Dolly had learned as they came up the lake in the motor boat that there was a footpath along the lake shore which led directly from the camp to the railroad station.  It was about a mile long and passed several other camps, but Dolly felt sure that she could walk the distance, and allowing time to rest now and then could reach the station before six o’clock, when the first morning train went through.  The dim starlight just enabled her to make out by her little watch that it was two o’clock when she started.  She felt no fear of bears or wolves now, for her whole mind and soul were filled with the one idea of going home.  She would have started, had the road been lined with hot ploughshares, so indomitable was her will and so strong her resolution.  She gave no thought or heed to possible difficulties or dangers.  She knew the way, there was no chance of getting lost, and she had in her bag money enough to buy a ticket home.  She felt guilty and even ashamed at leaving her kind friends in this manner, but that thought was swallowed up and lost sight of in the terrible gnawing agony of her longing for home.

So she set forth along the path at a swift, steady gait which promised fair for the accomplishment of her design.  As she walked along the stars seemed brighter and seemed to wink at her more kindly, as if willing to do all they could to help along a poor little homesick, mother-lonely child.  Though without hat or coat, her swift pace kept her warm enough for a time, but at last poor little Dolly grew very weary.  She had not walked much since her illness and her newly mended leg felt the strain and began to ache terribly.  She sat down to rest on a flat stone and was surprised to find that her leg ached worse sitting down than it had walking.  Moreover, when she stopped exercising, she became very chilly and in addition to this she realised afresh that she was exceedingly hungry.

Poor little Dolly!  She could scarcely have been more physically miserable, and yet her material discomfort was as nothing to her pangs of homesickness.  She felt she could not pursue her journey, and yet it made her shudder to think of returning to that awful camp.

So after a time, hoping she had rested enough, she rose and plodded on again.  She kept up this means of procedure, walking until utterly exhausted and then stopping to rest, until somehow she managed to cover the distance to the station.

It was half-past four when she reached the forlorn little building and found it closed and deserted.  But there was a bench outside and Dolly sank upon this in a state bordering upon utter collapse.  She fell asleep there and was only awakened when, shortly before six, the station agent came to unlock his office.

“Bless my soul! who are you?” he exclaimed, and Dolly sat up blinking in the early sunlight.

“I’m a passenger,” she said; “I want to take the early train.”

“Humph! a pretty looking passenger you are!  Where’s your hat?”

“I don’t always wear a hat in summer,” and Dolly tossed back her golden curls and looked at the man steadily.  Her sleep had refreshed her somewhat, and she had recovered her poise.  Her determination was still unshaken and she had every intention of going on that six o’clock train.

But the station master was a knowing sort of man and he had before this seen campers afflicted with a desperate desire to go back to civilisation.

“Didn’t you come up here last night with the Roses?” he inquired affably.

“Yes,” replied Dolly, “but I’m going back to town to-day.”

“Pshaw, now, is that so?  Don’t like it, hey?” The station master had a kindly way with him, and as he threw open the door he invited Dolly to enter the little waiting-room.  “You stay here a spell,” he said, “that train ain’t due for fifteen minutes.”

He disappeared into the ticket office and closed the door.  Then he called up Mr. Rose on the telephone.

“Hello! what is it?” responded that gentleman sleepily, for he had been roused from a sound slumber.

“I’m Briggs, the station agent.  That little yellow-haired girl you brought with you last night is here in the station.  Says she’s goin’ home.”

“Dolly Fayre!  At the station?  Impossible!”

“Yep.  She’s here.  And she’s just about all in.  You don’t want I should let her go on the train, do you?”

“Good gracious, no!  Keep her there somehow till I can get there.”

“I’ll try, but she’s terrible set on goin’.”

“Keep her somehow, Briggs, if you have to lock her in.  I’ll be down there inside of half an hour.”

“All right, Mr. Rose.  Good-bye.”  Briggs hung up the receiver and sauntered back to the waiting-room.

“Best come over home with me, little Miss and get a bite of breakfast.  How about it?  My home’s just across the street and my wife’ll be glad to give you a snack.”

“Thank you,” said Dolly, doubtfully, “but I don’t want to miss that train.”

“Oh, land! she’s likely to be half an hour late!  Come along, I’ll keep my eye out for the train.”

Dolly hesitated.  She was awfully hungry, but it was five minutes of six and the train might not be late after all.  Moreover, it seemed to her that the station man was a little too anxious.  Perhaps he wished to detain her, though she could see no reason why he should interfere with her plans.  Unless it might be because she had no hat on.  Still it was not a crime to go hatless in the summer time, though it might be unconventional when travelling.

“Pretty good breakfast my wife cooks,” said Briggs, temptingly.

“Perhaps I would have time just for a glass of milk,” said Dolly, “but no, I hear a locomotive whistle now!”

“Aw, she’s way up round the bend.  Sound carries awful far ’mong these hills.  She won’t be here for ten minutes yet.  Come on.”

“What are you talking about?  There’s the train now!” And from the window Dolly saw the smoke of the approaching engine.

“Why, so ’tis!” and with a strange smile on his face, Briggs whisked the door open, flew out and slammed it behind him and turned the big key, making Dolly a prisoner in the little waiting-room.

