White Water Terror

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“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bess Marvin said. She looked up from her seat in Nancy Drew’s bedroom, where she was polishing her long, delicate nails. “I’m not going on any wilderness trip!”

“But, Bess, you’ll love it,” countered her cousin George Fayne.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Nancy Drew was engrossed in a puzzle and trying to block out the sound of her best friends’ voices. The more difficult the puzzle, the better Nancy liked it. Thinking hard kept her mind limbered up for her more challenging work as a detective.

“Really, Bess, you will love it,” George said again, seeing her cousin roll her eyes. “Lost River, the mountains, the trees, the birds-they’re all yours, just for sitting comfortably in a rubber raft for a couple of days. You probably won’t even have to paddle. The river will do all the work.”

“I’ll loathe it!” Bess exclaimed with a shudder. “Nancy,” she implored, “tell George that this time she’s really gone looney tunes.”

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