Hush, child!"

Jane danced away--sidewise, as if to keep watch as she went. "Help!
Help!" she shouted. "Police! Police!! _Poli-i-i-ice!!!_"

Gwendolyn was terribly frightened. But she could not run. One wrist was
still in the grasp of the little old gentleman. With wildly throbbing
heart she watched the road.

"Is he coming?" called the little old gentleman. He, too, was looking up
the curving road.

A whistle sounded. It was long-drawn, piercing.

And now Gwendolyn heard movements all about her in the forest--the soft
_pad, pad_ of running paws, the _hushing_ sound of wings--as if small
live things were fleeing before the sharp call.

Jane hastened back, galloping a polka. "Turn a stone! Turn a stone!" she
cried, rumbling her eyes.

Gwendolyn clung to the little old gentleman. "Oh, don't let her!" she
plead. "What if--"

"We _must_."

"Will a pebble-size do?" yelled Jane, excitedly.

"Yes! Yes!" answered the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "You've seen stones in
rings, haven't you? Aren't _they_ pebble-size?"

The nurse stooped, picked up a small stone, and sent it spinning from
the end of a thumb.

Faint with fear, Gwendolyn thrust a trembling hand into the patch-pocket
and took hold of the lip-case. Then leaning against the little old
gentleman, her yellow head half-concealed by the dusty flap of his torn
coat, she waited.

CHAPTER X

What she first saw was a face!--straight ahead, at the top of a steep
rise, where the wide road narrowed to a point. The face was a man's, and
upon it the footlights beat so strongly that each feature was
startlingly vivid. But it was not the fact that she saw _only_ a face
that set her knees to trembling weakly--nor the fact that the face was
fearfully distorted; but because it was _upside down!_

She stared, feeling herself grow cold, her flesh creep. "Oh, I want to
go home!" she gasped.

The face began to move nearer, slowly, inch by inch. And there sounded a
hoarse outcry: "_Hoo! hoo! Hoo! hoo!_"

It was the little old gentleman who reassured her somewhat--by his even
voice. "Ah!" said he with something of pride, yet as if to himself. "He
realizes that the black eye is a beauty. And I shouldn't wonder if he
isn't coming to match it!"

But what temporary confidence she gained, fled when Jane, tettering from
side to side, began to threaten in a most terrifying way. "_Now_, young
Miss!" she cried. "_Now_, you're goin' to be sorry you didn't mind Jane!
Oh, _I_ told