waving her arms and we looked to see whom or what she was waving at,
but there was nothing in sight.

"I actually believe she's waving at us!" said Sahwah. There was no
mistake about it. The girl stood still in the road waiting for us to
come up and motioned us to stop. We did so. She stood and looked at us
for a minute as if she were afraid to speak. I looked back to see if
the Frog was gaining on us. The red roadster had disappeared. The girl
who stood before us looked about eighteen or twenty. She wore a plain
suit of dark blue cloth with a long skirt down to the ground and a
white sailor hat with a veil draped around it that covered her face. In
her hand she held a small traveling bag. She looked beseechingly from
one to the other of us and then her eyes came back to Nyoda.

"Could you--would you--will you take me to Decatur?" she faltered.
"I'll pay you whatever you think it's worth," she added hastily. Now
Decatur was out of our course altogether, some miles to the south. We
were hurrying to Ft. Wayne to find out what had become of Gladys and
why our telegram had come back unanswered. But this girl was plainly in
trouble. Through the veil we could see that her face looked haggard and
her eyes were big and staring. She looked frightened to death. No girl
in trouble ever came to Nyoda in vain.

"Do you want to go to Decatur very badly?" she asked, gently.

"I must go," said the girl, earnestly. "I have to catch a train there,
the train for Louisville." She checked herself when she had said that
and looked around as if afraid she had been overheard.

"But why go to Decatur?" asked Nyoda. "You can get the Louisville train