Hippy Wingate uttered a low, long-drawn whistle of amazement. CHAPTER IX THE POWER OF MIND "What do you suppose it can mean, and who threw it into our camp?" wondered Elfreda Briggs, folding up the newspaper that contained the message to them. "It must mean that a friend is interested in our welfare," replied Grace. "Whoever and whatever he may be, his advice is good, and here we stay until we find Hippy. I am going out right after breakfast and make an effort to pick up the trail. Surely the outlaws, or whatever they are, will not be waiting all that time for us to follow them. I will make a quiet scout. I do not look to be interfered with, for they surely will have gone away by now." "Shall I call the girls and tell them? The knowledge that a helping hand has been held out to us surely will comfort Nora," said Elfreda. "Yes. I will rout out Washington and have him start the fire. It has been a trying night and I am glad it is at an end," replied Grace. "I knew it," cried Emma Dean when she learned what had taken place. "I didn't con-centrate for nothing." "You what?" frowned Elfreda. "I have been con-centrating all night long--con-centrating on Hippy to call him back to us." "Oh, you darlin'," cried Nora, throwing her arms about Emma. "I should advise you to continue to 'con-centrate,'" suggested Anne. "If you were to stop now you might break the mental string; then we should lose Hippy for good." "You just wait. You'll see whether or not he comes back," retorted Emma indignantly. Nora's face was flushed that morning and her heart was filled with a new hope--the hope that Hippy might be with them before the close of that day. After breakfast, as planned, Grace took up her rifle and went away, leaving Elfreda and the others to guard the camp and, incidentally, to keep Washington busy and out of mischief. He was, too, forbidden to play his harmonica lest the noise attract attention to the camp of the Overland Riders. Proceeding cautiously, Grace reached the stream, and followed it until she found where the kidnappers of Hippy had left it. After waiting and watching for a full hour, Grace stepped out boldly. For six hours the Overland girl employed all her knowledge of the open in an effort to pick up the trail of the mountaineers, but the trail appeared to end abruptly at the bank of the creek. Not even the hoofprints of horses could be found on the softer ground a short distance back from the stream. There are tricks in masking one's trail that the Kentucky mountaineers had learned from generations of feuds and attacks by revenue agents, which Grace Harlowe knew nothing of. At noon she gave up the attempt to find the trail over which Hippy Wingate had been taken, and started back towards the camp. "What luck?" called Nora, as she appeared at the edge of the clearing where the camp was pitched. "None. As a trailer, I am a miserable failure, a rank amateur."