“I wonder if you can walk?”

“I am going to try.  Just give me your hand—­there, that’s it,” and the sufferer pulled herself up and stood beside Tavia.

“I wonder might there be a path?  I was so alarmed when you fell, that I did not take time to look for one, I just slid down the rocks.  But to get up would be very different.”

“It is—­dark, almost.  We will have to look—­I can’t talk—­just now.  I have that strange feeling in my head.”

“You must not talk.  Just follow me, lean on me!  Oh, I am sure we will get up safely; and once upon the road we must find some help!”

Tavia was afraid to look with too much scrutiny into the white face, afraid she might again see that wild-eyed warning.

Following the mossy way they trudged along.  How far away even the sky was!  Could two girls be more desolate?

Thoughts of camp, and of Dorothy, almost crushed Tavia.  Young and strong as she was, her experience was beginning to leave its mark.  She felt weak, and was hungry!

But the strange girl seemed to have recovered her reason!  Tavia must not falter, she must get up, out to the roadway.

“This looks like a path,” she said.  “Yes, it is a path.  See, the brush is trodden down, and the ferns are broken.  Oh, some one must have been here lately, and that means that they can not be very far away now!”

“What is your name?” asked the strange girl suddenly.

“Tavia—­Tavia Travers.  And I am lost—­far away from every one!”

Tears welled into Tavia’s eyes.  Yes, she was lost!

“And I am—­lost!  How strange that we should meet.”

“But are you not hurt?  You walk——­”

“Yes, something does hurt, but I don’t mind, for that awful dream is gone.  I can walk, and then when—­we are—­found——­”

“Oh, yes.  I am sure you will be all right as soon as we—­are—­found!”

They had almost reached the crest of the hill.  Up there at least they could see.

“I hear a step,” said Tavia.  “We must hurry.”

It was difficult to do that, however, for Mary, or Molly, limped painfully.

The step was plain now, as it crushed the dried leaves and brush.

The figure of a man was next seen.  The girls waited.  He came along with a free air, and swinging gait.  The man wore a slouch hat——­

“Oh!” screamed Tavia.  “We must run, or hide!  It is that dreadful man!  That—­other—­that lunatic!” and she clutched the arm beside her, and dragged the frightened girl to the edge of the roadway.

Mortimer Morrison, with his big, rough, mountain stick, was about to pass!

CHAPTER XXI

AT THE SANITARIUM

When Dorothy recovered consciousness she lay on a white cot, by an open window, and the strange nurse sat beside her.

“Where am I?  What am I here for?”