“We’ll probably pick up Dell,” suggested Garfield, referring to his sister who was found on the “next pile of rocks,” as Rosa had described the Durand estate. She was older than her brother, much older than Rosa, and somehow this fact brought relief to Nancy, who was fearing things she couldn’t quite define. It seemed safer, however, to have an older girl along, and when Dell Durand jumped into the car and added her part to the fun of driving through the woods, up and down hills, in and out of sly curves that often brought Nancy’s breath up sharply, she talked to Nancy in the sensible, intelligent way that she, Nancy, was most accustomed to.

“We couldn’t live up here if it were not for the fun at the Point,” Dell declared. “It’s all well enough in the daytime—plenty of sport then for anyone who likes the water, mountains or—pet dogs,” she said this sarcastically, “but if we didn’t have the pavilion for dancing and the movies and such things, I’m afraid we would find the evenings—long!”

“Shall we go over to Bent’s?” called Gar from the wheel.

“Just as Rosa says,” replied his sister politely.

“I’m afraid Nancy may be tired,” replied Rosa considerately. “I haven’t given her a minute since she landed, and you know what that Boston and Maine train does to you. No—guess we’ll just peek in at the pavilion. I’m afraid I couldn’t sleep a wink if I didn’t get a little something to pep me up,” sighed Rosa. “That house with Margot and Thomas can get on—one’s—nerves—”

“Nerves!” mocked Gar. “Say, Rosie, when you get nerves I’ll get—”

“Sense,” supplied Rosa, imitating the boy’s voice. “Anyhow I have a little of that—”

“Quit your squabbling, babes,” ordered Dell. “Can’t you behave before company?” Just then the pavilion loomed up, with the paper covered lights and jazzing music, not the usual, ordinary summer place, but rather a little spot in the wilderness where, evidently, the young folks of Craggy Bluff found such evening entertainment as Dell had so briefly described.

It was all a little strange to Nancy, who had never before been thrown in with such grown up young folks. Even Rosa, although in reality only a few months older than Nancy, seemed very grown up and superficial, now that she was mingling with numbers of friends who promptly greeted their arrival at the dance hall.

Gar took himself and his car off, excusing himself to join other boys who claimed him, while Rosa insisted upon Nancy dancing.

“Let’s wait a while,” Nancy coaxed, not wishing to lose herself at once in the gliding dancers.

“Can’t,” objected Rosa. “I’ve got to dance. It’s good for me,” she whispered; and when the two girls did glide off, Nancy was agreeably surprised at the ease displayed by her cousin.

“Just like floating,” Rosa explained. “I Can float all day. And dancing is such a silly walk, isn’t it? Don’t even have to bend.”

It was not much more than a rhythmic walk, and as for bending—surely that was quite out of question, for that season’s dance was markedly a glide.

Dell was dancing with some young man, and Gar was not to be seen about, when Rosa led Nancy over to a corner of the platform.

“I just thought I saw—someone I knew over here,” she said, “Orilla, you know. But I don’t imagine she would be out here—she’s so busy, always.”

Rosa was peering into the dark corners where some few persons stood watching the dancers. Somehow Nancy was secretly hoping that Rosa was mistaken, for while she had a certain curiosity to see this much talked of Orilla, she would rather have delayed the experience until some other time.

“I guess it wasn’t she,” Rosa said finally, still jerking her head from side to side attempting to find the face she was seeking for. “Yes,” she exclaimed again, “I do believe I see her. Glide over this way—”

“Isn’t it too dark along the edge?” Nancy asked. She did not like the idea of getting so far away from Dell. Besides that, it really was dark and deserted at that end of the platform.

But Rosa was bent upon following the figure she either saw or imagined she saw. In fact, so intent was she, that Nancy’s remark went by unnoticed.

“Wait here just a minute,” Rosa said suddenly, dropping Nancy’s arm and dashing off along the uncertain edge of the circular platform.

Fear seized Nancy! What if Rosa was as foolish as Garfield had hinted, and what if she should run off even for a short time on some silly pretext with the undesirable Orilla? Gar had said that Nancy had arrived “just in time.” What could he have meant?

She was watching Rosa’s light dress and felt she would surely have to follow her. No matter what Rosa had said about Nancy waiting, she was going to keep as close—

The flash of Rosa’s dress had gone out like a candle flame in the wind. Turning her own steps in the direction Rosa must have taken, she hurried along the platform’s edge and just caught a glimmer of something light—Rosa’s dress it must have been—darting through the trees, away from the pavilion.

“Rosalind!” she called anxiously. “Rosa!”

A queer little twittering whistle, that could not have been an answer from Rosalind, pierced the darkness. The music had ceased, that dance was over and now the young folks were all flocking in the other direction. Nancy saw this, too, as she stepped off the platform and attempted to follow the hidden trail of Rosalind.

“How absurd!” she could not help sighing, “if this is the way I’m going to spend my summer chasing after a foolish girl—”

The next moment she was sure she heard whispering. That certainly was Rosa, but why should she be hiding?

“Rosa!” again called Nancy, this time feeling very much like turning back to Dell and leaving Rosa to report for herself.

