An oppressive silence followed, while each girl looked blankly at her neighbor. The new Pioneer’s face flushed, and her eager, excited eyes shadowed, as she quickly realized that in her eagerness to follow the law of kindliness she had been too officious. She stood in dismayed embarrassment, the chill of an unpleasant surprise benumbed her. With a faint hope she turned her eyes appealingly towards Helen, surely her level head and kind heart would prompt her to second her. Helen caught the look and smiled faintly.

Edith, who was always the first one to either second or down a proposition, broke the silence by exclaiming in an aggrieved tone, “Why, the idea, Nathalie Page! we can’t give up the bird-hike, we’ve all brought our lunches!”

“I should say not,” interposed Lillie Bell with flashing eyes. “Why, it would take the whole morning, and there could be no hike for to-day, and next week I can’t go, I—”

“Oh, they have probably found the child by this time!” ventured Barbara North, to Nathalie’s surprise, as she had always found her of a kindly nature.

“Well, I for one don’t think it is our place to look for the child, anyway,” asserted Jessie, decisively. “Let the men of the town do it. There are three policemen hanging around all day with nothing to do.”

Nathalie’s cheeks had lost their pink bloom; her face stiffened as she retorted coolly, “Well, just as you please, I see I have made a mistake.” She nerved herself. “I thought kindliness was one of the laws of the organization, and it seemed to me that our pleasure was to take a secondary place when we had an opportunity to do a kind act. If you had seen the poor mother sobbing—”

“Oh, fiddle!” ejaculated Lillie, “those colored people are all emotion; their sobs don’t count for much. I agree with Jessie that the townspeople should send out a search party, and I for one refuse to give up the hike. Who’s on my side?” she ended abruptly, turning and facing the group.

“I!” and “I!” shouted several voices at once in answer.

Nathalie backed towards the edge of the veranda. “I seem to be in the minority,” she said with assumed indifference, although her heart was beating in double-quick time, for something had whispered, “They are very rude, I would resign immediately.” But this suggestion was bravely silenced by the thought, “No, I will not be as small as that, I will show I do not care.”

“There must be some one who thinks as I do,” she ended resolutely, wishing that she could run from this affront to her sensitiveness.

“I am with you, Nathalie!” suddenly cried Helen, walking towards her friend and putting her arm around her.

Grace looked at the bevy of girls who had bunched together, then at the faces of her two friends. In a faint voice she asserted lamely, “And I, Nathalie, I didn’t stop to think—”

“And, Nathalie, you can count me on your side!” broke in a voice at this moment. The girls, alert at the prospect of a division in the group, turned quickly to see Mrs. Morrow place herself by the side of Nathalie, taking her hand as she did so and giving it a cordial squeeze.

Nathalie’s color came racing back and her heart leaped with joy. Ah, then she had not been too officious, after all! She turned to see the girls standing in embarrassed silence with shamed eyes and uncertain mien. But Lillie, who was generally the spokesman of the group when Helen was on the opposite side, cried somewhat pertly, “Why, Mrs. Morrow, do you think it is our place to go and hunt for that colored child? I should think it was the duty of the townspeople to look after those things.”

“That is not the question,” replied the Director coldly. “As Nathalie said, kindliness is one of the basic laws of the organization. We should be poor Pioneers indeed if we saw a man drowning and then stood and argued as to whether it was our place to save him or not. Nathalie, I commend you not only for your kind suggestion, but for having the real pioneer courage in maintaining what you believed to be right. You have shown yourself a true Blue Robin and I am proud of you. Now, girls, we will put it to a vote. Those of you who want to go on the hike, up with their hands.” Not a hand was raised.

Mrs. Morrow’s face brightened as she cried laughingly, “Now who wants to join a search-party with Nathalie as captain, and see if they can find little Rosebud?”

Every hand flew up, and there was a general cry of, “I do! I do!”

“Well, girls,” said Mrs. Morrow kindly, as her eyes traveled from face to face, “I see you have repented of the error of your way. Let Nathalie’s example inspire you!”

