"Will the ocean come up here?" questioned Margery apprehensively.

"No. Don't be foolish," answered Harriet. "But we shall get wet, all the same."

Half walking, half crawling, the Meadow-Brook Girls crept farther back among the small trees, through which the wind was shrieking and howling. They saw the campfire lifted from the ground and sent flying through the air, leaving a trail of starry sparks in its wake.

"There go the tents!" cried Miss Elting.

A medley of shouts and cries of alarm followed hard upon the guardian's words. A gust more severe than any that had preceded it, and of longer duration, had rooted up the weakened tent stakes or broken the guy ropes. A whole street of tents tipped over backward, leaving their occupants scrambling from their cots, now in the open air.

"Girls, see if you can lend the Wau-Wau girls assistance," commanded Miss Elting. "Hurry!"

About all that was necessary to get to the distressed campers was to let go of the trees to which the Meadow-Brook Girls had been clinging. The wind did the rest, and they brought up in confused heaps near and beyond the uncovered tents. Cots had been overturned by the sudden heavy squall, blankets and equipment blown away. The cook tent was down and the contents apparently a wreck.

"Cling to the trees! Never mind saving anything now!" cried Mrs. Livingston, whose tent had shared the same fate as those of her charges. "Take care of yourselves first. The squall is blowing itself out. It will soon pass."

Almost before the words were uttered, the gale subsided. A sudden hush fell over the camp. "There!" called Mrs. Livingston. "What did I tell you? Now, hurry and get the things together. Never mind sorting out your belongings. We must get some cover over us as soon as possible, for we are going to have rain."

The rain began in a spattering of heavy drops. The thunder of the surf was becoming louder and louder, for the sea had been lashed into foamy billows by the brief, though heavy, blow. The waves were now mounting the bluff back of the beach, leaving a white coating of creamy foam over a considerable part of the ground below the camp.

"Do you think it ith going to rain?" questioned Tommy.

"It is, my dear," answered Mrs. Livingston. "You had better prepare yourself for it."

"Yeth, I think tho, too. I think I will. I told the girlth what I would do. Here goeth." Tommy turned and ran toward the beach at full speed.

"Come back, Tommy! Where are you going!" called Miss Elting.

"I'm going to fool the rain. I'm going to get wet before the rain cometh."

"Maybe she is going to do as she said—jump into the ocean," suggested Margery Brown.

Harriet suddenly dropped the piece of canvas at which she had been tugging, and started after Tommy, who had already headed for the bluff, and was running with all her might, apparently to get into the water before the rain came down hard enough to soak her. The little lisping girl had no intention of getting into the water, knowing full well that by standing on the edge of the bluff a moment she could get a drenching that would be perfectly satisfactory so far as a thorough wetting was concerned. But even in this Harriet Burrell saw danger.

"Don't go near the edge, Tommy!" she shouted.

Tommy Thompson merely waved her hand and continued on. Nor did she halt until she had reached the edge of the bluff, having waded through the white foam with which the ground had been covered. She stood there, faintly outlined in the night, and with both hands thrown above her head as if she were about to dive, uttered a shrill little yell.

"Stop! Come back!" begged Harriet.

"I'm going to take a thwim," replied Tommy.

A great, dark roller came thundering in. It leaped up into the air, hovered an instant, then descended in an overwhelming flood right over the shivering figure of the little Meadow-Brook Girl standing on the edge of the bluff. Harriet had reached the scene just in time to get the full force of the downpour. Neither girl could speak, both were choking, when suddenly the ground gave way beneath their feet and they felt themselves slipping down and down until it seemed to Harriet as if they were going to the very bottom of the sea.

Now they were lifted from their feet. They were no longer slipping downward. Instead, they were being carried up and up until they were free from the choking pressure of the water, and once more were breathing the free, though misty, salt air of the sea.

"Oh, thave me!" wailed Tommy.

"I'll try. I don't know. We have been carried out to sea by a receding wave. The bank gave way. Oh, what a foolish girl you are! Swim! Swim with all your might! We shall have to fight hard. We may not be able to save ourselves as it is. Swim toward the shore!"

"Whi—ch way ith the thhore?" wailed Tommy.

"I don't know. I can't see. I think it must be that way." She placed a firm grip on Tommy's shoulder, turning the smaller girl about, heading her toward what Harriet Burrell believed to be the shore. She wondered why she could see no light over there, having forgotten that the campfire had been blown away in the squall.

The two girls now began to swim with all their might. It seemed to them, in their anxiety, as if they had been swimming for hours. Harriet finally ceased swimming and lay floating with a slight movement of her arms.

"What ith it?" questioned Grace.

"I don't know."

"But you thee thomething, don't you?"

"That is the worst of it. I do not. Look sharp. Can you make out anything that looks like the shore?"

"I thee a light! I thee a light!" cried Tommy delightedly.

"Yes; I see it now. That must be on the shore. We have been going in the wrong direction. Swim with all your might!"

For a few moments they did swim, strongly and with long overhand strokes, Tommy and Harriet keeping close together, Harriet ever watchful that a swell did not carry her little companion from her. They had made considerable progress, but still the shore seemed to have disappeared from view. The light that Tommy had discovered had gone out. At least, it was no longer to be seen. Harriet stopped swimming, and, raising herself as high as possible out of the water, again and again took quick surveys of their surroundings. The seas were heavier and less broken where they now were. Slowly it dawned upon Harriet Burrell that they were in deep water. She raised her voice in a long-drawn shout. Both listened. No sound save the swish of the water about them was to be heard. The wind had not come up again, but a fresh, salty breeze was blowing over them, chilling the girls, sending shivers through their slender bodies.

"Oh, what thhall we do?" sobbed Grace. "What can we do to thave ourthelveth?"

"I don't know, Tommy. About all we can do is to keep up our courage and wait for daylight. We must keep moving as well as we can, or we shall get so cold that we shall perish."

"Wait until daylight? Oh, thave me! I thall die—I thurely thall. Thave me, Harriet!"

"Keep up your courage, darling. We are far from being goners yet, but we have before us a night that will call for all the courage we possess. Now pull yourself together and be a brave little girl."

"I don't want to be brave; I want to go home," wailed Grace.

"So do I, and we shall go as soon as we are able to see where home is," answered Harriet, forcing a laugh.

"Then why don't you go?"

"I can't."

"I'm going." Tommy began to swim. Harriet propelled herself up to her companion and grasped her by an arm.

"Tommy, you must obey me! You don't know where you are going. You may be swimming out to sea for all you know. Be a good girl and save your strength. The night may become lighter later on, then we shall manage to reach the shore somehow."

"But why don't you go now?"

"Because I don't know where the shore is, dearie. We are lost, just as much lost as if we were in the middle of the Atlantic," answered Harriet solemnly.



CHAPTER VIII

A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN NIGHT

"Be brave! Remember that you are a Meadow-Brook Girl, Tommy," encouraged Harriet. "We are swimmers. We can't drown unless we get into a panic. There is a boat somewhere hereabouts. I saw one sail into the cove, or the bay, whichever it is, before I went to sleep this evening. The men surely will be coming out in the morning; then, if we are too far from shore to get in, we ought to be able to attract their attention. They will pick us up."

"Do—do you think we are far from thhore?"

"I fear so. Still, I can't be certain about that. I am dreadfully confused and don't know one direction from another. I wish the moon would come up. That would give us our points of compass. Perhaps the clouds may blow away after a little. We shall at least be able to see more clearly after that."

"Oh, I'm tho cold! I'm freething, Har-r-r-i-e-t."

"I will fix that. Come, swim with me. We will ride the waves," cried Harriet. The swells were long and high. Now they would ride to the top of one, then go slipping down the other side on a plane of almost oily smoothness. At such times Tommy would cry out. Even Harriet's heart would sink as she glanced up at the towering mountains of water on either side of them. It seemed as if nothing could save them from being engulfed, buried under tons of dark water. At the second when all hope appeared to be gone they would find themselves being slowly lifted up and up and up until once more they topped another mountainous swell.

Fortunately for the two girls, the tops of the swells were in most instances solid, dark water. The strong wind having gone down, the crests generally showed no white, broken foam. When such an one was met with it meant a rough few moments for the Meadow-Brook Girls and a severe shaking up. Tommy had been in the surf on many occasions, when at the sea shore with her parents, and understood it fairly well. Harriet had never been in the salt water, but was guided wholly by the instincts of the swimmer, of one who loved the water, and for whom it seemed almost her natural element, and in the excitement of the hour she at times forgot the peril of their position. So far as she knew they might already be far out to sea, with a mile or more of salt water underneath them.

In the meantime there was intense excitement in the camp. Miss Elting had been a witness to the sudden disappearance of Grace and Harriet. She had seen both girls enveloped in the cloud of spray and dark water. Jane McCarthy had gone bounding toward the beach, followed by their guardian and several of the Camp Girls, who, though not having seen Harriet and Grace disappear, surmised something of the truth.

Reaching the edge of the bluff, they saw at once what had occurred. A large portion of the sandy bluff had sloughed off and slipped into the sea, having been loosened and undermined by the persistent smash of the waves against the bluff. Jane started to leap down, but Miss Elting caught her in time.

"No, no, no," protested the guardian; "you must not!"

"But they are down there drowning!" screamed Crazy Jane.

"There is nothing we can do to save them. They aren't there. You can see they are not."

"But if not, where are they?" cried Jane.

"My dears, if they went in there they undoubtedly have been carried out. The undertow is very strong in a storm such as this," said Mrs. Livingston sadly. She had hurried down to the beach upon seeing the others running in that direction, to ascertain the cause.