For a moment she was too amazed to do or say anything.  She stood watching the train draw nearer and stop at the little station.

Then she realised what had happened and she flew to the door and pounded on it with her little fists, crying, “Let me out! you awful, dreadful man, let me out!”

But the door did not open, and after a couple of minutes the train went on its way.

Then Briggs unlocked the door and came in.  “Bless my soul!” he said, “if I didn’t forget you wanted to go by that train!  Well, it’s too late now, so you might as well come on over to breakfast.”

“You didn’t forget it, any such thing!  You locked me in here on purpose!  You had no right to do it, and my father will pers ­persecute you, ­or whatever you call it!”

“Well, anyhow the train’s gone, and you can’t get it back, so make the best of things and smile and come along.”

From sheer lack of anything better to do, Dolly rose and walked with Briggs across the street to his little cottage.

“Hello, Mother,” he called out, as they entered, “I’ve brought a visitor to breakfast.  Got enough to go round?”

“Yes, indeedy!” and a fat, comfortable looking woman smiled pleasantly at Dolly; “why, you poor baby, you’re all tuckered out.  Here sit right down and drink this fresh milk, it’s a little warm yet.  Take slow sips, now, don’t swallow it all at once.  Here’s a nice piece of toast.”

Dolly eagerly accepted the fresh milk and the golden-brown buttered toast, and was glad to follow Mrs. Briggs’ advice and partake slowly.

The warm, pleasant room and the appetising food made Dolly feel decidedly better.  A poached egg came next and more toast and milk and as both Mr. and Mrs. Briggs were kind and cheery, Dolly’s spirits rose accordingly.

No reference was made as to why she wanted to take the train, in fact the subject was not touched on, and Mr. Briggs was entertaining her with a funny story when the door opened and Mr. Rose walked in.

“Hello, Dolly-Polly,” he said, cheerily; “had your breakfast?  Good for you, Mrs. Briggs, glad you gave the little lady a bite.  Come along now, Dolly, we must be on the move.”

Mr. Rose’s face was so smiling and his manner so pleasant, that Dolly jumped up from her chair and ran to his side.  He put his arm round her and kissed her cheek and then with brisk good-byes and thanks to the hospitable Briggs, he whisked Dolly away.

“Skip it!” he said, and taking her hand they skipped across the road and down the long length of the pier.  There was Mr. Rose’s motor-boat waiting, with Long Sam at the wheel.

“Mornin’ folkses,” he said, unfolding his ungainly length as he rose to help them in.  Long Sam, it was generally agreed, had the longest length for the narrowest width of any man in the county.  He grinned at Dolly and taking her hands helped her into the boat, while Mr. Rose followed.

In a moment they were off, and the little boat scooted up the lake in a hurry.  The sun was well up now and it was a warm day, so the lake breeze was most refreshing and the swift motion very exhilarating.  Mr. Rose said no word whatever concerning Dolly’s informal departure from his camp, but he was so gay and entertaining that Dolly herself forgot it.  He pointed out various houses and camps along the shore, often telling funny stories of the people who lived there.  He showed her the club house and the casino and the picnic grounds and lots of interesting places, which had passed unnoticed on their trip up the lake the night before.  Sometimes Long Sam put in a few words in his dry, comical way, and Dolly found herself enjoying the morning lake ride immensely.

Mr. Rose was in the midst of a funny story at which Dolly was shaking with laughter as they reached the pier which belonged to Crosstrees camp.

“Out you hop!” exclaimed Mr. Rose, jumping out himself and in a moment Dolly was beside him on the pier.  Mrs. Rose and the two girls stood there smiling, their arms full of bathing suits.

“Hurry up, Doll,” cried Dotty, grabbing her arm.  “This is your bathhouse right next to mine and here’s your suit.  Scrabble into it, quick’s you can.”

And so almost before she knew it, Dolly was shut in to her little bath house and was hastily changing from her street suit to her bathing-dress.

Just as she finished arraying herself, Dotty was pounding on the door and she immediately opened it.  Mrs. Rose put a bathing cap on Dolly’s head and tied a gay kerchief over that.  The rest were all in bathing suits and with gay laughter they all joined hands and ran down the sloping shore and into the lake.

Dolly loved bathing and she pranced round with the rest, enjoying the delightful feel of the cool ripples of the lake as they dashed against her.

The young people were not allowed to go out very far alone, but Mr. Rose would swim out with them, one at a time, for a short distance and return them safely to shallower water.

“Do teach me to swim,” pleaded Dolly, who took to water like a duck.  So Mr. Rose gave her her first lesson and she was so promising a pupil that he declared she would soon learn to become expert.

The bath over, they returned to the bath houses to dress and Dolly found in hers, instead of her travelling suit, a serge skirt and middy blouse.  She put these on, and when she went out she found Dotty similarly arrayed.  Mrs. Rose braided the two girls’ hair in long pig-tails and tied their ribbons for them.

“Now for a camp breakfast!” exclaimed Mr. Rose, as the group reunited.

“I’ve had my breakfast,” began Dolly, but Mr. Rose interrupted her, saying, “indeed you haven’t!  Just wait till you see.”

