Maida stood for a moment just where she had stopped. The cry began again. Terror surged through Maida. But she clinched her hands and made herself listen. Yes, that was what it was--the wail of a baby. Could it be some little baby animal crying for its mother--a fawn like Betsy’s or--and here Maida’s hair rose on her head again--a baby bear? Her common sense immediately rejected this theory. There were no bears in the woods. And if it were a baby deer, she would be ashamed of being afraid of a baby deer when Betsy showed no fear. For another interval she stood still fighting her cowardice. Then suddenly she took her resolution in hand. “I’m going to find out _what_ it is,” she said aloud. Perhaps she was assisted in this by the cessation of the mysterious wail. Only for a moment however! Her resolution received another weakening blow by the sudden resumption of the uncanny noise. But she did not actually stop, she only faltered. For the farther she walked across the Moraine, the more it sounded like the crying of--not a baby animal--but a regular baby. Suddenly all Maida’s fear vanished forever. “I am not afraid any more,” she said to herself. And she wasn’t. The hard thing was to discover where the cry came from. It seemed under her feet. She plunged here, there, beyond--everywhere, looking up and down but finding nothing. Then she began a more systematic search. Starting with the very edge of the Moraine she took every rock as it came along, searched around and over it, each clump of bushes, parted them and walked through them. Still the cry kept up. Occasionally she stopped to listen. “That baby’s sick,” she said once, and later, “I do believe it’s hungry.” Ahead, a big rock thrust out of the earth like an elephant sitting on its haunches. At one side, two bushes grew at so acute an angle and with branches so thickly leaved, that the great surface of the rock was concealed. Maida parted them. Underneath there was no rocky surface. The bushes concealed a small low opening to what looked like a cave. Was it a cave? Where did it lead? How far? Would--and again Maida’s heart spun with terror--would she confront an enraged mother bear if she entered it? But these questions all died in Maida’s mind. For, emerging undisputedly from the cave, came the fretful cry of a baby. Without further question, Maida dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the opening. Crawled _down_ rather; for the entrance sloped at first. Then, it began to grow level. The crying grew louder. It was a big cave. The end was lost in shadow but in the light from the entrance, Maida could see something lying, not far off, on a heap of bed clothes. As she looked, a tiny hand came up and waved in the air. Maida could not stand upright yet. But she hurried over to that tiny hand. She was beginning to get the glimmer of a little white face. It _was_ a baby.