“Oh, I guess we just didn’t stop to think!” broke forth Barbara, with shamed eyes.

“Well, when one has made up her mind to do a thing she would be a saint to give it up without a fuss,” remarked Lillie. “Of course, Nathalie was all right, but she had had time to think it all out and we hadn’t!”

“A good explanation, Lillie,” answered Mrs. Morrow, “but I hope you have all learned a lesson. Now, Nathalie, make your suggestions and we’ll get to work.”

The new Pioneer had already divided the girls into two sections, with Helen as one leader, and Lillie Bell as the other. It did hurt a little to give Lillie the first place after she had spoken as she had, but Nathalie realized her worth, and then, too, she did not want to show any resentment. “You see,” she explained, “I am only a dummy captain, for I am not as familiar with the town as the rest of you are, and there will be no time lost in making false moves.”

“That is a very sensible decision, Nathalie,” nodded Mrs. Morrow, “but the question is where to look first!”

“Suppose we go down to the settlement, make a survey, and get our bearings?” voiced Helen.

“Good, Helen, that is just the thing!” acquiesced the Director, as the girls at her suggestion hurriedly deposited their lunch-boxes in the hall, while Nathalie ran over to tell her mother her plans.

In a few moments the would-be searchers started, each girl equipped with her staff, while the two leaders triumphantly displayed their whistles, which they claimed would be of great help if any of the party got lost and their voices did not carry.

It did not take long to reach Felia’s shanty, and as Nathalie ran in to tell her that the Pioneers were going to hunt for Rosy, the rest of the party gazed with quick, alert eyes first in one direction and then in the other.

“I should not be surprised if the child had wandered away looking for flowers,” remarked Mrs. Morrow, suddenly remembering what Nathalie had said the child was doing when she was last seen.

“But where would she be apt to go?” inquired Nathalie, who had returned in time to hear Mrs. Morrow’s remark.

“Why, to the woods!” retorted Helen quickly, and her eyes lighted in sudden thought as they dwelt on a green belt of woodland that loomed against the sky on the opposite side of the road.

“Don’t you think she might have strayed down the hill?” questioned Nathalie, pointing to a pond shimmering in the sun at the bottom of a knoll near-by. “Poor Mammy is quite sure she is drowned and lies at the bottom of the pond.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what we can do,” spoke up Lillie, “I’ll take my squad and search down by the pond, and Helen and the rest of you can go over to the woods; somehow I’m with Mammy, for all children love to paddle in the water.”

Lillie’s suggestion was a timely one, and as she, Grace, Jessie, and a few Orioles disappeared over the slope of the hill, Helen and Nathalie, as the advance guard, hurried across the road and into the cool recesses of the woods. As they hastened onward every girl’s eyes were alert, watchfully peering behind every bush and tree as they stumbled over gnarled roots and broken stumps in their efforts to reach some shaded nook, or lichen-covered rock dimly seen in the shadows of the trees.

Helen proved an efficient leader and did not hesitate to keep her followers busy, as she sent first one and then the other to look here or there, determined not to miss a nook or spot where the child might be hidden. Every now and then some of the party would give a bird call, or Helen’s whistle would reverberate sharply through the swaying pines.

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.”

“Oh, are you sure?” burst from Mrs. Morrow, her eyes eager with hope as she bent over the little scarlet knot.

“Indeed I am sure,” answered the delighted girl, “for it is the very ribbon I found in my work basket and tied on Rosy’s funny little topknot the day she was at our house. See, here is the very cut in the edge—that is the reason it was of no use to me—but Rosy was as happy as a lark over it. Oh, isn’t this too lovely, for now I know the child is somewhere near!”

With renewed hope they set forth again on the hunt, Nathalie running ahead and calling “Tru-al-lee!” as loud as she could—it was the only bird call she knew—to get in touch with the advance guard and tell them the good news.

