The Girl Scouts at Bellaire Part 11

She had donned the white night dress, the girls reasoned she would prefer it to the colored crepe pajamas, and Madaline, watching her shake out all the glory usually bound in those two heavy braids of chestnut hair, was lost in admiration.

"However did your hair grow so beautifully long and thick?" she inquired, lifting the cloak of many tresses in both her hands.

"Loved One had wonderful hair," replied Mary, "and I guess hot countries are supposed to be best for the growth also," she added.

Then, as if unhappy thoughts would torment her, she sighed a little.

"Are you lonely?" Madaline asked gently.

"Oh no," brightening up with a correct sense of politeness. "I was just thinking how Reda blames my hair for what she thinks is a symptom of the fever. You know her people have such tight kinky hair, they cannot understand ours. Those who do grow longer hair are of a different race, and they have that very straight, stiff Indian kind.

But daddy told Grandie mine should never be cut, so Reda didn't dare to cut it, as she has often wanted to. Madaline," Mary suddenly exclaimed, a certain timid appeal in her voice, "did you notice the little basket I brought with me?"

"Oh yes, where did you put it?" eagerly inquired the girl on the other side of the bed.

"I put it out on a little porch I saw back of the dining-room. Do you think it will be all right?"

"Oh, yes, but why did you set it outside?"

"It's better in the air," replied Mary, and Madaline had not the courage to ask if "it" were alive, and why it should need air. Instead she hurried her preparation, and both were soon ready, so the light was snapped out. Madaline thrilled as she recalled what happened when she touched the b.u.t.ton of another light a few hours earlier.

In less than an hour every tousled head was buried deep in its fragrant pillow, and even we are not permitted to "tap the tank of dreams."

Surely a girl scout and her visitor may dream her own dreams; why should outsiders pry into their secrets?

Mrs. Dunbar, however, had not retired as early as did her young guests.

In fact she phoned again to the Sanitarium to find out, if possible, how Professor Benson seemed, then whether his sleep was natural, his respiration normal, and to obtain such other information as might indicate the man's condition.

Word came back over the wire that his sleep did not seem natural, although he showed no fever, but he called constantly for protection, as if in fear of someone harming him. Mrs. Dunbar gave orders that everything possible be done for his comfort, and she promised to call the next day personally to look after him. As everyone in Bellaire knew Mrs. Guy Dunbar, her wishes were sure to be respected, and no doubt her interest obtained for the sick man all possible "special attention."

A little later even the lights in the study and Mrs. Dunbar's room were extinguished, and the tranquillity of slumber fell softly over the sloped roof of Cragsnook.

It must have been past midnight--no one had at the moment any thought of time--when something aroused the household!

Cleo jumped out of bed and rushed to her aunt's door! Mrs. Dunbar heard her step, and the door was opened when she reached it.

"Oh, what was that?" gasped Cleo.

"I don't know, but it sounded like a cry! Listen!"

A low, moaning wail, almost like wind through the attic chimney, sounded again.

"There! That's someone calling," replied Mrs. Dunbar. She s.n.a.t.c.hed a small revolver from under her pillow, threw on a dressing gown, stuck her feet into her slippers, all at the same moment. Cleo threw around her own shoulders a cape she found over a chair and both were ready now to investigate.

Down the hall pattering feet told of the other girls' alarm.

"Oh, Cleo," begged Grace, "where are you? What is that dreadful noise?"

"Come in," answered Mrs. Dunbar, "and just don't be too alarmed. I am able to fight anything that groans that way. Come along, Cleo. You're not afraid, are you?"

"I would be if I stood still and listened to that," replied the little scout. "Here, girls, get some weapon. These old swords are all right," springing to a chair and bringing down from their hanging place at the hall door two glittering Turkish blades. "You won't have to use them, but it's best to be armed," insisted Cleo. "Where's Mary?"

"Oh, I forgot all about her!" gasped Madaline.

"We must look for her," said Mrs. Dunbar promptly, and leading the way, she, with the revolver, Cleo, Grace and Madaline with swords, and also carrying an East Indian spear each, they made their way down the hall to Madaline's room.

Cleo pushed open the door.

The bed was empty!

"She's gone!" exclaimed Cleo excitedly.

"And the screen is out of the window. Look!" cried Grace.

Beyond the bed the low latticed window was flung wide open, its screen lay where it had fallen, and the pretty draperies were almost torn from their hangings.

"Oh!" gasped Madaline. "Someone has stolen her!"

But Mrs. Dunbar thoughtfully shook her head.

CHAPTER XII

A STARTLING EXPERIENCE

Mary was gone and through the window! That was plain even to the excited girls who, in the night, stood around Mrs. Dunbar, aghast with wonder, and fearful for the safety of the little girl, so lately their companion.

"No one could have dragged her through the window without disturbing us," Mrs. Dunbar said. "One of you girls call Jennie, and I will phone the garage for Michael."

All the fear that at first seemed to paralyze the girls was now dispelled in their anxiety for the safety of Mary.

"Come on!" Grace replied promptly. "I'll run down to Jennie's room and get her to help us!"

"And I'll go with you," declared Madaline without a tremor in her voice.

"I shall have to go to my room to phone, Cleo," said Mrs. Dunbar. "But we haven't searched any yet. She may be somewhere about, although the window has been so pulled apart."

"Better get Michael at once, I should think," Cleo suggested. "I'll stay here till you come back."

"Not afraid alone----"

"Not a bit. This is like one of our real scout experiences. Do hurry, Auntie, I am so afraid those people may have carried Mary off!" she urged.

It took a few minutes to arouse the man in the garage, with the telephone call. Meanwhile, Cleo was cautiously and quietly looking about the room. First, naturally, she looked under the bed, next she threw open the door of the closet, being wise enough to jump to the hall door as she did so, but not so much as a piece of clothing stirred. Other articles of furniture in the room that could possibly serve as a screen were then scrutinized, but they offered no clew.

Finally Cleo stepped to the window ledge, and peered out into the thick trees that surrounded the house. She put her hands to her eyes to shade them from the light--wasn't that something white in the b.u.t.ton ball tree?

Neither Mrs. Dunbar nor the girls had come back to the room, and for a moment Cleo hesitated, perched there at the window. Should she turn off the light to be able the better to see into the darkness?