The same morning upon which Ralph Clavering and Jim Valier went into the Okefenokee Swamp in a canoe, the fourth searching party arrived. Delayed by a stop-over in Norfolk, Virginia, where Ted had some business for the company, he and Louise did not reach the Jacksonville Airport until the morning of July second. Leaving the plane at the field, they taxied immediately to the City Hall, arriving there a little after ten.

They did not expect any good news about the missing girls, for they had read the papers and had inquired the latest word at the airport. They had gazed at the Ladybug, so forlorn and desolate in the hangar, and their fears were dark. Even Louise, who was usually optimistic, believed this time it was the end. Yet how dreadful it was! That Linda Carlton, so young, with such a glorious future before her, should perish like this before she was twenty! When she had the whole world at her feet—a world she had won not through mere beauty and charm—although she was both beautiful and charming, but through her courage, her ability, her modesty! Louise made no attempt to hide the tears that rolled down her cheeks; even her husband's strong arm about her shoulders could not stop her sobs.

"Don't give up yet, dear!" he urged. "Why, you and I haven't even had our try."

The girl smiled bravely through her tears.

"I know, Ted dear. I'll try to remember." Her eyes brightened with genuine hope. "It always has been you who have rescued her! Maybe you will this time."

"We're going to make a bigger effort than ever before," he reassured her. "Because this time I have you to help me."

The minute they entered the City Hall they saw that something had happened. Louise's heart gave a wild leap of excitement. Were Linda and Dot safe?

But no. If they were, somebody would be shouting the news from the house-tops—and no one was looking particularity jubilant. There was a crowd outside, but it was not an exulting one. Was it possible that they had found the girls—dead? In spite of the heat of the day, a cold shiver of horror crept over Louise, and she clung tightly to her husband's arm.

They had little difficulty in passing through the crowd to the captain's office, for the latter had given orders to his men that Miss Carlton's and Miss Crowley's friends and relatives were to be admitted immediately, whenever they appeared.

As they entered the room, they saw half a dozen officials standing around, several in plain clothes, with only badges to identify them. And on a chair by the desk, opposite Captain Magee, a strange young woman was sitting.

The girl was flashily dressed—or over-dressed—in the latest style. A long green gown trailed almost to the floor, not quite concealing a bandaged ankle. Her little, off-the-face hat of the same bright color was decorated with a diamond bar-pin. Her lips and her cheeks were painted, and there was a gap in her mouth where two front teeth had been knocked out.

The Captain nodded to the Mackays to sit down, and he continued the questions he was putting to this young woman.

"You might as well confess if you know where that man is—with all the bank's money!" he was saying. "I know your scheme. Pretending you don't know where he escaped, so that you won't be locked up, and can get back to him!" His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his voice to an uncanny whisper. "But we'll keep you here till you tell where that thief is!"

"I can't tell you—when I don't know!" she persisted. "He ran off from me—he never wanted me with him anyway. I'll swear to it, Sir, if you think I'm lyin'.... Besides, he hasn't got that money."

"Then where is it?"

"Linda—and the cops she had with her—tricked us, double-crossed us, by swiping the money and fillin' the bags with sand. The Doc was in such a Hurry to get away from those cops, he never found it out till we were on that yacht. He was afraid to go back."

Captain Magee leaned forward eagerly at the mention of Linda Carlton's name. She was far more important than the money that had been stolen.

"Miss Carlton?" he demanded. "With the police? Where did you see her?"

Susie shook her head.

"No, I didn't actually see her. But I saw her Bug, with her stuff in it—a bag and a basket of food. I tossed them out of the plane, too, so she wouldn't starve when we swiped the plane. You can put that down to my credit."

"You stole the autogiro?"

"No. Only borrowed it. Left it on an island—you can get it when you want it."

"We have it.... Now, suppose instead of my asking you questions, you tell us the whole story, Miss——?"

"Mrs. Slider, if you please," she said. "I am a widow." She lowered her eyes dramatically, enjoying the sensation of holding the center of the stage.

"Well," she began, "after my husband got killed in the plane accident that Linda probably told you about, she and I got to be quite good friends. I even promised to leave the gang and go straight, for I never really took part in any of their stealing myself—believe it or not! Linda left me on that island in the swamp, and promised to come back for me when she came for the Bug."

