"Oh—oh! I'm—I'm afraid to—look," spoke Mollie, shrinking back, as Betty bent over the figure of the strange girl. The latter's eyes were closed, and her loosened hair was in a mass about her head—even tossed as it was the girls could see there was a wonderful wealth of it. Betty gently pushed aside the locks from the forehead, and, as she did so she started back. Then bravely repressing her feelings she said:
"It's a cut, but it doesn't seem to be very deep."
"Oh, the blood—the blood!" murmured Mollie, putting her hands before her eyes. "And—I—I did it!"
"Nonsense! Stop it!" cried Betty. "Perhaps you did not do it at all—it may have happened in the fall."
"She is unconscious," said Grace.
"Yes, and we must get her to a doctor, or bring a doctor here as soon as possible," spoke Betty. "I think we can get her to a doctor more quickly. Will your machine run, Mollie? Can you operate it?"
"Oh, it will run all right. Nothing is broken, I'm sure of that. But I——"
"You've just got to run it," declared Betty, firmly, "even if it only crawls. Now if we can find some water to bathe her head we can tell how badly she is hurt. Girls, look for a spring. One of you bring me a lap robe."
Thus Betty issued her orders, and while the girls are preparing to lend aid to the injured stranger I will take a moment of your time—my new readers—to explain briefly some facts about the characters of this story.
In the first book, entitled, "The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale; Or, Camping and Tramping for Fun and Health," I told how Mollie, Betty, Amy and Grace, four girls of Deepdale, a town in the heart of New York State, organized a little club for camping and tramping. They went on a tour of about two hundred miles, stopping at night with friends or relatives, and on that tramp they solved a queer mystery having to do with a five hundred dollar bill—solved it very much to the satisfaction of a certain young man.