the jagged rocks: "But I will not, Reda, I
am not asleep. I saw other girls just like me, and I know I have not
the sleeping fever. You always try to make me afraid!" This was Mary.

The angered tones of the old woman that followed this mild outburst of
defiance could not be understood except through their accents and
emphasis, for the dialect was part Spanish and part West Indian, such
as might be used by natives of Central America.

"She's awfully mad!" warned Grace. "We better stay hiding!"

The other girls apparently held the same view of the situation, for
while keeping necks craned and ears attentive to the intermittent
voices, all were careful not to allow so much as the edge of a skirt to
flutter out from behind the hiding rock.

"I do not believe grandpa has it at all," came the decided tones of
Mary's round voice. "It is lost forever, and we shall never find it.
And next time Janos comes I shall tell him I will not stay here. I am
not a baby, and I feel strong and able--to--to go!" she finished,
throwing a dramatic quiver into these last words, thereby proving the
intensity of her emotion.

Almost a shriek from the old woman followed the declaration, and for a
few seconds the girls felt as if something dreadful might happen to the
child. Then, like some wild, reckless creature, the girl Mary was seen
to dash out from her shelter in the rock, unmindful of the rain still
falling, and before the eavesdroppers realized it, she was speeding
down the hill, the long braids dangling over her shoulders, and her
perpetual white dress soon climbing like a veritable swaddling cloth
about her lithe form.

As if delighted with the play of the rain drops, she would toss up her
face to defy them as she ran; then flop her arms up and down in a
flying motion, not really unlike a wild mountain bird.

While the girls watched spellbound, they saw presently the old woman
trudge along after her, still muttering the unintelligible gibberish,
easily translatable into wrath and fury, whatever its peculiar language.

"Can we go now?" ventured Cleo.

"It's almost stopped raining," replied Lalia, and as they left the cave
a sense of disappointment threw its shadow over all three.

They could not go to the Twin Chestnuts that afternoon, but they felt
more positive than ever that Maid Mary was in danger, and their
enforced delay in her rescue only served to heighten its purpose.

After explaining to Lalia as much as seem