"Where y'u goin'?" he inquired, winding up his kite string, regardless of the trees between the kite and his hand.

"Hunting," answered Grace. "Want to come?"

"Huntin' what?" asked Mally.

"We're not sure, but we'll take anything we can find, even little boys!" teased Cleo.

"Oh, will you!" Mally fired back. "You don't have to. Say, Madaline, I know where there's some Jack-in-the-Pulpits," he added, sidling up to Madaline. "The kind you were looking for the other day. Jack Hagan is going to meet me over by the creek at ten, and if you girls want to come along I'll show you where to hunt things."

"No bears?" protested Cleo.

"Well, there's weasles and mink in that creek, and you'd think they were bears if one of those grabbed you," Mally declared.

"Lead the way!" ordered Grace, mounting her staff on her shoulder, and the little hunters started off.

"Say, Mally," began Cleo, as they struck a clearance in the otherwise tangled brush and bramble path, "do you ever see a little girl who has big long braids, and never wears a hat?"

"Sure," replied the boy. "That's Mary. Her old granddad's a nut."

"Has she a granddad?" Cleo followed. "I knew it. A girl like that always has. Where do they live?"

"Don't you know? Huh!" Mally answered scornfully. "Thought everybody knew old Doc Benson. He's a nut on flowers and growin' things."

"But where does he live? Could we go near his house?" Grace asked eagerly.

"If the old lady doesn't chase you," replied the boy, making a running jump over a huge stone, one of the many bowlder rocks that continually roll down the mountain.

"Suppose she does. She can't hurt us, can she?" pursued Cleo.

"One of the fellows said she hurt him all right," declared Mally. "She shook him 'til he lost all his marbles. Hey, Jack!" he yelled, cupping his hands to his red lips. "Here we are, over near the swamp!"

Jack evidently spied his chum at that moment, for although tall brush obstructed his view of the hunters, he answered with a "Whoo-hoo," and ran along in their direction. It took but a few moments for him to reach the party.

"I'm late," he apologized, his grin and freckles supplying real local color to the dramatic statement. "Had to dig a big fern root for Mary."

"Oh, for our Mary--the queer Mary?" exclaimed Grace.

"They call her Maid Mary," went on Jack, "but she ain't big enough to be no maid. She couldn't cook nor nuthin'."

"Maid Mary!" repeated Cleo. "That's awfully romantic. Wherever did she get the maid tacked on?"

"That's her name," insisted Jack. "She al'lus says it is, when you ask her."

"But where is she now? We want to see her," said Grace.

"Come along then and I'll show you where she's diggin'. She's al'lus diggin' roots."

Now, all keyed up, and plainly excited that Jack and Mally should lead them so readily to their quarry, the girls followed the boys in silence--the boys, however, did plenty of talking to fill in the breach. They evidently cared less for Maid Mary than they did for "Sunnies," and as the creek was their hunting ground for the wily little fish and they were now going away from the pools and puddles that ran and swelled into the creek, both lads were inclined to travel faster than even scout girls could follow over the rough hills.

"There she is!" exclaimed Mally, pointing to a white speck in a green field. "Better run up quiet or she'll dash off like a deer," and making some mysterious sign to Jack, the erstwhile pathfinders darted off themselves toward their clew.

"There she is," repeated Grace, "and as brother Benny would say, Now it is up to us!"

CHAPTER VI

A LITTLE MAID IN CLOVER

"Do hurry, Madie, she may run away!" warned Cleo. They were hurrying indeed, and the request seemed superfluous, for never did three girls make more haste in crossing that stretch of meadow. In fact Grace and Cleo were running, and now Madaline jumped to their pace.

"Do you think maybe they keep goats?" the latter managed to ask, and in spite of their serious haste both Cleo and Grace shouted in laughter.

"Goats!" they both exclaimed.

"Because if they do I'm not going near the old place. I'm awfully afraid of goats and geese."

"Because you're so nice and fat!" teased Cleo. "You're afraid they'll take you for--for sausage. But--here we are! Don't let us frighten the child," and her voice was now lowered to a whisper.

The little girl, with the long brown braids, sat in a bed of beautiful pink clover, and with her back to the intruders she had not yet sensed their approach. As before, she wore a white dress and no hat.

"h.e.l.lo!" spoke Grace cautiously.

She sprang up, but Cleo placed her hand kindly on the basket of ferns and clovers.

"Oh, don't go!" pleaded Cleo. "We want to talk to you."

"But I can't," faltered the child, and the rich cultured tone betrayed her good breeding. In fact she used the long "a" in can't and the girls at once decided she was English.

"Oh, why not?" Cleo followed up quickly. "Don't you want to know us?

We are strangers here."

"I should love to know you," the girl replied, and the tanned skin was suffused with a conscious blush, "but I am not permitted to make friends."

"But we are Girl Scouts," argued Grace, a.s.suming her most cajoling air, "and we are supposed to make friends with everybody," she finished.

Grace tactfully fondled a beautiful spray of clover that was making its way out of Mary's basket. This action evidently pleased the child, for she smiled, and handed the spray over to its admirer.

"I have read of Girl Scouts," answered the stranger, "and if only granddaddy would allow me what a wonderful time we could have! Do you all gather flowers in nature study, as your books say you should?"

"Oh, yes, indeed we do," replied Cleo heartily. "Do sit down on this little mound where you were when we came along, and let us have a nice quiet talk. No one is near to hear us!"

At that the strange girl glanced furtively toward a clump of blackberry bushes and put her finger to her lips.

"Reda is there, my nurse, you know, and she is very strict. I could win granddaddy over only for her," and the deep-set eyes seemed to freeze over in that gla.s.sy stare the girls had noticed before.

"Quick, tell us, where do you live? May we go to your house? Perhaps your grandfather would like us?" Cleo was crowding her questions, lest the woman called Reda should suddenly pounce upon them.

"Perhaps," said the girl, now so dreamy and vague the girls almost felt helpless to pursue their mission.