"Only three days left of Camp Crosstrees," said Dolly, as the girls sat in the shack one summer afternoon. "I never knew two weeks to slip away so quickly."

"Don't you love it?" said Dotty, looking around at the various delights of camp life, the wooded hills and the distant mountains. "There's nothing like it, Doll; I wish we didn't ever have to go back to town."

"You'll have your visit with me, before we go back to Berwick. I wonder if you will like Surfwood, Dotty?"

"I'll love the seashore, I know; but I don't know about liking the big hotel. Don't you have to keep dressed up all the time and all that?"

"Why, we don't wear party clothes all the time. Of course we can't go around in an old serge skirt and middy blouse as we do here. But mornings we'll wear ginghams or linen frocks and late in the afternoon dress up nice."

"Awful bother, fixing up so. I like to go round as we do here. Nobody cares what they wear in camp."

"Of course it's awfully different at the hotel, but you'll like it after you get there. I don't see why you object to dressing decently. It's only a habit, going around in these old regimentals!"

Dolly looked with distaste at her brown serge skirt, and her tan stockings and shoes, the latter decidedly the worse for wear and scarred and scratched by stones and brambles.

"Oh, I've got plenty of good clothes; Mother's been fixing them all in order. And I know I'll like it to be down there two weeks with you. But I mean for a whole summer, I'd rather be up here, tramping around the woods and dressing like Sam Scratch, than to fuss up fancy every day."

"I wouldn't. I've had an awful good time up here on this visit, but for a whole summer, I'd rather be at the seashore, and at a hotel where I wear pretty white dresses and silk stockings and slippers."

"Aren't we different!" and Dotty laughed as she looked at her golden haired friend. "Sometimes I wonder, Doll, that we're such good friends, when we're so awfully different. Everything I like you hate and everything you like I hate."

"Oh, not quite that. In lots of ways, we like the same things."

"No, we don't. I like to go off in the woods on long tramps, and you'd rather lie around here on a lot of balsam pillows and read a story book or do nothing at all."

"I expect I'm lazy."

"No, you're not, not a bit of it. You're ready enough to work if it's anything you like to do. Why, at a picnic, you'll do more than all the rest put together. We're just different, that's all. You're easy-going and good natured, and I'm a spitfire."

"Well, I guess it's good for us to be different, and so we influence each other, and that's good for both of us."

"Well, I'll influence you right now to go for a ramble in the woods. It's lovely to-day. Just the kind of a day when the breeze sings in the trees and the birds flutter low and you can watch them."

"All right, I'll go, if you don't go too far, nor walk too fast. We've only three days more up here, and we won't have many more chances to go woodsing, so come on."

"All right, we've a good long afternoon. You go ask Maria for some cookies and fruit, and I'll go tell Mother we're going. But don't let Genie know. We don't want her along to-day, for she gets tired in about an hour."

Dolly went in search of Maria, half sorry that Genie was excluded from the party, for unhampered by the child, Dotty was apt to walk fast and far in her untiring energy. But Dolly could always make her stop and rest by a reference to the weak muscles that still troubled her a little on a long walk. The girls had entirely recovered from their broken bones, but Dolly's was an indolent nature and disinclined to great exertion at any time.

Carrying their sweaters and a box of food they started off for their tramp in the woods.

"I want to get a whole lot of birch bark," Dolly said, as they walked along; "let's look for particularly nice pieces and get a whole lot to take with us down to the seashore."

"What for?"

"Oh, to make fancy work out of. Everybody does fancy work and they have bazaars, something like the one where we took the cake prize. And we can make lovely things out of birch bark for the bazaar tables."

"All right, we'll gather a heap. What shall we do with our cake prize, Doll, save it or spend it?"

"I'd rather spend it. I think it would be nice if we bought something special with it. Two things you know, just alike, to remember our first cake by."

"Something to wear?"

"Maybe. A ring or a pin or something."

"Couldn't get much of a ring for ten dollars. And we've got a lot of little fancy pins, both of us. What do you say to a gold pencil for each?"

"Only they never write very well; the leads are so hard."

"That's so. Well maybe beads, or how about a lace collar?"

"Let's wait till we get down to Surfwood and ask Trudy. She'll tell us something nice, and maybe we'll buy something there, or else in New York as we go through on the way down."

"All right. Here's some good birch bark, only it's yellowish. Let's keep on till we find some whiter."

