“Green Lake,” replied Mabel. “If you’ll notice we’ve been going down hill for the last ten minutes. Green Lake lies lower than Bear Pond, and we must be getting down to the lake level. Sooner or later we’ll get to the shore, and then we won’t be lost.” “Fine!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnell, as she clutched at the arm of Mabel to save herself from falling, having stepped on a stone that gave her ankle a turn. “You are certainly pursuing knowledge, Mabel—and that is one of our degrees. So you really noticed that?” “Yes. Going to Bear Pond we kept climbing up—though of course there were times when we had to go down in little glades. Now we are going the other way, which shows that we are coming down. Of course we may come out miles from where we left our boats, but what matter—as long as we are at the lake?” “The dear, old lake!” murmured Marie. “I shall be _so_ glad to see it again.” They trudged on in the rain and darkness. The drops were falling heavier now, for the drizzle had given place to a regulation downpour with all the accompaniments of wind and chilling atmosphere. Fortunately the Camp Fire Girls had on heavy garments, and their practical suits did really shed the water-drops as does the proverbial duck’s back. The electric lamp served well to show them the path, Mrs. Bonnell walking on ahead and flashing the light at intervals, to keep herself from wandering off the hard and beaten surface that seemed well-traveled in spite of the lonesomeness of the surroundings. “It can’t be _much_ farther!” murmured Natalie. “I’m sure I’ve walked ten miles since we had the last of the sandwiches!” “Don’t you dare mention eating!” cried Alice. “Are you tired?” asked Mrs. Bonnell, turning back toward Natalie. “Not so very. But I do wish we were in camp. Do you suppose the boys——” “No such good luck!” interrupted Mabel, guessing Natalie’s thought. “But if they come over to our camp, as they do every evening,” went on breath-of-the-pine-tree, “they’ll see that we aren’t there, and they may start out——” “Yes, but how would they know where to begin?” asked Marie. “We didn’t tell any one where we were going!” “Unless Reuben did.” “That’s so!” Hope seemed to spring up anew. “Oh, dear! oh!” suddenly called Alice. “What is it?” demanded Mrs. Bonnell, turning and flashing her lamp. “Don’t say it’s a snake!” begged Natalie. “I don’t know what it was,” went on Alice. “But something sharp pricked me on the ankle—right through my shoe, too!” Mrs. Bonnell hurried back along the halted line. “Silly!” she cried. “Nothing but a piece of a blackberry bush that slipped down inside your shoe. Your lace is loosened.” “Oh!” gasped Alice contritely. “I—I didn’t mean to scare you.”