There was silence for a moment, and the group became more widely scattered. Lalla forged straight ahead until she was several rods in advance. She scanned the great slate boulders on either side and listened. There were voices, familiar ones, then all was quiet. Everywhere the foothills hemmed them in. Suddenly a rock crashed in front of her. Looking up she saw Abner’s shock of light hair as, flat on his stomach, he peered over the edge of the cliff. The head disappeared and an improvised mask took its place. “Halt!” commanded a muffled voice which closely resembled Martin’s. Lalla threw up her hands in mock fright. “Come around behind that pine tree, we’re laying for some of our crowd. There’s something in the wind to-day, for Raphael Sloan and Joe Bradshaw sneaked off without letting us know—dropped out all of a sudden. Keep your eye peeled for them, won’t you? Likely they’re up at the springs.” “Don’t let the rest know we’re here,” warned Abner, peering over Martin’s shoulder, “it might spoil the fun.” “I guess not,” agreed Lalla with her old love for a joke. “Go ahead and have your fun; but what if they go back the other way?” “You mustn’t let ’em. Think up some scheme; you can do it.” Both heads disappeared as Nancy Jane’s voice was borne to them from below. Lalla picked a few violets and walked on carelessly, looking up at the mountains on the opposite side. “Hurry up or we’ll never get there!” she called back, waving her flowers; “there’ll be heaps of these at Slate Lick.” The gorge widened. A trickling, shallow stream crept through the bed. The foothills seemed suddenly to have become mountains and surrounded them, making a basin-like valley. On the opposite side, sheltered by walnuts, stood a few deserted houses and a building which seemed halfway between a store and a peanut stand. “There’s quite a colony here in summer,” said Miss Howard, when at last they stood in front of the spring house and fitted the long key into the padlock. “The sulphur water calls them, and the view. Isn’t it beautiful! I want to get the Knob painted in while the haze is over it. You young folks run along and do your climbing; I’ll whistle for you when it’s time to go back.” “If Talitha and Gincy were only here!” sighed Kizzie after the first long climb. Together they stood panting for breath and watched the scene below. “Where’s Lalla? She beats everything for disappearing right before one’s eyes,” Nancy Jane frowned. “Couldn’t lose her though, that’s the beauty of it,” remarked Urilla as they looked around behind the trees and boulders. Below, Miss Howard sat intent upon her canvas. A tinkling cowbell was the only sound which greeted their ears. “I’m for going on. It’s one of Lalla’s tricks; she’s a good deal nearer than we think—probably laughing at us this minute.”