“If we followed those, we might trail the persons who wrecked our house,” Sunny suggested.
“Oh, the footprints must be a day old by now,” Connie discouraged her. “We would only waste time.”
“Anyway, Miss Gordon told us to hurry,” declared Veve, starting off down the trail.
The little girl had taken scarcely a dozen steps when she was brought up short. At that moment an amazing thing happened.
Something red flashed in front of her, lodging over her head in the trunk of a young maple tree.
The object was an arrow.
“Indians!” shrieked Veve, backing away.
“Indians, my eye!” snorted Connie. “They’re all on reservations these days.”
“But it is an arrow,” declared Sunny in awe.
“And something is attached to it!” Recovering from fright, Veve darted over to the maple to pluck the arrow from the bark.