"Why not wait for the boys? Give me your whistle. I must call them. Where can they have gone to?"
"I am not going to wait one moment," declared Dorothy. "She may be suffering!"
The bent grass and weeds showed the way, Dorothy hurried along, only stopping to listen for the hoped-for voice. But there was no word from Tavia.
Cologne was almost behind Dorothy, but she could not conquer her fear. She hesitated to make the first attempt to reach the tent.
Jumping over a small stream, Dorothy was beside the camp furnace. The next moment she stood looking at Tavia!
"Tavia!" she exclaimed.
"Hush!" whispered Tavia. "We must not wake her. Oh, Dorothy!"
Like a poor, crushed bird Tavia fell at Dorothy's feet. She sobbed convulsively, but choked back every possible sound.
"Darling!" whispered Dorothy. "What is it?"
"The sick girl! She has almost died!" sighed Tavia. "Oh, I dared not answer again. She was so frightened at my voice!"