A few moments later the party, all but Grace, climbed into the lovely, softly lined car, and when Winnie told the chauffeur to drive to the post-office first, Cleo was delighted to find she had a postal card to drop in the box.  That would give every one around the Green a chance to see the style of the McKay twins and their school chums.

And while the big car rolled smoothly over Oakley Avenue, Grace and Bennie were hurrying about—­over a woodland road too rough and too narrow for other traffic than just nimble, willing feet.

“You’re crazy!” declared Benny, halting at the prospect of the long winding path Grace led him to, and insisted was the “right way.”

“That’s what the girls say,” answered the sister, “but really, Benny, I am not at all.  Just as sane as—­Libby Lintot, and you know every one says she is as crazy as a loon.  But all the same if we follow this path we will come to my tree, and maybe we will find a lovely dead tramp all buried in the spring pine needles, tied up by Grace Philow Tenderfoot!”

“Grace Philow lunatic!” answered the brother.  “Nice thing to make a fellow miss a whole afternoon on marbles, just to hunt a tied-up tramp!”

“Would you rather hunt tigers’?” asked Grace, running along like a wild squirrel, jumping over rocks and springing across the perpetual little streams and brooklets.

“Sure I would, wouldn’t you?  What’s an old tramp?” sneered Bennie.

“Wait till you see him,” promised Grace, “he’s lovely.  That is I think he is.  I didn’t exactly see his face, I was so busy tieing him up,” explained the sister.

Benny, two years younger than Grace, went forth on the man hunt, armed with his pop gun and water pistol.  It was actually two days after the eventful experience of Grace and Madaline in River Bend Wood, when the latter had made such a desperate attempt to rescue the alleged “Mrs. Johnston’s wash,” but though many hours had passed, Grace was still haunted with the awful possibilities of her beloved tramp dying there, all tied up with clove hitches and running bowlines, while the birds scattered spring blossoms over his handsome face.  True, she had hoped today, on this second expedition, to recover the lost wash, but to get to that big tree, and relieve the gnawing anxiety, was her first determination; dead or alive she must have a look at the tramp!  Nothing could be worse than this awful uncertainty!

“That’s the grove over there!  See the big straight tree!  That’s my tree!” she exclaimed, dragging along the erstwhile brave Benny, who just now showed an inclination to come to a full stop.  “Come on, Benny, hold on to me.  I’ll peek first, from the other big tree back of the ivy stump.  Then we can see without being seen.”

Like a pair of chipmunks they hopped from tree to tree, being careful to keep well in the shadow of one before risking a new position behind another.

“Just like shadow tag,” Benny made chance to whisper.  “Gee, Sis, this is some little scouting.”