"Genevieve!--Genev--ieve!" But where, still, could it come from? There was not a soul in sight. The garden (for it was Miss Camilla's vegetable garden) was absolutely deserted of human occupation. But Genevieve wisely decided to follow the sound, so she began to pick her way gingerly between the rows of beans, climbing on quite a forest of tall poles. It was when she had passed these that she came upon something that caused her a veritable shock. The ground in Miss Camilla's cucumber patch, for the space of ten or twelve feet square, had sunk down into a strange hole, as if in a sudden earthquake. What did it all mean? And, as Genevieve hesitated on its brink, she was startled almost out of her little shoes to hear her name called faintly and in a muffled voice from its depths. "Genev--ieve!" It was the voice of Doris, though she could see not the slightest vestige of her. "Here I am!" answered Genevieve quaveringly. "What do you want, Dowis?" "Oh, thank God!" came the reply. "Go get--some one. Quick. We're--buried alive! It--caved in. Hurry--baby!" "Who s'all I get?" demanded Genevieve. And well she might ask, for as far as any one knew, there was not a soul within a mile of them. "Oh--I don't--know!" came the answering voice. "Go find--someone. Anyone. We'll die--here--if you--don't!" Genevieve was not sure she knew just what that last remark meant, but it evidently indicated something serious. "All right!" she responded. "I will twy!" And she trotted off to the front of the house. Here, however, she stopped to consider. Where _was_ she to go to find any one? She could not go back home,--she did not know the way. She could not go back to the river,--the way was full of pitfalls in the shape of thorny vines that scratched her face and tripped her feet, and besides, Sally had particularly warned her not to venture in that direction--ever. After all, the most likely place to find any one was surely along the road, for she had, very rarely when sitting on Miss Camilla's porch, observed a wagon driven past. She would walk along the road and see if she could find anybody. Had Genevieve been older and with a little more understanding, she would have comprehended the desperate plight that had befallen her sister and Doris and Miss Camilla. And she would have lent wings to her feet and scurried to the nearest dwelling as fast as those feet would carry her. But she was scarcely more than a baby. The situation, though peculiar, did not strike her as so much a matter for haste as for patient waiting till the person required should happen along. As she didn't see any one approaching in either direction, she decided to return to the house and keep a strict eye on the road.