All aboard! The hoarse voice of Captain MacLaren boomed out like a fog horn, waking a clatter of echoes among the tall cliffs on the opposite shore of the river, and sending the seventy-five girls on the dock all skurrying for the Carribou's gangplank at once. Hurry up, Hinpoha! We're getting left behind. Agony strained forward on the suitcase she was helping Hinpoha to carry down the hill and endeavored to catch up with the crowd, a proceeding which she soon acknowledged to be impossible, for Hinpoha, rendered breathless by the hasty scramble from the train, lagged farther behind with every step. I - can't - go - any - faster! she panted, and abruptly let go of her end of the suitcase to fan herself with her hand. What's the use of rushing so, anyway? she demanded plaintively. They won't go off without us; they can see us coming down the hill. It wasn't my fault that my camera got wedged under the seat and made us be the last ones off the train, she continued, and I'm not going to run down this hill and go sprawling, like I did in the elevator yesterday. Are the other girls on already? she asked, searching the crowd below with her eyes for a sight of the other Winnebagos.