“Our next camping spot,” said Miss Phillips as the party started out the next morning, “will be an island. Keep watch for it, on the right, I think, for I am not quite sure of its location.”

“A big island?” inquired Ruth. She had studied the map in detail, but she did not remember any large islands, or indeed any place where the stream would be wide enough to contain such a formation.

“Not very large,” replied Miss Phillips. “But plenty big enough for our camp. There is a stream branching out somewheres to the right, which joins this again farther on, and in the middle is an island about a quarter of a mile long, with lots of shade trees. A very attractive spot, I believe.”

“And do the Boy Scouts ever camp there?” asked Marjorie. It seemed to her that she could remember her brother Jack telling of such an experience.

“Yes; summer before last. And I believe a few other boys besides scouts went, too; so perhaps your brother was among them.”

“It’ll be fun to see if we can find any traces of them,” remarked Ethel. “Or maybe we’ll find treasure.” “Oh, all islands are reported to contain buried treasure,” laughed Miss Phillips.

The girls continued to paddle straight ahead all morning. As the stream was swift and narrow, they did not attempt to eat their luncheon in their canoes, but pulled up to the shore and got out upon a large, flat rock which jutted out from the bank.

Ruth Henry was the first to finish eating. Jumping to her feet, she hurried down the bank to where her canoe lay and rummaged for her field-glasses.

“The creek seems to be getting wider down there,” she said; “maybe I can see the island.”

But although she looked carefully, and several of the others made attempts also, they could not distinguish anything which resembled an island. This was not strange, for it was necessary for them to paddle for three hours longer before they finally sighted it.

“There it is!” cried Ruth. “Oh, I think this is going to be lots of fun!”

The small island, not much wider than a city square, appeared most attractive with its shady trees, and sandy sloping shores. The girls put more energy into their strokes, that they might reach it more quickly. Marjorie was the first to pull her canoe to shore.

“I feel like Christopher Columbus!” she cried, darting forward to explore.

“We’ll make it a game,” said Miss Phillips, when all the girls were out of their canoes, “to see who can find the most traces of civilization.”

The girls discovered a little path leading towards the centre of the island, and followed it. After about two minutes’ walk they found themselves in a clearing, and Ruth discovered the remains of a fire.

“This is the camping spot, anyway,” said the captain; “so now suppose we go back for our supplies.”

In a short time they were again started upon their tour of exploration. But there were no more paths, and the thickness of the undergrowth retarded their progress. A few birds fluttered at their approach, and Marjorie found the remains of a dead snake, but otherwise their expedition was uneventful.

“Not much excitement here,” remarked Ruth, as they returned to their camping spot, somewhat disappointed.

“No, but it’s a lovely place to be,” put in Marjorie. “Why do you always want excitement, Ruth?”

“Oh, I can’t stand anything slow!” she replied.

“Then see that you don’t cause any more delays,” said Miss Phillips, rather sharply. She had not forgiven Ruth for what she still considered a premeditated mistake in losing the way.

Ruth said nothing, but closed her lips tightly. She was very angry with Miss Phillips, and wished that she might do something to annoy her. She decided to think up a plan of action. “If you put the tents up quickly,” said the captain, “there ought to be time for a swim before supper. How about it, Frieda?”

“All right—if you don’t stay too long. Please be here on the dot of six,” she warned them, “not a minute later. We’re going to have corn-fritters and maple syrup for supper!”

“Hurrah! That’s worth working for!” cried Marjorie, as she lifted her shelter-half from the ground.

A few minutes later, all of the girls except Frieda and the captain had disappeared, clad in their bathing suits, through the trees that hid the water from the encampment. They skipped along as fast as they could, watching out to avoid the sharp rocks which might hurt their tender feet. One after another they reached the shore, and, plunging into the water, struck out for the deepest part.

“I’ll race you across the stream, Marj!” challenged Ruth, anxious for adventure.

“Come on!” cried Marjorie.

“No, no, girls!” commanded Frances Wright, who, because of her commission as lieutenant, had been placed in charge. “There may be some springs of cold water out there farther that would give you cramps. Besides, there is so little time now. Wait till tomorrow.”Disappointed at these words, the girls swam slowly about, keeping close to the shore. It was getting cooler now, and they did not want to stay in long. Marjorie stayed with Alice, helping her with her strokes for a short time; then they both decided to go back to camp.

“I believe I’ll go too,” said Ethel; and Lily and Doris joined the party.

“I’d like to go back, but I feel responsible,” observed Frances; “Ruth, will you and Florence promise to do nothing rash if I leave you?”

“Cross my heart!” responded Ruth.

