“Now, Turkey, do be careful!” It was a girl’s light pitched voice. “We’ve got to get them. You know we have.”
“But what if they ain’t here?” grumbled a boy’s voice.
“What can they be after?” Florence asked herself. “And who can they be, way back here in the forest where no one lives?”
She hesitated for a moment. Then, deciding to investigate, she pushed on.
She was not long in discovering that she had been mistaken on one count. She was not in the heart of the forest. The trees thinned. She found herself on the edge of a bay where bullrushes were thick. She had crossed a point of land and had come to water again.
Near the beach, in shallow water, a boy of twelve and a girl of sixteen were struggling with a minnow net.
The net was long and hard to handle. Weeds in the water hampered their progress. They had not seen Florence. The girl labored with the determined look of one who must not pause until her task is completed.
The boy was a plain towhead. There are a thousand such on the shores of the Upper Peninsula. The girl caught Florence’s attention. She was plump, well formed, muscular. Her body was as brown as an Indian’s. She possessed a wealth of golden red hair. A single garment covered her, a bathing suit which had once been green, but was now nearly white.
“Natives,” thought Florence. “But what are they after?”
Just then the girl looked up. She took Florence in from head to toe at a glance.