"What's to be done?" she said curtly. "I don't like the look of those downs. There's a heavy mist coming on and it's already getting dark."
"Let's hope she's there by now then," said Duane. "Look here, two of us had better ride after her, and the third one return to school and let Prinny know what's up."
"Who's to go back?" asked Bertha.
"You had better," answered Duane, speaking in decisive tones for once. "You're done up already with scorching so hard, I can see, and you've got no lamps. Kitty and I are fresh. That is to say, if Kitty doesn't mind a tiring ride now."
"I'm on," said Kitty briefly.
"Then we'll make a start. Cheer up, Bertha. We'll see she's safe somewhere or other and find out what's happened to her, all right."
"I know you will." Bertha tried to muster up a smile as she turned her bike round. "You're a sport if ever there was one, Duane."
The next instant she had disappeared round the bend, and Duane and Kitty were left alone again, this time with a feeling of responsibility resting heavily upon them.
"Better just ask about the road, at the farm," suggested Kitty sensibly. "We neither of us know it."
A few brief questions elucidated the information that the road wound over the downs to Frattenton, that it was a lonely road, but that there were few turnings of any importance, and then one had to keep to the left. The two girls mounted and sped off, determined to cover the greater part of the way before darkness settled down.