In answer to her Blue Robin call, in a few moments a Bob White whistle was heard, rather faint, but there was no mistake as to that quick, clear note. The Sport, a few yards behind, immediately responded by giving a similar call, and then as they stood waiting to ascertain from what direction the whistle had come, there sounded a sudden, sharp snap of the underbrush near, and Kitty Corwin’s face emerged into view. “Hurrah, girls!” she shouted jubilantly, “we have found her!”

“Oh, where? Where?” came in an instant from three throats as Kitty leaned against a tree and panted.

“Down in a ravine, huddled close against a rock, asleep. Helen did not want to waken her until Nathalie came, for fear she would be frightened at the strange faces. Come on, quick!” she exclaimed excitedly, turning and darting back the way she had come with light, fleet steps.

But the belated ones needed no urging, especially Nathalie, who dashed ahead without regard to time or place, with a haste that left no doubt as to her joy that her searching party had been a success. Overhanging branches and dried twigs that blocked her way were ruthlessly brushed aside, or run against, scratching and bruising her unmercifully as she discovered later, but it made no difference to the happy girl.

It seemed but a moment when she emerged into a clearing, and close at the heels of Kitty climbed down into a small ravine. It had evidently been at one time the road-bed of a brook, but was now filled with scraggy stones, dried underbrush, and fallen logs.

As Nathalie saw the little motionless figure cuddled in a heap against the rock, her heart leaped with misgiving. “Oh, is she dead?” she asked Helen, who stood guard by the side of the rock, every now and then brushing away a gnat or a fly that descended with a loud buzz on the smeared black face, which lay partly exposed to view as it rested on a mite of an arm.

“Oh, no,” assured Helen, “she is all right, only asleep. I suppose she wandered about for some time in the darkness and was tired out, poor little tot!”

The little one looked so pathetically small as she lay there, just a heap of bones, black skin, and woolly hair, with the tears still glistening on the black lashes, that Nathalie’s heart was stirred with pity.

Mrs. Morrow now came forward and quickly felt her pulse, crying as she did so, “Oh, you poor little black baby! Yes, she is all right!” she nodded assuringly, “but Helen, what is the matter with her leg?” Her sharp glance noted that it lay rather limply on the ground.

“I am not sure,” said Helen with bent brows as she touched it softly, “but I am afraid it is broken. That is why I waited for you and Nathalie, I did not like to move her for fear of hurting her.”

“But we shall have to,” returned Mrs. Morrow as she finished examining the injured limb, “for it is broken, and we must get her home as soon as possible, for it will have to be set.”

As Helen and Mrs. Morrow attempted to take hold of the child to lift her on the stretcher the girls had made, she opened her eyes wide into the strange faces bending over her. Then she closed them quickly, and as the little black face wrinkled in fear she let forth such a howl of absolute despair that the girls were all on the verge of joining with her in their keen sympathy.

“Oh, Rosy,” cried Nathalie springing hastily forward and taking the child’s hand softly in hers, “see, it is Mrs. Page’s little girl. Don’t you remember when you called me that—Mrs. Page’s little girl?” She repeated softly as she saw the child had stopped her crying and was staring up at her. But the black eyes closed again and the little form shivered as a prolonged howl answered the questioner.

But Nathalie, who loved children, lifted up the little head with its pigtails and laid it against her breast as she tried again. “There dearie, don’t you want to go in the choo-choo cars to see Mamma?”

These words had the desired effect, and the howl was arrested as two big black eyes stared with awakening interest while Nathalie caught hold of the stretcher and choo-chooed it back and forth. “Come, Rosy!” she cried in a third attempt, “and we will go in the choo-choo cars to see Mamma, and—oh, yes, the little rag-dollie I made for you, don’t you remember what a lovely time we had?”

The black eyes opened wide, stood still for a wee second, and then twinkled into a smile as their owner cried, “Oh, yes, I knows youse; youse de Story Lady!”

“Yes, I’m the Story Lady,” quickly answered Nathalie, her face breaking into a smile; then as Rosy smiled back, “but how did you get here, Rosebud, so far away from home?”

