“Perhaps we shall find the source of Lost River,” Dorothy said.
They had taken nobody into their confidence upon setting out, nor did anybody at the ranch-house see them go save Flores Morale. In ten minutes after the girls started they were completely out of sight of the home buildings, the country was so rolling.
The ponies were good travelers. Long before noon Dorothy and Tavia were deep in the wooded hills.
“I’d love to go to the top of that mountain, Tavia,” said Dorothy, pointing to a green hill that rose right before them.
“Let’s!” cried Tavia. “From that height we ought to be able to see far—miles and miles!”
“Do you suppose we can get there and back by suppertime?”
“Why not?” returned the cheerfully reckless Tavia. “Hurrah for the mountain-top!
“‘Hark! I hear a voice
’Way up in the mountain-top, tip-top,
Resounding down below—