Meanwhile, Jane and Frances had rushed gleefully off on their arrow-hunting quest. Jane’s impetuous method of dashing into things, coupled with Frances’ love of mischief, made them boon companions, despite their readiness to argue on sight. Jane’s merry challenge, “I’ll beat you to the ledge!” sent them crashing through brush and bush with a will that carried them several yards past it.

Their mad dash ended in catastrophe for Frances. Close at Jane’s heels, an avenging slap in the face from the recoiling branch of a stunted sapling which Jane’s headlong flight had rudely set in motion, caused Frances to stumble and pitch forward into a heap of brush. Her slam-bang invasion resulted in dislodging a peaceful garter-snake, which wriggled indignantly off almost across Jane’s feet, causing her to execute a wild leap. “Ugh, a horrid snake!” she shrieked. “You did that, Frances Bliss!”

“You snapped that limb in my face and made me fall,” counter-accused Frances. Whereupon both girls burst into laughter.

“Come on. We’re clear past the ledge. If we don’t hurry, we won’t have time to look for arrow-heads.” Jane reached forth a helping hand to haul the still-chuckling Frances to her feet.

Still hand in hand, the two trotted toward the out-cropping rocky ledge. Straight across it lay a fallen tree, scorched black and white by lightning, the greater part of its dead length extending into space. Stepping upon it, Frances ran fearlessly along toward the edge of the rocks. At every step the dry, rotten wood gave forth a crunching sound, accompanied by an ominous quivering of its entire length. Though she could not know it, it was on this very account that Ruth had forborne exploring the ledge.

“Look out!” Simultaneous with Jane’s warning cry, came a rattle of stones. Frances made a wild backward spring for safety. Precariously balanced, as was the tree across the ledge, Frances’ weight on it had served to dislodge a crumbling bit of rock on which it had partially rested. Down into the hollow below it catapulted, its brittle boughs, snapping and splintering as it descended. The terrific thud, with which it landed in the hollow, was echoed by a long, low rumble, a great quivering of the ledge itself, then a second deafening crash.

Well back from the scene of disaster, Jane and Frances clung to each other, speechless with terrified amazement.

It was Jane who first managed to gasp: “What—what was it?”

In spite of the fact that she had narrowly escaped accompanying the tree on its downward career, Frances answered with a slightly hysterical laugh. “You must have caused an earthquake, Plain Jane.”

“I? You mean you! You started the tree, and I guess the tree did the rest. Something besides that tree certainly dropped. Dare we go over and see just what happened? Come on!”

Very gingerly the two went forward. To all appearance, the ledge of rock was still intact. Securing a thick stick, Frances went cautiously forward, striking the stony formation ahead of her with every step she took. Where it jutted off into space she halted, and kneeling, peered over. Emulating her bold example, Jane was soon kneeling beside her.

“All I can see is a great lot of stones and one big rock,” declared Frances. “Maybe the tree jarred the under part of this rock loose. We’d better move back. The rest of it might go. That second terrible crash must have been caused by that big rock when it fell. The rest of the folks must have heard it. Hark!”

A long shrill halloo assailed their ears. Again it sounded; this time nearer.

“They heard. They’re calling. We’d better go.” Jane sprang to her feet and set off through the woods, Frances following after.

Halfway to the spot where the party had stopped to rest, Jane and Frances dashed into the midst of an excited sextette.

“What caused that frightful crash? Were you girls very close to it? Where are Ruth and Blanche?” White-faced and anxious-eyed, Miss Drexal fairly hurled her questions at the laggards.

“Ruth and Blanche?” Frances echoed, staring at the Guardian. “Why, I don’t know. They weren’t with us!”

“We almost got caught in an earthquake. Frances declares it was one, and that I caused it,” broke in Jane gaily. “Of course she’d—”

“This is not a time to joke,” interrupted Miss Drexal curtly. “The question is, where are Ruth and Blanche. They were with us until a few minutes ago. We were all standing together looking at a flock of crows. I had been telling the girls about a pet crow I once owned. It was only after I had finished that we noticed they were missing. Then we guessed that they had gone to find you two. Tell me quickly what happened over there.”

“That’s queer!” Jane’s gaiety had vanished. She now looked very solemn. In a subdued voice, she recounted what had occurred at the ledge.

“You might both have been killed.” Miss Drexal looked uncompromisingly stern. “I blame myself for allowing you to go. Now we must find the girls. I can’t understand their running off in this strange fashion. It’s not in the least like Ruth.”

“Oh, they can’t have gone far,” encouraged Anne. “Ruth wouldn’t dream of straying away purposely after all you’ve said. Blanche—”

“Make up your mind Blanche is to blame,” asserted the too-candid Jane. “She’s been sulking ever since she tried to upset the canoe this morning and Ruth spoke to her about it. I promised Ruth not to mention it, but I think I ought to tell you. They—well—Blanche may have said something horrid to Ruth while you folks were watching those crows, then started off into the woods just to be mean. Ruth is so—so—good. Of course, she’d run after Blanche and try to put her in a good humor. Ruth has stood a lot from her since we came up here. I don’t know why Blanche is so down on her. I only know she is. I haven’t been blind,” was Jane’s energetic conclusion.

“I must have been,” was the Guardian’s dry comment. “I had no idea such a state of affairs existed. Later on, Jane, I shall ask you to tell me all about what happened in the canoe. Just now we must devo............