precious sign posts that, back on the other trail, had been made by the
torn pieces from Dolly's skirt.

But, careful as was her search, she reached the end of the trail without
finding anything that looked like a promising place, or seeing anything
that made her think Dolly was within a short distance of her. The trail
led to an exposed peak, a ragged outcrop of rock, bare of trees, and
covered only with a slight undergrowth.

Once there Bessie understood why the trail had been made through the
woods. The view was wonderful. Below her were the waving tops of
countless trees, and beyond them she could look down and over the
cultivated valleys, full of farms, whose fields, marked off by stone
fences, looked small and insignificant from her high perch.

Bessie, however, was in no mood to enjoy a view. She wasted no time in
admiring it, but only peered over the edge of the peak on which she
stood, to satisfy herself that Dolly was not hidden just below her. One
look was enough to do that. There was a way, she soon saw, of
descending, and reaching the woods again, but no man, carrying any sort
of a burden, could have accomplished that descent.

It was a task that called for the use of feet and hands and Bessie
turned desperately, convinced that she must, in some manner, have
overlooked the place at which John had turned off the main trail with
his burden.

Now, as she went downward, she searched the woods at each side with
redoubled care, and at last she found what she had been looking for, or
what, it seemed to her, must be the place, since she had seen no other