even the sky
was! Could two girls be more desolate?

Thoughts of camp, and of Dorothy, almost crushed Tavia. Young and
strong as she was, her experience was beginning to leave its mark. She
felt weak, and was hungry!

But the strange girl seemed to have recovered her reason! Tavia must
not falter, she must get up, out to the roadway.

"This looks like a path," she said. "Yes, it is a path. See, the
brush is trodden down, and the ferns are broken. Oh, some one must
have been here lately, and that means that they can not be very far
away now!"

"What is your name?" asked the strange girl suddenly.

"Tavia--Tavia Travers. And I am lost--far away from every one!"

Tears welled into Tavia's eyes. Yes, she was lost!

"And I am--lost! How strange that we should meet."

"But are you not hurt? You walk----"

"Yes, something does hurt, but I don't mind, for that awful dream is
gone. I can walk, and then when--we are--found----"

"Oh, yes. I am sure you will be all right as soon as we--are--found!"

They had almost reached the crest of the hill. Up there at least they
could see.

"I hear a step," said Tavia. "We must hurry."

It was difficult to do that, however, for Mary, or Molly, limped
painfully.

The step was plain now, as it crushed the dried leaves and brush.

The figure of a man was next seen. The girls waited. He came along
with a free air, and swinging gait. The man wore a slouch hat----

"Oh!" screamed Tavia. "We must run, or hide! It is that dreadful man!
That--other--that lunatic!" and she clutched the arm beside her, and
dragged the frightened girl to the edge of the roadway.

Mortimer Morrison, with his big, rough, mountain stick, was about to
pass!

CHAPTER XXI

AT THE SANITARIUM

When Dorothy recovered consciousness she lay on a white cot, by an
open window, and the strange nurse sat beside her.

"Where am I? What am I here for?"

"Your doctor is away, he will be back to-morrow--soon," the nurse
corrected herself. "Then perhaps you--may go out."

"But why am I here? This is a hospital, and I am not ill."

"No, not exactly ill," and Mary Bell had her own very serious doubts
about the condition of the young patient--never had she seen a
demented girl so perfectly sane. "But it is best for you to await your
own doctor's orders," she finished.

"My own doctor? What is his name, please?"

"Dr. Ashton. Do you remember him?"

"I have never heard the name before," replied Doroth