And that was all.
“Guess what we found, Miss Miller?” called a chorus of voices, as the fire-gatherers returned with armfuls of dry wood.
“Mushrooms?”
“Wh—hy, who told you?” cried the girls, looking about for the messenger.
“That little bird just flew by and whispered it in my ear,” laughed Miss Miller, pointing to a great sea-gull that hovered over their heads.
Everyone laughed and Jane added: “Yes, mushrooms but not enough for all. If we only had a steak they would make a fine sauce.”
“Oh gee! That reminds me I forgot my donation to the party!” cried Bob Baker, springing up from the grass where he had thrown himself, and running down to the launch.
“Bob trawled all the way and caught some pretty good sized fish. I thought all decent sized fish were driven out of these waters by the traffic and pollution from sewers, but I was mistaken,” explained Fred, watching Bob run back with his catch.
“Now we can use the mushrooms!” cried Zan.
“Fred, why don’t you cook the fish the way father taught us on Sunset Island?” asked Elizabeth.