their tracks, it was
too dark to use that means of tracing them.

Bessie did, indeed, think of that, and of waiting until some guide
should come, who might be able to read the message of the trail. But she
reflected that it was more than possible that none of the men in the
neighborhood might be able to do so, and it seemed to her that it was
better to take the slim chance she had than abandon it in favor of
something that might, after all, turn out to be no chance at all.

The darkness was beginning to yield now to the first forerunners of the
day. In the east there was a faint radiance that told of the coming of
the sun, and Bessie hurried on, since she felt sure that the gypsy would
not venture to travel in daylight, and must mean to hide Dolly before
the coming of the sun lightened the task of his pursuers, since he must
feel certain that he would be pursued, although he might have no inkling
that anyone was already on his trail.

But now Bessie had to face a new problem that did, indeed, force her to
rest. For suddenly the well defined, broad trail ended, and broke up
into a series of smaller paths. Evidently this was a spot at which those
who wished to reach the summit of the mountain took diverging paths,
according to the particular spot they wanted to reach, and whether they
were bound on a picnic or merely wanted to get to a spot whence they
might see the splendid view for which Deer Mountain was famed.

In the darkness there was absolutely no way of telling which of these
many diverging trails the gypsy had followed, and Bessie, ready to cry
with disappointment and anxiety for Dolly, was forced to sit down on a
stump and wait for daylight. Even that might not help her.

Her best chance, however, was to wait until the light came, and then,
despite her lack of acquaintance with the art of reading footprints, to
try to distinguish those of the gypsy. All that she needed was some clue
to enable her to guess which path her quarry had taken; beyond that the
message of the footprints was not necessary.

As she sat there, watching the slow, slow lightening in the east, Bessie
wondered if the day was ever coming. She had seen the sun rise before,
but never had it seemed so lazy, so inclined to linger in its couch of
night.

But every wait comes to an end at last, and finally Bessie was able to
go back a little way, before the other trails began to branch off, and
bending over, to try to pick out the footprints o