When she was gone, and Dorothy looked out into the inviting sunlight, she hurried with her unpacking, and was soon dressed in the simple tan-colored riding habit, that so well matched herself, as to make her look like a shade of the morning, when she mounted the pretty little bay pony, and set off at a canter along the North Birchland roads.

She soon forgot the fright of her boy-bandit, although she did wonder just where the boys were, and if they had found any evidence of that person’s depradations.

“Come Cricket,” she spoke to her pony.  “We must try a cross-cut.  I want some mandrakes.”

[Illustration:  “I don’t want to strike you,” She said, “But you know prisoners must obey.” Dorothy Dale’s Camping Days Page 54]

The horse pricked up his ears in response.  Dorothy turned into a field where she thought the plum-shaped fruit would be found.

Dismounting, she threw the reins over Cricket’s head and allowed him to nibble at the sweet grass.  Yes, there were the mandrakes with their finger-shaped leaves.  And they were turning yellow.  Dorothy gathered a few, then stood up to look about her.

“The bandit!” she gasped in a whisper.

He had his hand on Cricket’s rein!

“Drop that!” she shouted.  “You need not think I am afraid of you now!”

“What?” asked the boy, dropping his disguise like a thing held by one single fastening and moving as if to spring up into the saddle.

Dorothy fairly jumped over the tall grasses, and was beside the horse before the boy could mount.  She grasped the bridle, and, at the same time, more firmly grasped her riding crop.

“Now I have you,” she declared, gazing in wonderment at the very good-looking boy who tried in vain to escape from the stirrup in which his boot had stuck.  Seeing her opportunity, Dorothy dropped the bridle and crop, and, with both hands, grasped the boy very much in the same manner as he had seized her the day before.

“Let me go!” he snarled, struggling to free himself.

“Not just now,” replied Dorothy, coolly, for she saw that she was quite able to hold him, and that he was really only a very slight young boy.  “I am going to have a try at your game,” she added, smiling at her versatility.

The boy almost fell under the horse, but Cricket was so well trained that he did not attempt to go beyond Dorothy’s orders.

“Steady, Cricket!” she said softly.  “Now young man,” to her prisoner, “I am going to do something very original.  I am going to tie you to that pretty tree.”

“You are not!” he yelled, but she had her whip in her hand and she raised it threateningly.

“I don’t want to strike you,” she said, “but you know prisoners must obey.  Just step over there a foot or two!”

There was such authority in her voice that the boy looked up frightened.