“But the ax?” asked Nat

“For the little tree, you know,” replied Tom.  “I’ve tried to catch Christmas trees before.”

“Well, we are pretty well loaded up,” added Nat, producing from his pocket a revolver.

“Oh!” screamed Tavia; “for goodness’ sake is this a murderous plot?  I—­want—­my—­mamma—­”

“There, there, little girl, don’t cry,” simpered Tom.  “A gun is a fine thing in a jungle—­”

“Where ghosts scream,” added Dorothy.

“And buggies ride bugs,” put in Nat, shifting the lever for more speed.  “Well, it’s up to us to get there first, and then we may shoot up the whole woods if we like.  The girls may—­may sit under a shady tree.”

The deep gloom of an approaching storm made this proposal sound quite ridiculous, and Dorothy declared she would prefer sitting in the Fire Bird at a safe distance from the shooting.  Tavia threatened to crawl under the seat, and even vowed she would leave the car at once if the hatchet and revolver were not at once put away—­“out of her sight!”

“Well, I have made up my brilliant mind,” said Nat, “that if that screaming thing is in the woods I am going to get it dead or alive,” and he put up the pistol for the time being.

Talk of the play, and of Ned’s condition, occupied much of the remaining time consumed in the run to the woods, and when the tall chestnut trees of Tanglewood Park finally faced the strip of road the Fire Bird was covering, snowflakes were beginning to fall.  And so fiercely did the winds blow, that presently Nat had all he could do to manage the machine.

“No jollying about this,” he made out to say, “I guess it’s to the castle for ours, whether we want to hunt ghosts or owls.”

“Oh, will we really have to go in that dreadful place?” wailed Tavia.  “I think I would as soon die of freezing as die—­”

“Of scaring,” interrupted Tom, laughing.  “Well, there is no immediate cause for alarm in either direction,” he went on, “but I think it will be a good idea to get out of this gale as quickly as possible.”

It surely was a gale now, and the wind seemed so solidified with the biting specks of snow, that Dorothy and Tavia were quite satisfied to bury their frost-bitten faces deep in the fur of muffs and scarfs, while the young men turned up their overcoat collars and turned down the flaps of the heavy auto caps, none too heavy, however, to keep out the discomforts of the newly arrived blizzard.

Straight for the drive to the castle Nat directed the machine, and by the time the old broken-down steps of the once spacious porch were reached, even Tavia was glad to jump out of the Fire Bird and get her breath in a secluded part of the old balcony.

“Whew!” whistled Tom.  “This is something worth while for Christmas!  I never saw a storm develop any faster than this.”

“Looks bad,” commented Nat anxiously, for an automobile in a snowstorm is not to be depended upon, “Hope it quits long enough for us to dash back home.”