"Although, unless that big frog gobbled her up, I cannot imagine any
possible danger."

At this the party set off over the hill to the frog pond. Hazel
trudged along with Jack, Brendon Hays divided his attention between
Dorothy and Cologne, while a very little young man, Claud Miller, by
name, and the midget by reputation, took care of Nathalie Weston, a
visitor at Camp Lucky.

Every one could joke but Dorothy. To her the situation was beyond
that.

"I'll wager we find her up a tree eating apples," lisped Claud. "I
never saw a girl so fond of sweet apples as Miss Tavia. She told me so
herself."

"Told you, you never saw a girl--now Claud! Don't get excited that
way. It's dreadfully hard on your nerves and on your friends."

"But I say, now, Jack----"

"Claud, dear, don't. Save it until we find Tavia, and then say to your
heart's content."

Dorothy had run on ahead and was now looking over the little rustic
bridge into the frog pond. The water was not deep, but there were
plainly footprints along its muddy edge.

"There has been some one here to-day," declared Cologne, "and no one
ever comes on our grounds--away up here at any rate."