Evidently the young lady was out of earshot.

Then Naki made a mistake. Instead of going into the woods, where Mollie had pursued her will-o'-the-wisp, he turned in the opposite direction. It did not dawn on him that she had been led astray by a forgotten Indian trail.

"You must keep close to me, young ladies," Naki insisted. "None of ye know your way about up here. If we should separate, I should soon be searching for the whole lot of ye, instead of just one."

All afternoon they searched and searched for the lost one, yet all in vain.

If Mollie shed no tears while she was lost, Barbara shed plenty in the effort to find her. Poor Grace and Ruth tried vainly to comfort her.

"If only we hadn't quarreled this morning over that horrid Reginald Latham!" Bab sobbed, running on ahead of the others. "I told Mollie she was foolish to say she hated anyone whom she did not know. Yet I do it all the time myself."

"Oh, do cheer up, Bab," said Grace, choking back her own tears. "You didn't quarrel with Mollie. I never saw two sisters who fussed so little.

I know we shall find her soon."

"There's nothing up here can harm your sister, Miss," Naki explained to frightened Bab. "The country around here is perfectly peaceful."

At dusk Naki and his searching party returned alone to the top of the ravine from whence they had started. Looking down, they could see their log cabin, where Miss Sallie and Ceally stood at the open door. There was no sign of Mollie.

"It is harder work than I expected to find the young lady," Naki apologized to Ruth. "I am sorry, but you had better go back to your aunt.

I must go down to the farm for help. It will take a number of people to make a thorough search of this place to-night. The underbrush is so thick that it is hard work traveling about."

"Oh, I can't go home without Mollie!" sobbed Bab. "I am not a bit afraid to stay up here alone. Leave me, Ruth, you and Grace. I'll just sit at the top of this ravine and call and call! Then, if Mollie comes anywhere near me, she will hear. You and Grace go and have supper with Miss Sallie. You can bring me something to eat afterwards, if you like."

Barbara smiled feebly.

Ruth and Grace both turned on her indignantly. It was a relief to pretend to be offended. "Oh, yes, Bab, we are both delighted to go down and comfortably eat our supper! It is so pleasant to think of your sitting up here alone, like a stone image, and poor little Mollie lost--goodness knows where!"

Ruth kissed Bab for comfort. Then she turned to Grace. "Grace," she asked, "will you be a perfect dear? I know Naki is right; he must get some one to help him search for Mollie, and one of us must go to Aunt Sallie, who is terribly worried. See! she has already seen us, and is waving her hand. But if you will go tell her what has happened, I shall stay up here with Bab, and Ceally can bring us some dinner. You can come back afterwards. By that time Naki will have returned with a.s.sistance and we can go on with our search again."

"I hate to leave you," Grace protested, "but I will go."

"Wait for me," Naki cautioned. Both girls nodded. They were too tired to speak.

CHAPTER VIII

END OF THE SEARCH

When Grace and Naki had finally disappeared Bab put her head down on Ruth's shoulder and cried bitterly.

"I am so frightened!" she sobbed. "If only I were lost instead of my little sister! Mother always trusts me to look after Mollie. I ought not to have let her go off alone!"

Ruth wisely allowed Bab to have her cry out, before she said: "Bab, dear, remember father said he relied on us to keep cool heads and strong hearts in any case of emergency. Now let's gather ourselves together. Let's say over and over again: 'We will find Mollie! We will find Mollie!'"

Bab braced up at once and repeated quietly, "Certainly we will find her, Ruth dear."

Both girls were looking toward the woods. It was not yet night, but the dusk was falling quickly. Suddenly, off through the trees, the two girls distinctly saw a light that shone on a level with their eyes. Once, twice, then again, it sparkled through the underbrush.

"What is it?" Bab breathed faintly.

Ruth shook her head. "I don't know," she answered, under her breath.

The light advanced toward them; then it drew back again, never ceasing to sparkle. It seemed to be beckoning to them.

"Oh, Ruth," cried Barbara, "could it be a signal from Mollie?"

"How could it, Barbara, dear?" Ruth replied.

Both girls waited a little longer. The light came again. It seemed almost to call to them. Barbara started to her feet impatiently. "I must go and see what it is," she declared.

"Wait a minute, Bab!" pleaded Ruth. It was second nature with Ruth to be ready for emergencies. Rapidly she tore from a pad in her leather knapsack a sheet of paper and wrote on it: "Bab and I are going into the woods at the left. Follow the trail of the paper I shall drop as we walk."

Like a flash she pulled off her white petticoat, and tied it to a bush near the place where she and Bab had been sitting. The skirt fluttered and swung in the breeze. Beneath it, under a small stone, Ruth placed her note.

"Come on, Bab!" she cried. "Let's be off!"

Barbara bounded ahead; Ruth closely followed, leaving behind her a trail of white paper which she tore into bits as she ran.

The light ahead of the two girls beckoned them deeper and deeper into the forests. They must have followed it for more than a mile. Ruth's paper was giving out. Suddenly the light dipped to the ground and was gone!

At the same moment, Ruth and Barbara heard a sizzling crackling noise. A tongue of flame darted up between two distant trees, and a warm glow like that of a camp fire lit up the shadows of the forest.

Ruth and Bab rushed to the spot. In the center of a small open s.p.a.ce some one had lighted a fire. Sitting on a bank of autumn leaves, slowly rubbing her eyes was a girl. A scarlet coat caught Bab's eyes; then a tangle of yellow curls.

"It's my Mollie!" she cried, springing toward her and gathering her in her arms.

"Why, Bab," asked Mollie sleepily, "when did you and Ruth find me? I must have been dreaming. I did not hear you make the fire. How did you happen to light a fire before you awakened me?"

The girls stared at Mollie. "Build a fire?" they queried in amazement.

"Surely, Mollie, you made the fire yourself."

Mollie shook her head. "How could I possibly light a fire?" she inquired.

"I haven't a match." Then she smiled faintly. "I am not enough of an 'early settler' to know how to make a light by striking two flints together. But please take me home." The little girl was too tired to care about anything beyond the blessed fact that she had been found.

It was Bab and Ruth who were overcome with the mystery of the dancing light that led them through the forest straight to Mollie. And who could have started the fire, that now roared and blazed, lighting the woods with its many tongues of flame. What did it all mean? The mystery of it all gave them long, creepy thrills.

Barbara helped Mollie to her feet. The child was so stiff she could hardly move, but as she arose something red dropped to the ground. Ruth picked it up. "Why, it is Grace's sweater!" she exclaimed. "I am so glad you found it, Mollie, before you went for your walk. What a blessed thing you had it to keep you warm!"

"Grace's sweater! What are you talking about, Ruth? I didn't have it with me. I was nearly frozen. You or Bab must have brought it with you. I found it over my shoulders when I awoke," protested Mollie.

Ruth and Bab said nothing. There was nothing to be said. It was all a puzzle! Where was the clue to the mystery?

The two girls were leading poor, tired Mollie through the thick tangle of shrubs, along which Ruth's bits of torn paper gleamed white and cheerful pointing their pathway home. Even Mollie smiled on seeing them.

"If only I had remembered to play 'Hop-o-my-thumb,' Ruth, dear," Mollie whispered, "I needn't have created all this trouble. Do you think Miss Sallie will ever forgive me?"

"Indeed she will," Ruth a.s.sured her. "She will be so happy to see you again, you poor, tired Mollie, she'll forget to scold!"