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Dorothy Dale's Camping Days

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<hr /> <h2>CHAPTER XXVToC</h2> <h3>LOOKING FOR TAVIA</h3> What joy there was in that camp when Major Dale actually carried in Dorothy! A signal had been arranged to notify those in the woods if any good news came, and as Major Dale placed his daughter in the arms of Cologne, Mrs. Markin ran out of doors, and blew the big horn, until she had no more breath left. This was heard by Jack, Ned and Nat, who were just then preparing to drag the lake. There were no words to express the joy all felt, but Dorothy looked around for Tavia, and asked frantic questions. "You must not think of her," insisted Mrs. Markin, bringing in some warm tea. "You have done enough for her. Of course," she hurried to add, seeing the look that came into Dorothy's face, "we will find her, but you are not to leave this camp—well, I don't know when we will let you leave it again." "Oh, you darling!" Cologne was crying hysterically. "I can never let you out of my sight again! To think that I should have done so in those deep woods." "I have had a great time exploring," said Dorothy, sipping the refreshing tea, "and I think, Cologne, that there are many kinds of camping days. But if you will only let me go out, I have an idea I know where Tavia might be." Then she told of her trip on the lake, and how quickly the young canoeists left the water to answer a call of a clew having been found. Ned stood looking down at Dorothy, to make sure that she was in the flesh. Mrs. White had not been told of Dorothy's disappearance. They felt, however, that they would have had to notify her had Dorothy remained away until another sundown. Nat was speechless. His handsome face showed the signs of his days and nights of anxiety, and he was not entirely relieved since there was even now no clew to Tavia. "Let's go up the river," he suggested. "At least Dorothy is safe, and we can leave her, but Tavia——" "I could not stay indoors," declared Dorothy. "I should go to pieces! The only thing that will save me is action. Let me help look for Tavia!" She pleaded and begged, and at last Mrs. Markin agreed that it might be best to let her have the freedom of the air. Of course, Dorothy had not yet told all of her story—all the folks knew definitely was that the lost had been found. It took scarcely no time for the searching party to be made up again. The boys from the next camp had their craft already on the water, while Ned and Nat had but to push off their rowboat. "Why do you think Tavia is somewhere about the river edge?" asked Ned in his practical way. "Because, when I came down I heard some one call, and two young men from their canoes answered promptly that they would follow the clew. Now, if I can only find the spot——" "Where in the world did this canoe come from?" exclaimed Jack Markin, as he espied the boat in which Dorothy had escaped from the sanatarium. "It is marked 'Blenden!'" "Blenden!" repeated Ned. "Why that's the asylum over the hill!" Everybody looked at Dorothy, awaiting a word from her. She was almost like herself now, after the manner in which blessed youth alone can recuperate. "I was not particular about whose boat it was," she said simply. "So long as I found something to get back to camp in." "I don't think it right that Dorothy should leave mother," began Cologne. But Dorothy interrupted her. "Did you ever notice, Cologne dear, how a storm clears? It takes a light wind, doesn't it? Well, this little excitement will clear things up for me." Wise Dorothy was, of course, not opposed. She belonged to the class of persons who seem to be capable, and who really are, except where their own personal safety or comfort is concerned. They always have a reason and an answer, simply because others do not take the trouble to fathom the motive for this sacrifice. Dorothy had determined to find Tavia, and whatever her excuses, they were all subservient to that motive. "I would rather get in with Nat and Ned," she said, as the party prepared to get off in the boats. "I am really too tired to scull." "What's this?" asked Jack, picking up the nurse's garb from the bottom of the sanitarium canoe. "I declare! Dorothy has been masquerading!" He held up the linen skirt, and the white cap. Of course the very next thing he did was to put the cap on his head. Every one but Cologne laughed—she seemed too stunned to so soon forget the horror of the loss of Dorothy. The young ladies from the neighboring camp had decided not to go on the water—in fact their chaperon had refused to allow them to go; "there had been so many horrible accidents around there of late," she declared. Major Dale stood upon the bank, and watched his daughter. To the others it might seem like a dream, but to him it was very real. Dorothy had been such a daughter, and even now she was proving herself the Major's "little corporal." Nor did Dorothy miss the look that had buried the smile on her father's face. "Now, when we get that naughty Tavia back," she called, "we will have a celebration, Daddy." "You bet we will," replied the major warmly. And then the party started down the river. "I cannot see how Tavia could be along the river bank and not hear us," argued Ned. "Dorothy, you have not told us your story at all. Were you both kidnapped?" "I have never seen Tavia since that morning we went for berries," she declared. "But my! What an age it has been since then!" "I guess it has," blustered Nat, in his whole-hearted way, and he bent over his oars. "I don't want another batch of time as long as the last." "And, of course, you could not get us any word," ventured Ned. "We fell down on that—it was my one mile-stone." "But it is strange how secret some places can be kept," said Dorothy, cautiously. "It seems that they are so afraid of—publicity. There! That looks like the place where the canoeists went ashore. No, it is farther up, near the willow. We must pull in there and search. I do wish I could have—but what is the use of wishing." "Mere waste of tissue," said Ned with a smile. He was only a boy—a big boy, but the fright of having lost Dorothy had not left him unscathed. The others in the boats took the signal from Nat, and were making for shore. It was a rough place indeed; first rocky, then a matter of holes, and after that it was trees—dense, stubborn trees. A sense of horror stole over Dorothy as she again stepped into the woods, but in her brave way she instantly decided that it was merely a matter of reflection, and the question in hand was not one of memory, but one of facts. Tavia was still somewhere in those woods, or she was—No, she must be in the woods! First calling, then running from point to point, the party searched, but Cologne would not lose her hold on Dorothy. "You are not going to get away from me this time," declared the girl. "I shall always blame myself for losing sight of you." "Cologne! As if I am not big enough to take care of myself!" cried Dorothy, thinking how she had cared for herself through more difficulties than any of them could possibly imagine. All through the woods could be heard shouts and signals from the parties that were out searching for Dorothy, for Tavia and for the girl from the sanitarium. "Lots of people get lost in these woods," commented Ned. "I have been reading of them all my life, but now I guess I can write tales myself." The voices of our friends had attracted a party from the sanitarium. Dorothy was the first to recognize a guard, and as he came toward her, she screamed and ran into Ned's arms. "Oh, don't let them take me again!" she begged. "They think I am that other girl! Stay near! Hold me! Don't let them take me!" Instantly the excitement was intense. From the hospital party two men had come up, while of the campers, Jack, Nat and Ralph hurried close. "Why should they take you?" demanded Ned. "Oh, they made the mistake before, and I suppose they have seen their boat." Quick to act as to think, Ned picked Dorothy up in his arms and turned into a natural hiding place. "There, they have not seen you! Let them look—further on!" he whispered. Of course the others could not even guess what had caused the sudden change in Dorothy's manner, but Ned knew it was not mere excitement. "Here," he said, "is a pillow of moss. You and Cologne stay here, while I go out and see the hospital men. I will assure them no patient of theirs is with us." Dorothy lay back exhausted. If only they would go along! But suppose they should find Tavia, and take her to that dreadful asylum! Voices, very near, gave her a chance to listen. She heard some one say that a young girl had that morning escaped from the institution in the house canoe, and that the boat was now lying close by. But in turning into the deep brush the strange men had not actually caught sight of the frightened girls, as the heavy woodland offered all sorts of excuses for visions. "Well, we must get her," said one of the men. "She walked right past me, and said 'good morning.' But how was I to know who the new nurse, or the new patient was? The trouble is now with the mother. She is beyond consolation." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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