Walter proffered his love letter to Laurel, and she surprised them all by reading this:

"My Mountain Laurel:

Meet me when the buds come and we will wait for the blossoms.

Your Bending Bough."

The cue that Laurel furnished was taken up by the others and when Jack offered his "note" to Hazel she read.

"My Dear Burr:

Be patient and you will loose the green, Hazelnuts are never soft!

Yours,

The Fellow Who Fell Down Hill with Jill."

Cora read what Ed did not write:

"My Reef:

When stranded I know what to grab—Your larder is ever my rock of refuge.

Yours, Co-Ed."

Belle and Bess both partook of Paul's note, and as Paul was acknowledged the artist of them all the double missive was gladly accepted by the twins—as doubles.

Belle pretended to read:

"Two to one, or two in one,

Double the wish and double the fun."

The merry making that followed this little farce was of too varied a character to describe. Some of the boys insisted on standing on their heads while others took up a low mournful dirge that might have done credit to the days of the red men and wigwams.

Finally, Cora insisted that it was late—disgracefully late—for campers to have lights burning, and the boys were obliged to leave for their own quarters. Going out, Jack whispered to Cora:

"Ben told Paul to say to you that under no circumstances were you to go down to the landing to-morrow. I know he has some good reason for the warning. The row between Peters and Brentano may not have ended there," and he kissed her good night. "We have had a jolly time and to-morrow when I come you must let me see the mysterious love letter."

Cora promised, and then the lights were turned out.

Making sure that all, even Laurel, were sleeping Cora slipped out into the sitting room, relighted the lamp and unfolded the note that had been found in the canoe.

She felt her heart quicken. Why did she fear and yet long to know what that man had to tell her? She read:

"YOUNG LADY:

When you receive this I shall be too far away to further meet your daring, baffling challenge of my plans. What I intend to do I can not even tell myself, for everything seemed so easy of evil until you crossed my path. So easy was it that there was even no victory in the spoils. But first you came boldly to the den of poor Peters. Then you deliberately took from us that simple-minded, harmless old woman, Kate; next you did not call out when she gave you back your ring—not call out against us. All this to me was incomprehensible. Why should a young girl not fear us? Why should she not denounce us? Then you saved that little doll, Mabel Blake, until finally I began to wonder why I, a talented high-born Italian, should pretend to love crime when a mere girl could be a noble defender?

The difference made me feel like a coward, and I decided finally to go away. Before I left I had trouble with Peters. This hurried me and I have not time to write more now. I know you got back from the island—boys of your kin do not wait long to find their sisters. By to-morrow noon, if all goes well with me on the journey, I shall be able to write that to poor little Laurel which will release her from her bondage. I will send the letter care of you. Thank the boys for use of their canoe.

BRENTANO."

For some moments Cora sat looking blankly at that fine foreign paper. What a splendid hand! What direct diction!

And her conduct had influenced him to turn away from his evil ways. She had done nothing more than others, except perhaps she had more courage, born of better and more complete experience. She sighed a sigh of satisfaction as she again hid the paper in her gown. Then with one great heart-beat of prayerful thanksgiving, she, too, sought "tired nature's sweet restorer."

It was the sound of dishes and the tinkle of pans that awoke Cora next morning. Day so soon! And all the others up!

"Now, we have fooled you," said Belle with a light laugh. "You have slept longest!"

Cora had been dreaming very heavily, and her sleep seemed but a reflection of the previous day's troubles. Now she was awake and instantly she remembered it all about Ben telling her not to go near the landing; then about the letter.

"Is Laurel up?" she asked.

"No, we let her sleep to keep you company," said Hazel, "and we are going to give you such a surprise for breakfast! Don't tell, girls."

Cora slipped into a robe and stepped across the room to peer into the little corner where Laurel had gone to her rest.

"Laurel is up," she declared. "She is not here!"

"Not there! Not in bed! Laurel—she has not gotten up yet," declared Belle, who with frying pan in hand had hurried from the kitchen when Cora spoke.

"She certainly is not in bed," again declared Cora. "You may see for yourselves."

"Laurel gone!" exclaimed more than one of the astonished girls.

"She may have gone out," suggested Hazel. "I thought I heard someone about very early."

Following this thought the girls looked around called, and again returned to the empty room.

"What is this?" asked Bess, seeing a piece of ribbon-tied paper floating from the night lamp.

Hazel was first to handle it. She saw that it was a note addressed to Cora.

"It's for you, Cora," she said as she snapped the fragile ribbon from its fastening.