In a little clearing not far from the bungalow, Dolly saw a table of boards with seats each side and here the family gathered.

Such a breakfast as it was!  Maria’s flap-jacks had materialised and of all light, puffy, golden delicacies they were the best.  Then there was brook trout, fresh and delicious; a tempting omelet; and as a great treat the girls were each allowed a cup of coffee.

The trip up the lake and the invigorating bath had given Dolly a ravenous appetite and never had food tasted so good.  She didn’t quite understand why nothing was said about her running away in the night, but it was a great relief that the subject was not touched upon, and in the gay laughter and chatter of the Rose family, she finally forgot all about it.

“Now, who’s for a tramp in the woods?” and Mr. Rose lighted a cigar as he left the table.

“Me!” cried Dolly, dancing up to her host; “when can we start?”

“Right away quick,” and Mr. Rose smiled down at her; “have you good stout shoes?”

“Yes, indeed,” and Dolly showed her little tan boots.

The whole family started off, each with a stout stick to help their steps in climbing, and each with a little basket, because, as Mr. Rose said, “you never can tell what you’ll find to bring home.”

They started off briskly, Dolly and Dotty on either side of Mr. Rose and Genie and her mother following close behind.

“Guess we’ll try the Rocky Chasm path this morning,” said Mr. Rose, who acted as guide.

Away they went, walking briskly, but not too rapidly.  Though it was a warm day the path through the woods was cool and pleasant and occasionally they paused to rest for a time.  Presently the climbing began and this they took by easy stages, so that when at last they reached their goal, Dolly was not at all tired.

“What a beautiful place!” she cried, as they found themselves on top of a high hill looking down into a rocky chasm.

“Don’t go too near the edge,” warned Mrs. Rose as her husband and the two girls went to peer over the edge of the precipice.

“No, indeed!” he returned, “but Dolly must see down in the chasm.  Here, Dot, you show her how.”

So Dotty lay down flat on the rocks and wriggled along until she could see over the very edge while her father held tightly to her feet.

“It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed; “now you try it, Dolly.”

Somewhat timidly, but with full faith in Mr. Rose, Dolly lay down prone, and cautiously edged along till she could see over the shelving rock.  She felt Mr. Rose’s firm grip on her ankles, and she looked down with wonder at the sheer straight descent of rock and down at the very bottom of the chasm she saw a tiny brook tossing and foaming along.

“Not yet!” she called as Mr. Rose advised her to come back.  “Let me see it a moment longer!”

“Don’t get dizzy!” called out Mrs. Rose.

“No, indeed!” said Dolly, as at last Mr. Rose pulled her in; “I wasn’t dizzy a bit!  I never saw anything so wonderful.  That beautiful little brook way down there a thousand miles below!”

“Oh, not quite so far as that,” said Mr. Rose, laughing.  “Come on; let’s go down and see it from below.”

They picked up their baskets and following Mr. Rose’s direction they climbed down a rocky ravine and, sure enough, found themselves right beside the little tumbling brook.  Dolly sat on a rock and gazed upward at the precipice, looking at the very spot where she had poked her head over.

“Were we really up there looking down?” she exclaimed.  “I can hardly believe it.  Oh, what a lovely place this is!”

“Yes, isn’t it!” cried Dotty; “let’s dig something, Daddy.”

“What can we find?” And Mr. Rose looked around.  “Why, my goodness, my basket is full already!”

“What’s in it?” cried Genie, scampering around to see.  “Oh, goody! cookies and lemonade!”

Though Dolly had really had two breakfasts, the mountain climb had made her ready to welcome a little light refreshment and the bottles of lemonade and the box of cookies were rapidly disposed of by the party.

“I see Indian Pipes,” remarked Mr. Rose, and Dotty cried, “Where?  Where?”

“Those who seek will find,” said Mr. Rose, smiling, and the girls set to work hunting.

Dotty was the first to spy some of the graceful white blossoms under some concealing green leaves, but a moment later Dolly found some too.  With their trowels they carefully dug up the plants and put them in their baskets to take home.

Genie collected some odd stones, and Mrs. Rose found a particular bit of Eglantine that she wanted and soon the baskets were filled and the party took up their homeward way.

Mostly of a down-hill trend, the way home was easy, and as the baskets were not heavy the girls danced gaily along singing songs as they went.

“Why, goodness, gracious sakes; it’s nearly two o’clock!” cried Dolly as they entered the big living room of the bungalow and set down their burdens.

“It sho’ly is!” and Maria’s black face appeared in the doorway.  “I suttinly thought you-all was never comin’ home to dinner!  I’se been waitin’ and waitin’ till everything is jes’ ’bout spoilt!”

“Oh, I guess not as bad as that, Maria,” and Mr. Rose smiled pleasantly at her.  “We’re not much behind time, and we won’t grumble if things are cold.”

“Laws’ sakes! they ain’t cold!  I’se dun looked out for dat.  Yo’ better wash that mud off your hands and come along.  Doan’ waste no time now.”

The Roses were accustomed to Maria’s good-natured scoldings and they ran away to follow her advice.