And so Bessie fought down that blind instinct to scream out her terror,
and, in a moment, throwing off her blanket, she began to creep out into
the black woods, dark now as pitch, and as impenetrable, it seemed, as
one of the tropical jungles she had read of.
One thing Bessie felt to be, above everything, necessary. She must find
out what the gypsy meant to do, and where he was taking Dolly. If, by
some lucky chance, she could track him, there would be a far better
opportunity to rescue Dolly in the morning, when the guides would be
called to help, and, if necessary, men from the hotel at Loon Pond and
other places in the woods. To such a call for help, Bessie knew well
there would be an instant response.
"He'll never go back to the camp," Bessie told herself, trying to argue
the problem out, so that she might overlook none of the points that were
involved, and that might make so much difference to poor Dolly, who was
paying so dear a price for her prank. "If he did, he'd be sure that
there would be people there, looking for him, as soon as the word got
around that Dolly was missing.
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