But Lalla, when she dropped behind the rest, had taken a trail leading off to the left. She was sure that it came back to the main trail again, and it would give her a splendid opportunity to pop out and surprise them. She soon found that it led around an immense boulder, that it was steep, and grew steeper. As she paused quite breathless, the sound of men’s voices came from behind the rock. A clump of small evergreens made a convenient hiding-place; behind them Lalla listened. She was not in the least alarmed, only curious. The voices grew louder, one of them seemed to be chanting or reciting something; it was hard to tell which. Lalla stole out a little farther and crouched close to the rock, listening breathlessly. “Louder, Raf, so I can hear you at this distance.” Lalla fancied she could have touched Joe Bradshaw had not the rock projected a thin edge between them. She sank noiselessly into a bed of tall ferns. So here were the truants! Martin and Abner should hear about them; she would jump out and give Joe the scare of his life. On and on went the voices, the nearer one correcting and halting the speaker from time to time. Lalla listened intently; her eyes grew larger. What was Raphael saying! She sat perfectly rigid as the truth flashed upon her. It was his speech for the Mountain Congress, and he was to speak against Abner. No wonder they stole away from the boys. For some minutes Lalla sat undecided. Raphael Sloan was a formidable opponent, and Abner new at the business of debating. If she could only give the latter a hint—she wouldn’t tell right out. How proud Gincy would be to have her brother win the debate. Her heart beat fast and she listened as she had never listened before; not a word must be lost and she must not be discovered now for the world! “You’ll have to be ready for the rebuttal; they’ll get you on that point—Abner’s working like a tiger.” And then there was an audible movement on the other side of the boulder which made Lalla’s heart beat like a trip-hammer. To her infinite relief, Raphael Sloan moved on up the trail and Joe after him. She could hear their voices growing fainter and fainter each moment. Cautiously she slipped from her hiding-place and retraced her steps to a point lower down. There was a way to cut across the other trail, but it was through blackberry bushes, wild grapevines, and a tangle of underbrush. Lalla did not hesitate, however; slipping and sliding, she fairly rushed forward, not stopping for scratches nor even bruises. From the thicket she suddenly emerged into a small opening—hardly a clearing—in which was a tiny shack of logs. To all appearances it was deserted, but Lalla decided to avoid it and come out just beyond. A gun sounded very near; a hound bayed. She shrank back where the shadows were deep, and silently threaded her way in the direction of the old trail. It could not be many rods farther on.