"Are you a policeman?" asked Twaddles in awe.

"Something like it," admitted the captain. "Leastways, I'm a deputy sheriff. Pretty place, isn't it?"

The boat was approaching the island, and it was indeed a pretty place. It was smaller than Apple Tree Island and had fewer trees, but it was completely covered with thick green grass brightly starred over with daisies. And not a single daisy grew on Apple Tree Island!

"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Meg softly. "How lovely! See, Dot, millions and millions of daisies."

"You can pick some while I take a look around," said Captain Jenks, fastening the boat with an iron chain and hook to a ring sunk in a wooden post. There was no wharf because no one lived on the island to build one and very few boats came there anyway.

Bobby and Twaddles stuck close to the captain's heels, but Meg and Dot determined to get some daisies to take home to their mother. They worked busily, and by the time the others were back from their inspection of the little open shed which was the only shelter on the island, the two girls had large bouquets.

"Were there any smugglers?" asked Dot half-fearfully.

"That's a silly story, that smuggler stuff," pronounced Captain Jenks. "To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a smuggler. We found the ashes of his campfire and this." He held up a pair of bird wings.

"The poor little bird!" exclaimed Meg compassionately. "How can any one shoot a bird!"

"It's all right sometimes, isn't it?" Bobby insisted. "Jud goes gunning, Meg, you know he does."

"I've nothing to say against it when the season is open," said the captain.

Captain Jenks seemed saddened by the discovery of the pretty, spotted wings, but when he had put them away in a little box in the cabin he cheered up and admired the daisies.

"You'll find string in that toolchest," he directed them. "Going to make two bunches? That's right—I don't like to see flowers crowded even after they're picked."

The two bunches were tied to the rail as a safe place and one in which they would not be easily crushed. The motor-boat—by the way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven't been told that before, have you?—was now chugging down the lake toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson in managing the wheel. Twaddles had found a compass in the toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that. Dot thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.

"They look wilted," she told herself, eyeing the daisies with disfavor. "What they need is water."

So this mischievous child took a long string and tied it to each bunch of daisies; then she held it in the middle and allowed them to trail in the water.

The Sarah was almost at Greenpier before Meg glanced toward Dot and saw what she was doing.

"Dot Blossom!" she cried, rushing toward her. "You'll spoil 'em. Oh, Bobby, look what Dot's doing to the daisies!"

In her anxiety to get the daisies wet, Dot had climbed to the top of the rail, and when Meg shouted at her so suddenly she was startled. She tried to catch the rail, missed it, and tumbled into the water.

Dear, dear, there was a hubbub, you may be sure. Luckily the boat was in very shallow water and a man sitting on the wharf jumped in and had Dot in his arms almost as soon as she splashed. He was Mr. Harley and he easily walked ashore. The water was only as high as his waist.

"You're not drowned," he kept telling Dot, who was sadly frightened and crying bitterly. "You're only wet, Sister."

"Take her up to Mrs. Clayton's," ordered Captain Jenks. "We were headed for there, and she always has a big fire on account of the ironing. She'll know what to do."

Apparently Mr. Harley knew where Mrs. Clayton lived, for he strode away with Dot in his arms. Captain Jenks, Meg and Bobby and Twaddles had to run to keep up with him. He stopped before a whitewashed cottage with a woman ironing in the large front room.

"Can you dry this baby off and give her something hot to drink?" asked Captain Jenks, and Mrs. Clayton held out her arms for Dot.

The little girl was indignant at being called "baby" but her teeth were chattering from cold and fright, and the hot cocoa Mrs. Clayton presently gave her tasted very good. She went off to sleep after that, wrapped in a warm blanket, and woke to find her clothes dry and ironed.

Mrs. Clayton was a stout, comfortable, jolly kind of woman who did washing and ironing for the Summer people on the various islands and in the shore towns that bordered Sunset Lake. She promised to have Mother Blossom's clothes ready a week from that day, and the children trotted back to the boat, Dot none the worse for her experience. They knew no one at home would be worried, though Dot had slept two hours, because they were not expected back till the afternoon boat.

"We had cocoa and jelly sandwiches while you were asleep," Twaddles informed his sister. "And Mrs. Clayton has a ship carved out of a piece of bone!"

At the wharf they found Mr. Harley and Chris Smith, the boathouse man, and Captain Jenks, all very glad to see them and glad that Dot's ducking had not been worse. The captain had several other passengers to another island on this trip.

"I'll be over in a day or two," said Mr. Harley, as the children boarded The Sarah. "Might as well look around the place once in a while."

Father Blossom was waiting on their wharf when they reached Apple Tree Island, and his first question was whether they had found some one to do the washing to save Mother Blossom from attempting too much.

"Yes, and she's already started," cried Bobby eagerly. "She washed and ironed Dot!"



CHAPTER XII

SUNNY SUMMER DAYS

"Washed and ironed Dot!" repeated Father Blossom. "Why, what happened to Dot?"

The four little Blossoms explained, and then they had to tell the story again to Mother Blossom when they went up to the bungalow. Father and Mother Blossom were so glad and so grateful that the accident had turned out so fortunately, when it might easily have had serious consequences, that they scolded no one. Dot was sure that she would not climb up on the rail of The Sarah another time, and Father and Mother Blossom knew she would be careful.

