it amused him to
convey the impression that he was timid.

CHAPTER V

THE WAY IS BARRED

The Overland Riders were calm. The thrilling experiences through which
they had passed, while engaged in war work in France, had taught them to
be so.

"Do--do you think--she is hurt?" stammered Emma.

"We sincerely hope not," answered Anne. "Judging from the reports, it
was Grace who fired the last shot we heard," said Elfreda Briggs.
"Still, that does not prove anything. I would suggest that we arm
ourselves at once and prepare for trouble. There appears to be plenty of
it abroad in these mountains."

Acting on her suggestion, the four girls hurried to their tents and
armed themselves with rifles, then, taking positions around the outer
edge of the camp, just within the bushes, they watched and waited,
observed by Washington Washington with wide, frightened eyes.

It was Elfreda who made the first discovery. She caught the faint sound
of some one moving through the bushes and raised her rifle.

"Halt! Who comes?" she demanded as she saw the bushes sway, a few yards
ahead of her, as some one worked their way slowly through them.

"It's Grace," came the answer. "Help me in."

"Girls!" called Miss Briggs sharply, springing forward. She paused at
the first glimpse of Grace Harlowe's face, which was pale; then hurried
to her.

There were flecks of blood on Grace's cheek, and by that token Elfreda
Briggs knew that she had been hit.

"Got a smack, I see."

"Just a mere scratch," replied Grace. "It made me feel weak and dizzy,
but I shall be myself in a few moments."

Elfreda led her companion into the camp, then examined Grace's wound,
which, as the Overland girl had said, was a mere scratch over the left
temple. Miss Briggs washed the wound where a bullet had barely grazed
the skin, and applied an antiseptic.

"Lie down a few minutes, Loyalheart," she urged.

Grace shook her head.

"I shall get my bearings sooner if I keep on my feet. I am ashamed of
myself to give way to a little thing like a bullet scratch."

"That's because you're out of practice. You haven't been shot since last
summer," said Emma Dean soothingly. "You won't mind it at all after you
have been shot again a few times."

Grace laughed so merrily that, for the moment, she forgot the pain of
her wound.

"Emma Dean, you are a regular tonic. I thank you. Now I am all right.
Where is Hippy?" she questioned, gazing about her.

"Hippy!" wa