Early Monday morning John Hadley and Jack Wilkinson drove one of Mr. Andrews’s machines out of Silvertown, back by the quickest route to the farm-house. In his hand, Jack carried a map of the trip, and they followed the road that ran closest to the creek.

At the farm-house they met Mrs. Higgins, and asked anxiously for news of the girls. Overcome by a sense of remorse, she told them the whole story, just as it had occurred. The boys listened with increasing anger.

“The man’s crazy, of course!” cried Jack, fiercely. “Why, I’m her own brother——”

“Still, there may be a Margie Wilkinson missing—and not your sister,” remarked the woman. “It’s not such an uncommon name.”

“Hardly likely, though. You haven’t seen the old devil since?”

“Not a sign of ’im!” replied Mrs. Higgins. “But what I can’t understand nohow is why the girls didn’t reach Silvertown by now. They escaped here Sunday night, perty early, too, I reckon!”

172 “By George, the old nut must have caught them again!” roared John, beside himself with rage. “Come on, we haven’t a moment to lose! Where’s this town you spoke of? Let’s go notify the police immediately.”

“And shall I leave the girls’ boat in the barn where the old man hid it?” she asked. “I found it yes’te’day.”

“Yes, we’ll send a truck down for it later,” said John. “We must be off now!”

Mrs. Higgins gave them directions how to reach Besley, and a description of the old man who seemed at the bottom of the affair. But although the constable at Besley remembered seeing the man, and the hotel-keeper showed them the name—Adam Jones—signed in a very shaky handwriting, he said he had not seen the old fellow for several days.

“He come over here a couple o’ nights fer dinner,” remarked the clerk. “But he didn’t have much to say—except to pass the time o’ day. Didn’t say nuthin’ about no runaway. I reckon he wanted to keep the reward fer hisself.”

“Well, if you see him, you just lock him up!” cried John, vehemently. “He’s nothing but a common kidnapper!”

“Easy now, young feller!” cautioned the constable. “The man may only be tryin’ to obey the law and earn an honest reward. There might be other Margaret Wilkinsons, besides your sister!”

173 “But my sister’s name is Marjorie!” contradicted Jack.

The constable shrugged his shoulders and turned away as if he did not attach much importance to the boys’ assertions; they probably had their facts wrong, he surmised.

All day Monday the boys wandered about the woods, looking in vain for the lost girls. As it began to grow dark, John suggested a telegram to Mrs. Wilkinson.

“Mother and dad went for a motor trip,” replied Jack; “and they won’t be back till Tuesday or Wednesday. So it’s no use now. But we can go out again tomorrow, and if we don’t get any trace, we’ll send word then. But, by the immortal gods, we’ve got to find them, John! I believe it would kill mother!”

Disconsolately, they drove back and entered the house just as the guests were answering the summons to dinner. Mr. Andrews and Mr. Remington had likewise met with no success, and the seriousness of the affair threw a cloud over the party.

Ruth had not enjoyed herself so thoroughly that day as she had expected. Very soon she noticed that the boys and girls began to pair off, or go in groups of fours, and she seemed left out. If she had entertained any hope of having John Hadley to herself while Marjorie was away, she was disappointed; for, of course, he was gone all day. And Jack Wil174kinson’s absence lent another trying aspect to the situation.

During the bathing hour, most of the party remained together, and at luncheon they wandered in and sat as they pleased. With Dick Roberts hovering near Lily, and Roger with no eyes for anyone but Doris, the only boy left of the old crowd was David Conner, and he seemed too much worried about Marjorie’s absence to be an entertaining companion. Ruth’s choice, was, therefore, narrowed to the new scouts, but unfortunately they seemed already taken with Frances, Ethel, Florence, and Alice. The girl suddenly felt herself ignored, an outsider; and she had no one but herself to blame!

But Ruth Henry was not a girl to demand pity or to allow others to think her unpopular. She therefore attached herself to Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, and talked entertainingly all through luncheon.

“The afternoon is an open one,” said Mrs. Andrews, when the guests were all assembled on the porch a little later. “We had hoped to have a tea, so that you could meet some of the young people of Silvertown, but we have postponed it until Thursday in the hope that Marjorie and Frieda will be found. For no one is much in the mood of festivities with this hanging over us.”

“I know what I’m going to do!” announced Ruth. “It’s very unsociable, but it’s got to be done. Practice canoeing all by myself!”

175 This was a clever stroke of Ruth’s; it at the same time afforded her a good opportunity to improve her chances of winning on Wednesday, and freed her from any suspicion of unpopularity.

“I’m going to bed!” sighed Lily. “At least, if the guests will excuse me.”

Several of the others signified their intentions of going walking or canoeing, and soon the party was completely scattered.

As the evening drew near, they all felt an unconscious tremor of excitement—of hope that the searchers might return with the missing girls, or at least with news of them. But one glance at their faces dispelled any illusions.

“All boys together tonight, and all girls together!” announced Mrs. Andrews, as they entered the dining room. She believed that this brief separation would add zest to the companionship of the evening.

When everybody was seated, John told his story in a tone loud enough to be heard all over the room. The news was far from welcome; indeed, Lily Andrews and Doris Sands became almost hysterical.

“We’re going out again tomorrow, if we have Mr. Andrews’s permission,” he concluded; “and, by Jupiter! if we don’t find them, we won’t come back. We’ll take plenty of money, and go armed, and stay out till we conquer, or die!”