"Then we have got to go after her," declared Bess. "Jack said so.
He said she could not stay alone on that island all night."
"Oh, did he?" Cora replied in an absent-minded way. "I have had such—a time—with this boat," and she pulled on the wires to make them taut, breaking one and necessitating a splice.
"Can't we take the boat to look for Laurel?" persisted Bess, with more concern than she usually showed.
"Why, of course, I suppose so," said Cora. "There, I guess that will do," and she straightened up with a sigh, for the use of the pliers made her hands ache.
"Why, Cora!" exclaimed Bess, "you look actually pale. You must be awfully tired."
"Me pale," and she laughed. "Now, Bess, don't get romantic. Just fancy me being pale!"
"Well, you are, and I insist that you come back to camp at once and get a drink of warm milk. Cora Kimball, you—look—scared!"
"Oh, I am. Think what it would mean if the boys had knocked my engine out. And it did seem for a time that there was no 'if' in it." Cora jumped lightly out of the boat and was ready to greet the other girls. Soon a discussion of color and its causes was in progress, Cora maintaining that her cause of anxiety had been that awful engine and its troubles.
Ed, Walter and Jack had joined the others.
"I say," began Ed, "where do we, go to look for the wild Olive or was it the mountain Laurel? Jack is in a fit, and Walter can't be held. What do you say if we all start out in a searching party? No one has been lost for twenty-four hours, and this state of affairs is getting monotonous."