of speed that they indulged in--they went over
the ground like human kangaroos, and made such good time that the
light, seen by Tavia, actually stood before them now, in a little house
against the hill.

Two ferocious dogs greeted their coming--but Tavia managed to coax them
into submission, and presently a woman peered out of a dingy window and
demanded to know what was wanted. She seemed a coarse creature and the
place was such a hovel that the girls were sorry they had come.

"Don't answer her," cautioned Dorothy quickly. "Let's make our way to
the road."

Tavia saw that this would be safest, although she was not sure the
woman would allow them to pass unquestioned past her stone fence. But
with a dash they did reach the highway and had made tracks along
through the muddy narrow wagon road before the woman, who was now
calling after them, could do anything more disagreeable. The dogs
followed them up for a few paces, and then turned back while the woman
continued to shout in tones that struck terror into the hearts of the
miserable girls.

"We may be running away from Glenwood!" ventured Tavia, spattering
along, "but this road surely goes to some place--if we can only get
there."

"Oh, I'm so out of breath," panted Dorothy. "We can walk now. The
woman has ceased shouting."

"Wasn't it dreadful!" exclaimed Tavia. "I was just scared stiff!"

"We do get into such awful predicaments," mused Dorothy. "But I
suppose the others are almost as frightened as we are now,--I was
dreadfully afraid when the woman shouted to us."

"Wasn't she a scarecrow? Just like an old witch in a story book.
Listen! I thought I heard the girls!"

"Hark!" echoed Dorothy. "I am sure that was Edna's yoddle. Answer it!"

At the top of her voice Tavia shouted the familiar call. Then she
listened again.

"Yes," declared Dorothy, "that's surely Ned. Oh, do let's run! They
might turn off on another road! This place seems to be all turns."

When the welcome sounds of that call were heard by both parties little
time was lost in reaching the lost ones. What had seemed to be
nightfall was really only the blackness of the storm, and now, on the
turnpike, a golden light shot through the trees, and wrapt its glory
about the happy girls, who tried all at once to embrace the two who had
gone through such a reign of terror.

"Hurry! Hurry!" called Miss Crane, skipping along like a schoolgirl
herself.

To tell the story of the