Dorothy felt as if she must speak--must ask them to take her back to the camp, wherever it might be. But suppose they should take her for that demented girl? No, she must find her way on alone. Perhaps she could follow them.

By this time the two canoeists had glided on ahead. Dorothy felt as if her heart would choke her! Then her father was still bearing up, waiting for her! She must soon reach him!

A shout from the bank, and the two young men turned into sh.o.r.e. "Come on," some one called. "We have a clew. Get in here. We must get over to----"

But that was all Dorothy heard, and again she was alone on the lake.

For the s.p.a.ce of a moment or so she felt that she had made a mistake, then came the awful thought of that sanitarium, and the knowledge that the people from there were searching everywhere for her.

"No, I will go down the lake a little farther. At least I am free now," she told herself.

It was nearing noon, she could tell by the sun, and she felt the need of food. Just below her she could see that the lake broadened, and there she determined to stop.

Her arms were getting stiff, and the sun burned down on her head, which was uncovered.

"Seems to me I hear voices," she thought. "I must go in to sh.o.r.e."

Gracefully she swung into the gra.s.sy bank. No sooner had her paddle sent her boat within reach of sh.o.r.e than she saw----

"Oh, my! It is our camp!" she yelled frantically, jumping out, and attempting to run up the hill toward the barn. But eager ears had heard her voice.

The next moment Dorothy Dale was clasped in the arms of her father.

CHAPTER XXV

LOOKING FOR TAVIA

What joy there was in that camp when Major Dale actually carried in Dorothy!

A signal had been arranged to notify those in the woods if any good news came, and as Major Dale placed his daughter in the arms of Cologne, Mrs. Markin ran out of doors, and blew the big horn, until she had no more breath left.

This was heard by Jack, Ned and Nat, who were just then preparing to drag the lake.

There were no words to express the joy all felt, but Dorothy looked around for Tavia, and asked frantic questions.

"You must not think of her," insisted Mrs. Markin, bringing in some warm tea. "You have done enough for her. Of course," she hurried to add, seeing the look that came into Dorothy's face, "we will find her, but you are not to leave this camp--well, I don't know when we will let you leave it again."

"Oh, you darling!" Cologne was crying hysterically. "I can never let you out of my sight again! To think that I should have done so in those deep woods."

"I have had a great time exploring," said Dorothy, sipping the refreshing tea, "and I think, Cologne, that there are many kinds of camping days. But if you will only let me go out, I have an idea I know where Tavia might be."

Then she told of her trip on the lake, and how quickly the young canoeists left the water to answer a call of a clew having been found.

Ned stood looking down at Dorothy, to make sure that she was in the flesh. Mrs. White had not been told of Dorothy's disappearance. They felt, however, that they would have had to notify her had Dorothy remained away until another sundown.

Nat was speechless. His handsome face showed the signs of his days and nights of anxiety, and he was not entirely relieved since there was even now no clew to Tavia.

"Let's go up the river," he suggested. "At least Dorothy is safe, and we can leave her, but Tavia----"

"I could not stay indoors," declared Dorothy. "I should go to pieces!

The only thing that will save me is action. Let me help look for Tavia!"

She pleaded and begged, and at last Mrs. Markin agreed that it might be best to let her have the freedom of the air. Of course, Dorothy had not yet told all of her story--all the folks knew definitely was that the lost had been found.

It took scarcely no time for the searching party to be made up again.

The boys from the next camp had their craft already on the water, while Ned and Nat had but to push off their rowboat.

"Why do you think Tavia is somewhere about the river edge?" asked Ned in his practical way.

"Because, when I came down I heard some one call, and two young men from their canoes answered promptly that they would follow the clew.

Now, if I can only find the spot----"

"Where in the world did this canoe come from?" exclaimed Jack Markin, as he espied the boat in which Dorothy had escaped from the sanatarium. "It is marked 'Blenden!'"

"Blenden!" repeated Ned. "Why that's the asylum over the hill!"

Everybody looked at Dorothy, awaiting a word from her. She was almost like herself now, after the manner in which blessed youth alone can recuperate.

"I was not particular about whose boat it was," she said simply. "So long as I found something to get back to camp in."

"I don't think it right that Dorothy should leave mother," began Cologne. But Dorothy interrupted her.

"Did you ever notice, Cologne dear, how a storm clears? It takes a light wind, doesn't it? Well, this little excitement will clear things up for me."

Wise Dorothy was, of course, not opposed. She belonged to the cla.s.s of persons who seem to be capable, and who really are, except where their own personal safety or comfort is concerned. They always have a reason and an answer, simply because others do not take the trouble to fathom the motive for this sacrifice. Dorothy had determined to find Tavia, and whatever her excuses, they were all subservient to that motive.

"I would rather get in with Nat and Ned," she said, as the party prepared to get off in the boats. "I am really too tired to scull."

"What's this?" asked Jack, picking up the nurse's garb from the bottom of the sanitarium canoe. "I declare! Dorothy has been masquerading!"

He held up the linen skirt, and the white cap. Of course the very next thing he did was to put the cap on his head.

Every one but Cologne laughed--she seemed too stunned to so soon forget the horror of the loss of Dorothy.

The young ladies from the neighboring camp had decided not to go on the water--in fact their chaperon had refused to allow them to go; "there had been so many horrible accidents around there of late," she declared.

Major Dale stood upon the bank, and watched his daughter. To the others it might seem like a dream, but to him it was very real.

Dorothy had been such a daughter, and even now she was proving herself the Major's "little corporal." Nor did Dorothy miss the look that had buried the smile on her father's face.

"Now, when we get that naughty Tavia back," she called, "we will have a celebration, Daddy."

"You bet we will," replied the major warmly. And then the party started down the river.

"I cannot see how Tavia could be along the river bank and not hear us," argued Ned. "Dorothy, you have not told us your story at all.

Were you both kidnapped?"