"No you don't," interrupted Nat. "You've got to do your share of
everything."

"I'll run back while you are talking about it," declared Dorothy. "I'm
sure I know the way perfectly well."

"Be sure," called Ned, "for there are turns and twists in that
woodland, that I think you are scarcely familiar with."

But Dorothy was gone. She ran along through the twilight-tinted woods,
stopping now and then to look at the gray squirrels that capered up
and down the trees, some making so bold as to run along the fence at
her very side.

"This will make an ideal camping grounds," she was thinking. "I wonder
the boys never thought of using it before."

Suddenly she heard a rustle in the brush. She stopped and listened. It
sounded again, this time nearer. She looked about her, and, for the
first time, realized that she was, indeed, in deep woods.

To call for the boys, Dorothy knew would be worse than useless, for it
would simply notify any listener of her fears, so, instead, she walked
along boldly enough, even whistling lightly as any Glenwood girl would
do "when in doubt," according to the Glenwood code.

But she had not more than crossed the first small stream, made up of a
number of springs, running through this wood toward the river, when
something--a most grotesque figure--stepped out in her path!