"Oh, but water," sighed Tavia. "We were to get some as we came in the woods. There is a fine spring there."
"Two miles back," announced Nat.
"But there must be one near here," declared Tavia, "for there are forget-me-nots in this grass."
"Is that a sign of water?" asked Ned.
"Positive—sure sign," replied Tavia. "Let's hunt for the spring."
"Too early," answered Nat, "against the game laws. Can't hunt for two whole months yet. Worse luck."
"Well, look for the spring then," Tavia corrected herself. "I fancy I smell watercress—"
"Well, of all the fanciers,—first bluebells mean spring water, then gasoline from our own tank smells like watercress. Now, Octavia Travers, I'll go you," said Nat. "Come and find spring water, bunches of watercress and a salt spring to go with the cress, or you will—walk home."
Tavia answered the challenge by skipping along through the grassy track, with Nat dragging lazily along at her heels.
"Don't get lost," cautioned Dorothy.