“All right; then I’m going. But don’t wait too long!”

But when the rest of the girls gathered around the fire to enjoy Frieda’s delicious corn fritters, neither of the girls had appeared.

“I almost think I ought to go down to the stream,” said Miss Phillips, rising. But the sudden appearance of Florence Evans, completely dressed, reassured her.

“Where’s Ruth?” she demanded.

“She’s all right; she’ll be up soon. She wanted to practice the Australian Crawl, and I couldn’t get her away. But she said she’d be up soon.”

Miss Phillips looked annoyed. Why must Ruth always do something different from the others? And why should she always be so inconsiderate? The captain glanced slyly at Frieda; but the girl did not seem to resent the thoughtlessness of the other in keeping her back. They were almost through with supper, when Ruth, dripping wet, emerged from among the trees.

“I humbly apologize!” she cried; “but I simply made up my mind that I wouldn’t stop till I got that stroke, and I succeeded!”

If Ruth expected applause at her announcement she was disappointed, for no one passed even a comment. Miss Phillips made no effort to hide her irritation.

“Hurry, Ruth,” she said, “if you want any supper. It’s selfish to keep Frieda waiting!”

Ruth disappeared into her tent with a pout on her face. Always Frieda, or Marjorie, or somebody else that the captain seemed to be concerned about—anybody but her! Then she smiled at the little secret trick she had played upon them. Miss Phillips was too cock-sure of herself; she never had anyone cross her! Well, perhaps in the morning she would find something to her distaste!

After the supper things had been cleared away, Marjorie suggested that they get their canoes and go out on the water. Ruth was the first to voice an opposition.

“I’m too tired!” she protested. “But you can all go, for I’m not a bit afraid to stay here alone.”

“No,” said Miss Phillips; “I think we will all stay here tonight; it will be safer. And we can have a little stunt night like the one we had that time at camp.” The evening passed quickly and pleasantly; by nine o’clock the girls were all in bed, and soon afterwards, asleep. Ruth was the last to close her eyes, and the first to open them in the morning.

But she did not get up immediately; she lay still, contemplating the very agreeable adventure which was about to take place. As soon as she heard the others stir, she too began to dress.

“I hope we can make a quick get-away,” remarked Lily, as she adjusted her tie. “It always seems to make Captain Phillips so happy when we make an early start.”

Ruth said nothing, but whistled softly to herself, succeeding, by the display of indifference, to intimate to her companion that the captain’s happiness was not her one and only desire in life.

As the girls left their tent, they heard their officer’s voice.

“Somebody please volunteer to get water. You found the spring yesterday, you remember, down near the edge of the bank by the stream.”

“I’ll go!” called Alice Endicott, ever ready to be obliging.

“So will I,” chimed in Marjorie, joining the other girl and running with her towards the water.

“Where are the canoes?” asked Marjorie, as soon as they had reached the bank. “Wasn’t it about here that we left them?”

The girls stopped short and gazed up and down the stream, scanning the banks on both sides. The canoes were nowhere in sight!

“Marj!” exclaimed Alice, aghast, “can I be dreaming about the time we went for your canoe, and couldn’t find it—or are they really gone?”

“It’s impossible!” protested Marjorie. “Oh, Alice, surely we’re mistaken!”

But as in their previous experience, their first fears were correct. Walking to a point on the shore which projected far into the water, they looked searchingly in every direction; but they saw nothing except the water, the line of the shore, and the wall of trees on either side. Could this be the work of thieves?

Forgetting all about their pails of water, they ran as fast as they could back to the camp, and shouted their news as soon as they were within hearing distance. For they felt that not a moment was to be lost.

Frieda dropped the pan of biscuits she was carrying, and Miss Phillips looked at the girls as if she thought them crazy. And then the scouts began to ask them breathless, excited questions.

“Could we starve to death, Captain?” demanded Doris, nervously.

But Miss Phillips, now perfectly self-controlled, laughed good naturedly.

“Hardly,” she replied. “First of all, everybody, except Alice, and possibly yourself, Doris, could swim to the mainland and bring a boat for the others. Secondly, although we do not have a great deal of food, we could really live for a long time on what we have. And third, this is not a lonely spot,—there are sure to be boats passing occasionally. But the loss of the canoes themselves,—I guess we could make the rest of the trip to Silvertown by train or trolley—would mean a good deal to the members of Pansy troop.”

“But how do you suppose they got away?” asked Ruth. “Could thieves——?”