Such fun as the children had in the days that followed! Mother Blossom declared that they almost lived in their bathing suits, and indeed, as the warm weather came on, a bathing suit for the sunny hours of the morning was the most comfortable costume any one could hope for. The little bathing beach was not too far from the bungalow, and Father Blossom was an excellent swimmer. He taught each child to swim and very cunning Twaddles and Dot looked in the water. Dot wore a scarlet bathing cap on her dark hair and her bathing suit was red, too, while Twaddles wore a navy and white suit. Meg's suit was a lighter blue and her cap was white, and Bobby had a brown suit like Father Blossom's. The children thought that no one could look lovelier than their mother in her black and white suit and cap to match, and indeed Mother Blossom was growing prettier every day. She said she had not had a real vacation in so long that she felt as the children did—as if she must play outdoors every minute.

Sometimes they took their supper down to the beach and Father Blossom and Bobby built a fire and they had toasted bread and bacon; sometimes they went hunting for beach plums, that odd fruit that grows on tall bushes and which make such delicious jam; sometimes they all went fishing in the two rowboats, Mother Blossom rowing one and Father Blossom the other.

"I caught the biggest fish," Dot wrote to Norah, "only it wasn't a fish—it was somebody's old boot."

But Twaddles and Meg, oddly enough, had the best luck of any of the fishermen. Meg rarely went fishing that she did not bring home a nice little string of fish she had caught herself (though Bobby had to bait her hooks), and as for Twaddles, he never paid much attention to his line except to pull it in now and then to take a fish off. One day the whim seized him to fish from the wharf, and when Bobby was sent to call him to supper Twaddles calmly showed him four fine fish he had caught in less than an hour.

"I'll take you on a fishing trip some day for a mascot," said Captain Jenks, who continued to be a very good friend.

The four little Blossoms had gone over with him on The Sarah the week after Dot's adventure in the water to get the wash from Mrs. Clayton. Bobby and Meg had been a little fearful that Mother Blossom would not trust them again to take care of the twins, but that dear lady knew that accidents make wise little folk more careful. She assured Bobby and Meg with a kiss that she was sure they would look after Dot and Twaddles more closely this time. They did; indeed, the twins rather resented the strict supervision under which they made the trip to Greenpier, but when Dot appealed to Captain Jenks, to her disappointment, he sided with Bobby and Meg.

"I have an uneasy feelin' that I don't know what you might take into your head to do next," the captain told the surprised little girl. "If I was your sister and brother, I'd tie a string to you and then I'd know where you were every minute."

However, of all their games and pastimes, the one of which the four little Blossoms never tired, was to go and play around the ruins of the Harley shack. The island was so safe a place, such an ideal playground for little people, that Father and Mother Blossom felt no uneasiness no matter where the children went. They must be home punctually to meals and they must not go in the water anywhere without asking permission and then only on the bathing beach if no older person was with them. These few rules were all they had to remember and it was small wonder that they often said Apple Tree Island was the nicest place in the world! Aunt Polly had sent Bobby a little watch and he could "tell time" nicely; so no matter how far they wandered they had no excuse for not coming back to the bungalow when Mother Blossom set them a time limit.

"Let's go to Mr. Harley's house," suggested Meg one bright morning.

That was the way they always spoke of the forlorn shack—it was "Mr. Harley's house."

"All right, let's," agreed Bobby. "I'll ask Mother if we can take our lunch. We don't want the twins this time, do we?"

Bobby and Meg had been washing the breakfast dishes while Mother Blossom, at the pretty desk in the large hall, was making out a grocery list for Father Blossom to take to town on the morning boat. Meg and Bobby were learning to be the best little helpers one ever saw; in fact, this Summer all the children had learned a great deal about housekeeping and they meant to astonish Norah with their knowledge when they went home.

"I think it would be nice if we could play by ourselves," said Meg gently, in answer to Bobby's question.

Meg and Bobby sometimes felt that they would like to play a game without the aid of Dot and Twaddles. Not that they did not love the small sister and brother dearly, but Meg and Bobby usually liked to do the very same thing in the very same way, and Dot and Twaddles were apt to want to do it six different ways and all at once! That, as you may understand, occasionally led to disputes.

"Take your lunch and play at Mr. Harley's house?" said Mother Blossom, laying down her pencil and smiling at the two earnest faces. "I don't know why not. I'll put some sandwiches up for you as soon as I finish this list."

"And may just Meg and I go, Mother?" added Bobby coaxingly.

"Oh, Bobby, you know the twins will be disappointed," Mother Blossom replied. "They do love to poke around that shack and I'm afraid they will feel hurt if they think you do not want them."

She tapped her pencil absently on the desk for a moment.

"I tell you, children," she cried, putting an arm around each. "Suppose you and Meg, Bobby, go on to the shack and play by yourselves this morning; then, at noon, I'll send the twins with lunch for all of you and you stay an hour or two longer and play with them. How will that be?"

Meg and Bobby thought this was a splendid plan, and, only stopping to kiss Mother Blossom and to take an old rusty shovel which was Bobby's chief treasure, they ran off. Dot and Twaddles were down at the wharf waiting to see Captain Jenks and his motor-boat, a daily habit which was encouraged by the captain, who usually brought them some little treat.

