Jane McCarthy did so with some assistance from Harriet, who clawed at the roots of the tree and pushed with her hands until she finally got to the top once more.  Reaching there she got up and surveyed the work with approval.

“Can you see the rope, Jane?”

Miss McCarthy shook her head.

“If you have to go down it be careful that you don’t fall before you get to the rope.  Now do you understand?”

“Do I?  This is going to be great fun.  Won’t the boys be surprised when we play our great trick on them?”

“Provided they do not surprise us first,” answered Harriet.

“Where are you going?”

“To follow George Baker’s trail for a time.  I can’t tell beyond that what I shall do.  It will depend upon circumstances.  Remember the signal.  I’m off now.”

Jane watched Harriet slip away.  There was undisguised admiration in the eyes of Jane McCarthy.  Not a sound could she hear from her companion, so silently did the latter move away.  After Harriet had gone, Jane called down to her friends that she was going to move from the spot and that they should keep quiet.

The hours passed slowly for Jane.  She was too active to care to sit down calmly and wait when there were things to be done, so Jane decided that she too would explore a little on her own account.  She started slowly, edging down nearer to the shore, thus taking a different course from that followed by her companion, toward the upper end of the island.

Jane had been gone about an hour when she heard voices directly ahead of her.  She glanced about in quest of a safe hiding place.  Not knowing exactly the direction that was being followed by those whose voices she had heard, she decided to run toward home.  A shout from behind her at that juncture told her that at least one of the party had gotten between her and the hiding place of the “Red Rover.”

Without an instant’s hesitation Crazy Jane ran to a low, bushy tree and climbed up in its foliage with almost the quickness of a cat.  Her clothes suffered, but she did not care.  Her sole desire now was to get out of sight as quickly as possible.  She would never forgive herself if she were to be the means of their being discovered.  As yet she had heard no warning cry from Harriet Burrell.

Jane had hardly secreted herself in the foliage of the tree when another hail sounded between her tree and home.

“Is that you, boys?” It was the voice of George Baker.

“Yes,” answered Sam.  “What’s up?”

George made his way toward them.  Jane could hear him forcing his way through the bushes.

The two parties met in an open space a short distance from the tree that held Jane.  She was straining every muscle to get a glimpse of them.

“Some one has been along here since I passed,” declared George.  “I found a footprint in the moss over there, and it was a woman’s.”

“So did we find the same thing,” answered Larry.  “There’s something queer about this whole island.  I feel spooky all the time.  Did you hear any one?”