Indignant and offended, Nancy was almost about to follow out that thought when a sudden sharp cry—it was from Rosa—certainly—a cry of pain came from a spot close by.

“Oh, Orilla! quick!” Nancy heard. “My foot is caught and—”

“Rosa, where are you?” sharply demanded Nancy. “I’m here! I can help you!”

“She’s all right—” came a voice not Rosa’s. Then the flash of a small light betrayed the spot where Rosa had fallen.

“It’s my foot, it got caught in briars, and oh, mercy!” Rosa exclaimed, “I’m afraid I’ve sprained my ankle!”

By this time Nancy could see Rosa’s companion. So that was Orilla! A tall girl with fiery red hair that even in the glimmering light of the hand flash which she, Orilla, was holding, looked too red to be pretty. It was as if the head that held it all was in a real blaze, rather than being covered with hair.

“Oh, you’re all right, Rose. Get up,” the girl ordered so unkindly that Nancy bent over and put her arm about the struggling figure.

“Did you ever see anything—so—so—beastly!” poor Rose was muttering. “Just to jump into a hole and get strangled with briars—”

“Hold on to me, dear.” Nancy could not help offering the endearing term, for the red-haired girl surely was scoffing. And Rosa’s every attempt to seem grown up, her foolish little expressions, and her disregard of that sort of conduct which Nancy very well knew was Rosa’s natural manner just being held back, made the cousin all the more an object of affection to Nancy. She was now Rosa’s champion against this girl, Orilla.

“Showing off,” was what it all was, of course, but there was something more important to think of just now. Rosa was hurt, the Durands were not in sight and Nancy was simply frightened to death at the whole situation. “Can’t you really get up?” asked Orilla, showing some concern herself now. She was holding the flash light over Rosa, and in the darkness its rays shone clear and remarkably bright for a thing so small. It picked out a mass of wicked briars and treacherous undergrowth into which Rosa had fallen.

“I can’t—stir—” she moaned. “There’s a regular rope of something around—my—leg. Oh-h-h!”

It was not hard to realize that a rope of something had indeed imprisoned the girl, for even the efforts of Orilla joining those of Nancy, failed to extricate the injured one.

“What—shall—we do!” breathed Nancy, more deeply concerned than she wished to admit even to herself. “However will we get her out of this?”

“Silly thing for her to get into,” grumbled the red-haired girl. “But I guess I can chop her out.”

“Chop her out!” exclaimed Nancy, incredulously.

“Yes. I’ve got tools. You stay here with her, and for goodness’ sake keep her quiet. My car is over on the road. I’ll be back as quickly as I can get here.”

Presently the two girls found themselves alone, in the dark, in that lonesome wood. Nancy was too frightened to do more than keep whispering courage to Rosa, and Rosa was too miserable to do more than groan.

“Why—” started Nancy once more, but checked the query before it was formed. Of what use to question Rosa now? The thing to do was to hope for Orilla’s return. But even that worried Nancy.

“Oh, Nance,” groaned Rosa, “if my poor leg is broken—”

“It isn’t, dear, I’m sure,” consoled Nancy. “You know a strain feels dreadfully at first. Are you sure she’ll come back?”

“Oh, yes. She sounds mean, but that’s her way,” Rosa explained. “Can’t you see her light? Isn’t she coming yet?”

“No,” replied Nancy. “And Rosa, I feel I’ll just have to go back to the pavilion for Dell. What will they think?” “Think we’re lost, maybe.” Rosa was tugging at the briars and uttering groans at every attempt to free herself. Nancy had torn the skin from her right hand in her attempts to help, but was still working carefully.

“How far is the road?” Nancy asked presently.

“Just there, behind that little hill. You can’t see it, of course—”

“Will you stay while I look for Dell?”

“I’ll have to. But oh, Nance,” as her cousin prepared to go, “you know I don’t want them to see me meeting Orilla. They just wouldn’t understand. Every one hates her so and she’s so bitter about it. Look again. Isn’t she coming?”

Mystified, Nancy obeyed.

“Yes, I believe she is. There’s a spark—yes, it’s her light,” she added relievedly. “But how will she chop you out?”

“She carries tools; she’ll have a little chopper—a small ax, you know,” faltered Rosa, relief showing also in her voice. “You mean a hatchet. Why would she carry a hatchet?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you, sometime; if I ever get out of this,” groaned Rosa, digging her fingers deep into the flesh of Nancy’s arm to which she was clinging.

The faithful little flash-light dispelled what darkness it could reach, as the girl with the small hatchet hurried back to them.

“Now don’t move while I chop,” she ordered sharply. “I’m hours late now, and I’ve got to hurry.”

“Being late—” began Nancy indignantly. But holding back the briars and bushes while Orilla chopped at that which so securely bound Rosa, precluded anything like objections to the apparent heartlessness of Orilla.

“There; I guess you can get up now. Hope to goodness I’m not all stung with poison-ivy,” Orilla snarled, while Nancy gave her entire attention to the unfortunate cousin.

“Put your arm under her other arm,” she ordered Orilla. “Her ankle is hurt, you know,” she finished sarcastically. “Oh yes, I know,” sneered the red-haired one. But nevertheless she did as Nancy Brandon ordered her to do.