“Well, I guess we’re ready to start,” announced Mrs. Bonnell, after an early breakfast. “Did you bring the compass?” “How many bottles of olives did you put in?” “I hope there are enough sandwiches.” “And a drinking cup.” “What about matches?” “Did you lock my trunk, Natalie?” “What shall we do with the keys?” The above are only samples. Three or more pages of similar import might be set down, but to no purpose. They were about to leave their camp, and, against the visits of an intruder they had locked most of their valuables such as they did not take with them—in their trunks. Then the tent-flaps had been carefully tied shut, a weird array of knots being used, having been copied from a boy-scout book that the Guardian had with her. “If a burglar can untie those,” said Mrs. Bonnell as she finished the last one, “he’ll be so short tempered that he won’t bother to take the few little things we have left here.” “But how can we untie them?” asked Marie. “Oh, I can easily pick them out with a hairpin,” answered the resourceful Mrs. Bonnell. “Hairpins to a woman are what a screw-driver is to a man. I never could get along without them. From buttoning shoes to opening bottles of olives, they run the gamut of utility.” The day was fair, with no promise of rain, but, even if it should come, the serviceable suits, of which each girl had two, would neither be damaged, nor would they readily permit of the wearers being drenched. And so they started off. “I do hope that Reuben doesn’t tag after us, or want to come with us,” said Alice, when they were in the boats. “Why, did he say he would?” asked Mabel. “No, but he was rather hinting when we questioned him about Bear Pond. I wouldn’t be surprised but what he got one of his ‘half days off,’ and became our escort.” “He means all right,” murmured Natalie. “Poor fellow!” “You may well say that, if you accept any more flowers from him,” warned Alice. “I don’t see why. They are only wild blossoms, and I’d pick them myself if he didn’t.” “That’s Nat!” exclaimed Mabel with a laugh. They rowed leisurely to another cove about which Reuben had told them, and then, once more concealing the oars, they struck off into a path that, they had been assured led directly to Bear Pond, and to that portion most likely to be the camping-place of the Gypsies, since it was near a main-traveled road. “Be sure we have everything!” exclaimed Alice, as they disembarked. “For it may be a long time before we get back.” “Don’t look for trouble,” warned Mrs. Bonnell. Laden with their parcels and bundles containing mostly food, for they intended to have a substantial lunch in the woods, they trudged on. Mrs. Bonnell industriously blazed the trail as they proceeded, though it was scarcely necessary, for the path seemed often used. “But we may be able to see the white blaze of the wood in the dark,” she insisted.