“But I should think they’d have stopped the launch when they heard us scream, ‘Help!’ They must have heard!”
“No,” disagreed Betty. “Maybe they never noticed or they thought we were just a silly picnic party playing Robinson Crusoe.”
Alas!
“Well, we’ve got to stay here, Lydia.”
“It’s our punishment, I suppose.”
“Maybe we deserve it for taking a boat that didn’t belong to us.”
They sat on the rock for a long time wondering what more they could do and then Betty realized that she was fearfully hungry. Lydia, too, at the same time, longed for a couple of sandwiches. “We might go look to see if there are berries in the woods,” they agreed.
There were no berries, of course. There was only wintergreen and that wasn’t satisfying. They found remnants of some picnic’s old boxes—but that was all. The picnic must have been there weeks ago for its boxes were mere pulp now—oh dear!
Betty’s pink dress was torn and scratched by brambly twigs that were in that woods. Lydia’s hair had lost its ribbon and trailed down her back in a loose tangle. The two of them were begrimed like two tramps when, finally, Betty discovered a footprint that looked as if it were newly made. “Friday, Man Friday,” she screamed, “Look! There must be somebody on this island, if we can only find the one to whom this belongs! Hooray, maybe we’ll be rescued yet! Let’s follow in the same direction and see if we do find another picnic party—if they haven’t gone home!”
“Oh, I hope they haven’t—I don’t want to spend the night here with nothing to eat—Oh dear!”