The pair rambled on, happily chatting and laughing and now and then sitting down to rest or to refresh themselves from the box of lunch which was rapidly growing lighter.

"We have an awful lot of bark," said Dotty, looking at the big bundles they had collected.

"Yes, too much. Let's chuck out the worst pieces and just keep the best. And I'd like some more of that silvery kind. It's awful pretty combined with this dark yellow to make things."

"We want to get some big pieces. A portfolio of the silvery kind lined with yellow is lovely."

"Yes, with one corner turned back and a ribbon bow on it."

"Yes, or tied with sweet grass. There's a big tree on ahead. We can get some there, I'm sure."

"All right and there's another tree out there,—that's a dandy."

Eagerly they went on, absorbed in their fascinating quest. For the hunting of birch bark is ever enticing and lures one on to further treasures like a mirage.

"We can't carry another scrap," said Dolly, at last, laughing to see Dotty with her arms full of rolls of bark and more pieces gathered up in her skirt.

"No; we'll sit down and straighten this out and roll it up and finish the cookies and throw away the box and then we'll go home."

It was hard to throw away any of the beautiful bark, for they had gathered only fine specimens, and the quantity they finally selected to keep was a goodly load.

"We'll put on our sweaters," said Dolly; "so we can carry it all. It's no heavier than that lunch box was."

"No heavier," agreed Dotty; "but a good deal more bunglesome and awkward to carry."

Each girl had a big fat roll under each arm and turning they started gaily along in single file.

"You go first," said Dolly, stepping back; "I'm not sure I know the way. I declare to goodness, Dot, I don't see how you remember the way yourself. You've got a regular guide's brain under that black mop of yours! How do you know which way to go, when you can't see anything but trees?"

"Easy as pie!" Dotty called back over her shoulder. "Just follow the nose of Dorothy Rose and away she goes!" And Dotty hopped over a big stone, while Dolly walked around it.

On they went, Dotty leading the way and Dolly following.

"It's getting awfully late, I believe the sun has set," said Dolly, shivering a little under her woollen sweater.

"Oh, no, the sun hasn't set, but you can't see it in these thick woods. We'll soon be out of this thick part now. We came quite a way in, Dollypops."

"A million miles, I should say! That's the worst of you, Dot, you never realise that all the walk you take has got to be walked back again!"

"'I took a walk around the block, to get some exercise,'" Dotty chanted, imitating a popular song which was a favourite with the boys.

"Exercise! I've had enough to last me the rest of the summer! Honest, Dot, I've got to rest a few minutes; I can't walk another step."

"Dollyrinda Fayre, you do give out the easiest of anybody I ever saw! Sit down on that stone and rest, do. But you mustn't wait long, for I guess it is about sunset. I feel sort of chilly, and I don't hear the birds much."

"All right, Dotsy, I'm rested now," and Dolly jumped up and walked on. She tired easily, but also a rest of a very few minutes made her ready to walk on again. She followed Dotty in silence for some distance and then said; "you're sure you do know the way, aren't you?"

"M—hmm," Dotty flung back over her shoulder and trudged on.

But Dolly noticed a difference in Dotty's attitude. She walked as quickly as before but she was not quite so alert. Also, she kept turning her head suddenly from side to side with a gesture of an inquisitive bird, a little uncertain which way to fly.

"You do know the way, don't you, Dotty?"

"'Course I do, Doll, don't be silly."

"How do you know it?"

"Just by instinct. I've been around these woods so much, I just kind of know the way home, even if I can't see out. Don't you see this kind of a trail? We just follow this and it brings us out right by our own camp."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! What's the matter with you, Dolly?"

"Nothing; only it seems as if we'd walked as far since we've started for home as we did when we were going."

"So we have, nearly. Just a little farther now and we come into that clump of beech woods, don't you know? Where there aren't any birch trees, hardly."

"Yes, I know where you mean; but this doesn't look like it."

"'Cause we haven't got there yet, that's why. You wouldn't think birch bark would be so heavy; would you?"

"I don't mind it. Here give me one of your bundles; I'd just as lieve carry it as not. Give me the one out of your left wing. I know that one must be tired."

"'Deed I won't. You've got enough to carry. I'll throw my left hand bundle away before I let you lug it."

"Oh, don't throw it away! It's a shame, after we've taken such trouble to gather it. Do let me carry it, Dotty."

"No, sir, I won't do it! I don't mind it, anyway. Come on, Doll, let's hurry a little. Don't you think it's getting sort of dark?"