"We'll go around the other side of the island, and they won't see us," said Meg, the general. "It isn't much longer, really."

The other side of the island was rockier, though, and the bushes were thicker. Still, Meg and Bobby managed to scramble though, and half an hour's steady tramping brought them to the Harley shack.

"It keeps falling apart," mourned Meg; and indeed the place looked worse every time they visited it.

"Apples!" shouted Bobby, running forward to look under the gnarled trees. "Apples, Meg! Big ones!"

"They're not ripe," said Meg promptly. "'Sides, they're not ours— they belong to Mr. Harley. Daddy says everything here belongs to him."

"I guess they are green," admitted Bobby, who had tried in vain to soften one in his fingers. "But apples belong to anybody, Meg."

"They do not!" contradicted Meg. "Why, Bobby Blossom! how can you talk like that? Don't you remember when you and Twaddles were in the fruit store with Daddy last Spring and Twaddles took a strawberry from one of the boxes because he saw another boy do it? You know Daddy made him put it back before he could eat it. If strawberries don't belong to anybody, I guess apples don't."

Meg's honest blue eyes looked beseechingly at her brother.

"All right," surrendered Bobby. "I wasn't going to eat 'em, anyway."

"I hope not," said Meg severely. "What'll we play?"

"Hunting for treasure," responded Bobby. "That's why I brought the shovel. You want to pound first?"

Meg and Bobby had invented this game. They pretended that hundreds of years ago fierce pirates had buried chests of gold and jewels on this end of the island and that the Harley shack had been the castle home of these wicked sea rovers. The pirates had died without leaving directions to tell where they had buried the treasure, and gradually the castle had crumbled away.

Then, one day, there came two brave sailors (some people called them Meg and Bobby) and they set to work to dig up the great iron chests. They meant to divide the money and jewels with the descendants of those from whom the pirates had stolen it. And their method of locating the buried treasure was to go about with a shovel and tap here and there. Where the earth gave out a hollow sound, there they would dig. These two sailors had not yet found anything, but it was certainly an exciting game.

"Dig here, Bobby!" cried Meg, when she had rapped the earth around the crazy chimney and persuaded herself that it sounded "hollow."

So Bobby dug. And presently his shovel struck something.

"Oh, Bobby, what is it?" shrieked Meg. "Is it an iron chest?"

She really half-believed that Bobby had found the pirate's buried treasure.

The twins were scrambling over the rocks and they heard Meg's cry. Mother Blossom had kept them as long as she could, but they had insisted on setting out a half hour before noon and they had run most of the way, the lunch basket bumping wildly in time to their steps. Their faces red from the heat and streaming with perspiration, they burst into the ruins of the Harley house just as Bobby brushed the dirt from his find. "I don't know what it is," said Bobby, trying to look closely at the odd-shaped little thing in his hand, with three children insisting on seeing it at the same time. "Look out, Dot, you nearly made me drop it."

None of the children could guess what it was Bobby had found, and finally he slipped it into his pocket to take home and show Father Blossom. Then he discovered that he was hungry, and the twins proudly produced the basket.

"Have to wash first," announced Bobby firmly. "Did you bring a towel?"

Mother Blossom had sent a towel, and Bobby pulled up a brimming bucket of water from the Harley well and poured the old tin wash basin full. The well had been thoroughly cleaned out that Spring by the men whom the Winthrops sent up to put the bungalow in order. They had wisely decided that it was better to have all the water on the island fit to drink rather than to try to keep any one from using an abandoned well.

"You and Dot wash," commanded Bobby, when his face was washed and dried and his hands as neat as could be.

"I did wash my face 'fore breakfast," insisted Twaddles indignantly. He thought that should last him a long time.

Bobby, however, was equally insistent, and Dot and Twaddles had to bathe their hands and faces before he would let them share in the contents of the lunch basket. Mother Blossom was used to satisfying four good appetites, and the children ate every crumb she had sent them.

Then they went back to their game, and Twaddles and Dot tried their luck at locating buried treasure.

"Dig here, Bobby!" Twaddles cried. "This place sounds hollow, honest it does."

"You don't tell me!" said another voice, a man's voice. "Why do you suppose that is?"

Twaddles jumped, and Meg turned around, startled.



CHAPTER XIII

A SIGNAL FOR HELP

"Didn't scare you, did I?" said Mr. Harley, walking into the circle and smiling at the perplexed faces.

"We didn't hear you coming," answered Bobby. "Did you row over?"

"Yes, I came over to tell your mother that your father couldn't get back till the afternoon boat," Mr. Harley explained. "Your mother wanted to know if I'd come and fetch you."

"Does she want us?" asked Meg quickly. "Oh! What was that?"

"Thunder," answered Mr. Harley, shortly. "Your mother sent you two umbrellas, but I don't think we'd better start now; the storm is 'most ready to break. Guess you were having such a good time you never heard the rumbling."

It was true. The children had never glanced up, or they would have seen the great white clouds that, mounting higher and higher, gradually darkened and then shut out the sun. They would have heard the angry mutterings of thunder and seen the sharp streaks of lightning, but the game of hunting for treasure had completely absorbed them.

"It will rain on us," remarked Meg nervously. "There isn't any roof, you know."

Then she blushed. She wondered if Mr. Harley thought they were selfish to amuse themselves in his tumble-down home, and whether it was polite of her to mention that the roof was gone.

