"Jemima!" Betty groaned; "it's beginning to snow, too." She picked up the hat; it was almost buried by the snow, and looked green with age. They were tired by this time—walking in snow shoes is very much easier than trudging in rubber boots—and they realized with a shudder that Maud and her unknown companion had a long start of them.
They followed the track as fast as they could. It went on through the orchard and down the hill, and then over the bridge. It stopped there and zigzagged in every direction. The girls looked and exchanged frightened glances. Betty's heart was beating furiously and Lois' knees trembled. They forged on, the prints were clear again, and went straight up the hill, always accompanied by the queer, uneven path beside them.
"She must be dragging something," Polly said. "That's all that that track can mean."
"Or some one is dragging her," Lois spoke the thought that was uppermost in Betty's mind.
"Nonsense!" Polly ejaculated. "I don't believe it. I tell you Maud is all right, wherever she is. I know it."
The road they were taking was a short cut to school. There was a steep hill—a level stretch, and then it joined the road from the school farm. The snow was falling heavily, and it was getting dark when they reached the top of the hill, and the prints were fast disappearing. By the time they got to the road they lost all track.
"Whatever happened, Maud's home," Betty exclaimed in a relieved voice, and broke into a run. The others followed her.
Mrs. Baird was walking up and down the Senior porch as they came up.
"Oh, girls! I'm so glad you're back; come in and take off those wet clothes right away; Maud's here."
"Is she all right?" they asked in chorus.