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Dorothy Dale At Glenwood School

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<h3> CHAPTER XV </h3> <h4> LOST ON MOUNT GABRIEL </h4> A full month of school life had passed at Glenwood. The beautiful autumn had come to tint the leafy New England hills, when Mrs. Pangborn announced that her classes might go on a little picnic to the top of Mount Gabriel. The day chosen proved to be of the ideal Indian summer variety, and when the crowd of happy students skipped away through the woods that led to the mount, there seemed nothing to be wished for. Miss Crane had been sent in charge, and as Edna said, that meant just one more girl to make sport. As usual Viola did not join the merry-makers. She had the continuous excuse of her mother's illness, which had really been a matter of great worry to her, as Mrs. Pangborn, if no other at the school, knew to be true. "It's as warm as August," declared Nita Brant, scaling a darling little baby maple and robbing it of its most cherished pink leaves. "Oh, Nita," sighed Tavia, "couldn't you take some other tree? That poor little thing never wore a pink dress before in all its young life!" "Too young to wear pink," declared the gay Nita, affecting the brilliant leaves herself. "I just love baby leaves," and she planted the wreath on her fair brow. This started the wreath brigade, which soon terminated in every one of the picnickers being adorned with a crown of autumn foliage. At the foot of the mountain the girls made an effort to procure mountain sticks, but this was not an easy matter, and much time was taken up in the search for appropriate staffs. Those strong enough were invariably too hard to break, and those that could be procured were always too "splintery." But the matter was finally disposed of, and the procession started up the mountain. It was growing late in the afternoon, the pilgrimage not having been taken up until after the morning session, and when the top of the mountain was finally reached, Miss Crane told her charges that they might scurry about and get such specimen of leaves or stones as they wished to bring back, as they would only remain there a short time. The air was very heavy by this time, and the distant roll of thunder could be heard, but the gay girls never dreamed of a storm on that late October afternoon as they ran wildly about gathering bits of every procurable thing from moss to crystal rocks. Tavia wanted Jacks-in-the-pulpit, and sought diligently for them, getting away from all but Dorothy in her anxiety to find her home flower. She dearly loved Jacks—they grew just against the Dale wall in dear old Dalton, and she wanted to send one flower home to little Johnnie. It would be crushed in a letter of course, but she would put some dainty little ferns beside it and they would keep the lazy look. Then she could tell Johnnie all about the mountain top—send him some bright red maple leaves, and some yellow ones. "Oh, Dorothy!" she exclaimed. "I see some almost-purple leaves," and down the side of a ledge she slipped. "Come on! The footing is perfectly safe." Dorothy saw that the place was apparently safe, and she made her way eagerly after Tavia. Dorothy, too, wanted to send specimens home from Mount Gabriel, so she, too, must try to get the prettiest ones that grew there. The roll of thunder was now heard by the pair but it was not heeded. Bit by bit they made their way along the newly-discovered slope; step by step they went farther away from their companions. Suddenly a flash of lightning shot down a tree! The next minute there was a downpour of rain, like the dashing of a cloud burst. "Oh!" screamed Dorothy. "What shall we do?" <center> <ANTIMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-154.jpg" ALT=""OH! WHAT SHALL WE DO?" CRIED DOROTHY--Page 155." BORDER="2" WIDTH="477" HEIGHT="747"> <H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 477px"> "OH! WHAT SHALL WE DO?" CRIED DOROTHY—Page 155. </h4> </center> "Get under the cliff!" ordered Tavia. "Quick! Before the next flash!" Grasping wildly at stumps and brush, as they made their way down the now gloomy slope, the two frightened girls managed to get under some protection—where trees, overhanging the rocks, formed a sort of roof to a very narrow strip of ground. "Oh! What shall we do?" cried Dorothy again. "We can never make our way back to the others." "But we must," declared Tavia. "I'm sure we cannot stay here long. Isn't it a dreadful storm?" Flash upon flash, and roar upon roar tumbled over the mountain with that strange rumble peculiar to hills and hollows. Then the rain— It seemed as if the storm came to the mountain first and lost half the drops before getting farther down. It did pour with a vengeance. Several times Tavia ventured to poke her head out to make weather observations, but each time she was driven unceremoniously back into shelter. "It must be late!" sighed Dorothy. "That it must!" agreed her companion, "and we have got to get out of here soon. Rain or no rain, we can't stay here all night. The thunder and lightning is not so bad now. Come on! Let's go!" Timidly the two girls crept out. But the rain had washed their path away and they could barely take a step where so short a time before they seemed to walk in safety. "Don't give up!" Tavia urged Dorothy. "We must get to the top." But the stones would slide away and the young trees, loosed by the heavy rain, would pull up at the roots. "Try this way," suggested Tavia, taking another line from that which the girls knew ran to the mountain top. This proved to be safer in footing at least. The rocks did not fall with such force, and the trees were stronger to hold on to. But where was that path taking them? Both girls shouted continually, hoping to make the others hear, but no welcome answer came back to them. Then they realized the truth. They were lost! Night was coming, and such a night! On a mountain top, in a thunder storm, with darkness falling! The girls never knew just what they did in that awful hour, but it seemed afterwards that a whole lifetime had been lost with them in that storm. So far from every one on earth! Not even a bird to break that dreadful black solitude! And the others? The storm, violent as it was, did not deter them from searching for Dorothy and Tavia. Miss Crane had shouted her throat powerless, and the others had not been less active. But by the strange circumstances that always lead the lost from their seekers, both parties had followed different directions, and at last, as night came on, Miss Crane was obliged to lead her weeping charges down Mount Gabriel and leave the two lost ones behind. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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