickly slipped into emergency covering.
“Could she have blown out the door?” asked Cleo.
Miss Mackin had herself wondered at that far-fetched contingency, and she attempted to thrust the lantern between the curtains, but a sheet of rain drove her back into the tent.
“Where can the child be?” she murmured.
“She simply must have blown away!” wailed Corene. “Girls, come along! We must get her. She might blow into the lake!”
Storm and danger were forgotten now, for anxiety was too real to admit of anything merely probable.
Without being directed to do so each little Scout was getting into some clothing, with the khaki storm coats on top and the chin strapped hats crushed firmly on the tousled heads.
“Look under every bed again,” ordered Miss Mackin. It seemed impossible the child could actually have left the tent.
“Not here!” came the melancholy report, as bed clothing and pillows were tossed aside.