of a whim--I am sure it is nothing more."

"She did complain of a headache," Cologne remembered, "and I gave her
a little soda. She may have thought it best to hide with the headache
rather than to worry us about it."

"We haven't tried the brook," suggested pretty Hazel Hays. "I am
always afraid of brooks."

"But Tavia swims like a fish," declared Dorothy. "I would never think
of harm coming to her in the water."

"Let's try, at any rate," agreed Jack, who never opposed Hazel.
"Although, unless that big frog gobbled her up, I cannot imagine any
possible danger."

At this the party set off over the hill to the frog pond. Hazel
trudged along with Jack, Brendon Hays divided his attention between
Dorothy and Cologne, while a very little young man, Claud Miller, by
name, and the midget by reputation, took care of Nathalie Weston, a
visitor at Camp Lucky.

Every one could joke but Dorothy. To her the situation was beyond
that.

"I'll wager we find her up a tree eating apples," lisped Claud. "I
never saw a girl so fond of sweet apples as Miss Tavia. She told me so
herself."

"Told you, you never saw a girl--now Claud! Don't get excited that
way. It's dreadfully hard on your nerves and on your friends."

"But I say, now, Jack----"

"Claud, dear, don't. Save it until we find Tavia, and then say to your
heart's content."

Dorothy had run on ahead and was now looking over the little rustic
bridge into the frog pond. The water was not deep, but there were
plainly footprints along its muddy edge.

"There has been some one here to-day," declared Cologne, "and no one
ever comes on our grounds--away up here at any rate."

"They are the footprints of a man," Jack decided. "Did Tavia, by any
means, know a man who wore boots size ten?"

"The only folks she knew in these parts are the Lamberts," answered
Cologne. "And she did say, even as late as yesterday, that she would
run over to see a rehearsal there--when I wasn't looking."

"Jolly!" exclaimed Claud. "I have been wishing so much for a chance to
know that younger Lamb. She's the very sweetest----"

"Spring lamb?" asked Cologne, teasingly. "Claud, you should never take
spring lamb upon the recommendation of a strange butcher. It might
turn out to be mutton."

This sally caused Claud to laugh so vigorously, that he held his hand
over his watch pocket apprehensively.

Dorothy was looking under the black bridge. The footprints seemed to
turn in beneath the culve