“No,” said Miss Phillips; “it is all my fault for not insisting upon tying them in some way. Evidently the stream has a slight tide, like a miniature ocean, and they have simply been washed out and down stream. Yet, I was sure we had pulled them up far enough upon the banks. But the current is not so very fast; perhaps we can catch them.”

“What with?” asked Marjorie. “Are we going to stop and build a raft?”

“No, no!” laughed Miss Phillips; “we’ll swim after them.”

“Oh, Captain, I could never do that! Oh, what shall we do?” wailed Alice, helplessly.

“First of all, obey your scout law: A Girl Scout is cheerful. Next, eat your breakfast that Frieda has prepared for you. And that reminds me, where is the water, Marjorie?” The girl started guiltily. “We forgot it!” she admitted. “But we’ll go back.”

“Very well; then hurry!”

The warm, wholesome food revived the scouts’ spirits, and they discussed the proposition more hopefully.

“Ruth, you wanted adventure,” remarked Miss Phillips; “now you’re getting it.”

The girl looked down at her plate, and smiled mysteriously.

“I wonder if any of us really will find the canoes,” said Marjorie.

“Whoever does will be a real heroine!” exclaimed Ruth, thus, as it were, arranging the stage for her own complete triumph.

“Well, we’ll each do something,” said the captain. “As soon as your breakfast is digested, we’ll organize into squads. Let me see——”

She paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully around the group.

“Doris—and Alice—and Frances are to stay at camp,” she announced slowly. “Ruth you and I will swim the shortest way to the main-land to look for help. Marjorie and Ethel may swim over and explore all around the farther shores of this creek, looking for nooks in the bank where the canoes may have drifted; and Lily and Florence may take this side. Frieda, I would like you to start with us; for you are such a strong swimmer you could investigate the creek a distance if necessary.”

“But why don’t you take Marjorie with you too?” asked Ruth, obviously dissatisfied with the plans. “She’s a better swimmer than I am!”

“I wanted to give you a chance to earn the glory,” replied Miss Phillips.

“Oh, no, do let Marjorie——”

“I have placed you, Ruth; and you are all to obey my orders. They are final!”

Ruth turned away crestfallen. For some reason unknown to the girls, she was not nearly so eager for the adventure as they would have expected her to be. The others all chafed at the hour of idleness their captain insisted upon enforcing, before starting upon their search. By nine o’clock, all but the scouts designated to remain at camp were in their bathing-suits, ready to take the plunge.

Marjorie was eager for the undertaking. She stood on the shore, one foot dipped into the water, anxiously awaiting the signal for departure. At the first sound of the whistle she was in the stream, swimming with a long, even stroke for the opposite shore. Ethel Todd was by her side.

“I do hope somebody finds them!” she called, as she brought her head out of the water. “But I guess we won’t be the ones to do it!”

“No, it will probably be the girls who went down stream—with Miss Phillips!” “Then I hope it’s Frieda, and not Ruth! She has a swelled head already.”

“Right you are!” agreed Ethel.

They swam silently for several minutes, making good progress. As they neared the opposite shore they perceived how thick the undergrowth was, close to the shore.

“The boats could be hidden there,” observed Ethel.

“But hardly, unless somebody hid them!” objected Marjorie. “Because we’re not swimming with the current, Ethel.”

“No, we aren’t! I hadn’t thought of that.”

They were almost at the opposite bank now, but they saw no signs of canoes.

“Tired yet?” asked Ethel. “Shall we go ashore?”

“Not unless you want to,” replied Marjorie.

“Then let’s swim along the bank, and look closely for them.”

The girls swam leisurely; the motion was no greater effort for them than walking. They had hardly gone fifty yards, however, before Marjorie caught sight of something shining under a group of low bushes. With a cry, she rushed forward. To their infinite joy they found, securely caught in the branches, the five bright, green canoes!

“And the paddles are in them!” commented Ethel, as each girl climbed into a canoe. “Oh, Marj, don’t you wish we could take all five back at once?” “Yes, but we’ll get the others at camp to go back with us,” said Marjorie; “and we won’t blow the whistle till we have them all.”

In a short time the girls at the camp had heard the news, and Alice and Doris volunteered to go back with them to get the other canoes. Then, with a great blast of the whistle, they summoned the other searchers. It was half an hour, however, before everyone gathered at the shore.

“Ethel and Marjorie are the heroines!” cried Lily, triumphantly, after they had all heard the story.

“No, Marjorie is!” protested Ethel, modestly. “It was she who found them.”

Ruth looked annoyed. The irritation she had caused her captain was offset by the triumph Marjorie had gained; and she had to admit to herself that her trick was a failure.

But Miss Phillips took all the blame upon herself.