"Some one get a boat!" screamed Margery.

The Chief Guardian shook her head sadly.

"There is no boat here. Even if there were, we could not launch it against that sea, nor would it live a moment did we succeed in getting it launched. We can do no more than trust in God and wait. You see the wind is blowing on shore and—"

"No, it is blowing off toward the cove. The wind has shifted," answered Jane McCarthy. "But that doesn't help us a bit."

"Gather wood and build a fire," commanded Mrs. Livingston.

The Camp Girls hurriedly set about gathering fuel for a fire, but having brought wood, the fuel refused to burn. The rain had thoroughly soaked everything. The merest flicker of flame was all they were able to get. They tried again and again, but with no better results, finally giving up the attempt altogether.

"I am afraid we shall have to let it go," decided the Chief Guardian. "A light would help so much, and, if the two girls are alive, would serve as a guide for them."

Jane interrupted by uttering a shrill cry. She listened, but there was no response. She cried out again and again, then finally gave up the effort.

"I'm afraid they are gone," she moaned.

"Unless they were hurt when the wave struck them I do not believe they are lost," said Miss Elting, with a calmness and hopefulness that she really did not feel, though she dared not permit herself to admit that Harriet and Grace really had been lost. "Both are excellent swimmers, and Harriet never would give up so long as there was a breath of life left in her body."

"But can't we do something?" pleaded Margery.

The Chief Guardian shook her head sadly.

"I fear we can not. You have but to look out there to know that any efforts on our part would be futile."

Miss Elting suddenly cried out.

"Girls, what can we be thinking of? We must patrol the beach. The sea is going down a little. Divide up into pairs; keep as close to the shore as possible without being caught by a wave; then search every foot of the beach all along. I will go up the beach. Hazel, you come with me. Mrs. Livingston, will you have the other girls assist us?"

The Chief Guardian gave the orders promptly. Fifty girls began running along the shore. Mrs. Livingston quickly called them back, dividing the party into groups of two. She was very business-like and calm, which, in a measure, served to calm the girls themselves.

"Look carefully," she cautioned. "The missing girls may have been washed ashore; they may be found nearly drowned, and it may not be too late to revive them. Make all haste!"

There was no delay. The Camp Girls took up their work systematically. A thorough search was made of the beach in both directions, the patrols eventually returning to the Chief Guardian to report that they had found no trace of the missing girls.

"Keep moving. They may drift in," commanded Mrs. Livingston.

The search was again taken up, pairs of girls going over the ground thoroughly, investigating every shadow, every sticky mass of sea weed that caught their anxious glances, but not a sign of either of the two girls did they find.

An hour had passed; then Mrs. Livingston called them in. She directed certain groups to return to camp and begin getting the tents laid out, and to put up such as were in condition to be raised. The Chief Guardian herself remained on the beach with Miss Elting and the Meadow-Brook Girls. There was little conversation. The women walked slowly back and forth, scanning the sea, of which they could see but little, for the night was still very dark. At first they tried calling out at intervals, ceasing only when their voices had grown hoarse. To none of their calls was there any reply. Harriet and Tommy were too far out, and the noise about them was too great to permit of their hearing a human voice, even had it been closer at hand.

Meantime the two girls were now swimming quite steadily. Harriet knew that, were they to remain quiet too long, they would grow stiff and gradually get chilled through. That would mark the end, as she well understood. Then again it was necessary to give Tommy enough to do to keep her mind from her troubles, which were many that night.

All the time Harriet was straining eyes and ears to locate the land. She had not the remotest idea in which direction it lay, and dared not swim straight ahead in any direction for fear of going farther away. The wind died out and rose again. Had it continued to freshen from the start, she would have permitted herself to drift with it, but Harriet feared that the wind had veered, and that it was now blowing out to sea, what little there was of it, so she tried to swim about in a circle in so far as was possible. Tommy, of course, knew nothing of what was in the mind of her companion, nor did Harriet think best to confide in her.

"I'm getting tired. I can't keep up much longer," wailed Grace.

"Rest a moment on your back. I will keep a hand under your shoulders so you won't sink. If only one knew it, it isn't really possible to sink, provided the lungs are kept well filled with air and no water swallowed."

"I could think like a thtone if I let mythelf go."

"Don't let yourself go. There is every reason why you should not, and not one why you should."

"Yeth." Tommy turned over on her back. "Did you ever thwallow thalt water?"

"I never did."

"Then don't. It ith awful. Oh, I'm tho tired and I'm getting thleepy."

Harriet roused herself instantly. She gave Tommy a brisk slap on one cheek. Tommy cried out and began fighting back, with the result that she was the one to swallow salt water. Tommy choked, strangled and floundered, still screaming for Harriet to save her. Instead Harriet let her companion struggle, keeping close to her, but making no effort to help.

"Thave me!"

It was a choking moan. Uttering it, Tommy disappeared. Harriet lunged for her and dragged her companion up, and none too soon, for the little girl had swallowed so much salt water that she was really half drowned. Harriet shook her and pounded her on the back, all the time managing to float on the surface of the water, evidencing that Harriet was something of a swimmer. Yet she was becoming weary and the sense of feeling was leaving her limbs. She realized that it was the chill of the Atlantic and that unless she succeeded in restoring her circulation she would soon be helpless. Just now, however, all her efforts were devoted to the task of arousing Grace. The little girl began to whimper and to struggle anew.

"I am amazed at you, Tommy," gasped Harriet. "You, a swimmer, to swallow part of the ocean!"

"I didn't. The ocean thwallowed me—e."

"You must work. Swim, Tommy!"

"I—I can't. I'm tho tired." Grace made languid efforts to prove that she was weary. There could be no doubt of it. She did not have the endurance possessed by her companion, and even Harriet's strength was leaving her, because of that terrible numbness in her lower limbs, a numbness that was creeping upward little by little.

"I will help you. But you must do something for yourself. Turn over on your stomach. There. You need not try to fight it, just make swimming motions, slowly. Not so fast. Now you have the pace."

"I can't keep it. My limbth will not work. My kneeth are thtiff. Oh, Harriet, I think I'm going to die!"

"Nonsense! Why, you could swim all night, if necessary, and be up in time for six o'clock breakfast just the same."

"Breakfatht. It will be fithh for breakfatht for Tommy Thompthon, I gueth. Fithh, Harriet, fithh," mumbled Grace, then ceased swimming. "Fithh!"

"Poor girl, she is about done for!" muttered Harriet Burrell. She turned Tommy over on her back and, placing a hand under the little girl, began swimming slowly. The added burden was almost more than Harriet, in her benumbed state, was able to handle. She knew that she could not support Grace and herself through the rest of that long, dark night. She knew, too, that unless they were rescued, her companion would be past help by the end of another hour. It already seemed hours since they had slipped into the sea and rode out on the crest of a receding wave. Now her movements were becoming slower and slower. She seemed not to possess the power to move her limbs. It was not all weariness either; it was that dragging numbness that was pulling her down.

Harriet fought a more desperate battle with herself than she ever had been called upon to fight before. She did not now believe that they would be rescued, but that did not prevent her keeping up the battle as long as a single vestige of strength remained. It was sheer grit that kept Harriet Burrell afloat during that long, heart-breaking swim among the Atlantic rollers on this never-to-be-forgotten night.

But at last the girl ceased swimming. Her limbs simply would not move in obedience to her will; her arms seemed weighed down by some tremendous pressure; her head grew heavy and her senses dulled.

"I believe this is the end," muttered Harriet. One great struggle, then her weary muscles relaxed. For a few moments she floated on her back, turned over with a great effort, then settled lower and lower in the water, all the time fighting to regain possession of her faculties, but growing weaker with each effort.

Then Harriet Burrell went down, dragging Tommy with her.



CHAPTER IX

A SURPRISE THAT PROVED A SHOCK

It could not have been very long, not more than a few seconds, before Harriet Burrell's benumbed senses began to perform their natural functions. Deep down in her inner consciousness was the feeling that, though the surf was breaking over her, underneath her was something solid, immovable. In a vague sort of way she wondered at this, but for the time being was too weary and dulled to reason out the cause of the phenomenon.

After a time the girl began to feel little pains shooting up her arms, reaching to her shoulders and down along her spine. Again was her wonderment aroused. Little by little her heavy eyelids struggled open. But her eyes saw only black darkness and water. Harriet, by a supreme force of will, now began to reason the cause.

"I am still in the water, but my hands and feet are on something solid. What does it mean?" she thought.

Turning her head slightly, she saw that which increased her wonderment. Tommy Thompson was sitting beside her, the little girl's head leaning against Harriet. It struck Harriet as peculiar that Tommy was able to sit on the water with nearly half her body out of the water. Harriet then discovered that she was crouching on all fours. It was a peculiar position for her, too. She wondered, if able to maintain that position, why she might not stand up just as well.

"I can do it!" she screamed. "I can stand on the—" She paused. Tommy had toppled over and lay on her side, partly covered with water. "Land!" breathed Harriet. "We are on land, but there is water all about us. I don't understand."

Pondering over this for a moment, Harriet stooped and lifted Grace to a sitting posture. Her blood had begun to circulate and a warm glow was suffusing her entire body.

"Tommy, wake up! Wake up! It's land. We are on solid ground. Don't you understand?"

"Breakfatht for fithh," muttered Tommy. Harriet shook her as vigorously as she could. It required no little effort to get Grace wide enough awake to understand what Harriet was saying, but after a short time Tommy seemed to understand, understanding that finally came to her with a shock almost equal to that that Harriet had felt.

"We—we are on thhore?" she questioned.

