“Who’s gone?” and Bobby leaped out of bed.
“That girl. Out of the window. She’s run away!”
Bobby ran to look into the room. The window sash was up and the blinds wide open. The girls had slept on the ground floor, and alone in this wing of the rambling old farmhouse.
“What did she run away for?” demanded Bobby, slowly. “She could have walked away, had she wanted to, couldn’t she? Nobody would have stopped her.”
“But she’s gone!” cried Eve.
“So I see,” Bobby admitted, grimly. “She didn’t go of her own free will, you can just bet!”
“I didn’t think of that,” cried Eve, running to the window.
It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and even farmer folk remain an hour longer in bed on that day. The sun, which had just risen, revealed the hillside fields and pastures clearly. There was not an object in sight which suggested the missing girl’s escape, saving just beneath the window. There several planks had been laid upon the soft earth, to make a walk to the hard path. This had been done by those who had come after Margit Salgo, so as to leave no footprints.
Eve finished dressing in a hurry and ran to tell her parents and Otto. Mr. and Mrs. Sitz slept at the other end of the house, and Otto and the hired man on the floor above.
Whoever had kidnapped the girl—for such it seemed to be—had worked very circumspectly. The watchdog, chained by his hutch, had been caught and a strong rubber band fastened about his jaws so that he could not bark. This had evidently been the first work of the marauders.