"We'll have to make a roof," said Mr. Harley capably. "Let's see; if we take that door and put it across these two barrels, that will keep the rain off. Here's a piece of oilcloth we can use for a curtain to shut the lightning out. Now we're as comfy as we would be in a regular house."

While he spoke, he had lifted what had once been the front door of his house, placed it across two barrels and draped across the open side a large square of oilcloth that was cracked and creased in many places but still waterproof. The barrels were against the one wall of the house left standing, so that, when all was fixed, the small shelter was fairly comfortable.

Bobby, feeling in his pocket for a nail to pin the oilcloth more securely, touched the queer object his shovel had unearthed that morning.

"Look what I found," he said eagerly, holding out the little pointed specimen.

"Arrow head," said Mr. Harley. "Indians once lived on this island, and you're likely to turn those things up most anywhere. Will your mother be afraid alone in the bungalow?"

"Mother's never afraid," declared Bobby confidently, putting the arrow head back in his pocket to show his father. "Oh, that lightning went right into the lake!"

"Better get in now," Mr. Harley told them, holding up the oilcloth so that they could creep in under the door-roof. "All in? Then here I come."

The rain was coming down in great, dashing torrents in another moment and the four little Blossoms were thankful for their dry corner.

"It's a good thing we didn't start out," shouted Mr. Harley above the noise of the rain. "We never could have made the bungalow before the rain caught us. This will knock the apples off. That's a pity because they're fine when they're left to ripen."

"Meg said they weren't ripe yet," said Bobby.

"I hope you didn't try to eat any," answered Mr. Harley earnestly. "Green apples are not good for you."

"Oh, we didn't touch one," Bobby assured him, trying to punch Twaddles, who was tickling him. "Meg said they belonged to you."

"I want you children to eat 'em, but not till they are ripe," Mr. Harley shouted back. "Along about the first week in July, you come up here and you'll find the best sweet apples you ever tasted. That is, if the storms leave any on the tree, and I guess they will. You eat all you want—I never want to taste one of those apples again!"

Twaddles stopped trying to tickle Bobby, and Meg squeezed Dot's hand excitedly. Poor Mr. Harley!

"Then—then you haven't heard about your little boys?" asked Bobby hesitatingly.

"Not a word," groaned Mr. Harley. "It's as though the earth had opened and swallowed 'em. I can't, for the life of me, figure out where they could have gone. Sometimes I get to thinking they're here, and I can't rest till I get a boat and row over. One night I got up at one o'clock and rowed here; but Lou and the boys were just as far away as ever."

The rain was coming more gently now, and the heaviest clouds had passed over the island. Mr. Harley lifted the oilcloth flap, and the four little Blossoms felt a refreshing breeze sweep in upon them.

"We can start in a minute or so," announced Mr. Harley, opening the umbrellas.

A few minutes later they started in a fine drizzle of rain. That, however, soon stopped and the sun came out, and by the time they had reached the bungalow, to find Father Blossom just coming up from the wharf and Mother Blossom, not a bit frightened by the storm, on the porch, the only trace of the thunderstorm was the wet grass and the dripping eaves of the pretty bungalow.

May swept into June and June was nearly gone when one morning Father Blossom announced that he wanted to take Mother Blossom over to Greenpier in the rowboat and that he hoped the children could persuade her that they would be all right if left to themselves for a little while.

"I don't think we'll be gone more than two or three hours," said Father Blossom seriously; "and while I don't suppose this day means anything to you, it does mean a good deal to Mother and to me. And if you children will take care of each other, we'll be back before you have time to miss us."

"I know what day it is," Meg cried proudly. "It's the day you and Mother were married!"

She remembered from the last June, and Mother Blossom had not thought any of the children would remember.

"I do hope they will be all right, Ralph," she said a little anxiously, as Father Blossom handed her into the rowboat and took the oars and the four little Blossoms stood on the wharf and waved to them.

"Of course they will be all right," Father Blossom asserted sturdily.

"Daddy, oh, Daddy!" called Bobby after the boat, "may we have your field glasses?"

"All right, only be careful of them," Father Blossom called back.

"What'll we do?" asked Dot, as they left the wharf and walked back to the bungalow.

"Go up to the Harley house and see if we can see the pirates' haunted ships," answered Bobby. "We can look 'way off with the glasses. Where 'bouts are they, Meg?"

"I know. I'll get 'em," said Meg eagerly.

She ran upstairs and found the glasses hanging on the wall in their leather case. They were a very fine pair, and the children were not often allowed to use them.

The "haunted ships" that Bobby spoke of, were another "pretend" the children enjoyed. Mother Blossom, reading to them one night, had found a poem that told how the ships of the pirates were condemned forever to sail the seas. The poem went on to say that sometimes people saw these ghostly ships and that when they did some of the buried treasure, part of the ill-gotten gains they had once carried on their decks, was sure to be unearthed.

"I can't see a single ship," reported Bobby, when, after the four children had walked to the north end of the island, he adjusted the glasses and took a long look.

"Let me try," begged Meg.

She stared so long that Twaddles grew impatient for his turn.

"Hurry up, Meg," he urged. "I want to see. Bobby, can't I have 'em now?"

