lay the best possible chance for the immediate release of her chum, and
the mere knowledge of where Dolly was hidden would be extremely
valuable.

After all, it was all, and, possibly, more, than she had expected to
accomplish when she had plunged into the woods after the gypsy and his
prisoner, and she felt that she ought to be satisfied. So she hurried at
once up the path that Lolla pointed out, leaving the gypsy girl below as
a guard.

The path was rough and steep, rising sharply, but Bessie paid little
heed to its difficulties, since she felt that it was taking her to
Dolly. She kept her eyes and ears open for any sight or sound that might
make it easier to find Dolly, but she did not call out, since she felt
that it was practically certain the gypsy had managed, in some manner,
to make it impossible for poor Dolly to cry out, lest, in his absence,
she alarm some passerby and so obtain her freedom.

Bessie was sure that Dolly would not be left in some place that could
be seen from the path, but she was also sure that she could not be far
from it, since there had not been time for the gypsy to make any
extended trip through the woods off the trail. Bessie had traveled fast
through the night, and she was sure that John, with the weight of Dolly
to carry, had not been able to move as fast as she, and could not,
therefore, have been more than twenty minutes or half an hour ahead of
her in reaching the trail she was now following.

So she watched carefully for some break in the thick undergrowth that
lined the trail, for some opening through which John might have gone
with his burden. There might even, she thought, be another of those