"We haven't tried the brook," suggested pretty Hazel Hays. "I am always afraid of brooks."
"But Tavia swims like a fish," declared Dorothy. "I would never think of harm coming to her in the water."
"Let's try, at any rate," agreed Jack, who never opposed Hazel. "Although, unless that big frog gobbled her up, I cannot imagine any possible danger."
At this the party set off over the hill to the frog pond. Hazel trudged along with Jack, Brendon Hays divided his attention between Dorothy and Cologne, while a very little young man, Claud Miller, by name, and the midget by reputation, took care of Nathalie Weston, a visitor at Camp Lucky.
Every one could joke but Dorothy. To her the situation was beyond that.
"I'll wager we find her up a tree eating apples," lisped Claud. "I never saw a girl so fond of sweet apples as Miss Tavia. She told me so herself."
"Told you, you never saw a girl—now Claud! Don't get excited that way. It's dreadfully hard on your nerves and on your friends."
"But I say, now, Jack——"
"Claud, dear, don't. Save it until we find Tavia, and then say to your heart's content."
Dorothy had run on ahead and was now looking over the little rustic bridge into the frog pond. The water was not deep, but there were plainly footprints along its muddy edge.