It was really the first good opportunity that Dorothy had had to see the glories of the Maine woods, but what were they to her to-day?  What mattered the long lines of spruce, the dainty larch, or the tangled arbor-vitae, to her now?

To all Cologne’s enthusiastic efforts to point out these beauties, as well as to distract Dorothy, she only answered with the most vague acquiescence.

“If we don’t find her to-day——­” she faltered.

“But we shall,” insisted Cologne.  “I feel it!  Tavia will be back at camp for supper!”

“Are we far from camp now?” asked Dorothy, looking along the fir-lined road to the wilderness beyond.

“No, we are only just around the bend.  Would you like to get out and walk?  I think I hear the honk of the Firebird.”

“I believe I would like to walk,” said Dorothy.  “I have such a—­stagnant feeling.  The walk in this air ought to dispel it.”

“Suppose we tie Jeff up here, and let him graze, while I go over to that camp”—­indicating a white speck between the trees—­“and then I may inquire if any one has seen a girl like Tavia pass up Oldtown way?”

“And I might take the other direction, and ask at those camps.  I see quite a colony over that way,” said Dorothy.

“And we will both meet here in——­”

“An hour,” finished Dorothy.  “If we are to search, there is no sense in running back and forth—­so long as we can keep our directions straight.”

“And you are sure you won’t get lost?” asked Cologne, with a smile.  “Perhaps losses are like accidents—­they come in groups.”

“Oh, I have a compass on my watch guard.  Let me see,” and after consulting the instrument, she faced north.  “I will go due west and come back due east.  I surely can’t get lost if I follow that.”

“Now, Doro, don’t go too near the edge of anything.  I never saw such edgy-edges as they are up here in Maine.  Looks to me as if this part of the world was made last, with the jumping-off places for the men who did the making.”

“For the jump back into—­eternity?  Quite an idea, Cologne,” said Dorothy, as the two girls prepared to part.

“Good-bye, Jeff,” called Dorothy.  “Eat a good meal.  We may not get back to camp for lunch,” and she patted the old horse.

“Pity we didn’t fetch some ‘standwiches,’” shouted Cologne, who was already making her way through the thickets that carpeted the path.  “If you find any dwarf cherries bring me some, Dorothy.”

“Wild strawberries will do me,” responded Dorothy, as she, too, got away from the tree where Jeff was tied.  “I don’t fancy either of us will die of hunger!”

“Not in the Maine woods!” Cologne predicted.

Then they lost sight of each other.

Only Jeff was left to mark the spot from which they started.

CHAPTER XII

THE EDGY-EDGE!