The little face screwed into a knot as she whimpered, “Oh, I got lost, Story Lady. I picked daisies in de lot, and den Jacob he showed me de blue flowers he got in de wood. So I runned to de wood, and oh, I got a lot!” Her eyes gleamed with joy as she held up a few withered violets still clutched in her tiny hand. “And den it grew all dark,” she moaned, “and I couldn’t fin’ de road, and I fell and hurt my leg. Oh, I’se so hungry!” she ended piteously.

But when she saw so many eyes watching her, she covered her tiny face with her hand, shyly peeping out from between her fingers.

The girls all laughed merrily at her coquettishness, but their laughter became almost a howl as the little black eyes began to play peek-a-boo at them, and then danced in unison with their laughter, as if enjoying the sensation she had created.

But time was precious, and so with the promise of candy and a story from Nathalie the little one was lifted from the ground and carefully placed in the stretcher, and the Pioneer search party, weary, and warm, but jubilantly happy at their success, started for home.

“Some one of you girls ought to run ahead and get the doctor!” exclaimed Mrs. Morrow as the rescuers plodded carefully but slowly up the ravine with their burden, “for the child needs attention at once. I don’t wonder she cries!” For, alas! the little one had begun to whimper softly, although Nathalie was still playing choo-choo car as hard as she could, so as to divert her mind from the pain and hunger pangs that had now begun to assert themselves more forcibly.

“I will go!” cried Edith quickly, and then at a nod of assent from their Director she disappeared in the shadowy gloom of the trees like a small whirlwind. Barbara and Kitty were then despatched to hurry and tell Rosebud’s mother that the lost was found.

As they reached the edge of the woods, Mrs. Morrow thought she heard the throb of an automobile engine, and as it was followed in a moment by the toot of a horn, she begged Nathalie to hurry to the road, just a few feet beyond in the opening. “It sounds like the doctor’s car—perhaps he will take little Rosy home—for, O dear, she is suffering so!”

Nathalie softly unfastened the little hands that were clinging to hers, and with a few bounds reached the road where, sure enough, she saw a few yards ahead an automobile that had just passed.

Yes, it was the doctor! Nathalie thought she recognized his car, and with mad haste tore after it, shouting to the full extent of her lungs, “Doctor! Doctor!”

The occupant of the car, who evidently was not driving at a very high rate of speed, heard her shouts and in a moment brought his car to a standstill. As he turned about and stared at the oncoming figure of Nathalie, who, red-faced and bedraggled was speeding towards him, he looked slightly surprised.

“Oh, Doctor,” began the girl. She paused, for the gentleman who was looking at her with such a puzzled expression, coupled with slight indignation at being stopped in this way, was a strange young man!

Nathalie halted abruptly as she discovered her error, feeling as if her face would burst from the heat of her unwonted exercise and the fact that she had been tagging in this tomboy style, after a strange man.

“Oh—I’m so sorry,” she panted apologetically, “but Mrs. Morrow thought she heard an automobile, she was sure it was the doctor—”

“Mrs. Morrow!” exclaimed the young man, “why, is she anywhere about?” He jumped from his car as he spoke and came towards her.

“Oh, yes,” cried the girl, with a gleam of hope that if this young man knew their Director there was a chance for Rosy. “We have been looking for a little colored girl who was lost—oh, I mean the Pioneers—we have been searching in the woods,” she explained confusedly, the blood surging furiously into her cheeks under the keen gray eyes that were looking so searchingly down at her. “Oh, can’t you help us?” she burst off appealingly. “Mrs. Morrow wants to get her home as soon as she can, for she has a broken leg.”

“A broken leg?” echoed the young man, “why, of course I will help you,” he continued heartily. “Where is Mrs. Morrow? And—oh, I see—” the gray eyes gleamed pleasantly, “you are Blue Robin, the little girl who lives across the way from us. I am Mrs. Morrow’s brother, Jack Homer!”