"Not dark, exactly, but dusky here under the trees."

"It isn't dusk, Dolly, it's dark! I mean, it's after sunset, and the real dark will settle down on us in a few minutes. I know more about these woods than you do, and I know we want to get along faster. We mustn't be in here when it gets really dark."

"But you said you knew the way, Dot," and Dolly's tone was anxious.

"I do, most always, but if we'd been on the right track we ought to have been out of the woods before this. I must have got turned around somehow."

Dotty stopped still and turned a despairing face toward Dolly.

"Good gracious, Dot, you don't mean we're lost!"

"I hope not that, but honest, I don't know which way to go."

"Why not go straight on?"

"I'm not sure, but I think that leads us deeper into the woods."

"Why, Dorothy Rose! You said that was the way home!"

"I know I did, and I thought it was; but don't you see, Dolly, if it had been the right way, we would be home by now?"

"Oh, Dotty, what are we going to do?"

Dolly's face took on a woe-begone expression, and her big blue eyes stared at the white face of her friend. "I'm frightened, Dolly, I— I never was lost in the woods before."

"Nor I, either. I've often heard of people being lost in these woods, when they were really quite near their homes. One man was lost for three days before they found him."

"Oh, don't say such dreadful things! It's getting awful dark, and I'm cold, and—and I'm scared!"

"I'm all those things, too! oh, Dolly, I'm awfully frightened!" and Dotty dropped her bundles of birch bark and sitting down on a stone began to cry hysterically.

Now Dolly Fayre was the sort to rise to an emergency, where Dotty Rose would lose her head completely. So Dolly, though terribly frightened, controlled herself, and sitting down, put her arm around Dotty and tried to cheer her.

"Brace up, Dot, it can't do a bit of good to cry you know. Now you know more about this sort of thing than I do, what do people do when they're lost in the woods?"

"Hol—holler," said Dotty, weakly, between her sobs, "holler like fury, and m-maybe somebody hears them and maybe they d-don't."

"All right, let's holler," and Dolly gave a yell, that sounded about as loud and carrying as the pipe or a bulfinch.

"Who do you s'pose'll hear that?" and Dotty almost smiled through her tears; "this is the way to holler." Dotty gave a loud scream, a long halloo, tapping her fingers against her mouth as she did so, making a peculiar mountain cry, known to campers.

"All right, I'll do that, too," and Dolly set up a rival yell.

But though both girls did their best, their screams were not very loud and they were followed by a silence, so intense, that they shivered and clung together in fear. The dark had fallen suddenly, and though only about seven o'clock, in the thick woods, they could scarcely see each other's faces.

Appalled by the awfulness of the situation, Dolly burst into tears, and though not as violent as Dotty's, her sobs were deep and racking ones.

"Oh, don't, Dollyrinda, don't cry so! I'll never forgive myself for losing you in these awful woods!"

"You didn't lose me, any more than I lost you. We both lost each other; I mean— I guess I mean we're both lost!" and Dolly's tears fell afresh.

Then both girls gave way and cried desperately, till they could cry no more, and with their stayed tears, they seemed to take a brighter outlook.

"If we're lost," said Dolly, philosophically; "we must make the best of it. Are there any wild animals, that would eat us up?"

"No, nothing of that sort. Nothing but squirrels and birds, and they can't hurt us."

"Then there's nothing really to be afraid of—"

"No, I s'pose not. Only starving to death, and catching pneumonia and a few little things like that."

"We won't starve right off, that's certain," said Dolly, practically; "at least I won't, I'm so fat. But you poor little picked chicken, you may!" And Dolly patted the thin little shivering shoulders that snuggled up against her.

"I'm hungry now; I wish we'd saved the cookies."

"You can't be hungry, Dot, not really hungry. Now, let's plan what to do. Shall we walk on and take our chances or shall we camp here for the night. It isn't so very different being here under the trees or under our own trees in camp."

"'Tisn't very different, hey? Well I think there's all the difference in the world! What are you going to sleep on? What are you going to cover yourself with? Oh, you know we couldn't sleep anyway, when we're lost!" and Dotty suddenly gave a vigorous yell which startled Dolly nearly out of her wits. But realising what it was for, she quickly joined in, and the two shrieked and shouted until it seemed to them that all the camps in that region must hear them.

But only those who have tried it, know how thoroughly one may get lost in the Adirondack woods in a very short time, or how loudly one may scream without being heard even by the friends who are searching for them.

