Betty was at a loss to know just how to answer such a question. By this
time Mollie and Grace were some little distance ahead of them and Amy's
nervousness was beginning to communicate itself to her against her will.

She felt again the creeping sensation that had traveled up and down her
spine at sight of that crouching, sinister figure that had sprung out from
the shadow of the porch.

It had disappeared into the bushes last night, and, for all she knew--and
the thought made her tingle weirdly--it might still be hiding in them,
crouching, ready to spring--

With an effort she shook off the mood and turned to Amy brightly.

"There is no use in our making a mountain out of a mole hill," she said,
plucking a wild rose as they swung by and smelling of its delicious
fragrance. "Last night, I admit, it seemed very terrifying to us, but that
was probably because we couldn't see what it was that frightened us. It
may just have been a large dog or something."

"Humph," sniffed Amy, sceptically, "it must have been a monster dog. Sort
of a ghost hound."

"Goodness, that's going from bad to worse," laughed Betty, as they
rejoined the other girls. "Let's hope it isn't anything like that, Amy
dear. Hello, what are you waiting for?" she hailed the girls cheerfully.
"We almost fell over you."

"Watch your step," cautioned Mollie, adding as she cleared aside some
bushes and motioned Betty to a place beside her: "We've reached the river,