Part 27 (1/2)

”We'd rather play with the girls than stay here. Hadn't we, d.i.c.kie?”

proposed Willie Raby.

”Yep,” agreed Master d.i.c.kie, with due solemnity.

”Go on!” cried Bob. ”And see you go straight back to the house. My!” he added to Tom, ”but those kids are a nuisance.”

”Think we ought to let them go alone?” queried Tom, with some faint doubt on the subject. ”You reckon they'll be all right, Bobbins?”

”Great Scott! they sure know the way to the house,” said Bob. ”It's a straight path.”

But, as it happened, the twins had no idea of going straight to the house. The pond was fed by a stream that ran in from the east. The little fellows had seen this, and Willie's idea was to circle around through the woods and find that stream. There they could go in bathing like the bigger boys, ”and n.o.body would ever know.”

”Our heads will be wet,” objected one of the orphans.

”Gee!” said Willie Raby, ”don't let's wet our heads. We ain't got to-have we?”

”Nope,” said his brother, promptly.

There was some doubt, still, in the minds of the other boys.

”What you goin' to say to those folks up to the big house?” demanded one of the fresh airs.

”Ain't goin' to say nothin',” declared the bold Willie. ”Cause why? they ain't goin' to know-'nless you fellers snitch.”

”Aw, who's goin' to snitch?” cried the objector, angered at once by the accusation of the worst crime in all the category of boyhood. ”We ain't no tattle-tales-are we, Jim?”

”Naw. We're as safe to hold our tongues as you an' yer brother are, Willie Raby-so now!”

”Sure we are!” agreed the other orphans.

”Then come along,” urged the talkative twin. ”n.o.body's got to know.”

”Suppose yer sister finds it out?” sneered one.

”Aw-well-she jes' ain't go'n' ter,” cried Willie, exasperated. ”An' what if she does? She runned away herself-didn't she?”

The spirit of restlessness was strong in the Raby nature, it was evident. Willie was a born leader. The others trailed after him when he left the pathway that led directly back to Sunrise Farm, and pushed into the thicker wood in the direction he believed the stream lay.

The juvenile leader of the party did not know (how should he?) that just above the pond the stream which fed it made a sharp turn. Its waters came out of a deep gorge, lying in an entirely different direction from that toward which the ”terrible twins” and their chums were aiming.

The little fellows plodded on for a long time, and the sun dropped suddenly behind the hills to the westward, and there they were-quite surprisingly to themselves-in a strange and fast-darkening forest.

CHAPTER XXIII-LOST

The girl visitors from Briarwood Hall did all they could to help the mistress of Sunrise Farm and Madge prepare for the evening festivities, and not alone in employing the attention of the six little girls from the orphanage.

There were the decorations to arrange, and the paper lanterns to hang, and the long tables on the porch to prepare for the supper. Twelve extra, hungry little mouths to feed was, of itself, a fact of no small importance.