"Our violets are just violeting," began Lucille, a jolly little girl who looked like a Japanese doll, with her glossy hair all drawn back in the ultra fashioned style, quite novel to the girls from Pennsylvania. "And there's no end of bunnies, if you like them," she went on, "although I must confess a rabbit or a rat is apt to make me jump at any time. Some of the boys from the academy are in the cross-country run, and they're due over the Ridge this morning. We may get a chance to cheer them if we hurry along," she finished.

No need to urge the girl scouts toward that prospective goal, and a few minutes later the mountain paths registered the first steps in the vacation days of the True Tred Girls.

And the path trodden pointed the way to strange adventures—strange even for such experienced hikers as were the visiting girl scouts.

CHAPTER III

THE BROKEN MARATHON

"Cheers! Joy! Also thrills!" called Lalia, from her lookout on top of a big green rock. "There come the boys! See their red shirts!"

"Oh, yes," agreed her sister, almost pushing her off the big bowlder in an attempt to get the desired view. "Sure enough. Come on, girls. Slide down the rocks on that side and we'll just about meet their line! Oh! there's Bob Bennet, I know his red head; and Andy MacMurry, I know his biplane arms. See them swing!" and Lucille all but lost her balance on the steep down grade, in her attempt to imitate the dauntless Andy, who was just then making famous strides toward the golf links, in the last lap of the Academic Cross Country run.

Along the line of contestants for honors were five boys in all, representing the survival of the fittest in the Spring Sporting Event. Two red shirts were easily distinguishable, as representing the home team, and as these were none other than Bob Bennet and Andy MacMurry mentioned by Lucille, the girls' interest immediately centered in the flying red specks, moving along the great, green golf links like some animated brightly painted automatons. Heads back, chests out, feet scarcely seeming to move, the two red figures were keeping well up with those in gray, and the others in yellow.

"Andy's winning!" shouted Grace, who had quickly made distant acquaintance with the lightsome runner.

"No, it's Bob!" insisted Lucille. "See his red head like a torch bearer?"

"I think Grace is right," corrected Lalia. "That's Andy—see the arms swing!"

"If we could only get over to the club house to see the finish," suggested Lucille. "Oh, there are the Morgans in their car! They will give us a lift. Come on, girls, we can get to the avenue before they pass down," and giving an extra spurt to their already overstrained runners, the girls vied with the real contestants in the honors of marathon.

No need to ask for the lift in the Morgan car, for it seemed all Bellaire was making for the club house to see the finish of the Cross Country Run, and the girls piled on the big car exactly as girls do, when coming and going, to and from the ocean, in the height of bathing season.

"If our boys only hold out!" breathed Lalia. "We'll have the loveliest time at the club house, all our crowd are invited, and we may take our guests, of course," indicating the three visitors who were quite as eagerly interested in the race as were the local members of the party.

"We are starting pretty well," remarked Cleo, holding tightly to her support on the side of the auto. "We didn't expect to fall into a race first day!"

"Oh, vacation is always one grand frolic out here," responded Lucille, "and we always like to make a good start. Here we are," as the car followed the long line of autos threading their way in to the driveway, leading to the big, crowded club house on the emerald golf links.

By this time the runners were almost on their last lap, and cheering and shouting made the air vibrant with the joy of youth and the glory of healthful sport.

"Andy! Andy! Come on, Andy!" yelled the crowd.

"At-a-boy! At-a-boy!" came the shouts of youngsters who seemed to be suspended in the air, hanging on to everything they could grasp, with reckless risk to life and limb.

The club house orchestra had stopped its entertaining tunes, for guests cared no more for music, the scholaristic runs being of more than usual importance in deciding the season's championship.

"Bob! Go it, Bob!" went up a newly invigorated yell, as the runners turned from the broad field into a narrow stretch, that was outlined by the "tape" or finishing line.

"Oh!" screamed Cleo suddenly. "Look! That girl is directly in the way!" and just as she spoke the figure of a girl was seen to dart from somewhere directly into the first runner's path. She had raised her slim arms as if to stop him, and in the surprise of her sudden appearance Andy, who was well in the lead, stopped, staggered and then toppled over in a heap!

Instantly everything was in wild confusion. The crowds closed in around the finishing runners, so that from the cars or club house it was impossible to see more than a solid mass of persons.

"Is he dead?" boys were asking.

"Who was the ghost?" demanded others.

"She ought to be shot," insisted some of the academy boys.

"It was bad enough, to be on the last lap, but to have a ghost shoot out like that would finish any fellow's heart," declared the boy at Cleo's ear. "I hope they teach her a lesson."

"Grace!" Madaline exclaimed. "Did you see that dress? It was the same we saw on the queer girl who stared at us so! Maybe—she's crazy or something. I'm sure I could tell that was the same white dress with the black winders."

"Yes," declared Cleo to the other girls, "we saw her yesterday, and she was with the oddest-looking woman."

"Oh, I'll bet she's the girl they call Mary! Lives somewhere in the mountain, and has that funny old woman with her!" declared Lucille. "If she isn't crazy she's very queer. And however did she get in that line without being seen?"

"Why, she just jumped from behind the hedge," said Angela Morgan, who was driving the car slowly out of the heavy traffic, "and I have seen her with that foreign woman down by the springs, always hunting flowers. They are a queer pair."

"Do you think the crowd will be rough with her?" asked Cleo anxiously. "I never saw such eyes as that child looked out of. Like eyes that looked and couldn't see, sort of dazed," explained Cleo.

"Well, we can't hear who won or what happened until some of the crowd passes out," said Lalia, "If Bob or Andy didn't win I'll be just sick in bed."

"And if anything happened to that queer little girl I'll have more than a mere collapse," added Madaline, who had been almost a silent spectator of the whole proceedings.

Just then there was a break in the line of cars, and directly in front of the Morgan machine dashed the little girl in her white dress, her two big braids flopping up and down on her slight shoulders.

And before anyone could reach the roadway, she had again slipped behind the dense hedge and was lost to view.

"Well, I never!" gasped Cleo.

"We'll have to find that woodland fairy some day," declared Lucille, and just then they heard that Bob had won the race.

CHAPTER IV

THE EAGLE'S FEATHER

It took but a few days for the visitors to become so well acquainted in their