"But you weren't there when Miss Carlton returned!" Captain Magee reminded her.

"No. I got terrible lonesome. If you ever spend a night in the swamp with only a dead man for company—oh, he was buried all right, but it was spooky just the same—you'd excuse me for takin' the first way out, Sir. The Doc come along, in his canoe, and I promised him my diamond ring if he'd take me away.... Well, we got out of the swamp in his boat, and hired a Ford across Georgia. Then we took a motor-boat out to that island in the ocean."

Everyone waited breathlessly; at last the girl was coming to the part they all longed to hear about—the part of the story in which Linda Carlton figured. Pausing dramatically, Susie asked for a glass of water.

"Go on!" urged the captain, as soon as she had drained it.

"It was a terrible boat," she finally continued. "An awful old one. You can imagine going ten miles out to sea in a thing like that! The engine gave out——"

"Never mind all that!" commanded the officer, impatiently. "Come to the point."

"Yes, Sir.... Well, we got to the island finally, and waited for the yacht that was to pick us up and take us to Panama, but before she come along, the autogiro arrived. Linda—and the police, of course."

"Did you see them—the police, I mean?" was the next question.

"No, we didn't. We were too scared, so we hid till they got out of the plane and searched the island. Then we grabbed the bags and ran for the plane. I flew the Bug out to sea, and in a few minutes we spotted our yacht, and signaled it to stop on another island. That's where we left Linda's plane.... When we got to Panama, the Doc slipped off, and I got caught.... So you see there's nothing to punish me for—you got the autogiro back, and the cops, or Linda, took the money——"

"There were no policemen with Miss Carlton," Captain Magee informed Susie. "Only another girl. But they are lost."

"They must be still on that island, waiting for you to come for them. Nothing could hurt them, and they had some food...."

This was enough for Ted Mackay. Jumping to his feet, he announced his intention of flying there immediately.

"Give me the latitude and longitude of that island!" he demanded. "There isn't a moment to lose!"

"The what?" asked Susie, wrinkling her nose.

"Show me where it is on a map," explained Ted.

"Yeah," agreed Susie, pointing out the island on a map of the Georgia coast, which the Captain took from his desk. "But what's the grand rush?"

"You've forgotten the storm we just had!" said the young man. "The girls may be sick or dead by this time."

"Girls," repeated Susie, significantly. "It beats everything the way they fooled us—in their riding-breeches! If the Doc ever finds out he ran away from a pair of girls——"

"Never mind all that, Mrs. Slider," interrupted Captain Magee, signaling to the prison matron to take the girl away.... "Now, Mr. Mackay, is there anything I can do for you, before you go?"

"You might get me a taxi," replied Ted. "To take my wife and myself to the airport."

"Take my private car," offered the Captain, rising to say good-by. "And good luck to you!"

Louise was so excited at the whole occurrence that she could scarcely sit still in the limousine, as it sped over to the airport.

"If we only aren't too late! Ted, do you suppose they're starved? What does it feel like to starve to death? Or to die of thirst?"

"I wouldn't worry too much about thirst," he reassured her. "Because of that big rain we had. They could get water from it, you know."

"I never thought of that!"

"The worst is over now, I'm sure," continued Ted. "Five days isn't so long, and the girl said they had food. Besides, it wasn't cold. Think of that time you girls were lost in Canada!"

Louise shuddered; she could still remember that long, hopeless night very vividly, when she and Linda had jumped from parachutes down into the snow of the Canadian Woods, and how they had been forced to keep walking to avoid freezing to death.

"Still, we found a shack to sleep in. And Linda and Dot haven't even a blanket to cover them in all that storm!"

"Well, they were together, that's one thing to be thankful for."

"Yes—and I'm glad Linda's companion is Dot. Of all our crowd at Spring City, Dot Crowley is the nicest girl—after Linda, of course. Most of the girls, like Kitty Clavering—Kitty Hulbert, I mean—or Sue Emery, would be pitying themselves so that they'd make Linda miserable. But not Dot. She always sees the bright side of everything."

"And wasn't it clever the way they got hold of that money, and fooled that bandit!" exulted Ted. "My, but that was slick. And think what it's going to mean to that bank and its depositors! Because if that fellow hadn't been fooled, he'd have made off with it. I don't believe they'll ever find him now."

"I guess nobody will care if he never comes back to the United States!" agreed Louise.

