y there'd be just heaps of snails and slugs."

"Shall we shout again?" suggested Aveline forlornly.

The chums called, whistled, halloed, and cooeed until they were
hoarse, but not a soul took the slightest notice. Time, which had sped
so rapidly during their first twenty minutes on the island, now
crawled on laggard wings. After what appeared to them an absolutely
interminable period, but which was in reality about an hour and a
half, the familiar figure of Hermie Graveson suddenly appeared on the
mainland close to the water-garden. Raymonde and Aveline started up,
and emitted yells that would have done credit to a pair of Zulu
warriors on the war-path. Hermie waved frantically, shouted something
they could not hear, and ran back towards the house. In a few minutes
she returned with Miss Gibbs. That worthy lady picked up her skirts
and advanced gingerly to the extreme limit of the stones that bordered
the water-garden. She put her hands to her mouth to form a
speaking-trumpet, and bawled a communication of which the marooned
ones could only catch such fragments as "How ... get ... doing ..."

On the presumption that it was an enquiry into their means of
locomotion, they pointed sadly to the floating raft. Miss Beasley now
came hurrying up, surveyed the situation, and also attempted to
converse, but with no better success. After an agitated colloquy with
Miss Gibbs she retired.

"D'you think they'll have to leave us here for the night?" fluttered
Aveline anxiously.

"Don't know. It looks like it, unless anyone can swim!" returned
Raymonde, with what stoicism she could muster.

"Perhaps they'll hire a cart to the river, and fetch up a punt?"

"It'll take hours to do that!"

The prospect of supper and bed seemed to be retreating further and
further into the dim and faraway distance. Aveline remembered that it
was the evening for stewed pears and custard, and tears dripped down
her cheeks on to her torn blouse.

"Oh! brace up, can't you?" snapped Raymonde. "It gives me spasms to
hear you sniff!"

Aveline was bursting into an indignant retort, when her companion
nudged her and pointed to the mainland.

Mackenzie, the old gardener, was coming across the orchard carrying on
his shoulder a very large wash-tub. The cook followed him, bearing a
clothes-prop.

"They've the best brains in the house! He's going to rescue us!"
exclaimed Raymonde ecstatically.

The prisoners on the island watched with deep interest w