"Yes, yes. Let's get out of the water. Come, dear, I will support you." This she did, though Harriet staggered and was barely able to support herself. She slipped a cold arm about Grace's waist. "Make your feet go." The two girls stumbled forward, Tommy now having an arm about Harriet's waist, then with a scream from Tommy they stepped off into deep water and went in all over.

"Thave me, oh, thave me!" moaned Tommy as they came up.

But the plunge had done them good. It had shaken both girls wide awake and cleared their clouded minds. They once more had been awakened to a realization of their position.

"It wathn't land at all! Let me go, let me die," insisted Tommy, struggling to free herself from Harriet's grasp.

"It was a sand bar," explained Harriet. "Please behave yourself, Tommy. You must do something. It is all I can do to take care of myself. Now, please, help me by helping yourself and we shall be on dry land in a few moments."

Grace made several awkward attempts to swim, then gave it up.

"I can't do it, Harriet. What ith the uthe of trying to thwim any more?"

"Don't you understand? We were on a sand bar. It was that that saved our lives after we were overcome. We should have drowned had it not been for the bar."

"Yeth, but we are in deep water again," wailed Tommy.

"Think, think! Don't be so stupid. We must be near the shore. I don't believe there would be a shallow place like that one far out from land."

"Do you think tho?" Tommy's voice was weaker than before.

"I am sure of it. Swim. That's a good girl."

"I—I can't."

"Then I will swim for you."

Once more Harriet Burrell placed a hand under Grace and began swimming with her. The surf was behind them and was rapidly carrying them with it toward either the shore or the sea, Harriet neither knew nor thought which. Had she not been still half dazed she might have smelled the vegetation on shore, not so very far from them, but of this she took no heed. She swam, summoning all her strength to the task, knowing that she would not be able to keep up much longer. Then all at once her hands touched bottom. A moment more and she lay full length upon the wet, sandy bottom with the waves breaking over her. Harriet groped with her hands and found that the water at arm's length, ahead was but a few inches deep. She sprang up with, a weak cry.

"Tommy, Tommy! We've made it."

"Fithh," muttered Grace.

Harriet grasped her by the arms and began backing toward shore, dragging her companion with her.

The ground grew more and more solid as she backed. There could be no doubt now. They were rapidly getting to dry land. Here, unlike the beach fronting the camp, the ground sloped gradually up away from the sea, then extended off among the trees a level stretch for some distance.

Tommy struggled a little when Harriet raised her to her feet. The latter did not know which way camp lay from where they had landed, but she decided that it must be to the right of them. In this surmise Harriet was correct, but the camp was farther away than she had thought. She staggered along, half leading, half carrying, her companion, until, exhausted by her efforts, she sank down, Tommy with her.

"I can't go another step; I'm tired out," gasped Harriet.

"Ye-t-h," agreed Grace weakly.

The two girls toppled over and stretched out on the wet ground, clasped in each other's arms. They were almost instantly asleep. Tired nature could endure no more, and there they continued to lie and slumber through the remaining hours of the night.

Break of day still found patrol parties running along the shore, alternately searching the beach and gazing out to sea. An occasional boat was sighted far out, but that was all. No signs of the missing Meadow-Brook Girls had been found. Ever since the dawn, however, Crazy Jane McCarthy had been taking account of the direction of the wind, which was blowing across the bay to the right of their camp. She decided to investigate that part of the coast on her own account, going far beyond the farthest point that had been reached by any of the patrols.

Suddenly Crazy Jane uttered a yell that should have been heard at the camp, but was not. She had discovered the girls lying on the beach—still locked in each other's arms.

Jane rushed to them, and, grabbing Tommy, began shaking her. Harriet raised her heavy eyelids, sat up and rubbed her eyes. Tommy tried to brush Jane aside.

"Fithh for breakfatht," she muttered.

"Oh, Jane, is it really you?" stammered Harriet, trying to keep from lying back and again going to sleep.

"Oh, my stars, darlin's! And we thought all the time that you were both drowned. Don't tell me a thing now. I'll go right back and get some of the girls to help me get you back to camp."

"No, no; we can walk. There is nothing the matter with us except that we are tired out. Tommy, Tommy, wake up! It is morning and we are safe and dry. Think of it!"

"I—I don't want to think. I want to go to thleep."

Jane lifted and shook the little lisping girl until Tommy begged for mercy, declaring that she would rather go to sleep than return to camp. It required no little effort to get the girl to try to walk. Harriet herself would have much preferred going back to sleep, but after a time, with their arms about Tommy, they managed to get her started, upon which they took up their weary trudge to the camp, more than a mile away, stumbling along with Tommy, half asleep nearly every minute of the time.

It was almost an hour later when a great shout arose from the camp as the girls were discovered slowly approaching. There was a wild rush to meet them. Every girl in camp, including the guardians, joined in the rush to welcome the returning Meadow-Brook Girls.



CHAPTER X

SUMMONED TO THE COUNCIL

"They're saved! They're saved!" shouted fifty voices, their owners almost wild with delight. With one common impulse they gathered up Tommy and Harriet and started to carry them into camp. Tommy offered no resistance. She submitted willingly. With Harriet it was different. She struggled, freed herself from the detaining arms, and sprang away from her rejoicing companions, laughing softly.

"I am perfectly able to take care of myself, thank you," she said.

"You certainly do not look it," declared the Chief Guardian. Harriet's face was pale, her eyes sunken, with dark rings underneath them, but in other ways she appeared to be her old self. "We shall both be as well as ever after we have had something warm to eat and drink."

"Tell us, oh, tell us about it," cried several girls in chorus.

"Not a word until after the girls have had something to eat and drink. They are completely exhausted." Mrs. Livingston gazed wonderingly at Harriet Burrell, knowing full well that the latter had borne the greater share of the burden in the battle that she must have had to fight through the long, dark night.

The cook girls were already making coffee and warming up food left over from their own breakfast, as being the quickest way to prepare something for the returned Meadow-Brook Girls. That meal strengthened and cheered them wonderfully. Tommy began to chatter after having drunk her first cup of coffee. Their companions sat about in a semi-circle watching them, scarcely able to restrain their curiosity as to what had happened during the night. Jane opened the recital by a question.

"Did you really mean that you wished fish for breakfast, Tommy?" she asked.

Grace regarded her with a frowning squint.

"I didn't want any fithh for breakfatht. It wath the fithh that wanted me for their breakfatht."

"And there are sharks off this coast, too!" gasped one of the girls.

"Were you in the water for long?" asked Miss Elting.

"It seemed like a long time, it seemed like hours and hours," admitted Harriet, accompanying the words with a bright smile that the keen-eyed Chief Guardian saw was forced.

"For hours!" cried the girls in chorus.

"If you feel able, please tell us about it," urged Hazel.

Mrs. Livingston shook her head.

"Both girls are going to bed immediately. Please fix up two cots for them in my tent. No, no," she added in answer to Harriet's protests, "it is my order. You are to turn in and sleep until supper time, if you wish; by that time we shall have the camp put to rights and you may talk to your hearts' content."

The Chief Guardian led the two girls to her tent, assisting them to remove their damp clothing, putting them in warm flannel night gowns and tucking them in their cots. Harriet insisted that she did not wish to be "babied," but, the guardian was firm. After tucking them in Mrs. Livingston sat down on the edge of Tommy's cot and began asking her questions, all of which Tommy answered volubly, Harriet now and then offering objections to her companion's praise. In a few moments the Chief Guardian was in possession of the whole story of the night's experiences.

"You are the same brave Harriet that we came to know so well at our camp in the Pocono Woods," said Mrs. Livingston. "There are not many like you; but we shall speak of your achievements later. Now I will draw the flap, and I do not wish to see it opened until sundown. I know that I may depend upon you to obey orders."

Harriet nodded. "There is something I should like to ask. Did you see anything of a sail boat in the bay this morning?"

"No. Why?"

"I saw one come in last night before the blow. It anchored in the cove. They had put out their lights before coming in, which made me wonder."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I know. I wondered if they had been blown ashore?"

"We should have known of it if such had been the case. But I can't understand what a boat could be doing in here. This is a remote place where people seldom come. That was why I chose it for our summer camping place. I will ask the girls if they saw anything of the boat you mention, but it is doubtful."

"Another thing. Oh, I'm not going to keep you here talking with me all day."

"No; I want to go to thleep," interjected Grace.

"I saw a cabin down on that long point of land just this side of the bay. What is it?"

"A fisherman's cabin. It is not occupied, nor has it been in a very long time."

"Then why can't we Meadow-Brook Girls use it while we are in camp? I should love to be down by the water, with the sea almost at my feet."

"I should think you would have had enough of the sea, after your dreadful experience of last night," laughed Mrs. Livingston.

"I am fascinated with the sea. It is wonderful! Do you think we could have the cabin?"

"I will consult with Miss Elting. If she thinks it wise, I will see what can be done. Of course, it is a little farther from the camp than I like. I prefer to have my girls where I can have an eye on them at all times. But the Meadow-Brook Girls can be depended upon to take care of themselves, save that they are too venturesome. Yes, I will see what can be done."

"Oh, thank you ever so much," answered Harriet with glowing eyes. "Then, if we wish, we may sleep out on the sands when the nights are warm."

"I shall have to think about that, my dear. Now go to sleep. This evening I shall have more to say."

Tommy was already asleep. Harriet dropped into a heavy slumber within a very few moments after the Chief Guardian's departure. She did not awaken until the sun had dipped into the sea. As she forced herself to a realization of her surroundings, the merry chatter of voices was borne to her ears and the savory odor of camp cooking to her nostrils.