They arrived at the airport and found the plane in readiness, wheeled out on the runway, and Ted took time to give it an inspection himself, while Louise ran off to get the necessary supplies—some food and water, and a first-aid kit, as a necessary precaution. She borrowed sweaters and knickers from the supply at the airport, for she reasoned that Linda and Dot would be chilled and drenched from the rain. Dry clothing ought to be a god-send, even if they used it only on the short trip back in the plane.

Inside of an hour they took off. It was still drizzling, but Ted was such an experienced navigator that he had no difficulty at all in flying in any kind of weather, and he found the island from Susie's directions. Shortly after noon, he brought it down on the beach.

A feeling of apprehension stole over Louise, when she saw neither of the girls on the shore to greet them. In spite of the noise of ocean, surely they would have heard the plane! Why weren't they there?

Ted turned off the motor, and looked about expectantly.

"Do you suppose they're both sick—or injured?" faltered Louise. She did not add, "or dead," but she could not help thinking it.

"Maybe they didn't hear us. Let's shout together—'Linda and Dot!' If they hear their first names, they'll know we're friends, maybe recognize our voices. You see they may be hiding—for fear it's that gangster returning."

"I never thought of that," replied Louise, more hopefully. "All right—both together when I count three.

"One—two—three!"

"LINDA AND DOT!"

Their voices rose clearly over the splashing of the waves, and they waited tensely.

But there was no reply!

They waited, and tried again.... Still silence.... Louise put out her hand, and grasped her husband's, in fear.

"What does it mean?" she cried, in anguish. "Is this surely the right island? There seemed to be a lot of them."

"Maybe it isn't" he answered, optimistically. "That girl seemed to be telling the truth—but she was a queer one. Besides, she might not be sure which island it was.... Anyway, we'll search. If Linda and Dot were here, we'll see some evidences of their camp—burnt out fires, or worn paths, or something. Come on, let's start!"

Arm in arm they began their search, stepping carefully through the underbrush, now and then stopping to call, "Linda" or "Dot," in the hope that the girls might only have been asleep. They did not have to go far before they saw that at least someone had been here recently, for there was a path worn through the underbrush.

Farther and farther in they went, until they came to a small cluster of pine trees. And here, sure enough, they found the remains, or rather the ashes, for the place had been left neat, of a camp fire.

The sight of this forsaken spot brought sudden tears to Louise's eyes.

"They've been dragged off and killed! I just know it!" she moaned.

"Don't cry, please, dear," begged Ted. "We're not sure yet. This may not be their island—their fire. Somebody else may have camped here. Let's look about a bit."

Slowly they walked around the place, examining the ground for some forgotten belonging that would identify the former campers. Noticing a pile of leaves where someone had evidently made a bed, Louise kicked them aside with her foot, and she saw an empty matchbox. It wasn't much, but it was something, and she leaned over and picked it up.

The letters on the lid leaped out at her like living tongues. Marked with a purple rubber-stamp over the trade-mark, were the words:

"J. Vetter, Spring City, Ohio."

The explanation was only too plain. No one but Dot and Linda could have used that box. Louise dropped to the ground in an agony of wretchedness, and buried her face in her hands.

Even the optimistic Ted found all his hopes blasted by this little box. Gloom spread over his features, and he sat down beside his wife, comforting her as best he could.

For fifteen minutes, perhaps, they remained motionless, overcome by the thought of their friends' awful death. The food which they had brought with the idea of sharing a gay picnic lunch with Dot and Linda was forgotten. Though they had not eaten since breakfast, neither Ted nor Louise could have swallowed a mouthful.

At last Ted got up, gently raising Louise to her feet. Each silently decided to make one more search—a gruesome one this time—for the girls' bodies.

Round and round the island they walked, looking carefully, among the underbrush, near to the beach, even scanning the water with their spyglasses. But they saw nothing. That one matchbox had been their only evidence. Like good campers to the end, Linda and Dot had burned every trace of rubbish.

It was mid-afternoon when Ted realized that Louise was faint from hunger and thirst, and he made her sit down while he brought some supplies from the plane. She drank the water eagerly, but she could not eat. For Louise Mackay was going through the deepest tragedy of her young life: her first experience with the loss of a loved one.

During the entire flight homeward she kept her hand on Ted's knee, but she did not utter a word.