ntensity of feeling characteristic of her. Some day Kara must
surely find someone or something to compensate her for her difficult
girlhood!

If only there might be a treasure, some fortunate inheritance, hidden
away in the little evergreen house, left there by the parents who
seemed to have cared less than nothing for their baby!

At her own dreaming Tory smiled. She then tiptoed out of the room
again. The place had been thoroughly searched for information and not
a line had been discovered save the slip of paper with Kara's name,
"Katherine Moore."

Outside on the veranda Tory did not sit down at once.

She could see some one approaching toward the camp down the long path.
Edith Linder was probably returning. It was, perhaps, as well. Miss
Mason, the Troop Captain, insisted that the girls never be at camp or
in the woods alone.

If Miss Frean knew she would doubtless come back with Edith. Tory
hoped this might be true. There were so many questions to discuss.
Kara had proposed an interesting suggestion earlier in the day. Evan
Phillips' mother might be induced to teach their own little group of
Girl Scouts outdoor dancing. Where could there be a more perfect
opportunity than here in the heart of Beechwood Forest in their own
"Choros," or dancing-ground?

The figure approaching was not a girl's.

At some distance off Tory recognized Lance McClain. He was strolling
calmly along in the most unconcerned fashion, a book open in his hand.
Now and then he glanced down and read a few lines.

Not the slightest intimation did his manner reveal that he ought to
regard himself as an unwelcome visitor in the Girl Scout camp.

Tory had not seen him since the morning when he had aided in bringing
Kara home. On that occasion he had been told that the girls were still
undecided whether they wished to have anything further to do with
Lance's group of Boy Scouts during their summer camping season.

"Hello, Tory; I hoped I would find you outdoors," he called out
amiably when within a few yards of the evergreen house.

Tory ran down the steps.

"Don't make a racket, Lance! What in the world are you doing here?
Kara is asleep and I am on guard. You know you are not supposed to
come to our camp. I feel as people used to in the old fairy stories
and legends. Somehow I must try to save you from having your head
chopped off, or some other fearful end. I do consider you deserve it,
but somehow it would be unpleasant."

"Your ge