In the meantime an active day had been spent by the Camp Girls. There was much to be done, for the camp was in a confused condition after the storm of the preceding evening. A day of labor had given a keen zest to the appetites of the campers; added to this was the satisfaction of having completed their work. The camp now was in trim condition. Acting upon the orders of the Chief Guardian, the wood had been laid for a council fire. The orders had been issued for the girls to don ceremonial dress and report for a council at eight o'clock that evening.

The girls wondered what important subject was to come up for consideration, as it was not the evening for the regular weekly council fire that was always held during the summer encampment. Of all this Harriet was unaware. When she awakened she found dry clothing laid out for her to put on. The same had been done for Grace, who was still sleeping soundly. Harriet shook the little girl awake.

"It is nearly night, dear," she said. "How do you feel?"

Tommy blinked several times before replying. "How do I feel? Not tho wet ath I did latht night. I thmell thupper!" exclaimed Tommy, sitting up suddenly.

"I told you it was nearly night. Let's go out and see the girls. How good they all are to us!"

"I thuppothe they will all be looking at me and following me about ath though I wath thome thort of curiothity," complained Grace.

"Of course you would not like that. It would embarrass you, wouldn't it, Tommy?"

"It would embarrath me more if they didn't," answered Tommy honestly, puckering her face into frowns and squinting up at Harriet so whimsically that the older girl burst into a peal of merry laughter.

Instantly following the laugh, Jane's head was thrust through the tent opening. The head was in disorder, for Jane had found no time to attend to her hair. She had been working, which meant that she had been accomplishing things, for Jane was a host in herself when it came to work.

"Excuse the condition of my crowning glory, darlin's, but I couldn't wait to comb it. I have been sent to tell you that the grease is on the bacon and the potatoes are popping open in the hot ashes of the cook fire. We're going to cut off the tops of them, dig out a tunnel and fill the tunnel with butter. Um, um! Now, what do you think of that?"

In a twinkling Tommy was out of bed and gleefully hurrying into her clothes.

"I thought it would interest you, darlin'," chuckled Jane.

"You dress as if you were going to a fire," declared Harriet, with a good-natured laugh.

"She is," answered Crazy Jane; "the camp fire—the cook fire, I should say."

Tommy, during this dialogue, had not uttered a word. Finally, having got into her clothes to her satisfaction, she darted from the tent, spinning Jane half-way around as she dashed past her, the little girl twisting her hair into a hard knot as she ran.

"I want a potato with a hole in it," she shouted the moment she came in sight of the cook fire. Some one snatched a hot tuber from the ashes and tossed it to her. Tommy caught the potato, but dropped it instantly and began cooling her fingers. "I want one with a hole in it," she insisted.

"Bring it here and you shall have it," replied Miss Elting. Instead of picking up the potato and carrying it, Tommy propelled it along with the toe of her boot. She did not propose to burn her fingers again. The guardian gouged out a hole to the bottom, filling the hole with butter, Tommy's eyes growing larger and larger. Then she began to eat the potato with great relish, after having seasoned it with salt and pepper. This was no time for words, nor were any uttered until nothing but the blackened skin of the potato was left.

"Thave me!" gasped Tommy. "Pleathe, may I have another?"

"Don't you think it would be well to wait for supper?" suggested Miss Elting. "In your greediness you have forgotten the others."

"I beg your pardon, but I wath tho hungry! If you had been a fithh thwimming in the ocean all night you, too, would have an appetite. How would you like to be a fithh, Mith Livingthton?"

"I am quite content to be a mere human being," was the Chief Guardian's laughing reply. "Were you afraid when you found yourself out in the ocean all alone?"

"Afraid? I—I gueth I didn't think about that. I wath too buthy trying to keep from filling up with thalt water. Did you ever drink any of that water, Mith Livingthton?"

"Hardly."

"Then take the advice of a fithh, and don't."

All hands were called to supper, thus putting an end to the conversation, which had been heartily enjoyed by Mrs. Livingston. Tommy always was a source of amusement to her. She appreciated the active mind and the keen, if sometimes rude, retorts and ready answers of the little lisping girl.

After supper a short time was spent in visiting among the girls principally to discuss the marvelous experience of the two Meadow-Brook Girls; then one by one the girls left to go to their tents to don their ceremonial dress, and in place of the regulation serge uniform of the Camp Girls figures clad in the ceremonial dress, their hair hanging in two braids over their shoulders, and beads glistening about their necks, began to make their appearance.

Barely had the girls put on their ceremonial costumes before a moccasined Wau-Wau girl ran at an Indian lope through the camp, crying out the call for the council fire:

"Gather round the council fire, The chieftain waits you there,"

chanted the runner, circling the camp after having gone straight through the center from her own tent. The girls began moving toward a dark spot in the young forest where the wood for the fire had been piled, but not yet lighted.

"What are we going to do?" questioned Tommy.

Miss Elting said she could not say; that the Chief Guardian had called the council. Silent figures took their places, sitting on the ground, curling their feet underneath them, speaking no words, waiting for the flame that would open the Wau-Wau council. At last all were seated. From among the number there stepped forward a dark figure who halted before the pile of dry wood, then, stooping, began rubbing two sticks together, while the circle of Camp Girls chanted:

"Flicker, flicker, flicker, flame; Burn, fire, burn!"

A tiny blaze sprang from the two sticks, then the chant rose higher and higher, figures rose up, swaying their bodies from side to side in unison as the blaze grew into a flame and the flame into a roaring fire, the tongues of which reached almost to the tops of the slender trees that surrounded the camp of the Wau-Wau Girls.

"I light the light of health for Wau-Wau," announced the firemaker, turning her back to the flames and facing part of the circle of expectant faces on which the lights and shadows from the fire were playing weirdly.

This completed the opening ceremony. The council fire was in order, the purpose of the meeting would soon be explained, thus relieving the curiosity of some fifty girls who were burning to know what it was all about. Not the least curious of these was Tommy Thompson.



CHAPTER XI

A REWARD WELL-EARNED

"I'm just perishing to know what it's about," confided Margery Brown to the girl next to her. "What do you suppose it is?"

"I think it has something to do with last night," answered the Camp Girl.

"Oh! you mean about Harriet and Tommy?"

"Yes. Be quiet, the C.G. is going to say something."

The Chief Guardian had already risen. Passing about the circle, she extended a hand to each of the girls there assembled. There were no other greetings than the warm clasp of friendship and good-fellowship, but it meant much to these brown-faced, strong-limbed young women who had been members of the organization for a year or more.

The Chief Guardian took her place by the fire.

"My daughters," she said, "we have gathered this evening about the council fire, that ancient institution, to speak of matters that are near to the heart of each of us. Last night two of your number gave a marked demonstration of what a Camp Girl may do, of what pluck will do, an exhibition of sheer moral courage, one of the greatest assets of a Camp Girl."

"That ith uth," whispered Tommy to Harriet Burrell, who sat beside her. Harriet's face was flushed. She feared the guardian was about to speak of her achievements, which Harriet was not at all eager to hear.

"I refer to the thrilling experiences of Miss Burrell and Miss Thompson in battling with the big seas far out there in the darkness, and with every reason to believe that their efforts would prove of no avail. It is not the battle of despair to which I refer. There was no such. Rather, it was that dogged courage that never even permits a suggestion of give-up to enter the mind of the fighter. It was a courage such as this, combined with rare judgment and physical ability, that makes it possible for Miss Burrell and Miss Thompson to be present with us at the council fire this evening.

"They have not told the story willingly. I had to draw it from them bit by bit, which I venture to say is more than any of my girls have succeeded in doing." The guardian smiled as she glanced about at the eager, flushed faces of the Camp Girls.

"Yes, yes!" they cried.

"As you all know, Miss Burrell, seeing the danger of her companion, hurried to her rescue, with the result that both girls went into the sea. They were quickly carried out to sea by the undertow, which they fought away from and propelled themselves to the surface. Then they began swimming, but in the darkness were unable to see the shore. After a time, Miss Thompson, less strong than her companion, gave out. Then began the real battle, and though Miss Burrell was benumbed with cold, exhausted by her efforts, she managed by a great effort to keep herself and her companion afloat. Fortunately for them, the wind had shifted and they swam and drifted into the bay and eventually to the shore. We have no means of telling how long our two plucky Wau-Wau Girls were in the water, because they themselves cannot tell when they reached the shore—but, think of it! cast away on a dark and stormy ocean in a black night such as that was. That is a triumph, an act of courage and heroism that should be held up as an example to every Camp Girl in America. However, I should not advise any of you to attempt to emulate the example set by our two young friends," added the Chief Guardian warningly.

A ripple of laughter ran around the circle, then the ensuing silence was broken by a remark from Tommy which sent the girls nearest to her into a shout of laughter.

"Well, I thhould thay not!" exploded Tommy.

"You might tell the girls how you felt when you believed that all was lost," suggested the Chief Guardian smilingly, nodding at Tommy. "Do you recall how you felt in that trying moment?"

"I motht thertainly do."

"How did you feel?"

"I felt cold. I had what Harriet callth 'cold feet.' Then I gueth I didn't feel much of anything till I felt mythelf thitting in the thand with thome of me dry and thome of me wet, and Harriet trying to drag me out of the thudth."

"Out of what?" exclaimed the Chief Guardian.

"Thudth."

"Suds," interpreted Miss Elting. "Grace refers to the froth left on the shore by the beating waves."

"Yeth, thudth," repeated Tommy.

"Harriet, your companions would like to hear from your own lips about your experiences in the water."

"Oh, please, Mrs. Livingston, won't you excuse me?"

