Only girls of their charmed age can do a thing like that in the way they did it, for had the innocent tin sign been a perfectly obvious bomb, the Bobbies could not possibly have made greater show and fuss over their attempt to displace it.
“Care—ful!” whispered Cleo, but one thrust of the white birch pole and the sign was uprooted!
As it fell from its peg the girls squealed and jumped, but there it lay, like a sign “keep off the grass” or “please wipe your feet,” and nothing happened.
“I knew it!” snapped Cleo.
“Of course,” insisted Louise. “Just boys’ pranks.”
“But there could be danger further on,” argued Cleo, loathe to give up a perfectly good sensation without even a shiver.
“Yes, there’s Julia calling; come along,” finished Louise.
Racing back they stumbled over another danger sign. It was almost hidden in some underbrush, and without stick or precaution Cleo gaily kicked it over, emitting a triumphant “whoo—pee” as she did so.
“Guess they grow up here,” she told her companion. “Quite a crop of them.”
“They would be splendid to stick up around the camp ‘eats box,’” suggested Louise. “I wish I had brought one along.”