"Don't bother me," said Meg impatiently. "I see something. Look, Bobby, isn't that something moving on Kidd's island?"

"Let me look, Meg. Why, it's somebody waving a rag tied on a pole."

Sure enough, it was. Neither Bobby nor Meg could make out what it was that held the pole, but it certainly was a pole with a bit of cloth dipping crazily about from one end of it.

"Isn't that funny?" puzzled Meg, staring at Bobby. "No one lives on Kidd's Island."

Dot's mind was full of pirates; and no wonder, for the four children had talked and played pirate games for weeks.

"I'll bet a pirate is there and he wants you to come so he can kidnap you," said Dot solemnly.

Twaddles was staring through the glasses, his "turn" having come at last.

"Maybe he's a sick pirate," he ventured.

"Meg," said Bobby suddenly, "I'll bet that's a signal for help; or if it isn't, some one ought to go to see what it is. It's almost time for Captain Jenks—let's run down to the wharf and tell him."

It lacked ten minutes of the time the captain's boat was due, and the four little Blossoms started pell-mell on a run for the wharf. Meg carried the glasses, remembering even in her hurry that they had promised to take care of them.

"Captain Jenks! Oh, Captain Jenks!" cried Bobby, hailing the skipper of The Sarah before it had even begun to turn toward the shore.

"Oh, Captain Jenks!" quavered Meg.

"Captain Jenks!" squeaked Dot. "Listen, Captain Jenks!"

"What do you suppose—" began Twaddles as The Sarah grated against the wharf and Captain Jenks surveyed the waving arms brandished before him.

"House afire?" asked the captain placidly.

"Oh, no!" sputtered Bobby, the words tumbling over each other. "Nothing like that! But there's somebody on Kidd's Island!"

"There is?" said the captain sharply. "How do you know?"

Meg and Bobby and Dot and Twaddles insisted on all explaining at once, but somehow the captain succeeded in understanding what they were trying to tell him.

"Waving a rag, eh?" he said thoughtfully. "Well, I might take a little run up there, though I wasn't calculating to go so far north this morning.

"May we go? Please, may we go?" pleaded Bobby.

"Ask your mother—or no, give me the glasses, and I'll have a squint at this waving rag," answered the captain. "Maybe it won't be anything you'll want to see."

He took the glasses from Meg and strode off to the Harley shack, followed by the children, who were now almost beside themselves with excitement.

Captain Jenks took a long look toward Kidd's Island, then whistled.

"Well, I never!" he said softly, as though speaking to himself.

"What is it?" asked Bobby. "May we go?"

"I guess it will be all right, Son," replied the captain kindly. "Run ask your mother, and if she is willing, I'll take you all."

"Mother isn't at home," explained Bobby. "She and Daddy rowed to Greenpier. She would say yes, I know she would."

"Well—all right!" decided Captain Jenks. "I'll take you to Kidd's Island and drop you here at the wharf on the way back. I think we're going to be what the papers call a rescuing party."

The four little Blossoms hurried on board The Sarah before the captain should change his mind. A rescue! Could anything be more exciting! As Twaddles remarked afterward, he wouldn't have missed coming to Apple Tree Island for anything in the world.

The captain took the wheel, and the boat chug-chugged swiftly toward Kidd's Island. When they were off shore they could see the rag quite plainly. It was a small handkerchief tied to an oar.

But no pirate was waving the forlorn little signal.

"Look, look!" cried Meg, as though afraid Captain Jenks might not see. "It's a girl and two little boys!"



CHAPTER XIV

THE RESCUE

The four little Blossoms crowded to the rail of The Sarah and stared dumbly at the slim girl in a pink frock who had been waving the oar.

"Why, if it isn't Letty Blake!" said Captain Jenks cheerfully. "How long have you been living on Kidd's Island?"

To the surprise of the children, Letty Blake flung her oar to one side and sat down in the sand and cried.

Captain Jenks hastily tied his boat to the wooden post and jumped ashore.

"You're all right now, child," he told the girl, patting her kindly on the shoulder. "Look at all the crew who offered to come help me rescue you. And who are these small tykes?"

The two little boys came closer to Letty. "They're my cousins," explained Letty, drying her eyes. "They came to visit us last week; and I took them for a row this morning and we wanted to get some flowers. I thought I tied the boat, but when we looked up it was drifting off. Oh, dear!"

"There, there," said Captain Jenks comfortably. "Nothing to cry about, Letty. Lots of people find out too late they didn't fasten the boat. Hop ashore, youngsters, and I'll introduce you to new friends."

The four little Blossoms, though bursting with curiosity, had remained politely on deck. Now at Captain Jenk's invitation, they joined hands and jumped, landing like four plump little ducks.

"Letty," declared the captain gravely, "here are four mighty good friends of mine, Meg and Bobby and Dot and Twaddles Blossom. They don't use any other names in the summer time."

The four little Blossoms giggled at this and Letty Blake smiled a little. She was a pretty girl, apparently about twelve years old, with dark blue eyes and a tanned skin that showed she was used to outdoor living.

"These are my cousins, Nelson and Albert Bennett," she said, pulling the two boys forward.

"Hello!" beamed Twaddles, who seldom suffered from shyness. "We came to rescue you."

"Don't want to be rescued," said Nelson suddenly. "Do we, Letty?"