"If you wish, but—"

"My own part was nothing more than an instinct to save myself, which everyone possesses. I do want to say, though, that Tommy Thompson was the bravest girl I ever saw. She was not afraid, nor can she be blamed for getting numb and sleepy. I did myself. No one can ever tell me that Tommy isn't as brave a girl as lives. She has proved that."

"Yeth, I'm a real hero," piped Tommy with great satisfaction.

"A heroine, you mean, Tommy," corrected Harriet.

"Yeth, I gueth tho," agreed the little lisping girl amid general laughter, in which, the Chief Guardian joined.

"There is nothing else that I can think of to say, Mrs. Livingston. We were fortunate; we have much for which to be thankful, for it was through no heroism on my part that we got ashore and were saved."

Harriet sat down, inwardly glad that her part of the story was told.

"We have our own views as to that," answered the Chief Guardian. "And now that we have cleared the way, I would say that the camp guardians have unanimously agreed on giving each of you two young ladies a full set of beads for your achievements of last night, for such achievements touch upon nearly all the crafts of our order. They have been worthily won and will prove a splendid addition to the already heavy necklace of beads you have earned."

"I gueth we'll need a chain bearer inthtead of a torch bearer if we keep on earning beadth," suggested Grace.

The two girls were requested to step out. They did so, posing demurely before the blazing campfire.

Mrs. Livingston placed a string of beads about the neck of each of the two girls. There were beads of red, orange, sky blue, wood brown, green, black and gold, and red, white and blue, representative of the different crafts of the organization.

Linking hands and raising them above their heads, thus forming a chain about the blazing campfire, the Wau-Wau Girls began swaying the human chain, chanting in low voices:

"Beads of red and beads of blue, Beads that keep us ever true; Beads of gold and beads of brown, Make for health and great renown."

Tommy, chancing to catch the eyes of Margery Brown on the opposite side of the circle, winked wisely at her. Tommy was in her element, but quite the opposite was the case with Harriet. She was uncomfortable and embarrassed, and though proud of the beads that had been awarded to her, she felt that she scarcely had earned them. She was suddenly aroused by the voice of the Chief Guardian.

"Miss Thompson will be seated," she was saying. "Miss Burrell will kindly remain standing."

"Now you are going to catch it," whispered Grace, as she began stepping backward toward her place, which she did not quite reach. She sat down on Hazel instead, raising a titter among the girls near by who had witnessed the mishap. But the interruption was brief. The girls were too much interested in what was taking place there by the campfire. They had not the remotest idea what the Chief Guardian was going to do, though they felt positive that some further honor was to be paid to Harriet Burrell.

"I think I but voice the feelings of the guardians and the girls of Camp Wau-Wau, both those who are with us here for the first time and, those who were members of this camp when the Meadow-Brook Girls joined, when I say that Harriet Burrell is deserving of further promotion at our hands. In the two years that she has been a member of our great organization she has worn the crossed logs upon her sleeve, the emblem of the 'Wood Gatherer'; she has borne with honor the crossed logs, the flame and smoke, the emblem of the 'Fire-Maker.' She has, too, more than fulfilled the requirements of these ranks, filled them with honor to herself, her friends and the organization; and instead of earning sixteen honors from the list of elective honors, she has won more than forty, a record in the Camp Girls' organization. She has fulfilled other requirements that pertain to an even higher rank. She has proved herself a leader, trustworthy, happy, unselfish, has led her own group through many trying situations and emergencies, winning the love and enthusiasm of those whom she has led."



"My dear, what is the greatest desire of a Torch Bearer?"

"To pass on to others the light that has been given to her; to make others happy and to light their pathway through life," was Harriet's ready response.

There were those in the circle who quickly caught the significance of the Chief Guardian's question. Many were now aware what reward was to be bestowed upon the Meadow-Brook Girl.

"Who bring to the hearth the wood and kindling?" questioned the Chief Guardian.

"The Wood Gatherers."

"Who place the sticks for lighting?"

"The Fire Makers." Harriet's replies were prompt, but given with some embarrassment.

"Who rubs together the tinder sticks and imparts the spark that produces the flame?"

"The Torch Bearer," answered Harriet in a low voice. Her face now seemed to be burning almost as hotly as was the council fire before her.

"What are the further duties of a Torch Bearer?"

"To act as a leader of her fellows in their sports and in their more serious occupations, to assist them in learning that work, that accomplishment, bring the greater joys of life; to assist the guardian in any and all ways," was the low-spoken reply.

"Correct. And having more than fulfilled the requirements, I now appoint you to be a Torch Bearer, a real leader in the Camp Girls' organization, thus entitling you to wear that much-coveted emblem, the crossed logs, flame and smoke. Workers, arise and salute your Torch Bearer with the grand hailing sign of the tribe!"



CHAPTER XII

MYSTERY ON A SAND BAR

"I—I thank you."

Harriet, placing the right hand over the heart, bowed low, and the ceremony was complete. The voices of the Wau-Wau Girls were raised in singing, "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." Then they ran forward, fairly smothering Harriet with their embraces and congratulations.

"You forget that I am the real hero," Tommy reminded them; whereat they picked up the little girl and tried to toss her back and forth, with the result that she was dropped on the ground.

The guardians added their congratulations as soon as they succeeded in getting close enough to Harriet to do so. Grace also came in for her share of congratulation and praise, with which she was well content.

"Come, girls," urged Miss Elting, "you know we have to make our beds, and the hour is getting late."

"I'm not thleepy," protested Grace, "I could thtay awake for ageth."

"You will be by the time we find our sleeping place. It is some little distance from here." Harriet glanced at the guardian inquiringly.

"Yes, it is the cabin," answered Miss Elting. "Mrs. Livingston lost no time in arranging for us to occupy it, though I am not at all certain that it is the wise thing to do under the circumstances."

"Under what circumstances?" asked Harriet.

"Storms."

"But they can do us no harm."

"We shall have to take for granted that they will not. Mrs. Livingston sent to town to ask permission of the owner, who readily granted it. He had forgotten that he owned the cabin. It seems that no one has occupied it in several years. Mrs. Livingston also obtained some new blankets for us, but for to-night we shall have to put up with some hardships. To-morrow you girls can fix us bough-beds; then we shall be quite comfortable. But we shall have to cook out-of-doors, there being no stove in the cabin."

"We shan't be able to cook on the bar. The breeze from the sea is so strong there that it would blow the fire away."

"We must come to camp for our meals, then. Perhaps that would be better after all. We don't wish to run away by ourselves; and besides this, you are now a Torch Bearer and must take a more active part in the affairs of the Camp, even if you are of the Meadow-Brook group," reminded the guardian.

Harriet nodded thoughtfully.

"How good and kind Mrs. Livingston is! And think of what she has done for me. It is too good to be true."

"What is too good to be true?" questioned the Chief Guardian herself.

"Everything—all that you have done for me."

"We are still in your debt. Now you had better be getting along. Will you need a light?"

"No, thank you. Harriet ith an owl. She can thee in the dark jutht ath well ath in the light," answered Tommy, speaking for Harriet.

The Meadow-Brook party, after calling their good nights, started toward the cabin, Harriet with the thought strong in her mind that only one rank lay between her and the highest gift in the power of the organization to bestow. She determined that one day she would be a Guardian of the Fire, but she dared not even dream of ever rising to the high office of Chief Guardian. Harriet's life would be too full of other things, she felt.

They trooped, laughing and chatting, along the beach, and, reaching the Lonesome Bar, followed it out. The bar was a narrow, sandy strip that extended nearly a quarter of a mile out into the bay. About half way out the cabin had been built and for some time occupied by a Portsmouth man, who occasionally ran down there for a week-end fishing trip. The cabin, as a camping place, possessed the double advantage of being out of the mosquito zone and of being swept by ocean breezes almost continuously. A fresh breeze was now blowing in from the sea, and the white-crested rollers could be seen slipping past them on either side. It was almost as though they were walking down an ocean lane without even wetting their boots. The water was shallow on either side, so that even though they stepped off they were in no danger of going into deep water.

"We have forgotten all about a lamp!" exclaimed Harriet as they neared the cabin.

"That has been attended to," replied Miss Elting.

"You know we have been thleeping, Harriet," reminded Tommy—"thleeping our young headth off. Ithn't it nithe to be able to thleep while other folkth do your work for you?"

They had hurried on and Tommy was obliged to run to catch up with them. Miss Elting was lighting a swinging lamp when they entered the cottage, which consisted of one room, above which was an attic, but with no entrance so far as they were able to observe. Six rolls of blankets lay on the floor against a side wall ready to be opened and spread when the girls should be ready for bed. One solitary window commanded a view of the sea. Tommy surveyed the place with a squint and a scowl. There was not another article in the place besides the blankets.

"There ithn't much danger of falling over the furniture in the dark, ith there?" she asked.

"Not when we have a Torch Bearer with us," answered Buster, from the shadow just outside the door.

"Thave me!" murmured Tommy.

"Oh, my stars! We'll laugh to-morrow, darlin'. It's too dark to laugh now. Come in and sit down, Buster. It isn't safe to leave you out there. No telling what you might not do after having given out such a flimsy 'joke.'"

"Where shall I sit?" asked Margery, stepping in and glancing about the room.

"Take the easy chair over there in the corner," suggested Harriet smilingly.

"But there isn't any chair there."

"That ith all right. You jutht thit where the chair would be if there were one," suggested Tommy.

"No sitting this evening," declared the guardian. "You will all prepare for bed. At least two of you need rest—I mean Harriet and Tommy."

"Yeth, we alwayth need that. I never thhall get enough of it until after I have been dead ever and ever tho long."

"I am not sleepy, but, of course, being a leader now, I have to set a good example," said Harriet lightly.

