Then she told of her trip on the lake, and how quickly the young canoeists left the water to answer a call of a clew having been found.

Ned stood looking down at Dorothy, to make sure that she was in the flesh.  Mrs. White had not been told of Dorothy’s disappearance.  They felt, however, that they would have had to notify her had Dorothy remained away until another sundown.

Nat was speechless.  His handsome face showed the signs of his days and nights of anxiety, and he was not entirely relieved since there was even now no clew to Tavia.

“Let’s go up the river,” he suggested.  “At least Dorothy is safe, and we can leave her, but Tavia——­”

“I could not stay indoors,” declared Dorothy.  “I should go to pieces!  The only thing that will save me is action.  Let me help look for Tavia!”

She pleaded and begged, and at last Mrs. Markin agreed that it might be best to let her have the freedom of the air.  Of course, Dorothy had not yet told all of her story—­all the folks knew definitely was that the lost had been found.

It took scarcely no time for the searching party to be made up again.  The boys from the next camp had their craft already on the water, while Ned and Nat had but to push off their rowboat.

“Why do you think Tavia is somewhere about the river edge?” asked Ned in his practical way.

“Because, when I came down I heard some one call, and two young men from their canoes answered promptly that they would follow the clew.  Now, if I can only find the spot——­”

“Where in the world did this canoe come from?” exclaimed Jack Markin, as he espied the boat in which Dorothy had escaped from the sanatarium.  “It is marked ‘Blenden!’”

“Blenden!” repeated Ned.  “Why that’s the asylum over the hill!”

Everybody looked at Dorothy, awaiting a word from her.  She was almost like herself now, after the manner in which blessed youth alone can recuperate.

“I was not particular about whose boat it was,” she said simply.  “So long as I found something to get back to camp in.”

“I don’t think it right that Dorothy should leave mother,” began Cologne.  But Dorothy interrupted her.

“Did you ever notice, Cologne dear, how a storm clears?  It takes a light wind, doesn’t it?  Well, this little excitement will clear things up for me.”

Wise Dorothy was, of course, not opposed.  She belonged to the class of persons who seem to be capable, and who really are, except where their own personal safety or comfort is concerned.  They always have a reason and an answer, simply because others do not take the trouble to fathom the motive for this sacrifice.  Dorothy had determined to find Tavia, and whatever her excuses, they were all subservient to that motive.

“I would rather get in with Nat and Ned,” she said, as the party prepared to get off in the boats.  “I am really too tired to scull.”