"We're a patrol of Boy Scouts," one of the new arrivals said. "We've
lost our way, but that doesn't need hinder our helping you out of your
scrape. Maybe you can direct us how to find our way back."
Marion never felt a more intense thrill in her life than she felt at
the sound of that voice. She looked out of the window and saw a group
of eight or ten boys, each of them carrying a gun, close to the
automobile.
With an effort that had behind it all of the power of the most joyous
impulse of her life, she swung her bound clinched fists right through
the pane of glass, pushed the gag from her mouth, and shouted:
"Clifford! Clifford! This is Marion. All of us girls are being
kidnapped by these men. Shoot these rascals and shoot to kill."
* * * * *
CHAPTER XXI.
THIRTEEN GIRLS IN THE MOUNTAINS.
Marion's plea for aid did not reach Clifford and the other Boy Scouts
to whom it was addressed without interruption. The latter half of it
came in jerked and disjointed phrases, and the tone of utterance was
one of extreme fear and distress. Clifford and Ernie Hunter, the
leader of the patrol, although amazed beyond description, realized
that this appeal for assistance was no idle one, and it was up to them
to do something quickly or action on their part might soon be too
late.
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