Lance held up a white handkerchief.
“This is a token of complete surrender. We ask the courtesy due the defeated, Miss Mason. Please don’t allow Margaret to rake up the past. Don and I must be off now to camp. Sorry you won’t give us a message of forgiveness to carry back. May we speak to Dorothy? Evidently she is more interested in her breakfast than in her brothers.”
“Nonsense, Lance, you and Don must have breakfast with us before you leave,” Miss Mason answered. “I cannot bury the hatchet, Indian fashion, because the Girl Scouts must decide themselves whether or not you are forgiven.”
Approaching in their direction at this moment, her face flushed and holding a long toasting fork in one hand, was Dorothy McClain.
She was only a year and a few months younger than her two brothers and looked very like Don, save that her hair was chestnut and her eyes a darker blue.
“Don, Lance, how glad I am you had the good luck to come to Tory’s and Kara’s aid! I have made a double amount of toast and there are six more eggs added to our usual supply for breakfast. I thought you would appreciate this sisterly attention more than rushing to greet you at once. I saw you were not lonely.”
“Good to see you, Dot. You are looking in great shape, only we must be off at once,” Donald answered, still appearing uncomfortable and obstinate.
Between Dorothy and Tory Drew a signal was flashed of which no one of the small group save Lance McClain was aware.
“Please stay, Don,” Tory begged, moving forward and standing beside him. She scarcely came up to his shoulder. “Edith Linder has gone to Miss Frean’s cottage to ask her to come to Kara at once. She is to try to telephone for your father. If not, one of us must ride in to town for him. But perhaps he might want you to be here when he arrives in case there is anything to be done, if Kara has to be lifted. Oh, I don’t know anything, except that I am dreadfully worried over her.”
Don softened.