"Of course we do," retorted his cousin. "How do you expect to get any lunch if we have to stay on this island? And where would you sleep? We're going on board The Sarah this minute and Captain Jenks will take us home."

Letty had stopped crying, and now she shouldered the oar, ready to carry it to The Sarah.

"How's it come you have one oar?" asked Captain Jenks, plainly puzzled. "Where's the other?"

"In the boat," said Letty. "We brought this ashore because the boys wanted to play jungle travelers and carry things slung on a pole over their shoulders. But the oar was too heavy for them to lift."

Captain Jenks laughed as he marshaled the children on the boat.

"I suppose Uncle Silas will be put out over the boat being lost," said Letty thoughtfully, pulling Nelson and Albert out of the captain's way as he started the engine. "He had just painted it and the oarlocks were new this year. I wish I had made sure that knot was tied."

"No use grieving over what's done and past," said Captain Jenks wisely. "Meg, we're going to lose Dot overboard again, if she isn't removed from that railing."

Sure enough, there was Dot half way over the railing, her small sandals hooked around a cleat in an endeavor to keep her balance. Just as Meg opened her mouth to call her, she turned.

"Ship ahoy!" she cried, trying to imitate Captain Jenk's most nautical term.

"Starboard or port?" asked the captain gravely, though his eyes twinkled.

The four little Blossoms had picked up several odds and ends of navigation in the few weeks they had known the captain, but Dot was too excited to remember what she had learned.

"It's right HERE" she shouted. "Oh, you'll run into it!"

"The rowboat! The rowboat!" cried Letty, dancing up and down. "Oh, Captain Jenks, what do you think of that? It's Uncle Silas's boat and the oar is in it, and our sweaters and everything!"

"Fine! But don't lose your heads," said Captain Jenks placidly. No one had ever seen him agitated. "Bobby, you take the wheel and hold it steady."

Bobby proudly took the wheel, and Captain Jenks, while the others watched breathlessly, brought the rowboat alongside with a long iron hook and with another drew up the long rope that was tied to an iron ring in the prow.

Then the rowboat was fastened to the stern of The Sarah, and, as Captain Jenks remarked, the rescue was complete.

Soon they reached the wharf on Apple Tree Island, and the four little Blossoms were put ashore, after saying good-by to Letty Blake and her cousins. She lived in Greenpier, and Captain Jenks had known her since she was Dot's age.

"Let's have lunch ready by the time Daddy and Mother come back," suggested Meg. "We can do it every bit ourselves."

Working like four beavers, they soon had lunch—and a good lunch, too—set out on the table. They had promised never to light the oil stove, so they could not make tea, but Mother Blossom could do that in a very few minutes when she came.

When the table was ready Meg ran out for some red clover and tall grasses for a bouquet and Bobby followed her, leaving Dot and Twaddles alone.

"I think we ought to have some jelly on the table, don't you?" said Dot. "We never have enough jelly. Mother likes currant."

"You get it, and I'll open it," promised Twaddles. "Bobby never lets me have the can opener."

Dot got a chair and climbed up on it. She was just able to reach the shelf in the closet where the tumblers of jelly were kept. She knew that currant jelly was red and she handed down a ruby red glass to the waiting Twaddles.

"Don't cut yourself," she admonished him as he punched the can opener into the tin lid.

Twaddles and Dot did not know that jelly tumblers are not opened with can openers. Mother Blossom and Norah always pried off the tin lids and used them the next year for other glasses.

"Oh, gee, there's a lot of wax on top," Twaddles reported when he had torn a jagged hole in the lid and found the jelly was protected with a layer of paraffin. "How'll I get that off?"

"Take a fork," advised Dot. "Here—I'll show you."

She seized a fork and jammed it into the paraffin. Bits of wax and jelly flew from the glass, splashing Twaddles' clean blouse and plentifully decorating Dot's white apron.

"Mother's coming!" cried Meg, rushing into the kitchen with her flowers. Then she stopped. "Dot Blossom, look what you're done!" she wailed.

Well, there was not much use in scolding, after it was done, and Daddy and Mother Blossom said that since the twins had been so good about helping to get lunch, that they should not be punished beyond having to go without any jelly for that meal.

Of course the four little Blossoms had a great deal to tell about the children they had helped Captain Jenks to rescue from Kidd's Island. Daddy and Mother Blossom had seen the captain in Greenpier and already knew of the rescue, but did not know many of the details that the children now gave them.

"We saw Mr. Harley," said Mother Blossom, bringing out her darning basket after lunch to one of the pretty trees where the family were fond of sitting.

"I wish he could find Mrs. Harley," grieved Meg. "Yesterday, when we were playing at Mr. Harley's house, we found a little hobby horse, that must have belonged to one of the boys. I s'pose there wasn't room for it in the trunk."

"I don't think poor Mrs. Harley packed a trunk," sighed Mother Blossom. "Mr. Harley says he believes she walked out of the house and took nothing with her except the clothes she wore. She had a suitcase of things for the children, Polly said, and that was all."

"Well, if that's the case, it's funny we can't find a clue," remarked Daddy Blossom. "I've looked, and I know Dick has looked, everywhere for some kind of note or even a letter she might have left. There isn't a scrap to build on."

A few days after this Daddy Blossom announced that he was going to Greenpier on important business.

