SCOUTING FOR THE TRUANTS
If Rosa had been rebellious and uncertain in her conduct, her friends
Gar and Dell were just the opposite, it seemed to Nancy. Waiting now
a few minutes for Gar to return with his motor boat, Nancy tried to
keep down her anxieties by building her courage upon the assistance of
Gar, and as he presently hailed her from the landing, she saw that his
sister Dell was with him.
“Two heads are better than one,” he said simply, as Nancy stepped into
the launch.
“Don’t worry,” Dell remarked. “Gar and I know those islands, although
we haven’t had a chance to do any exploring lately.”
“But why should Orilla do that?” questioned Nancy. “She knew perfectly
well that Rosa had been exhausted in the water and was unfit for
anything but rest.”
“You can never ask why, where that creature is concerned,” answered
Dell. “She’s the unaccountable. Doesn’t do any real harm but--”
“How awful close she does come to it,” put in Gar, who was tending the
smoothly running little engine, as Nancy sat near by and watched.
“This lake turns up real waves, doesn’t it?” she remarked when a sheet
of spray swept their deck.
“You bet,” answered Gar, blinking to clear his eyes of the mist.
“I hope it isn’t going to storm,” Nancy added, apprehensively.
“Not right away, at any rate,” answered Dell. “And the islands aren’t
far away. Better swing left, Gar. Here comes the steamer from the
Weirs.”
The swell from the big steamer struck the Whitecap presently, giving
its occupants such a merry ride, that only their present upset state of
mind prevented them from keenly enjoying it. Even the excursionists,
who waved frantically at them, received scant attention in return, for
there was no denying their anxiety. They must find Rosa, and they must
take her away from Orilla Rigney, no matter what else happened.
Purposely Dell Durand avoided criticizing Rosa to Nancy, but this
consideration could not entirely prevent Nancy from expressing
something of her own confused opinion.
“You never saw anything like it,” she recalled. “No sooner had Rosa
gotten into the boat than Orilla seemed to pounce upon that engine--”
“Like a beast upon its prey,” finished Gar, as a boy would when such a
chance for such an expression was so obviously offered.
“She should not be allowed to come over to our side of the lake at
all,” went on Dell. “She has no business there and our docks are
private property.”
“But the lake isn’t,” her brother reminded her.
“Try Crow’s Nest first,” suggested Dell. “That’s a little place and we
can scout over it in no time.”
“Think I better--blow?” Gar asked.
“No,” said Nancy. “Can’t tell what Orilla might do if she had time to
do it.”
“Right-o!”
With a soft swish through the water the boat glided into shore, with
the engine turned off.
Silently the three landed. Gar found a stout young tree to throw his
boat rope around and in accord, without the need of questions, each of
them immediately faced the little wilderness in a different direction.
“We’ll come together by the big pine--see, right on top of the hill,”
Dell suggested, pointing out the big sentinel pine that stood guard
over Crow’s Nest.
“Better take a good, strong club,” Gar advised Nancy. “Wait, I see
one,” and he made his way through brambles and briars to procure the
end of a young birch that had evidently been broken in a storm.
Nancy thanked him, and with the staff began to beat her path through
the bushes. They did not really expect to find the girls actually
hidden in the underbrush, but Orilla’s habits were said to be so
unusual that the scouts were prepared to find her busy at almost any
camping detail on the island, if indeed it was this island upon which
she had landed.
“Do you know that she carries a hatchet in her car?” Nancy asked, when
Dell had come near enough for conversation, “I can’t see what she would
want with such tools as that.”
“Well, frankly, Nancy,” Dell replied, “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear
that she carried a shotgun, for the reputation given her around here is
as vague as it is mysterious. Everybody seems to have a different story
about Orilla Rigney.”
“Yet she’s--industrious, and honest, I suppose,” pressed Nancy.
“All of that--too industrious. She not only works herself but wants to
make the whole world work with her. Perhaps she’s a case of misdirected
energy. You know, Nancy, they say nowadays that that’s as bad as sheer
laziness,” explained the older girl.
Sounds from treetops or from thickets attracted their notice then,
and conversation was suddenly discontinued. But no sign of human life
rewarded the most careful scrutiny of the searchers.
“I don’t see how they could be around here without making some noise,”
Dell remarked.
“Take--no--chances!” hissed Gar, striking a comical poise with his
mountain stick held high above his head, and his free arm struck out at
right angles. His attempt at humor was rewarded with a wan smile from
Nancy, but Dell only waved her club threateningly.
