When the clock struck four, Jane leaped to her feet. She could no longer stand the inactivity. She simply must do something. Going to her room, she again unpacked her trunk and took from it a riding habit of dark blue tweed. She donned the neat fitting trousers that laced to the ankles, her high riding boots, the long skirted coat and a small visored cap. None of her costumes was more becoming, but not once did Jane glance in the mirror. She had but one desire and that was to help find the children. She was about to write a note to tell Dan that she also had gone in search of Julie and Gerald when she again heard a step on the porch, a light, quick footfall which she had not heard before. In the open doorway stood Meg Heger. Without a word of greeting she said: "The children, have they been found?" "No, no!" Jane cried. "Dan was here two hours ago, and, oh, Miss Heger, he is all worn out. I am as troubled about him, or nearly, as I am about Julie and Gerald. He told me to stay here for the children might return, but it is so long now. They left at nine this morning. I am sure they will not come back alone and I, also, must go in search of them." The mountain girl's dusky eyes had been closely watching the speaker and she seemed to sense that the proud girl was in no way considering herself. "Jane Abbott," she said seriously, "it would be foolhardy for you, an Easterner, unused to our wilderness ways, to start out alone. You would better heed your brother's wishes and remain here." But the girl to whom she spoke was beyond the power to reason. "No! No!" she cried. "Oh, Meg Heger, if you are going, I beg of you let me go with you." The mountain girl thought for a moment, then she said: "I will leave word for whoever may return." Taking from her pocket the notebook and pencil she always carried, she tore out a page and wrote upon it: "Jane Abbott and Meg Heger are going to the Crazy Creek Camp in search of the children. The hour is now 4:30. If we think best, we will remain there all night." The Eastern girl shuddered when she read the note, but made no comment. "Let us tack it on the door after we have closed it," she suggested. This was done, and taking the stout staff Dan had cut for her, Jane followed her companion, whom she was glad to see carried a gun. Silently they climbed the natural stairway of rocks that ascended by the brook until they reached the pine which, having fallen across the stream, formed a bridge. Meg uttered an exclamation and turning back she said: "We are on the right trail, Jane Abbott. There is a torn bit of your sister's red gingham dress on the tree. She evidently feared to walk across and so she jumped over." Jane's eyes glowed with hope. "How happy I would be if we were the ones to find them, although, of course, the important thing is that they shall be found."