the station, and there she found the fat policeman.

"Won't you help us?" she cried. "Mr. Norris, the conductor, said you
would--"

"What's wrong?" said the policeman, starting. He had been dozing. "Any
friend of Tom's is a friend of mine--here, here, none of that!"

The last remark was addressed to Farmer Weeks, who had come up and
seized Zara.

"I've got an order saying I've a right to take her," exclaimed Weeks.

"But it's not good in this state--" interrupted Bessie.

"Let's see it," said the policeman.

Weeks, storming and protesting, showed him the court order.

"That's no good here. You'll have to get her into the state where it
was issued before you can use that," said the policeman.

"You're a liar! I'll take her now--"

The policeman's club was out, and he threatened Weeks with it.

"You touch her and I'll run you in," he said, angrily. "We don't stand
for men laying their hands on girls and women in this town. Get away
with you now! If I catch you hanging around here five minutes from now,
I'll take you to the lock-up, and you can spend the night in a cell."

"But--" began Weeks.

"Not a word more--or I'll do as I say," said the policeman. He was
energetic, if he was fat, and he had put a protective arm about Zara.
Weeks looked at him and then he slunk off.

And, as he went, the girls heard a merry chorus, "Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo,"
just as another train puffed in.

CHAPTER XI

THE CALL OF THE FIRE

"Wo-he-lo!"

How they did thrill at the sound of the watchword of the Camp Fire! How
clearly, now, they understood the meaning of the three syllables, that
had seemed to them so mysterious, so utterly without meaning, when they
had first heard them on the shores of the lake, as, surprised, they
peeped out and saw the merry band of girls who had awakened them after
their flight from Hedgeville.

For a moment, so overjoyed were they, they couldn't move at all. But
then the spell was broken, as the call sounded again, loud and clear,
rising above the noises of the engine that was puffing and snorting on
the other side of the station. Farmer Weeks, a black look in his eyes as
he shot them a parting glance full of malice, was forgotten as he slunk
off.

"Thank you, oh, thank you!" cried Bessie to the astonished policeman,
who looked as if he were about to begin asking them questions. "Come on,
Zara!"

And, hand in hand, they raced around to the other side of the station
again, but blith