"Here, take Aunt Sallie's," cried Ruth, appearing suddenly in the doorway. "It is not such a charming color as your scarlet one, and it may be a trifle large, but it will keep you warm. Coming, child?" she asked Mollie.

Mollie shook her head. Without waiting for Bab to join them she started on her walk. The child wanted to be alone. Besides being in a bad humor she had several things to think about. She certainly would not tell Bab and the other girls, just to be laughed at; but again that morning she had heard a light noise outside their window. It didn't sound like an animal. Mollie wrinkled her pretty forehead, and a puzzled expression crept into her blue eyes. How absurd even to dream of a thief, here on their beautiful hillside far away from the rest of the world. And, she, a great girl of fourteen, knew better than to believe in ghosts.

Mollie slipped down the path and crossed the gully that divided the nearer hill from the higher one back of it. Already her bad humor was disappearing. She had no idea of going far from their cabin; another day she might persuade the girls to explore this mysterious hill, with its lost Indian trail; but she should not attempt it alone. This morning she wanted only to creep away for an hour or so into the woodland quiet.

Mollie Thurston had a curious pa.s.sion for the woods. When she was alone in them she would stand still a long time, calling to the birds, and she delighted in having them steal near and shyly listen to the sweet sounds she made in return for theirs. No one knew of this accomplishment of Mollie's, not even Bab.

Up the steep hillside Mollie clambered. Below her she could hear the pop, pop, pop, of a rifle. The girls were evidently taking their lesson in target practice from Naki.

"I suppose I am fairly safe up here," Mollie chuckled, "but I wouldn't care to be too near those shooting experts. I know they will hit everything near them except their target."

She sat down on the root of an old tree that jutted out from an overhanging bank, and drew a sheet of paper from her pocket. She would write to her mother of their rescue of an airship. Mollie bit the end of her pencil--she was not in a writing mood. Why had she taken such a dislike to Reginald Latham? He had been polite enough, and was rather good-looking. It was Bab's habit to feel prejudices, not hers. She wouldn't say anything to her mother about him, but certainly Bab seemed to like him unusually well.

Crack! Crack! The sound came from the bushes! She looked quickly around.

It must have been a gust of wind that stirred. In another minute there tumbled over her head a shower of leaves and acorns, that for an instant blinded her. But she could hear plainly this time; light feet were running along the bank above the ravine where she sat.

Without pausing a moment she jumped to her feet and ran up the path that led from the bottom of the ravine to the hilltop. Nothing was in sight; but further on through a thicket of trees, she caught the distant sound of flying footsteps. She could see the underbrush move, as though shaken by something in pa.s.sing.

A shivering sense of mystery possessed the girl. Could it be the ghost?

Without stopping to think Mollie flew in pursuit; determined to discover what had disturbed her. Once she saw a bright object flash ahead of her, brown and scarlet, through the trees. It was gone in an instant. Surely it was but a shadow from the autumn leaves.

For some distance Mollie had been following what seemed to be a pathway through a tangled thicket of bushes and trees. Suddenly she stopped. So far as she could see the path ended abruptly. Yet, at this very moment, she heard a faint hallo!

It was the voice of temptation to Mollie, and she let her curiosity get the better of her. Without in the least knowing where she was going she pushed on. Ducking her head through an opening in one place, turning and twisting wherever she found it possible to make her way, the child came at last into a thick forest. On every side of her stretched endless avenues of trees. Now no sound of flying feet urged her on; no voice called her.

Poor Mollie was entirely alone.

"What an utter goose I am!" she declared out loud. "I don't believe I ever heard anyone, or saw anything. It was just my imagination that led me on. Now, I hope," Mollie gave a rueful smile and sat down to pull the brambles out of her dress, "I hope my imagination will kindly show me the way home again!"

Which way should she go? There were half a dozen different directions open to her. Which was the right one?

"I wonder," thought Mollie, "if, somehow, I have struck the famous 'Lost Man's Trail?' It is a lost girl's trail all right!"

She turned this way, then that. In front of her between the sumach and the holly trees was an open s.p.a.ce, which might lead somewhere toward home. Mollie pushed her way through. There were trees, trees, trees! No path was visible between them.

For half a mile Mollie walked on blindly, feeling sure that, at any minute, she would catch a glimpse of their familiar hillside. A sense of sinking warned her that luncheon time had pa.s.sed. High overhead she could see by the sun that noon had pa.s.sed.

Several times she called aloud. But Naki had warned her. This hill was entirely deserted. No one ever walked or rode over it.

"I don't wonder," the little girl thought, with a lump in her throat. "No one except myself would be such a goose as to try to find her way about up here, or be silly enough to go on a ghost hunt."

She called again. "h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo! I am lost! Is anyone near?" There was no answer. Once Mollie thought she heard a strange sound, half-wild, half-human, and called more loudly. This time there was no reply.

