They had not yet made definite plans for the summer and were just in the position of waiting for something to happen when something had happened with a vengeance! but not at all the kind of something which the four girls had expected. “I think you are right, my dear,” said the man who had saved the lives of at least two of the girls, rubbing his hands fussily together and peering out of small, near-sighted eyes, first at the tree and then at the girls. “It was a close call! a very close call. I declare, it was very nearly the closest call I ever saw!” For the first time the girls really looked at him. He was a rather small man, slenderly built, with long sensitive hands and a very bald head, in the center of which a tuft of hair stood comically upright. These characteristics, coupled to the squinting eyes, gave the man a very odd appearance. He was so queer a figure standing there in the center of the road that the girls found themselves staring unduly. Realizing something of this, Betty jumped down from the running board where she was still standing and held out her hand to the little man, thanking him in a voice that still trembled a little for the great service he had done them. The other girls followed suit and so overwhelmed their rescuer that he seemed quite embarrassed and looked around nervously as if for some means of escape. Betty, seeing his embarrassment, was about to take pity upon him when something happened that they had not bargained for. It began to rain, not gently, but in a deluge, taking the girls completely by surprise. Instinctively they turned toward the car, but Mollie suddenly began to laugh in a half-hysterical manner. “This is what I call fun,” she said. “Engine dead, caught in the rain, and I’ve even left the side curtains at home! I guess we’re in for it, girls.” CHAPTER III. THE QUEER LITTLE MAN While the girls stood looking wildly at each other their unknown rescuer seemed suddenly galvanized to action. “This won’t do at all!” he cried, raising both hands to his bald head which was by this time very wet and more shiny than ever. “You will get your death of cold, young ladies, you surely will. You must come with me. Here, right along this path I have a cottage!” All the time he was talking he was hustling them fussily ahead of him, for all the world like some old hen with a brood of chickens. The girls, not knowing what else to do and being in rather a bewildered frame of mind, allowed themselves to be hustled. The rain was sheeting down in a terrific cloud burst, so that their clothes clung to them damply and they began to shiver. They circled the fallen tree which had so nearly been their undoing, and a moment later found themselves upon a narrow footpath which seemed to lead into the very heart of the woods. “I wonder where he is taking us,” whispered Grace in Betty’s ear. “Maybe he’s a murderer or something.” In spite of her discomfort, Betty giggled.