"I know, Daddy," shouted Twaddles. "Fireworks for the Fourth of July."

Father Blossom was going over on the morning boat to do his shopping, and soon after he had gone down to the wharf the four little Blossoms decided to go to "Mr. Harley's house" to play. Mother Blossom, who was writing a long letter to Aunt Polly, was willing, and the four trotted off down the little path their own feet had worn.

"Let's go another way," suggested Meg suddenly. "We've always said we'd go through the woods, and we always come this same old way. Come on, Bobby, we can't get lost."

The "woods" that Meg spoke of were mostly underbrush and second growth of trees, with here and there a fine old oak that had escaped the wood-chopper's ax. The children scrambled through the bushes, climbed over the big gray rocks that stood half hidden under a covering of dead leaves and creeping vines, and finally came out behind the Harley shack.

"I never saw this side of it, did you, Meg?" asked Bobby. "Look, this must have been the lean-to where Mrs. Harley did the washing. Yes, here's an old wooden tub all fallen to pieces."

The children poked about in the rubbish carelessly until Twaddles happened to spy one of the apple trees on the point.

"They're ripe!" he cried in great excitement, though he had had his breakfast less than an hour before. "The apples are ripe, Dot! Mr. Harley said we could eat 'em!"

He and Dot raced for the tree, while Meg followed more slowly. Bobby remained to turn more stones over with his foot.

Presently the others heard him shout.

"Meg! Oh, Meg! Hurry up and see what I've found!"



CHAPTER XV

BOBBY'S GREAT DISCOVERY

Meg ran back, and the twins tumbled pell-mell after her.

"What is it?" they all cried breathlessly. "What is it?"

Bobby held up two small silver mugs.

"Found them down between these two rocks," he explained. "They must belong to Mr. Harley's little boys. And that isn't all—look here!"

Bobby was so excited his hands shook. He spread three or four stained sheets of paper on the ground.

"It looks like a letter," said Meg, puzzled.

"It is," announced Bobby triumphantly. "I can't read it very well, 'cause the writing goes together, but see here's the beginning: 'My dearest Lou,'—that must be Mrs. Harley."

"Show us where you found 'em," demanded the twins. "Right down in those little rocks?"

"It's a kind of cave," said Bobby. "See, in between there's a hollow place and I was just going to see how far it went. It's lined with bricks in there."

"My d-e-a-r-e-s-t L-o-u," spelled Meg, who could not read as well as Bobby. "Oh, Bobby, hurry and let Mother read it. Maybe it will say where Mrs. Harley went."

No going through the woods this time. The four little Blossoms ran as hard as they could, making every possible short cut and paying no attention to inquisitive bushes that reached out brier fingers and tore their clothes. Meg carried the cups and Bobby the letter, and when they reached the bungalow they were all so breathless that at first they could not speak.

"Oh, Mother!" gasped Bobby, when he could speak, "we found a letter to Mrs. Harley. At least we think it is to Mrs. Harley. Back of some rocks. You read it."

"Does it say where she went?" cried Dot, dancing up and down impatiently. "Does it say where she went, Mother?"

Mother Blossom had to laugh.

"Every one of you sit down and wait until I see what this is Bobby has found," she commanded. "You are all so excited, I can not half understand what you are trying to tell me. Did you find the cups, too?"

Bobby nodded.

Mother Blossom took the sheets of paper and the children waited as patiently as they could while she read them. When she put them down her eyes were shining.

"This is wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Bobby, my precious, you don't know what you have done. This is not one letter, but three, and written by an uncle and aunt of Mrs. Harley's living in a town called Cordova. It is in Oklahoma. They ask Mrs. Harley to bring the children and come out there to live with them, and I shouldn't be surprised if she had gone there. We must get these letters to Mr. Harley right away."

"Captain Jenks won't be here till this afternoon and Daddy's coming with him," said Bobby. "Let me row you over, Mother?"

"I'm afraid you and I will have to go," answered Mother Blossom. "Chicks, if Daddy were here, you all should go; but I know Meg and the twins will wait patiently for us and we will hurry back and tell you exactly what Mr. Harley says and what he thinks he had better do."

Meg and Twaddles and Dot wanted to go dreadfully, but they knew that five could not go in one boat and neither Meg nor Bobby could row well enough to manage a boat alone. So the three left behind waited with the best grace they could until Mother Blossom and Bobby came back. They brought Father Blossom and the fireworks with them.

"Did you see Mr. Harley?" was Meg's first question. "Was he glad? Is he going to Oklahoma?"

"Let me fasten the boat," pleaded Father Blossom. "If our boats drift away some fine night we would be in a pretty fix. Yes, Daughter, we saw Mr. Harley and gave him the letters. He has telegraphed to Cordova, and as soon as he receives a reply he has promised to come over and let us know."

"How long does it take to telegraph to Cordova?" Twaddles wanted to know.

Father Blossom laughed as he gathered up his packages of fireworks.

"I knew that would be the next question," he said. "Why, Son, it takes several hours; it may be night, it may be to-morrow morning, before we hear from Mr. Harley."

"Did the mugs belong to his little boys?" asked Dot, skipping beside her father on the way to the bungalow. "Was he glad to get 'em, Daddy?"