After several hours of walking, Mollie found her way out of the woods. As she came again to an open hilltop she thought she could see the smoke curling out of the chimney of their little, brown cabin, but far and near, there was no familiar object. She had followed the wrong trail, and was in an entirely different part of the country. There was nothing to do but to return to the woods.

Wearily she walked back. "I am sure the girls must be looking for me,"

she said, trying to revive her courage. "When I wasn't home in time for lunch Bab would know I was lost."

On and on, Mollie wandered. Finally, toward dusk, she found herself again in the heart of the forest where she had lost her way in the morning. She was so tired, there was nothing to do but to sit down and rest, but she had not given up. Of course, she would find her way out of this labyrinth of trees somehow. However, just for the time, she must wait.

Mollie sank down on a pile of leaves that had been blown in a heap under the shelter of a great cedar tree. It was growing cold, and the September day was closing. All morning and afternoon the little girl had wandered alone in the woods. How many miles she had traveled she did not know.

The child shivered, as she dropped on the ground. Tired as she was, she had plenty of courage left. Not a tear had been shed in these miles of weary tramping; indeed she had often laughed at her own mistakes, though the laughter had sometimes been close to tears; but Mollie knew that she must not lose her head.

"Suppose, I do have to stay in the woods all night?" she reflected. "It wouldn't kill me. I have wanted to have adventures in a forest; here is my opportunity. I wish, though, I knew how to make a fire; I'm so cold and hungry; but I haven't a sign of a match, so there is no use of thinking about it."

If Mollie could but have kept awake a little longer! No sooner had she dropped on the soft leaves than fatigue overcame her, and she was fast asleep.

Suddenly a figure came out of the underbrush--a strange young figure all brown and scarlet. It moved so softly that scarcely a leaf trembled. For a minute it paused and gazed down on the sleeping child. The little girl stirred in her sleep. With a bound the wood sprite vanished. It need not have hurried; Mollie was too utterly weary to awaken soon.

What had happened at the log cabin, meantime?

All morning Ruth, Bab and Grace had been practising under the instruction of Naki. Bab was growing into a clever shot, and Ruth was playing her a close second, when the luncheon gong sounded. The girls had given no further thought to Mollie, supposing she had grown tired of her walk, and was at home with Miss Sallie. The latter naturally was not worried, as she thought Mollie was with Naki and the others.

When the girls filed into the living room for their lunch Bab asked carelessly: "Where's Mollie?"

"Where's Mollie?" repeated Miss Sallie. "Hasn't she been shooting with you? Perhaps she is somewhere near. Here is Ceally; I will ask her."

At this moment Ceally entered with a great bowl of vegetable soup that looked most inviting to the hungry girls.

"I haven't seen Miss Mollie all morning," she explained. "Not since she started for a walk up that hill over 'yond'."

Barbara, Grace and Ruth stared at each other with white, frightened faces. They remembered Mollie had gone off for a walk early that morning; but she had promised not to go far up the hill.

"Call Naki, at once," said Miss Stuart hurriedly. "He will probably know where Mollie is."

"No, auntie." Ruth shook her head. "Naki doesn't know. He has been teaching us to shoot all the forenoon."

Bab jumped up from the table. "Please, Miss Sallie," she cried hastily, "may Naki and I go out to look for Mollie? I am afraid she is lost on the hill."

"Sit down, Bab," quietly said Miss Sallie, in the voice the girls recognized as final. "You and the other girls must each eat a plate of this soup. You are not to start out to look for Mollie when you are tired and hungry. Ceally, see that Naki has some food at once, and bring the coffee to me."

Barbara was almost crying. "Oh, Miss Sallie," she pleaded, "I can't eat.

Don't make me wait. I must go at once."

"Eat your soup, Barbara," was Miss Sallie's reply.

Poor Bab obediently choked it down, while Ruth and Grace followed her example. Then they each drank a cup of coffee.

It was Miss Sallie who ate nothing. She was more frightened than the girls; for the woods were more terrible to her than to the young people.

Then, Mollie was the youngest of the party, and Miss Stuart felt she was less able to look after herself. Besides, Ceally had hinted strange tales of the haunted mountain back of them. At the time, Miss Sallie had refused to listen; it had seemed utter nonsense, that tale of a ghost which haunted a lost Indian trail. Now, the idea came to Miss Stuart, that perhaps the ghost on the mountain was some criminal, a fugitive from justice, who made his home on the deserted hill.

It was Bab who led the way up to the top of the ravine. But there she stopped and waited for Naki and the girls to join her.

Looking for lost people in the woods was an old business with the guide.

He did not take the fact of disobedient Mollie's disappearance any too seriously. Once up the hill, he blew on a great horn which he carried.

Once, twice, thrice! There was no response. He blew again, then waited.