Tommy squinted at her inquiringly, as if trying to decide whether or not it were prudent to take advantage of her now that Harriet was a leader officially. She decided to test the matter out at the first opportunity, but just now there was a matter of several hours' sleep ahead, so Tommy quickly prepared for sleep, after which, straightening out her blanket, she twisted herself up in it in a mummy roll with only the top of her tow-head and a pair of very bright little eyes observable over the top of the blanket.

Harriet waited until her companions had rolled up in their blankets; then she opened the door wide so that the ocean breeze blew in and swirled about the interior of the cabin in a miniature gale. The girls did not mind it at all. They thought it delicious. This was getting the real benefit of being at the sea shore. Harriet rolled in her blanket directly in front of the door with her head pillowed on the sill. To enter the cabin one would have to step over her. She went to sleep after lying gazing out over the sea for some time.

"What's that?" Harriet started up with a half-smothered exclamation. A report that sounded like the discharge of a gun had aroused her, or else she had been dreaming. She was not certain which it had been. The other girls were asleep, as was indicated by their regular breathing. Harriet listened intently. She had not changed her position, but her eyes were wide open, looking straight out to sea. Nothing unusual was found there. She was about to close her eyes again when a peculiar creaking sound greeted her ears. Harriet knew instantly the meaning of the sound. It came from the straining of ropes on a sailboat.

Unrolling from the blanket and hastily dressing, the Meadow-Brook Girl crawled out to the bar, wishing to make her observations unseen by any one else. Now she saw it again, that same filmy cloud in the darkness, towering up in the air, moving almost phantom-like into the bay to the south of the cabin on Lonesome Bar.

"It's a boat. I believe it is the same one I saw in there before. But I can't be sure of that. I don't know boats well enough; then, again, the night is too dark to make certain. I don't know that it would be anything of importance if a boat were to run in here to anchor for the night. That evidently is what they propose doing," she thought.

That Harriet's surmise was correct was evidenced a few moments later when the boat's anchor splashed into the waters of the bay and the anchor chain rattled through the hawse hole. Harriet tried to get a clear idea of what the boat itself looked like, but was unable to do so on account of the darkness. Now the creak of oars was borne faintly to her ears; the sound ceased abruptly, then was taken up again.

"They are putting a boat ashore!" muttered Harriet, who was now sitting on the sand, her hair streaming over her shoulder in the fresh, salty breeze. "I hope to goodness none of them comes out here. The girls would be terribly frightened if they knew about this. I don't believe I shall tell them, unless—"

Harriet paused suddenly as the sound of men's voices was heard somewhere toward the land end of the bar. She walked around to the rear of the cabin, peering shoreward. She made out faintly the figures of two men coming down the bar. They were carrying something between them—something that seemed to be heavy and burdensome, for the men were staggering under its weight.

The Meadow-Brook Girl realized that she was face to face with a mystery, but what that mystery was she could not even surmise, nor would she for some time to come. She determined to act, however, and that, if possible, without alarming her companions. Hesitating but a moment, Harriet stepped out boldly and started up the bar to meet the mysterious strangers with their heavy burden.



CHAPTER XIII

A STRANGE PROCEEDING

They did not appear to see her until Harriet was within a few yards of them.

Then they halted sharply, dropped their burden and straightened up. The right hand of one of them slipped to his hip pocket, then a few seconds later was slowly withdrawn with a handkerchief in it.

"It's a girl," exclaimed one of the pair in a low voice.

"Well, what do you think about that?"

"Hello, there, Miss! What is it? Who are ye?" demanded one of the men.

"I was about to ask the same question of you. What are you doing here?"

"This here is free coast, young woman. We've as good a right to be here as yourself, and maybe more right," returned the stranger.

"That depends, sir. I wish you wouldn't speak so loudly, either. You will awaken my companions. I would just as soon they did not see you, for I don't like the looks of you in the dark."

"Companions!" exploded one of the men under his breath. "Whew! Where are they?"

"In the cabin. We are occupying it now. Where were you going with that box? You know there is nothing but the sea beyond here. This is a bar. The mainland is the other way. Perhaps you thought you were headed up the beach?"

"Sure we did, Miss. Thank you. We'll be going. Sorry to have disturbed you. Got some provisions for a friend of ours who is down this part of the coast on a fishing trip. Thank you."

They gathered up their burden and started back toward the beach as fast as they could stagger, Harriet in the meantime standing where they had left her, gazing after them with forehead wrinkled into ridges of perplexity. Harriet watched the men all the way back to the beach. She saw them put down the box they had been carrying and stand looking back at her. Harriet quickly retraced her steps to the cabin, in the shadow of which she halted and continued her watching.

The men stood for some time, evidently engaged in a discussion, though no sound of voices reached the listening girl. They then picked up their box and walked down the beach with it.

"That is odd. They said they were going up the beach with provisions for a friend. I don't understand this proceeding at all, but it looks questionable to me. I know what I'll do; I'll follow them."

The Meadow-Brook Girl did not stop to consider that she had decided upon a possibly dangerous adventure. Stooping over as low as possible and yet remain on her feet, Harriet ran full speed toward the beach. She saw the men halt and put down the box, whereat the girl flattened herself on the sandy bar and lay motionless until, finally, they picked up their burden and went on. She was able to make out the sailboat anchored some little distance out in the bay.

"They must have brought the box off from the boat," she mused. "I wonder what is in it? I am positive that there is some mystery here. It isn't my affair, but my woman's curiosity makes me wonder what it is all about. There they go again." She was up and off, this time reaching the beach before they put down the box again. Now Harriet was reasonably safe from discovery. She crouched close to the sandy bluff and lay watching. She saw one of the men put off in a rowboat, which he propelled rapidly over to the sailboat. He did not remain there long, and she saw him pulling back to shore as if in more haste than when he went out.

"Now they are going to do something," decided the watching girl. "Yes, they are going to take the box."

The men did. Picking it up, they carried it back in among the trees, Harriet following at a safe distance, picking her way cautiously, not making the slightest sound in moving about among the spindling pines.

Finally, realizing that the men had stopped, the girl crouched down with eyes and ears on the alert. She could hear them at work. They were not going ahead, but they were engaged in some occupation the nature of which for the moment puzzled Harriet Burrell. Then all at once the truth flashed into her mind.

"They are hiding the box!" exclaimed the girl under her breath. "But why are they doing that? What secret could be so dark that it needs hiding in the woods? I shall make it my business to find out. There, they are coming out."

She threw herself on the ground. She could hear the men approaching. They seemed, from the sound of their voices, to be coming directly toward her. Harriet gathered herself ready for a spring in case of discovery, which now seemed imminent, then again flattened herself on the ground.

"I won't run until I have to," she decided. Courage was required for a girl to remain in Harriet's position under the circumstances, but Harriet Burrell had plenty of this and to spare. In the meantime the men were rapidly drawing near. They were conversing in low tones, but the girl in hiding on the ground was unable to make out what they were saying. Rather was her attention centered on what they were going to do, which was the all-important question at that moment. But Harriet was not left long in suspense. The men were coming straight toward her. She could see them quite plainly now, and wondered why they did not see her. It was evident that they had not yet done so, perhaps because they were so fully occupied with their own affairs.

Harriet Burrell braced herself. To rise would mean instant discovery; to remain as she was, possible avoidance of it. She decided upon the latter course and lay still. Within a minute the expected occurred. The men had swerved to their right slightly, raising the hope in the mind of Harriet that they were going to pass her without discovering her. Instead a heavy boot came in contact with her own feet. There followed a muttered exclamation, the man pitched headlong, the girl having stiffened her limbs to meet the shock the instant she felt the touch of the boot against her feet.

The man's companion laughed uproariously and was called sharply to account by the one who had fallen.

Now came the supreme test for Harriet. She could scarcely restrain herself from crying out, springing up and running away. Instead, she lay perfectly quiet, breathing as lightly as possible. The man got up growling.

"Confound these dark holes," he snarled.

"Hurt yourself?" questioned his companion.

"No, only skinned my wrist. Let's get back to the boat. Why doesn't the Cap'n do it himself instead of asking us to take all the risks and all the knocks to boot?"

"Because he is paying us for doing it. I reckon you'd better do as you're told if you want to come in for the clean-up. We'd better be hustling, too, for Cap'n wants to get under way. We've lost too much time already and we'll be in bad first thing we know."

The man who had fallen answered with an unintelligible growl. He had not looked behind him to see what he had fallen over. Instead, he wrapped a handkerchief about his wrist and started on. The two men trudged on down toward where they had left their boat. They were nearly at the beach before Harriet Burrell finally sat up.

"Wasn't that a narrow escape?" she breathed. "He fell over me and never saw me. I wonder if my ankle is broken? It feels as though it were. How it did hurt when he kicked me! It is a wonder I did not scream. I wonder what they are going to do now?"

She got up and limped toward the beach, using a little less caution than she had done when coming out. She paused just at the edge of the trees, where she stood in the shadow observing the men. They shoved the boat off and followed it out a little way, splashing in the water with their heavy boots, for the beach was too shallow to permit their getting into the rowboat and rowing directly away from the shore. They first had to shove it off into deeper water. This was quickly accomplished, and piling in, one of the pair began rowing out toward the sailboat.

The Meadow-Brook girl sat down and began to rub her injured ankle. The rowboat was now merely a dark blotch out on the bay. The blotch neared the sailboat and was lost in the shadow that surrounded the larger craft. A few moments later Harriet heard the anchor being hauled in, then the creak of the rings on the mast as the sail was being raised. The boat got under way quickly and with very little disturbance, swung to the breeze, the boom lurching to the leeward side of the boat with a "clank." Then the sailboat began moving slowly from the bay. There were no lights to be seen either within or without. The boat was in darkness. Harriet gazed with straining eyes until the boat had finally merged with the sea and was lost to view. A few moments later she caught the twinkle of a masthead light. She watched the light and saw that it was moving slowly up the coast.