And they were searching for the lost girls. When the two failed to appear by half-past six, Mr. and Mrs. Rose became apprehensive for their safety. They knew the girls had gone for a long ramble in the woods, but it was the rule of the camp to be back for six o'clock supper, unless due notice had been given.

"They're lost in the woods," Mrs. Rose declared, and though hoping the contrary, Mr. Rose agreed with her.

They had telephoned to all the neighbouring camps and as no one had seen the girls that afternoon they felt sure of what had happened.

"We must make search parties," said Bob, while Bert looked thoroughly scared at the thought of his sister's danger. "It isn't so awfully unusual, Bert. People get lost in the woods often, don't they, Dad?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Rose; "but it isn't often our little girls! Call up Long Sam, Bob; tell him to bring lanterns."

Many of the neighbours volunteered assistance and inside of an hour there were various search parties beating the woods for the missing girls.

But Dotty, when thinking she was walking toward home had really been walking in the opposite direction and the two girls were much farther away from camp than their rescuers thought for.

"Nothing doing," said Jack Norris, despondently, as he met Bob and Bert in the woods.

"Then we must keep at it," said Bert; "anything is better than giving up."

The various searchers separated and came together again. They screamed and shouted; they whistled and blew horns; their dogs barked, and it seemed as if some of these noises must reach the girls' ears and bring response calls.

But there was no success, and one by one the neighbours gave up and went home.

But Mr. Rose and the two boys, with Long Sam, kept up the search all through the night. They built fires occasionally, but dared not leave them, and put them out as they went on.

At last, Long Sam seated himself dejectedly on a fallen log, his extraordinary length of limb doubling up like a jacknife.

"'Tain't no use," he declared. "They ain't no livin' use o' trackin' these woods any longer. We mought strike them girls in a minute and then again we moughtn't run across 'em in a thousand years. Lord knows I'm willin' to keep on, but I'm jest about tuckered out. And I put it to you Mr. Rose, wouldn't it be better to rest a bit, and then push on?"

"Perhaps it would, Sam," and Mr. Rose's fingers worked nervously; "but I couldn't stay still, I'd go crazy. I think I'll push on and take my chances."

"Yes, and get yourself lost," grumbled Sam; "so's we'd have three to hunt 'stidden o' two!"

"You are done up, Sam," said Bert Fayre, kindly. "You stay here, and we three will drive ahead a little."

"Wal, I'll jest give one more howl, and see if that ketches anythin'."

Long Sam stood up on a log and gave a high pitched, long drawn out shout, that seemed as if it must penetrate the farthest depths of the forest.

"Now one, all together, like that," he said, and the four voices, joined in a mighty shout and then waited in breathless silence.

"I heard 'em!" Sam cried out; "I heard 'em! Now all you keep quiet!" And then Sam's voice rang out once more in a sharp short shriek. He listened and then exclaimed; "Yep! I heard 'em! Come on!" And with long strides he started anew into the blackness of the woods.

The others eagerly followed. They had heard no sound, but their ears had not the marvellous acuteness of the Adirondack guide, and without a word they hastened to keep up with Long Sam's pace.

"Sing out again!" Sam cried, several times, and at last the others could hear the faint high shrieks of Dotty and Dolly.

It seemed an endless journey, but at last the search party came upon the two girls.

"Oh, Father!" and Dotty threw herself into his arms, while Bert made a grab for Dolly and Bob danced around the group in glee.

"You're a nice pair!" observed Long Sam, who was no respecter of persons, when acting in his capacity of guide. "What d'you cut up such a trick as this for? You might 'a'knowed you'd get lost!"

"Now Sam, don't scold," said Dolly, well knowing that the bluff chap was really talking roughly to hide his glad emotion at the rescue.

"You ought to be scolded all the same, but I s'pose your folks is so glad to get you back that they'll just make the world and all of you."

And Sam's prognostication was verified. Following Sam's lead the party trudged through the woods, all so jubilant at the happy ending to their search, that scolding was not even thought of. And indeed why should it be? The girls had done nothing wrong, unless perhaps they had wandered a little deeper into the forest than it was advisable to go without a guide. But Dotty was positive it would never happen again. And when they reached camp and found Mrs. Rose and Genie waiting for them and a most appetising supper spread out by Maria, the two refugees found themselves looked down upon as heroines and were quite willing to accept the rÔle.