d at Mollie's suggestion they decided to "give him
the slip."

"Anybody would think he was our granny, the way he dictates to us," she
complained, as she flicked a fly from Old Nick's side, thereby causing
him to shy wildly. "We know our way about all right now, and I'm sure we
Outdoor Girls never needed anybody to look out for us, anyway."

"Hear, hear," laughed Betty, half way between conviction and protest. "I
don't like to have Andy around all the time, any more than you do,
Mollie, but I'm not sure that we know our way about as well as we might.
If we should get lost----"

"Oh, don't be an old wet blanket," cried Mollie impatiently, and as Amy
and Grace seemed for once to be of her mind, Betty had nothing to do but
to surrender as gracefully as she could.

It was after lunch that the girls managed to slip away without being
observed to where their mounts were tethered at the edge of the
woodland. And oh, what a glorious sense of freedom when they were
mounted and cantering down a cool forest trail--alone!

They had been this way with Andy before, so they had no fear of losing
their path and they urged their horses to more and more speed,
intoxicated by the sense of freedom.

What they did not notice was that the sun had disappeared behind an
ominous bank of clouds and the wind was rising threateningly. And so
they were caught fairly and squarely by the deluge that swept upon them
with a bewildering suddenness.

Where to go? Where to turn for shelter from the driving rain and moaning
wind? They checked their horses while they gazed at each other wildly.

Suddenly Betty's straining eyes made out what seemed to be the outline
of a little shed or cabin, half hidden by surrounding foliage.

"There's a house over there," she cried, hastily dismounting and tying
Nigger to a tree a little off the path. "Maybe whoever lives there will
let us in till the rain stops."

The girls followed her example and hurriedly made their way on foot
toward their one hope of refuge. When they reached the house Betty
started to knock, then paused uncertainly, her hand uplifted. For above
the beat of the rain and the shrill whine of the wind came a strain of
music, mournful, yet exquisitely beautiful. Amazed, forgetful of their
discomfort, the girls listened while the throbbing, haunting melody
wailed itself to a close.

"I--I've heard that music before," Betty murmured, then rapped gently,
almost timidly, on the door.

C