"You know they say a flock of ducks will always fly towards water. Now, I saw some ducks flying in one direction when I sat up in that tree," remarked Dick.
"Then you did see something other than waves of green! Why didn't you say so!" snapped Julie, impatient with his poor scouting sense.
"I thought they might be flying down towards Little Moose Lake, where Dandelion Camp is, and we want to find our party," said Dick, in justification.
"Anything to get out of this tangle. We'd just as lief wind up at Dandelion Camp as elsewhere," said Joan.
"All right then, follow me and we will go in the direction the birds flew," said Dick, and he started down hill.
Down and down they tramped, chopping away smaller obstructions, until they were stopped by a wide fen that belted the section. Advance was impossible, for every time one tried to step upon the ooze the foot would begin to sink in.
"Oh, how awful!" wailed Judith, ready to cry.
"How can we cross? If only we could find a fallen tree that happened to fall right across," sighed Joan.
"If only we had a drink of cold water I'd be thankful," declared Julie, mopping her warm face.
"That's the easiest part of the whole trouble," quickly said Dick.