"Very glad," answered Father Blossom. "The little silver mugs were given to the children by the Greenpier minister when they were christened."

Throughout the afternoon the children talked of little else than the Harley family. Mr. Harley had asked Father Blossom to search the brick-lined hole between the two rocks, thinking perhaps there might be something else hidden there. He himself was unwilling to leave Greenpier until an answer to his telegram had been received, even though he knew it could not come very soon.

Father Blossom searched carefully, but there was nothing else in the hole.

Mr. Harley did not come that afternoon, but the next morning the Blossoms had just finished breakfast when he knocked at the door.

But such a changed Mr. Harley!

His eyes were bright and clear, and his face was beaming with happiness. He wore a new suit of clothes and a new hat and was freshly shaved. The Blossoms knew instantly that he had had good news.

"Everything is all right," he announced in a ringing voice. "Had an answer from Cordova at nine o'clock last night. Lou and the boys are living with her Uncle Matthew, and they want me to come out there as quick as trains will carry me. I'm off this morning!"

"I'm so glad," Mother Blossom kept saying. "I'm so glad."

"Can't be half as glad as I am," answered the smiling Mr. Harley. "And to think if it hadn't been for this boy here I never would have found them! I'll never forget the Blossoms if I live to be a hundred."

Mr. Harley, we'll tell you here, did find his wife and two sons in Oklahoma, and as they did not want to return to Apple Tree Island where they had been so unhappy, he settled down in Cordova with them and helped the uncle to farm. Uncle Matthew Dexter and Aunt Sue were both growing old and they were very glad to have a younger and stronger man to lend them a hand. As for the two boys and Mrs. Harley, they declared that they never would give them up, so it was fortunate that Mr. Harley liked to farm. Dick and Herbert grew into fine young lads. So we may leave the Harley family with a comfortable mind.

Fourth of July dawned hot and sunny on Apple Tree Island. Captain Jenks came over in his motor-boat and brought a huge chunk of ice for the freezing of the ice-cream. He had been invited to stay to dinner and to see the fireworks in the evening, and when, after dinner, it grew so hot that Father Blossom declared the sun would certainly set fire to the sparklers without any punk, the jolly captain loaded "all hands" on board The Sarah and took them off for a sail around the island.

There was plenty of breeze then, you may be sure, and the children had great fun lighting their sparklers and hanging them over the rail to burn. They had to keep away from the engine with their "fizzers," as the captain would call them, because he said he wouldn't trust even guaranteed fireworks to be harmless around a gasoline engine, but they had plenty of excitement without blowing up the good ship Sarah.

"Why, we're not going home—we're going to Greenpier!" cried Meg, when they had sailed around the island and were headed for the opposite shore.

Mother and Father Blossom looked very mysterious, but said nothing, and Captain Jenks answered all questions by ordering them not to talk to "the man at the wheel."

When The Sarah bumped into the Greenpier wharf, the four little Blossoms made a simultaneous discovery.

"Jud!" they shrieked in unison. "Jud Apgar! Oh, Juddy!"

It was Jud, Jud grinning happily with a traveling bag in one hand and a box in the other.

"Go easy now," he warned the children as they descended upon him in a body. "Miss Polly sent your mother some fresh eggs—you don't want to smash 'em, do you?"

Mother Blossom rescued the egg box, and the children escorted Jud on deck and introduced him to Captain Jenks.

"Guess you surprised some folks," said the captain, shaking Jud's hand as though he were very glad to see him. "Some folks couldn't see why we should come to Greenpier on a Wednesday afternoon and a holiday at that."

Mother and Father Blossom and Aunt Polly had planned the surprise, it seemed. Jud could never leave Brookside Farm for long at one time in the Summer, there was so much work to be done, but Aunt Polly assured him that he could easily be spared for a few days' visit to Apple Tree Island. She had planned it with Father and Mother Blossom through letters and they had kept the secret successfully.

If the afternoon was still hot when they reached home, no one knew it. The whole island had to be shown to Jud, and he had to see the Harley shack and hear of the discovery of the silver mugs and the letters. It was supper time before the children realized it and then, in a little while, it was dark.

"Dark enough for fireworks?" said Twaddles for the twentieth time, and he bounced with delight when Father Blossom said:

"Dark enough to begin, I think."

Mother Blossom and the children and Captain Jenks sat on the steps of the bungalow while Father Blossom and Jud set off the fireworks. Each child was allowed to apply the punk to one piece, but they soon found it was better fun to sit quietly and watch.

"There goes a flower-pot!" cried Meg, as a brilliant shower of red and yellow sparks bloomed out against the velvet blackness of the Summer night.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—seven stars," counted Bobby as Jud set off a Roman candle.

"Now a rocket!" said Mother Blossom, and Captain Jenks gave a hurrah as the beautiful shooting star thing hissed and fell far out into Sunset Lake.

Father Blossom and Jud were kept busy setting off the many pieces, for Jud had brought more in his bag, and when they lit the last red light it was discovered that Dot was fast asleep sitting upright against a porch post.

It was a tired and sleepy family that, Jud carrying Dot, marched to bed when the red light had burned itself out. But they were immensely happy. So was Captain Jenks, whistling on his way to his boat—nothing would induce him to stay all night. So was the Harley family far out in Oklahoma. And they were all happy for the same reason.

THE END