“Tavia!  Tavia!” she yelled, and her clear voice struck an echo against the hills.  “Tavia!  Tavia!” she called again.

“Hark!” said Cologne.  “Didn’t I hear——­”

“I heard something!” declared Dorothy, and the sound came from back of the hill.  “Boys!  Boys!” she shouted, but they were now too far away to answer promptly.  “Don’t try to follow, Cologne.  I feel that I can run like the wind.  I heard Tavia’s voice, and I heard it—­right—­over—­there!”

As she flew through the woods Cologne, in distress, tried to summon the boys.  She feared Dorothy would fall again, over some rock or cliff.  But there was no use trying to stop her.  She had heard Tavia’s voice, and that was enough.

CHAPTER XXVII

ONE KIND OF CAMP

“Oh, Tavia!  Where are you?”

It was Dorothy who jumped from rock to stone, and over bush and bramble, through that deep dark wood, which now, in the shadow of sunset, threatened again to bring anguish to our young friends.  “I heard you,” she called.  “Answer again!”

But this time there was no response.

“Oh, what can have happened?” wailed Dorothy.  “Surely she is—­not too ill—­when she called and whistled just now.”

She was talking, but no one was at hand to hear her.

Cologne was doing her best to reach Dorothy, but she had made a turn to notify the boys, and was really too surprised, and frightened, to make anything like the progress that her friend was able to make through the rough forest.

Dorothy stopped and listened.  She had reached a cleared spot, where the branches of a beautiful fir stood out over a greensward, like a natural tower.  Without hesitating a moment, Dorothy easily scaled the strong branches, and presently could see from the height of the fir tree a spot—­ideal!  Yes, and there was something white on it!

“Cologne!” she called.  “I see a tent!”

By this time Cologne had reached Dorothy.

“Oh, do come down,” she begged.  “If you should slip——­”

“But I shall not slip.  There was no use in running wild through the woods, when I could get a distinct view from here.  It may be a gypsy camp.  Where are the boys?”

“They seem to have gotten away, somehow,” sighed Cologne.  “Oh, what shall we do?  We cannot go alone to that camp.”

“Indeed I am going,” declared Dorothy.  “I heard Tavia’s voice, and now I see a tent.  If she is held there, we must go to her at once.”

Cologne was terrified, but the experience through which Dorothy had passed in the last few days seemed to make all other fears look insignificant.

She had slid down the tree, and was now making her way in the direction of the tent.  It was near the edge of a natural bank, that stood like a wind-shield against the rocks.

This shelf made a covering for the spot, so that only from some elevation such as from the tree could it be seen for any distance.