The forest seemed so unusually quiet and peaceful to the girls that they began to question whether they had not imagined that moaning, eerie cry, those white figures flitting among the trees near the swamp.
At last, tired and a little shaken by their experience in the swamp, they ate their lunch and returned to Forest Lodge.
Darkness came, and still the boys did not return. Night came, and morning, and still no word of them. How they managed to live through the hours of the long day that followed, the girls could never tell.
Another night they passed in Forest Lodge, and when the second morning dawned they were hollow-eyed and shaken with worry.
Miss Alling protested vigorously when they declared their decision of invading the swamp again in search of the boys. Once more she warned them of the dangers that lurked in that treacherous place.
“I would rather get lost in the swamp and die and have my bones bleached by the sun than spend another minute worrying,” said Amy.
“I will take my compass with me, anyway,” Jessie promised.
“A compass is your very best friend in the woods,” Miss Alling admitted.
Clad in their knicker suits with leather leggings to protect them from the scratches of thorns and twigs, carrying with them a liberal supply of sandwiches and fruit, the Radio Girls set out to trail the boys.
They did not linger on the way, but went swiftly down the narrow trail toward the swamp, intent upon their purpose. After the long and anxious wait, action of any sort meant relief to them.