"That's the last of them for to-night," she reflected. "I wonder where they put that box and what is in it? However, I can't look for it to-night. I will see if I can find out anything about it in the morning. I hope Miss Elting hasn't awakened and missed me."

Harriet stepped quickly down to the beach. She gained the bar and ran until she reached the cabin. Listening outside the door, she found that her companions were still asleep. She crept cautiously into the cabin, undressed, rolled in her blanket and lay staring up at the ceiling until her heavy eyelids closed and she was sound asleep. Her companions apparently had slept through the entire adventure, for which Harriet Burrell was thankful.



CHAPTER XIV

A VISITOR WHO WAS WELCOME

"Wake up, girls. Put on your bathing suits and jump in." Miss Elting already was dressed in her blue bathing costume, her hair tucked under her red rubber bathing cap. "We have just time for a swim before breakfast. I see the smoke curling up from the campfire already."

"I don't want to thwim; I want to thleep," protested Tommy.

"Get a move, darlin', unless you want to be thrown in," interjected Jane, who was hurrying into her bathing suit. "Margery, don't tempt us too far, or we will throw you in, too."

"I am sleepy, too," declared Harriet, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "I can't imagine what makes me feel so stupid this morning." Then, remembering, she became silent.

"If you would go to bed with the children and get your regular night's rest, you wouldn't be so sleepy in the morning," Jane answered with apparent indifference. Harriet regarded Jane with inquiring eyes. "I wonder if Jane really suspects that I was out of the cabin in the night, or whether it was one of her incidental remarks?" she reflected. "I'll find out before the day is ended."

"Am I right, darlin'?" persisted Jane, with a tantalizing smile.

"Right about what?"

"Being up late?"

"I agree with you," replied Harriet frankly, looking her questioner straight in the eyes. "I am losing altogether too much sleep of late."

"We didn't lothe any thleep latht night," added Tommy.

"You certainly did not, my dear; nor did Margery nor any of the others unless it were Crazy Jane," declared Harriet with a mischievous glance at Jane McCarthy, who refused to be disturbed by it or to be trapped into any sort of an admission.

"Girls, girls, aren't you coming in?" Miss Elting rose dripping from the bay and peered into the cabin. "Come in or you'll be too late."

"At once, Miss Elting," called Harriet. "It has taken me some little time to get awake. I am awake now. Here I come." She ran out of the cabin and sprang into the water with a shout and a splash, striking out for the opposite side, nearly a quarter of a mile away. She had reached the middle of the bay before the guardian caught sight of her and called to her to return. The Meadow-Brook girl did so, though it had been her intention to swim all the way across the bay and back.

In the meantime the other girls had begun their swim. Jane was splashing about in deep water, Hazel doing likewise, while Margery was swimming in water barely up to her neck. Tommy, on the other hand, appeared to be afraid to venture out. Every time a ripple would break about her knees she would scream and run back out of the way.

"'Fraid cat!" jeered Margery. "'Fraid to come in where the water is deep."

"Yeth, I am," admitted Tommy.

"I told you so, I told you so," shouted Buster. "I always said she was a 'fraid cat, and now she has shown you that I am right."

"Who is a 'fraid cat?" demanded Miss Elting, pulling herself up on the beach with her hands.

"I am," answered Tommy, speaking for herself.

"Who says you are?"

"Buthter."

"Margery, I am ashamed of you. You have evidently forgotten that Grace showed how little she was afraid when she was lost at sea the other night," chided the guardian.

"Yeth, I'm a 'fraid cat. But I'd rather be a 'fraid cat than a fat cat!" declared the little, lisping girl with an earnestness that made them all smile. Harriet came swinging in with long, steady strokes, the last one landing her on the sand with the greater part of her body out of the shallow water.

"Why wouldn't you let me go across, Miss Elting?" she asked.

"You would be late for breakfast."

"Oh! I thought you feared I might drown," answered Harriet whimsically.

"Once is enough," answered Jane. "There goes the fish horn. Hurry, girls! We are going to be late."

"The fithh horn? Are we going to have fithh for breakfatht?" questioned Tommy.

"Never mind what, girls. Tuck up your blankets and get busy. Remember, you must braid your hair before going to breakfast. I don't like to see you at meals with your hair down; you girls are too old for that."

"Yes, Miss Elting," answered Harriet.

"I gueth I'll cut my hair off. It ith too much trouble to fix it every morning," decided Grace. "But, Mith Elting, couldn't I fix it the night before and thleep in it?"

"Certainly not! How can you suggest such a thing?"

Tommy twisted her face out of shape and blinked solemnly at Margery, whose chin was in the air. They were all hurrying now, for their morning bath had given them keen appetites. Miss Elting was first to be ready, then Harriet, but they waited until their companions were dressed and ready to go.

"The Indian lope to the breakfast tent," announced Miss Elting. "Forward, go!"

The girls started off at an easy though not particularly graceful lope, the guardian and the Torch Bearer setting the pace for the rest. They arrived at the cook tent with faces flushed and eyes sparkling, with a few moments to spare before the moment for marching in arrived. The Chief Guardian smiled approvingly.

"Sleeping out on the bay appears to agree with you girls," she said. "I have no need to ask if you slept well."

"Harriet is the restless one," answered Jane.

Harriet flushed in spite of her self-control; but no special significance was attached to Jane's remark, for it was seldom that she was taken seriously.

Harriet, after recovering from her momentary confusion, chuckled and laughed, very much amused over what had made no impression at all on her companions.

"I shall ask some of our craftswomen here to build beds for the cabin," announced the Chief Guardian, as they were sitting down.

"It is not necessary," replied Miss Elting. "Our girls prefer the bough beds, which they will build during the day."

"And what will our new Torch Bearer do to amuse herself after the regular duties of the day are done?" questioned Mrs. Livingston. "Will she take her group for a swim in the Atlantic?"

"Yeth, Harriet and mythelf are going to try to thwim acroth thith afternoon," Grace informed them.

"Swim across the Atlantic? Mercy me!" answered Mrs. Livingston laughingly. "That would indeed be an achievement."

"I beg your pardon, but I didn't thay 'acroth the othean'; I meant to thwim acroth the pond down in the cove yonder. Harriet could thwim acroth the othean if she withhed to, though," added Tommy.

"You surely have a loyal champion, Miss Burrell," called one of the guardians from the far end of the table. "Still, we have not heard what you are going to do to-day. I am quite sure it will be something worth while?"

"I have about made up my mind to go out in search of buried treasure," answered Harriet, with mock gravity. They laughed heartily at this. Jane regarded her narrowly.

"I wonder what Harriet has in her little head now?" she said under her breath.

"Why, what do you mean?" asked the Chief Guardian. "Buried treasure along this little strip of coast? Perhaps, however, you may mean out on the Shoal Islands."

"No, Mrs. Livingston. Right here in Camp Wau-Wau there is buried treasure. I don't know whether it is worth anything or not, but there is a buried treasure here."

The girls uttered exclamations of amazement, for they saw that their new Torch Bearer was in earnest, that she meant every word she had uttered about the treasure.

"Now, isn't that perfectly remarkable?" breathed Margery.

"Oh, do tell us about it?" cried the girls.

"Not a word more," answered Harriet. "I give you leave to find it, though, if you can. Some of you clever trailers see if you can pick up the trail and follow it to its end. At the end you will find the buried treasure, unless it has been taken away within a few hours, which I very much doubt. Now, that is all I am going to tell you about it."

"Do you really mean that, Harriet?" questioned Grace.

Harriet nodded.

"Why don't you get it yourthelf, then?"

"I may one of these days if the girls fail to find it. I wish to see if they are good trailers. But we are forgetting to eat breakfast. Just now I am more in need of breakfast than of buried treasure."

"Yes, girls, please eat your breakfast. We must put the camp to rights as soon as we finish, for I have an idea that we may have visitors before the day is done," urged Mrs. Livingston.

The Wau-Wau girls were too much excited over Harriet's words to be particularly interested in the subject of visitors just then, so they hurried their breakfast, discussing the new Torch Bearer's veiled suggestions, eager to have done with the morning meal and the morning work that they might try to solve this delightful mystery. Harriet was well satisfied with the excitement she had stirred, though having done so would rather bar her from carrying out certain plans that she had had in mind ever since the previous night.

Later in the morning, however, under pretext of wishing to get pine boughs for her bed, she, with Tommy, strolled off into the woods, but beyond locating the spot where she had lain when the man stumbled over her in the darkness she made no progress toward solving the mystery. Not the slightest trace of the box did she discover. Of course, Harriet did not hope to find the mysterious box standing in plain sight, but she could not imagine what they had done with it in so brief a time. She did not dare make much of a point of searching about, observing that Tommy was regarding her keenly during the morning stroll.

With her belt hatchet Harriet selected and cut such boughs as she desired and placed them in a pile, afterward to be carried out to the cabin on the Lonesome Bar. Later on they were assisted by the other Meadow-Brook Girls. They covered the floor of the cabin with the fragrant green boughs until Tommy declared that it made her "thleepy" just to smell it. In the meantime, those of their companions who were not engaged with camp duties were strolling about along the beach near the camp, discussing what Harriet had told them at breakfast that morning. It was all right to tell them to pick up the trail, but what trail was it, and how were they to find it? Even the guardians were not beyond curiosity in the matter, and they, too, when they thought themselves unobserved, might have been seen looking eagerly about for the "trail." All this amused Harriet Burrell very much.

