ected from view by the immense roots of the fallen tree,
but they knew of no other refuge and resolved to make the best of it.

The girls had barely crept into their hiding place when they heard a
noise of some one tramping through the underbrush. A few moments later
a man slouched along a narrow path between the trees. His hat was
pulled down over his face, but Madge and Phil recognized him by his
dress as the man they had seen asleep on the ground earlier in the day.

Mollie made no sound. She was hidden between the two friends, and
never in her life before, so far as she could recall, had she been so
protected by affection. But her increased trembling told her rescuers
that she had recognized the man who passed so near to them, and that
she feared him.

"It's Bill," she faltered when the figure disappeared without having
the slightest suspicion that he was being watched. "He is on his way
to our boat. He will ask for me, and my father will be sure to find
out that I have gone. Then they will come out here to hunt for me."

For a long time after Mollie's disquieting prediction none of the three
prisoners spoke. They hardly dared to breathe. Their bodies ached
from their cramped, uncomfortable positions; they were hungry, and,
worse than anything else, Madge and Phyllis were tormented with thirst.
Since leaving the houseboat early in the morning they had drunk no
water. Phil was thinking remorsefully that all this trouble had come
from her asking Madge to go with her to the island in search of Mollie.

Madge was wondering just what she would do and say if Mollie's father
should find them, while Mollie's delicate face had lost its expression
of apathy and now wore one of lively terror. Even the faint rustle of
leaves as a passing breeze swept through the trees caused her to start.
An hour passed and no one came to look for them. Either Mike had not
learned of his daughter's escape, or else he had not taken the trouble
to come to search for her. He must have believed that she would return
to the boat later on of her own accord, driven by hunger and loneliness.

It was now growing late in the afternoon. Neither Madge nor Phyllis
wore a watch, so it was impossible to tell how much time they had spent
in the cave. Miss Jenny Ann would wonder what had happened. Of
course, Lillian and Eleanor would explain matters. Miss Jones might
remember the tide and understand what was keeping them away. Yet there
w