Sniffing the ground, near the side of the cabin, she had spied a dog with a soft brown nose, a shaggy, red brown body and a tail standing out tense and straight.  It was a brown setter, and Madge knew he was probably hunting for woodchucks.  Surely the presence of the dog meant a master somewhere near.

Her tired, eager eyes strained through the thick foliage of the woods they had traversed so happily only the afternoon before.

Yes, there was a man’s figure!  He was coming nearer.  A young man in a hunting jacket, with a gun swung over his shoulder, was tramping along, with his eyes on the ground.

A pleading voice apparently came from the sky:  “Please unbar the door of this old cabin.  We are locked inside.”

The young man stopped short.  He took off his cap and ran his hand through his thick, light hair.  He was too old to believe in fairies or elves.  But he heard the voice again even more distinctly.  “Oh, don’t go away!  Do open the log cabin door.”

The young man looked up.  There was a little, white face as wan and pale as the early daylight, with an aureole of dark red curls around it, staring at him through the broken window frame of the old log cabin that he had seen deserted a dozen times in his hunting trips through these woods.

“If there is some one really calling to me, please wave your hand three times from that window, so I will know you are not a spook,” called the young man, “otherwise I may be afraid to open the door.”

“I can’t wave.  I shall fall if I let go the window sill,” answered Madge, trying to keep from bursting into tears.  “Please don’t wait any longer.  We have been locked in all night.”

The stranger drew back the heavy wooden bolt.  He started when he saw three white-faced girls staring at him.  But the face he had seen at the window was not among them.  Clinging to the old window frame, her slender feet stuck in the cracks between the logs, was the witch who had summoned him to their rescue.

“Won’t you please come help me down, Phil?” asked a plaintive voice.

“Just let go the window frame and drop,” ordered the stranger quietly.  “Don’t be afraid.  It is the only possible way.”

Without hesitating Madge did as directed.  “Thank you,” she said coolly, when she got her breath.  Then she staggered a little, and Phyllis and the young man who had come to their rescue caught her.

“We have been locked in so long,” explained Phil.  “No, we have not the least idea who could have played such a trick on us.  We arrived in this neighborhood only yesterday afternoon.”

Phil gave a short history of the houseboat, introducing her three friends and herself to him.  “We must return to our chaperon at once,” she added.  “The poor woman will be dreadfully worried.  Do you girls feel strong enough to walk?  You see”—­this time Phil turned to their rescuer—­“it is not only that we have been shut up here for nearly fourteen hours, we are so hungry!  We have had nothing to eat since yesterday at luncheon.”