Dorothy Dale's Camping Days Part 31

"I have never seen Tavia since that morning we went for berries," she declared. "But my! What an age it has been since then!"

"I guess it has," bl.u.s.tered Nat, in his whole-hearted way, and he bent over his oars. "I don't want another batch of time as long as the last."

"And, of course, you could not get us any word," ventured Ned. "We fell down on that--it was my one mile-stone."

"But it is strange how secret some places can be kept," said Dorothy, cautiously. "It seems that they are so afraid of--publicity. There!

That looks like the place where the canoeists went ash.o.r.e. No, it is farther up, near the willow. We must pull in there and search. I do wish I could have--but what is the use of wis.h.i.+ng."

"Mere waste of tissue," said Ned with a smile. He was only a boy--a big boy, but the fright of having lost Dorothy had not left him unscathed.

The others in the boats took the signal from Nat, and were making for sh.o.r.e. It was a rough place indeed; first rocky, then a matter of holes, and after that it was trees--dense, stubborn trees.

A sense of horror stole over Dorothy as she again stepped into the woods, but in her brave way she instantly decided that it was merely a matter of reflection, and the question in hand was not one of memory, but one of facts. Tavia was still somewhere in those woods, or she was--No, she must be in the woods!

First calling, then running from point to point, the party searched, but Cologne would not lose her hold on Dorothy.

"You are not going to get away from me this time," declared the girl.

"I shall always blame myself for losing sight of you."

"Cologne! As if I am not big enough to take care of myself!" cried Dorothy, thinking how she had cared for herself through more difficulties than any of them could possibly imagine.

All through the woods could be heard shouts and signals from the parties that were out searching for Dorothy, for Tavia and for the girl from the sanitarium.

"Lots of people get lost in these woods," commented Ned. "I have been reading of them all my life, but now I guess I can write tales myself."

The voices of our friends had attracted a party from the sanitarium.

Dorothy was the first to recognize a guard, and as he came toward her, she screamed and ran into Ned's arms.

"Oh, don't let them take me again!" she begged. "They think I am that other girl! Stay near! Hold me! Don't let them take me!"

Instantly the excitement was intense. From the hospital party two men had come up, while of the campers, Jack, Nat and Ralph hurried close.

"Why should they take you?" demanded Ned.

"Oh, they made the mistake before, and I suppose they have seen their boat."

Quick to act as to think, Ned picked Dorothy up in his arms and turned into a natural hiding place.

"There, they have not seen you! Let them look--further on!" he whispered.

Of course the others could not even guess what had caused the sudden change in Dorothy's manner, but Ned knew it was not mere excitement.

"Here," he said, "is a pillow of moss. You and Cologne stay here, while I go out and see the hospital men. I will a.s.sure them no patient of theirs is with us."

Dorothy lay back exhausted. If only they would go along! But suppose they should find Tavia, and take her to that dreadful asylum!

Voices, very near, gave her a chance to listen. She heard some one say that a young girl had that morning escaped from the inst.i.tution in the house canoe, and that the boat was now lying close by.

But in turning into the deep brush the strange men had not actually caught sight of the frightened girls, as the heavy woodland offered all sorts of excuses for visions.

"Well, we must get her," said one of the men. "She walked right past me, and said 'good morning.' But how was I to know who the new nurse, or the new patient was? The trouble is now with the mother. She is beyond consolation."

CHAPTER XXVI

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 gra.s.s, and about here the gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s, trying to free himself from whatever it was that held him.