But Mrs. Morrow, whose strength began to waver, finally suggested to Nathalie and Edith, who had been acting as her body-guard, that they rest for a few minutes. Spying a decayed tree-trunk that had fallen across the damp, spongy earth a few feet away, they seated themselves upon it.
“Oh, I’m really tired!” exclaimed Mrs. Morrow, for she had proved as indefatigable as the girls in searching, thinking, she declared, of her own two kiddies safe in the garden at home.
Nathalie, impressed by the solemn stillness about her, slowly fanned herself with her hat, while Edith made frantic dabs at her red face, from which beady drops were oozing. “Oh, I should just love to stay here all day,” she cried, sniffing the air, redolent with the odors of pine, spicy balsam, silver birch, and many other trees that loomed darkly in the mysterious retreats of the forest.
“Hark!” cried Mrs. Morrow, suddenly putting up her hand for silence as she peered up at the green boughs above her. “Taweel-ab, taweel-ab, twil-ab, twil-ab!” came in a succession of weird, sweet trills.
“Wheew, whoit, wheew, whoit!” imitated the Sport with quick readiness.
“It is a hermit thrush!” explained Mrs. Morrow softly, and her hand clutched Nathalie’s as she pointed to a brown bird that was scudding swiftly over the fern a few feet away.
“Oh, isn’t it a dear?” whispered delighted Nathalie, for to her this coming, as she called it, into the very heart of nature was a new experience. She half regretted at times that they had been compelled to forego the bird-hike, as she was so anxious to get in touch with the feathered songsters of the wood and field. Then, too, suppose the searching-party should fail of its purpose, she would feel that she had been the means of leading them on a wild-goose chase!
As her eyes roamed here and there in the hope that she might see the brown thrush again, she started, stared a moment, and then springing to her feet dashed across to the clump of ferns where the bird had been flying.
“I have found a clew!” she cried triumphantly a moment later, as she returned and held up her hand. Between her thumb and forefinger was a bit of red, which she was waving gleefully as she came towards them. As the Sport and Mrs. Morrow hurried to her side they saw a loop of red ribbon still with the knot in it by which it had evidently been recently tied to some object.
“It is Rosy’s hair-ribbon!” cried Nathalie. “I found it clinging to one of the ferns.”