Instinctively she drew back into the shadow.
On the surface of that other plateau she discovered a narrow lake, little more than a pond in size, but doubtless quite deep. It was on this lake that the plane was about to land. Having circled twice, it came swooping down to touch the water gently, gracefully as some wild migrating bird.
“Wonderful!” she murmured in admiration.
But that was not all. She had assumed for the moment that this was but a chance landing, caused perhaps by motor trouble. That it was not she was soon enough to know, for the plane taxied toward a large clump of dark spruce trees. And to the girl’s astonishment a narrow boat, painted the color of the water, stole out from that shore to at last glide alongside the now motionless plane.
“Sol—solitude!” she murmured. “No one up here. They told us that. And now look! There must be a settlement. What—”
Something strange was going on down there. She crawled back among the pine needles. Someone was being lifted out of the plane and into the boat. Now the boat with its apparently helpless burden was pulling for the shore. Studying this shore for a space of seconds, she thought she made out some sort of lodge there among the trees.
Her heart pounded painfully. What was this? A kidnaping? A murder? Strange doings! Curious sort of place they had chosen for it all!
She did not wait to see more. Gliding about the pine tree, she headed straight for her own camp; nor did she pause till the white of their small tent showed through the trees.
* * * * * * * *
And Florence? At the very moment Greta sighted their tent, she stood contemplating the rope that had so miraculously come to her aid.