Just beyond the fire, within the outer circle of light, stood a girl!
Frank rubbed his eyes and looked again.
She was still there, and she was pressing a finger to her lips, as if asking for silence.
"Great Scott!" muttered Frank, in a dazed way.
"Sh!" came back across the fire. "Do not wake him." She motioned toward the sleeping Irish lad.
Frank pinched himself.
"Yes, I am awake myself," he said, guardedly. "And it is a girl—a pretty girl at that! How in the name of all that is wonderful does it happen there is a girl here?"
"You have no time to ask questions," came back swiftly, in a low, musical voice. "You are in a bad snare, Frank Merriwell."
The boy started violently.
"How is it that you know my name?" he demanded, astonished beyond measure.