“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, you know, Gar,” said Dell
seriously, “and we mustn’t forget there is no guarantee of continued
fair weather.”
“I’m going to yell,” the boy suddenly announced. “Better take a chance
on Rosa hearing us than leave it all to the big gray fox.”
A series of mountain calls followed. They were varied, queer, weird,
owlish and even funny, for Gar proved to be an expert in the art.
No answer came. Instead, the silence of the woods after its
interruption seemed even deeper than before.
Nancy sighed aloud, Dell did not try very hard to hide her own
impatience and Gar protested openly.
“If we find her this time I think we ought to lock her up,” he said,
not entirely in jest.
“I--am ashamed of her,” admitted Nancy. “But she really didn’t do this.
She actually blamed Orilla for her tumble in the lake,” she recalled.
“That’s probably why,” declared Gar, “the orang-utan is now getting
even.”
“Well, we’ll just try the other side of the oaks,” proposed Dell,
“then, we had better try some place else.”
The little island covered only a small strip of land, which was made an
island by a blade of the lake water that cut it away from another strip
of land. To explore the entire territory took but a short time, and now
the scouting party were scurrying down the other side of the summit,
looking for the truants along the water front at that point.
“Someone has been here lately,” Gar declared, as he kicked over a small
stone furnace. “This always was a favorite spot for campers, you know,
Dell.”
“Yes.” She surveyed the charred stones. “But our campers haven’t been
here. That stuff is old.”
“Don’t you think we had better shout again?” suggested Nancy. “I’m
afraid Margot will be scared to death, although I did call something to
her about going to the Point.”
“Doesn’t it beat the chickens!” murmured Gar. “Just imagine us hunting
for those girls like a couple of lost--kids. Makes me think of our
picnics long ago when _I_ was the star for getting lost.”
“You were clever that way, boy,” replied his sister, “but please don’t
try it now.”
“Oh, no,” begged Nancy, frightened instantly. “Whatever would we do if
you--got lost?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. No fun in it without ice cream cones. But
there’s nary a one on this safety isle. Let’s get in the launch and
skirt the edges of the whole place. We can’t possibly beat down bushes
on all these piles of rocks.”
“Indeed we can’t,” Dell agreed. “But suppose they didn’t come in here
at all? And where could she have left the launch?”
“She could hide that almost any place along here, for the edge has a
regular curtain of young trees,” the brother answered. “Nancy, don’t
look so dejected. When we find your cousin, maybe we shall find she has
gone down to the ideal weight. I believe that’s the main issue with
poor old Rosalind.”
“If we don’t find her in any more trouble,” Nancy replied. “But I’m
never sure about her when she dashes off with Orilla. This is about
the third or fourth escapade she has starred in since I came to Craggy
Bluff.”
“I couldn’t count all she has starred in since I came up,” Gar said
dryly, as he untied the boat. The girls quickly stepped in and he
promptly started up the willing engine.
Each new move in their expedition only brought greater anxiety to
Nancy, for in spite of her companions’ insistent attempts at gaiety,
she, as well as they, felt that the finding of Rosa was by no means
assured.
And it was so lonely, away out there, with shadows closing in from
the sky, from the mountains and from the heavy growth of all sorts
of trees, high and low, leafy and stark, in their pretty covering of
silken foliage, or in their defiant armor of pine needles!
But nothing seemed beautiful; everything seemed sinister, and even the
lapping of the waves against the rocks now struck terror into Nancy’s
heart.
Vacation? She had forgotten the word. Pleasure seemed very far away, if
not entirely beyond her reach. All she thought of, all she wanted, was
to find the unfortunate Rosalind.
“I’ll swing in here and let’s try that comic opera again,” said Gar,
determined to keep up their courage.
“The opera” was made up of the shouts and calls, such as they had been
practising ever since they decided to break the woodland silence, and
following Gar’s advice they again took up the refrain.
“There’s a few birds answering, at any rate,” Dell remarked, “but for
my part, I think even the angels must have heard that yell of yours,
Gar. If those girls are in these woodlands they either do not want to
reply or--”
“There’s the boat!” exclaimed Nancy, jumping up so suddenly she all but
fell over in the launch. “I see it in that little clump of willows!
Steer in there, Gar. They can’t be far away from their boat.”
And only too willingly did Garfield Durand comply with that eager
request.