DOROTHY'S SUCCESS
The boys from Camp Capital, together with their neighbors, held a
consultation there in the woods. They had heard from the sanitarium
attendants that, not only had a young girl escaped, and not yet found,
but that some weeks previously, a man, "stage-struck," as they put it,
had gotten away, and it was to his help that the departure of the girl
was attributed. Dorothy, from her hiding place, heard all this, and
knew only too well that the man referred to was none other than
Morrison.
"And this fellow has been caught?" asked Ned, anxiously.
"Yes," replied one of the men. "We took him in again yesterday
afternoon."
"Is he too demented to tell anything? That is, to know who was with
him while he was free?" went on Ned.
"Oh, he just talks in a rambling way about a girl who, he declares,
should have a fortune that his uncle has hidden away. He has really
never been entirely off, but one of the kind who rides a hobby, you
know," said the man. "His hobby is theatricals."
"But has he an uncle? Might he have taken a girl to that man?"
persisted Ned. "You see, we have reason to believe that the girl we
are in search of, met this man. Now, if he has been captured, what has
become of her?"
"That's one of the questions we may have to answer before our Board of
Inquiry," replied the man with no small concern. "It is easy enough
for those lunatics to get away, but to get them back is harder. And
the girl's mother is a widow, with all kinds of money."
Dorothy could scarcely keep still. Only the pressure of Cologne's
hands kept her from telling what she knew of the story. Then the fear
of again being mistaken for Mary Harriwell--that was too great a risk.
"Is there absolutely no clew?" asked Nat, almost in despair, for he
was always fond of Tavia.
"Yes. The station agent at Lexington tells a story about a girl coming
to him and staying in the station alone all night. But he declares she
had dark hair and brown eyes, while Mary Harriwell is a blonde. Others
about the station agree with him. That girl left for the Junction
night before last, and was not picked up dead or alive since. The
officials of the road have had searched every inch of the track. Seems
that old Sam Dixon is very worried about this because he let the girl
go. He did not know just who she was, but to hear him talk you would
think it was his daughter. Well, we must go beating farther along.
This searching, and with night coming, is no fun. We wish you luck,
and if you find your girl let us know."
So the parties separated and then Dorothy was free to leave her hiding
place. She longed to tell her friends the strange story, but she knew
that the finding of Tavia was the one and only thing to be thought of
just then.
"Are you sure that this is the direction in which the boys went?"
asked Nat, with something like a sigh.
Dorothy looked over the rough woodland. "No," she said, "there was a
swamp, for I distinctly remember that they picked their way through
tall grass, and about here the grass is actually dried up."
"Then to find a swamp," said Nat. "Seems to me there are more kinds of
trees in Maine, and more kinds of things to catch at a fellow's----"
A cry from Ned stopped the speech.
"Oh!" he yelled. "Something has my foot! Come quick!"
"Oh, maybe it is a rattlesnake!" gasped Cologne.
"Or maybe a big rat," added Jack, as they all ran back to where Ned
lay in the grass, trying to free himself from whatever it was that
held him.
"It hurts!" he said. "Get it off!"
Jack was the first to get down and look at the struggling boy.
"A trap!" he announced. "Easy! Don't pull it, Ned."
"More things than trees and lost girls in the Maine woods," exclaimed
Nat. "Gee whiz! I wonder what we'll strike next."
"Just take a strike at this trap," begged Ned. "Seems to me it
takes--oh! be careful, Jack, that hurts!"
"Let me!" suggested Dorothy. "I can open it, without hurting him," and
she stooped over her cousin. "Oh, you poor boy! It has cut right
through your shoe. Now, Jack, just hold the end of the chain so that
it cannot slip back," she ordered. "Cologne, dear, can you unlace this
shoe?"
"Oh, of course," growled Nat, "it takes a girl!"
"Any objections?" asked Ned, getting back to his good humor. "Now if
this were Nat it would take a whole boarding school of girls."
Dorothy and Cologne very gently helped the boys get the steel trap
free from the shoe. It took some time to do it without pressing the
jaws still farther in through the leather, but they succeeded.
"Now, you must go back in the boat," decided Dorothy. "We cannot run
the risk of having your foot poisoned."
"Never!" declared Ned. "I have often had worse than this, and have
gone on after the game."
He got to his feet, but limped as he walked The foot had been
lacerated.
"What foolish hunters ever put that trap there?" he asked.
"I would not be surprised if it were the man who shot the deer,"
replied Dorothy, as if the others knew of that happening.
"Shot a deer! At this season!" exclaimed Jack.
"Oh, I think he was an Indian. I saw him as I came along in the
canoe," replied Dorothy. "I thought at the time it was against the
law. Can you walk, Ned? I do wish you would go back."
"Seems to me we ought to separate," interposed Ralph. "We can never
make any headway by searching all together."
"Well, I will not leave Dorothy," declared Cologne, stoutly. "I left
her once----"
"No, I left _you_ once," corrected Dorothy, in her own way of always
taking the blame. "I think, however, Ralph is right. Suppose the boys
keep along the water, and Cologne and I go farther in."
"Then I go with you," said Ralph gallantly. "It is not altogether safe
in the deep woods. There might be lunatics----"
"Or muskrat traps," groaned Ned, who walked with difficulty.
At this they separated.
For some time they heard nothing more than their own voices calling
back and forth.
"Isn't it awful?" sighed Cologne. "Dorothy, I think it is utterly
useless. I am afraid she is--dead."
"I know she is not," declared Dorothy, "and I am not going to give up
until I have searched every inch of this wood. Now I am going to
shout!"
"Tavia! Tavia!" she yelled, and her clear voice struck an echo
against the hills. "Tavia! Tavia!" she called again.
"Hark!" said Cologne. "Didn't I hear----"
"I heard something!" declared Dorothy, and the sound came from back of
the hill. "Boys! Boys!" she shouted, but they were now too far away to
answer promptly. "Don't try to follow, Cologne. I feel that I can run
like the wind. I heard Tavia's voice, and I heard it--right--over--there!"
As she flew through the woods Cologne, in distress, tried to summon
the boys. She feared Dorothy would fall again, over some rock or
cliff. But there was no use trying to stop her. She had heard Tavia's
voice, and that was enough.