"Why, Nan, you've been crying!" exclaimed Rhoda, running forward and putting a protecting arm about her friend.
"You needn't remind me of it," said Nan with a hysterical little sob. "I may start again."
"But, Nan dear, something very dreadful must have happened to make you cry so," said Mrs. Mason gravely. "We have been worried about you."
Nan told them all about it, with little catches of her breath in between, while her listeners grew more and more agitated and Bess wanted to hire a dozen detectives immediately and give chase.
"So they gave you forty-eight hours, did they?" asked Mr. Mason, his mouth tightening in a grim line. "Well, I'll give them just twenty-four hours before they land in jail. Come on, let us get back to the town. I want to set some wheels in motion."
"But let us look for the rascals ourselves first," pleaded Walter. "They may not have run off as far as you think."
"Well, it won't do any harm to take a look around," said Mr. Mason.
He and his son went back into the orange grove and there spent the best part of half an hour trying to get some trace of Nan's assailants. They found some footprints and followed these, but presently the marks were lost in crossing a brook.
Some men working in the far end of the orange grove came up and wanted to know what was the matter.
"You ought to get some bloodhounds on their trail," said one when they had told their story. "Nothing like them dogs to trail a man."