With her group, Harriet was at the cabin arranging the boughs, when they were summoned to camp by three blasts of the fish horn used for the various signals employed by Camp Wau-Wau. Something had happened in camp.

"Thomebody hath found it!" cried Tommy, shooting a quick glance of inquiry at Harriet Burrell. The latter flushed, then burst out laughing after a look toward the miniature forest of spindling pines.

"I hope they have. But I may tell you, my dear Tommy, that they haven't found either the trail or my buried treasure."

"You must know pretty well where it is," said Miss Elting, eyeing Harriet steadily for a few seconds. "Come, we must not delay answering that summons."

They did not delay. The Meadow-Brook Girls responded promptly, making a run for it in good order.

"There's a motor car," shouted Jane, when they came in sight of the camp. "O darlin's, maybe it is a new car Daddy has sent down for me to take the place of the one that is drowned."

Jane leaped on ahead of her companions, intent upon reaching the camp. Harriet sprinted up beside her, almost as much excited as was Crazy Jane herself.

The two girls easily outdistanced their companions in a very few moments. It was a race between them to see who should first reach the camp. Harriet fell behind slightly as her quick eyes made out a figure sitting in front of the Chief Guardian's tent. The figure was that of a man and he was conversing with Mrs. Livingston.

Jane uttered a sudden shrill cry. She, too, had discovered the visitor and recognized him.

"It's Daddy. It's my dear old Daddy!" she screamed, and, forgetful of the lectures she had received on comporting herself with dignity and restraint, Crazy Jane threw herself—hurled herself, in fact—into the arms of Contractor McCarthy. Now, a camp chair is never any too substantial. The one on which Mr. McCarthy was sitting was no exception to the rule. It collapsed under the force of Crazy Jane's projectile-like force. Mr. McCarthy, in attempting to save himself from going down with it, lurched sideways. In doing so he bumped heavily against the Chief Guardian, and with a sharp little cry from the latter, the three went down in a confused heap.



CHAPTER XV

TOMMY MAKES A DISCOVERY

A dozen girls sprang forward to the assistance of the unfortunate trio, but Harriet was ahead of them. She grasped the Chief Guardian under the arms and lifted her to her feet, then taking a hand of Mr. McCarthy pulled him up with disconcerting suddenness. He looked dazed and a little sheepish.

"It's that mad girl Jane of mine," he explained.

Mrs. Livingston's face was flushed, her eyes snapped; then her angry expression softened and she burst out laughing.

"O Jane, Jane! You will be the undoing of all of us before you have done."

Jane, with her hair disheveled, stood ruefully surveying the scene.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Livingston, that you went over. I didn't want to make you fall down, but I just had to show Daddy how glad I was to see him."

"You showed me all right, young lady. Lucky, for us all that we had soft ground under us. Mrs. Livingston, I suppose you'll be telling me to take this mad-cap daughter of mine home with me. I shouldn't blame you if you did, and I don't think I'd cry over it, for I want her. No, I don't mean that—"

"Daddy!" rebuked Jane.

"I mean that she is better off here, and you are doing her a heap of good, Mrs. Livingston, even if she did give way to one of her old fits of violence just now."

"Certainly not, Mr. McCarthy," answered the Chief Guardian promptly. "We all love Jane. She is a splendid girl and we should miss her. I certainly did miss her last summer, and now I should miss her more than ever. I hope we shall have her with us for many summers; then one of these days, when she is older, she, too, will have a camp of girls to look after."

"I feel very thorry for the camp," broke in Tommy.

"You will have to buy a new camp stool, Daddy," reminded Jane. "I'm glad I'm not so stout that I break up the furniture every time I sit on it."

"Yeth, Buthter doeth that," said Tommy, nodding solemnly.

"And you, young lady, you've got some strength in those arms," he said, turning to Harriet. "The way you bounced me to my feet was a wonder. Tommy, you haven't shaken hands with your old friend. Come here, my dear, and shake hands with me."

"You were tho mixed up that I couldn't tell which wath the hand to thhake," replied Grace promptly. "That wath what Jane callth a meth, wathn't it?"

"It was. Why, how do you do, Hazel—and Margery, too? Well, well! this is a delightful surprise. How fine you all look. And I hear you had a swim the other night, Harriet, and you, too, Tommy. Well, well! And you like the water, eh?"

"It is glorious," breathed Harriet, instinctively glancing out to sea, where a flock of gulls were circling and swooping down in search of food.

"You won't have to swim any more unless you wish to. I've made different arrangements about that."

"You mean you have bought me a new car, Daddy?" interrupted Jane.

"I haven't said. I reckon you don't need a car here. You must have learned, from your recent experience, that an automobile doesn't travel on water half as well as it does on land."

"Ourth did. It traveled fine until it got to the bottom," Tommy informed him.

"No, I haven't bought another car yet. I have some men who are going to get the old one up to-morrow. We shall see what shape she's in. Of course, if she isn't workable any more, I will have another for you by the time you get home. Tell me how it happened. I couldn't make much out of your telegram. By the way, when you send a telegram, don't forget that you aren't writing a letter. That telegram you sent cost me nine dollars and thirty-seven cents."

"Isn't it worth that much to hear from your daughter?" Jane's eyes were dancing.

Mr. McCarthy took off his hat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"What would you do with her, Mrs. Livingston?" he laughed.

"I should love her, Mr. McCarthy; she is worth it," was the Chief Guardian's prompt reply.

"She is," he agreed solemnly, "and I do. But you haven't told me, Jane, darling."

"Oh, let Harriet do it. I never was strong on telling things so any one could understand what I was talking about."

"There isn't much to tell about the accident, except that we turned off on a side road according to directions. Jane wheeled down it at a slow rate of speed—for her," added Harriet under her breath. "We ran out on an ice pier and plumped right into the pond."

"You went down with the car, then?" stammered Mr. McCarthy.

"Right down to the bottom," Tommy informed him.

"That did not amount to much," continued Harriet. "The top was not up. We had little difficulty in getting out—"

"But Harriet was drowned in getting the trunk free from the rear end," declared Jane earnestly.

"Drowned?" exclaimed the contractor.

"Yes, nearly drowned," corrected Miss Elting. "We had a pretty hard time resuscitating her. I am beginning to think that the Meadow-Brook Girls bear charmed lives, Mr. McCarthy."

"So am I. But you don't mean to tell me that Harriet really was all but drowned?"

"Yes."

"It does beat all, it does," reflected Mr. McCarthy, mopping his forehead again and regarding Harriet with wondering eyes. "It is a guess as to whether she or Jane can get into the most trouble. They are a pair hard to beat."

"We do not try to find excitement, Mr. McCarthy," expostulated Harriet. "We cannot always help it if trouble overtakes us the way it did when the car went into the ice pond."

"Certainly not. I know you, at least, are wholly to be depended upon, but Jane isn't always the most prudent girl in the world. Now, will you dears run along and enjoy yourselves. I have several things to discuss with Mrs. Livingston, then we will have an afternoon together. I wish Jane and Harriet to drive down with me and show me the place where they lost the car later on in the afternoon. You remember you interrupted our conversation here a short time ago, Jane," reminded the visitor.

"May I try the car, Dad?" questioned Jane.

"Yes. But look sharp that you don't wreck the thing. I have no fancy to walk all the way back to Portsmouth this evening," he chuckled.

"Come along, Meadow-Brooks. I can't take any more this trip, but if Dad's buggy goes all right, I'll take the rest of you out on the instalment plan."

"I don't want to go," decided Tommy. "I want to thtay here and retht. I never get any retht at all."

The others were eager to go. Jane already was cranking up the car. Her companions, with the exception of Grace Thompson, piled in, and a few moments later the car rolled from the camp, headed for the highway some little distance from the camp. There was no road leading to the camp, but the way was reasonably smooth, provided one dodged the trees, both standing and fallen.

In the meantime the other girls went about their duties and recreations. Mr. McCarthy and Mrs. Livingston again sat down and continued their conversation. Tommy, now being without a guardian, Miss Elting having gone with Jane and her party, started down toward the beach, her eyes very bright, her movements quick and alert. Some of the girls whom she met asked where she was going. Tommy replied that she might go fishing, but that she couldn't say for sure until she found out whether she could catch anything. The little girl kept edging farther and farther away from her companions, until finally, finding herself beyond sight of them, began running with all her might. They saw no more of Tommy Thompson for several hours.

While all this was going on, Jane McCarthy was racing her father's car up and down the road at an ever-increasing rate of speed. Those in the camp could hear the purr of the motors, and now and then a flash of red showed between the trees as the car sped past the camp.

"Must be doing close to fifty miles an hour," observed Mr. McCarthy, grinning.

"Aren't you afraid she will kill herself, or some one else?" questioned the guardian anxiously.

"She never has. I don't reckon it would bother any of the Meadow-Brook Girls to go into the ditch. They are pretty well used to getting into mix-ups."

"They certainly have every reason to be used to it," nodded Mrs. Livingston reflectively. "But, were they my daughters, I must confess I should not know an easy moment. I do not, as it is, when they are out of my sight. That was the reason I hesitated to accede to your request. However, they will have nothing to do with the operation of it. All they will have to do will be to sit still and enjoy themselves. Then, again, it is the one thing needful to make a summer at the sea shore thoroughly enjoyable. I know that all of my girls will take the keenest possible delight in it, and I thank you, on their behalf, for your thoughtfulness and kindness. You have done a great deal for our camp, as well as for our organization, and I wish you would permit me to make it known to the general officers in—"