"I suppose we have to sit here and wait for Ned to come back," ventured Tavia.
"Or else walk to meet him," suggested Nat, who was really anxious to do something beside sitting there listening to Dorothy cry. "Dry your tears, Dorothy," he said kindly, "and we will walk along. It is pleasant and cool, and it will do us good to have a walk."
"Can't we get back to Dalton this way?" asked Dorothy. "Isn't this the road we came out?"
"It may be the road but it is some miles from town," answered Nat. "Listen! What was that?"
"The gong of an ambulance, it sounded like," exclaimed Tavia. "Hark!"
At that moment a wagon turned a corner and came towards them. It was a black wagon—yes, it did look like an ambulance.
"Oh," shrieked Dorothy. "What ever has happened now?"
"Why, it's only the 'police patrol," answered Nat, trying to be indifferent about the matter. "Probably they're—"
"Hello there, young fellow!" called a man from the wagon. "Have you seen a fellow in stripes about these woods?"
The speaker was addressing Nat, and he wore the uniform of a police officer.