The way was a pleasant one. Since leaving the little cove, where they had tied their boats, having hidden the oars on shore, the path had been in a most delightful glade, with occasional stretches of meadow. Once they had encountered some cows, and though at first debating the advisability of making a detour, they had boldly crossed the field, the bovines merely looking calmly at them, as if wondering why humans did not lie down and chew cuds when they had the chance. “What was that?” exclaimed Mabel, as a whirr of wings, and the passage of some body through the underbrush, startled her. “A quail,” answered Natalie. “I just got a glimpse of it. Oh, see the lovely flowers!” and she rushed over to a patch of ox-eyed daisies, or black-eyed-Susans, and, pulling a bunch thrust them into her belt, creating a decidedly picturesque effect. Marie pulled some maiden-hair ferns, and weaving a chaplet as she walked along, dropped it on Natalie’s head, for none of the girls wore hats. “Oh, isn’t that sweet!” exclaimed Mabel. “Wait, I must snap that!” and she posed Natalie for her picture. Then they all had to be crowned with ferns and “snapped”, after which a group picture was taken, with them all sitting on a fallen tree, Marie taking the group without herself in it and then Natalie performing a like service for her chum. “The spring and the ruins of the farmhouse at last!” cried Marie, when another mile had been covered. “We are almost there now.” “Then let’s eat here,” suggested Alice. “We can get a drink, and olives always make me so deliciously thirsty.” “That’s what I say,” chimed in Marie, and then, finding a little grassy spot they sat down tailor fashion and ate. “It’s the best meal I’ve had in a week,” declared Alice. “Are there any sandwiches left?” asked Mabel. “That’s my best indorsement.” “One or two,” said Mrs. Bonnell. “Perhaps we had better save them.” And to this the girls agreed. Then came a delicious period of rest under the greenwood trees, while Natalie softly sang a song of the sky-blue water, the others joining in the chorus. “Forward, march!” cried Marie, a little later. “One moment!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnell. “Another tree to hairpin!” and she did her duty. “Which path?” asked Mabel, as they came to a divergence of the ways. “Left or right, Marie?” “Er—the—left!” hesitatingly pronounced the leader. “Are you sure?” “Positive.” And to the left they went. The way became more rocky and rugged—wilder—and there were rather timid glances cast from left to right as they passed through deep, dark and silent glades, dark even with the bright sun shining overhead. “I wouldn’t want to be lost here,” spoke Mabel in a low voice. “Hush!” exclaimed Natalie. “Remember we may get back your mother’s ring.” “Oh, I do hope so. But supposing these weren’t the right Gypsies after all?”