she hurried with her unpacking, and was soon dressed in the simple
tan-colored riding habit, that so well matched herself, as to make her
look like a shade of the morning, when she mounted the pretty little
bay pony, and set off at a canter along the North Birchland roads.

She soon forgot the fright of her boy-bandit, although she did wonder
just where the boys were, and if they had found any evidence of that
person's depradations.

"Come Cricket," she spoke to her pony. "We must try a cross-cut. I
want some mandrakes."

[Illustration: "I DON'T WANT TO STRIKE YOU," SHE SAID, "BUT YOU KNOW
PRISONERS MUST OBEY." _Dorothy Dale's Camping Days Page 54_]

The horse pricked up his ears in response. Dorothy turned into a field
where she thought the plum-shaped fruit would be found.

Dismounting, she threw the reins over Cricket's head and allowed him
to nibble at the sweet grass. Yes, there were the mandrakes with their
finger-shaped leaves. And they were turning yellow. Dorothy gathered a
few, then stood up to look about her.

"The bandit!" she gasped in a whisper.

He had his hand on Cricket's rein!

"Drop that!" she shouted. "You need not think I am afraid of you now!"

"What?" asked the boy, dropping his disguise like a thing held by one