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Dorothy Dale's Camping Days

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<hr /> <h2>CHAPTER XVIToC</h2> <h3>A HARROWING EXPERIENCE</h3> When Dorothy awoke, to find herself still in that attic room, to know that it was not all an awful dream, but a terrible reality, the full meaning her position flooded into her strained mind, like some awful deluge of horror! That the people who held her captive did so for some undefinable reason was perfectly clear; but why they did so, was just as mysterious as was their reason for plying her with coddling words, as if she were a baby. Realizing that they would not let her go her way, Dorothy determined, as she lay there, with the moonlight making queer shadows on the slant wall, that she would escape that day! How little did Tavia know of the danger into which she had thrown her best friend! "And I wonder," thought Dorothy, "if Tavia is safely back at camp? And what do the folks think of me?" A sigh, as deep as it was sincere, escaped from her lips, and she crawled out of bed to see if daylight was near. "Such a long night!" she sobbed, "and to think that I am a prisoner!" The low windows were shut, and the air of the room was stifling. Dorothy groped around to see if she might find the candle that she had noticed on the stand, but it was gone. "They haven't even left me a match," she told herself. "Did they think I would eat matches?" Then she decided she would raise a window if she had to break it open. A curtain roller lay on the floor. With this she tried to pry up the uncertain sash, and in doing so she fell over a low stool. The noise disturbed the folks in the lower rooms, for directly Dorothy heard a shuffle of feet on the stairs. At first she felt indignant, then her helplessness prompted caution, and she hurried into bed. The door opened softly. "What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Hobbs, who, as Dorothy could see, was enveloped in a robe of the same pattern as that which she herself wore. "Did you call?" "Oh, thank you. I only wanted a little air," replied Dorothy. "Couldn't we open a window?" "Well, perhaps we had best not, dearie," replied the woman. "There might be a draught." "I wish there was," Dorothy could not help replying. Then she quickly added: "Don't you think fresh air is very good at this warm season?" "Oh, yes, for some folks," said Mrs. Hobbs, tucking the warm bed clothes more warmly about the sweltering girl. "But, you see—well, this room—we don't always open the windows—fer company." "I will be able to go back to my friends in the morning," said Dorothy promptly. "I am sure it has been very kind of you to take care of me as you have done." "Now, don't talk too much dearie," ordered the woman. "You see, head troubles—that is, when a girl falls on her head—she has got to be dreadful careful, fer a long time." "Oh, my head is not hurt," declared Dorothy, as she leaned upon her elbow. "I feel able to walk back to camp now." "Camp?" asked the woman. "Why, yes. Didn't you know I came from a camp out Everglade way? I was with one of the other girls from camp when I—got lost," finished Dorothy quite helplessly. "Some folks don't call them places 'camps,'" Mrs. Hobbs ventured. "But of course the name ain't got anything to do with it." "What do they call them?" pressed Dorothy. "Oh, now, you never mind. You will be all right. Jest go off to sleep, and as soon as Josh milks, I'll fetch you a nice drink of the warm suds—it's splendid fer nerves." Dorothy was completely mystified. Perhaps the old woman was queer, and she might better humor her. "Well, I may sleep a little more," she said, "and then when daylight comes, I shall be ready to start off. Would you mind handing me my jacket. It has my purse in it, and I want to make sure that it is all right." Samanthy Hobbs hobbled over to where Dorothy's clothes lay in a heap. She fumbled through the garments, and Dorothy distinctly saw her take the beaded purse in her hand. "That's it," said Dorothy. "No pocketbook here," replied the woman. "Why, that little beaded bag I saw you take from my pocket; that is my purse!" "Ain't no sign of sech a thing here," declared the woman, who was at that very moment trying to secret the purse in the folds of her robe. Dorothy was more puzzled than ever. Would this woman steal her pocketbook? How could she ever get away from the place if penniless? "Give me that purse," the girl demanded, jumping up out of bed, and attempting to get hold of the beaded trifle. "Josh! Josh!" called the woman. "Come up here and help me! She's gettin' vi'lent!" "Violent!" repeated Dorothy, "I ought to get—crazy, to be shut up here—this way." "Well, dearie, I didn't want to scare you," said the woman, in that tantalizing voice, "but if I was you, I wouldn't get any crazier than I was—if I was you." "Crazy! Do you think I'm crazy? Is that it?" and poor Dorothy fell back upon the bed. Fortunately Josiah did not hear his wife call, and of course did not come in answer. "There now, there now!" and Mrs. Hobbs smoothed out the bed things. "I will fetch you some nice, warm milk. And perhaps to-day I'll be able to send you back to your ma." "I have no mother," insisted Dorothy. "I told you that my name is Dorothy Dale, and my father is Major Dale of the United States army. If any one attempts to—wrong me, he will see that they are punished." With all the vehemence she could muster up Dorothy spoke these words, and she saw that they had some effect upon Mrs. Hobbs. Would she believe her, and let her go? "Well, of course, you are a stranger to me," said the woman, "and, as I live, girlie, I intend to do right by you. But it's finding out the right that sometimes makes the wrong." "Oh, I am sure Mrs. Hobbs you have been kind," Dorothy said, in a sobbing voice, "but you see how dreadfully hard it is to be kept away from one's friends. Why, I don't dare to think how they feel! How my cousins are worrying, and, of course, they have sent word to father. Oh, dear Mrs. Hobbs, help me to get back! Help me to get away to-day, for if I don't—they will think I am—dead!" Dorothy had actually seized the woman's hands, and was almost kneeling before her. To be away for two days and a night! The woman looked keenly into Dorothy's blue eyes. She smoothed back the pretty, neglected yellow hair, and she brushed the flaming cheek kindly. "I would not harm you for the world," she declared, "for if you are not the lost girl—you are—an angel!" "Here, Samanthy!" called Josiah, from below stairs. "Come and git me a cup of coffee. I ain't got all day to wait around! I've got to git to town!" "All right, Josh. I'll be there right away. Now, dearie, jest you be patient, and everything will come out all right." "But can't I have a window open? I am almost smothered. You know I am used to almost living out doors." "Well," then, she whispered, "wait till Josh gets off and I'll slip up and fix you. He's awfully fussy about some things." There was nothing for Dorothy to do but wait. But how long it seemed! How close the day was, as the sun opened up on that hot roof! Oh, if she did not get away, surely she would go crazy! She could hear the old farmer grumbling. Evidently he was not pleased about something. But Mrs. Hobbs was cautioning him not to speak so loud. Of course they were afraid of being overheard. "If she opens the window," Dorothy decided, "I'll drop to the piazza roof! Then I can escape! Oh, I must escape!" She dare not, however, make any preparations to get away until after the farmer had gone to town; until after Mrs. Hobbs had opened the window and until after—she hoped this would happen—after Mrs. Hobbs went off to the fields for her berries. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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