Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer — Part 81

Lillie’s suggestion was a timely one, and as she, Grace, Jessie, and a few Orioles disappeared over the slope of the hill, Helen and Nathalie, as the advance guard, hurried across the road and into the cool recesses of the woods. As they hastened onward every girl’s eyes were alert, watchfully peering behind every bush and tree as they stumbled over gnarled roots and broken stumps in their efforts to reach some shaded nook, or lichen-covered rock dimly seen in the shadows of the trees.

Helen proved an efficient leader and did not hesitate to keep her followers busy, as she sent first one and then the other to look here or there, determined not to miss a nook or spot where the child might be hidden. Every now and then some of the party would give a bird call, or Helen’s whistle would reverberate sharply through the swaying pines.

But Mrs. Morrow, whose strength began to waver, finally suggested to Nathalie and Edith, who had been acting as her body-guard, that they rest for a few minutes. Spying a decayed tree-trunk that had fallen across the damp, spongy earth a few feet away, they seated themselves upon it.

“Oh, I’m really tired!” exclaimed Mrs. Morrow, for she had proved as indefatigable as the girls in searching, thinking, she declared, of her own two kiddies safe in the garden at home.

Nathalie, impressed by the solemn stillness about her, slowly fanned herself with her hat, while Edith made frantic dabs at her red face, from which beady drops were oozing. “Oh, I should just love to stay here all day,” she cried, sniffing the air, redolent with the odors of pine, spicy balsam, silver birch, and many other trees that loomed darkly in the mysterious retreats of the forest.

“Hark!” cried Mrs. Morrow, suddenly putting up her hand for silence as she peered up at the green boughs above her. “Taweel-ab, taweel-ab, twil-ab, twil-ab!” came in a succession of weird, sweet trills.

“Wheew, whoit, wheew, whoit!” imitated the Sport with quick readiness.

“It is a hermit thrush!” explained Mrs. Morrow softly, and her hand clutched Nathalie’s as she pointed to a brown bird that was scudding swiftly over the fern a few feet away.

“Oh, isn’t it a dear?” whispered delighted Nathalie, for to her this coming, as she called it, into the very heart of nature was a new experience. She half regretted at times that they had been compelled to forego the bird-hike, as she was so anxious to get in touch with the feathered songsters of the wood and field. Then, too, suppose the searching-party should fail of its purpose, she would feel that she had been the means of leading them on a wild-goose chase!