“Cologne!  As if I am not big enough to take care of myself!” cried Dorothy, thinking how she had cared for herself through more difficulties than any of them could possibly imagine.

All through the woods could be heard shouts and signals from the parties that were out searching for Dorothy, for Tavia and for the girl from the sanitarium.

“Lots of people get lost in these woods,” commented Ned.  “I have been reading of them all my life, but now I guess I can write tales myself.”

The voices of our friends had attracted a party from the sanitarium.  Dorothy was the first to recognize a guard, and as he came toward her, she screamed and ran into Ned’s arms.

“Oh, don’t let them take me again!” she begged.  “They think I am that other girl!  Stay near!  Hold me!  Don’t let them take me!”

Instantly the excitement was intense.  From the hospital party two men had come up, while of the campers, Jack, Nat and Ralph hurried close.

“Why should they take you?” demanded Ned.

“Oh, they made the mistake before, and I suppose they have seen their boat.”

Quick to act as to think, Ned picked Dorothy up in his arms and turned into a natural hiding place.

“There, they have not seen you!  Let them look—­further on!” he whispered.

Of course the others could not even guess what had caused the sudden change in Dorothy’s manner, but Ned knew it was not mere excitement.

“Here,” he said, “is a pillow of moss.  You and Cologne stay here, while I go out and see the hospital men.  I will assure them no patient of theirs is with us.”

Dorothy lay back exhausted.  If only they would go along!  But suppose they should find Tavia, and take her to that dreadful asylum!

Voices, very near, gave her a chance to listen.  She heard some one say that a young girl had that morning escaped from the institution in the house canoe, and that the boat was now lying close by.

But in turning into the deep brush the strange men had not actually caught sight of the frightened girls, as the heavy woodland offered all sorts of excuses for visions.

“Well, we must get her,” said one of the men.  “She walked right past me, and said ‘good morning.’  But how was I to know who the new nurse, or the new patient was?  The trouble is now with the mother.  She is beyond consolation.”

CHAPTER XXVI

DOROTHY’S SUCCESS

The boys from Camp Capital, together with their neighbors, held a consultation there in the woods.  They had heard from the sanitarium attendants that, not only had a young girl escaped, and not yet found, but that some weeks previously, a man, “stage-struck,” as they put it, had gotten away, and it was to his help that the departure of the girl was attributed.  Dorothy, from her hiding place, heard all this, and knew only too well that the man referred to was none other than Morrison.