den with Celia and Touchstone.

But the wonder of it was how a half-crazed mountaineer could know
anything about the greatest comedy in the world. This did not trouble
them until afterwards, however.

"Billie," observed Ben presently, "I've been consulting with--with this
young lady here. She knows the trail through the swamp and has consented
to guide me back to the camp to-night. We may be able to make it in less
than two hours by a short cut, she says, and we ought to start at once.
Miss Campbell will be half wild with uneasiness. As soon as it's
daylight, I'll come back by the road in the 'Comet.' There are some
bearskins and blankets. You can all put up here for the night. Percy
will stay of course."

"But isn't that a great deal to ask of you, to take that long trip
to-night?" asked Billie gratefully, turning to the girl.

"It is nothing," she answered shortly and set about lighting a lantern.
Then she beckoned to Ben and they silently left the cabin.

In a few moments, the father, who had been smoking a pipe at the cabin
door, took one of the silver candlesticks from the mantel.

"Good night," he said courteously. "I trust you will have a pleasant
rest after your journey. I presume you have been shown your rooms?"

"Yes, sir," answered Percy.

The man paused at the door of his bedroom at the other side of the
cabin.

"I trust the physician will come soon," he said. "With luck he may reach
there before I do."

"That's the man who sent me to the old ruined hotel," whispered Percy.
"He's certainly touched, but he's harmless."

They found two steamer rugs and several blankets in a heap on a bench,
left there by the mountain girl for their comfort; and it was not long
before they lay in a circle around the fire, sound asleep.

CHAPTER VI.

THE DOCTOR.

After the young people had departed on the morning of that eventful day,
Miss Helen Campbell settled herself in a hammock on the upper porch with
a novel and two new magazines. She loved the "children," as she called
them, and the sound of their voices and laughter was as music to her
ears, but occasionally she enjoyed a peaceful morning to herself without
any chatter to disturb her quietude.

Who would have imagined as she sat there idly swinging in the hammock,
that the dainty little lady was all the way to sixty years old? Her eyes
were as blandly blue and clear as a child's; her complexion had never
lost its peach blossom glow, and the fin