“Oh, Dorothy would never do that,” sighed Tavia. “I can’t imagine what could become of her. And Urania is gone, too. They must be together.”
“You take that path and I will work through the bushes,” said Nat to Ned. “This swamp must open out somewhere, and I’ll bet we find the girls in that ‘open.’”
Tavia called and whistled, while the boys hunted and yelled. The “yodle” (a familiar call used always by the boys, Dorothy and Tavia), was given so often the very woods seemed to repeat the call.
It was becoming more and more discouraging, however, for, in spite of all efforts, not an answer came back, and no trace of the missing ones could be obtained.
Finally Nat shouted to his brother to follow him, as he “had struck a new trail.”
“Come along, Tavia,” Ned called in turn. “This woods may be the swallowing kind, and you might get gobbled up too. Keep close to us now.”
There was no need to urge the girl in that direction, for the woods had indeed a terror for her now, and she felt more inclined to run straight home than to help further in the search. But this, she knew, would look cowardly, so she determined to follow the boys into the marshy wilderness.
It was a rough way—that winding path, for the thick brush grew so closely over it that only the bend of the bushes showed there had been a path there, and that it was now seldom, if ever, used, save as a run for frightened rabbits, or a track for the hounds that followed them.
“There!” exclaimed Nat. “See that open? Didn’t I tell you we would find one? And there—what’s that over there at the hill? A cave, as I live. Now we are ‘going some.’”
“But, oh, Nat!” whispered Tavia, who had come up very close to him. “Look! There are men—over there! See, by that tree! Oh, I shall die, I am so frightened! They may have guns!”