Cora read aloud:

"Forgive me for going this way but I could not wait longer to know about my father. I will return before dark and bring with me the canoe I have borrowed. You may, trust me and need not be anxious.

Gratefully,

LAUREL STARR."

"Gone in the canoe!"

"I know why, girls," Cora admitted, "and if you will all come in here together I will tell you as much, as I myself know. The real story I have not yet been able to learn, but must do so very soon."

Then she told of the first discovery of the man on Fern Island, following with the account of her second and third visits there, and finally of how she found poor Laurel in such distress the night of her own exile. The loss of her boat they all knew about, and that part was a certain kind of clear mystery.

"Laurel has gone back to see about her father," she finished. "It is only natural, and I should have thought it strange had she not done so."

"Of course," added Bess, brushing away a tear. "Poor little wild Laurel had to go back, it was almost as cruel to keep her as to pen up a brown bunny."

In spite of the seriousness of the moment every one smiled. First Laurel was russet, now compared to a little brown rabbit.

"We had just gotten acquainted with her," murmured Belle. "I thought her so romantic."

"And I thought her so intelligent," put in the ever-studious Hazel. "Even Paul took the trouble to notice her."

"Well, we will have her back again," promised Cora. "I am positive she will keep her word. I think her a splendid girl. All she needs is the chance to get over the state of chronic fright she has been living in. Then she will be just as normal as any of us."

"Then, that being the case," said Hazel, with a jump, "I propose we keep normal by eating our breakfast. I am famished, and those boys almost emptied the ice-box."

"Nettie had to go away into town for eggs," Bess orated, "and therefore we had to do all the cooking."

"It smells all right," Cora said, as they pulled the chairs to the table. "Let us hope we will get through one meal without interruption. My appetite is positively canned."

"And I took the trouble to gather those morning glories," Belle announced. "I thought Laurel would like them."

"They are beautiful, Belle," said Cora, looking with admiration at the dainty green vines with their freshly-blown, colored bells that trailed from the glass bowl in the center of the table. "Nothing could be more artistic, and we enjoy them even if Laurel has missed them," Cora finished.

"But the food," demanded Hazel. "It is of that we sing. Food, food! Isn't it good; a girl is a loon who can't eat what she could," sang Hazel, with more mirth than English.

"Eggs, eggs, bacon and eggs."

"She eats all she can, then sits up and begs," sang Cora helping herself to that portion of the fare, and keeping time with the humming toast.

Bess was taking her third slice of bread. That inspired Belle.

"Bread, bread, Nettie's good bread—"

"When Bess took the loaf, we nearly fell dead," sang out Belle, rescuing the much-worn loaf from which Bess was trying to get a slice.

"The toasts are very well as far as they go," commented Cora, "but I notice that the food stuffs go farther."

"And the boys are coming at ten," remarked Hazel. "I'm glad I cooked. I don't have to wash the dishes."

"But the boys were going out in the canoe and now it's gone," Belle reminded them. "They were going to take the prize canoe, and the red one, and we would all then have a chance to float out together. Now, of course, we won't be able to go."

"We can go in our own boat," Cora said, "and really the lake is quite rough for canoeing this morning. When Laurel comes back she will likely bring her own boat and then we will have three in our fleet."

"Why couldn't you, and she come home in her canoe when you found your boat gone, Cora?" asked Bess suddenly.

"Hers was not at the dock—someone had borrowed it," Cora explained without explaining.

They had about finished their meal. Belle was already snatching the dishes, in spite of protests that there was some perfectly good eating which had not yet been eaten.

"There come the boys now," announced Hazel. "They look sort of-gloomy."

Cora glanced out of the window and saw Ed, Jack and Walter strolling along the path. She, too, thought they looked "gloomy," but it was not her practice to anticipate trouble.

The "hellos" were exchanged before the young men had time to enter the camp. Then Belle asked:

"Aren't we going canoeing?"

"Guess not to-day," replied Ed, his handsome black hair almost sparkling in the sunshine as he tossed his head in nonchalance. "We are still too cramped up. Had to sleep on the roof last night."

"Why?" demanded Cora.

"Choosin' that. My little joke," he replied, "Girls, I'm cuttin' up," and he tried to hide a serious air with a ridiculous remark. "But we'll do something. We'll go fishin"' he declared.

"We thought it best to keep out in the cove this morning," Jack was explaining to Cora. "There is so much going on around the landing."

"What is going on?" she asked rather nervously.

"Oh, that Peter's affair," replied her brother with assumed indifference. "They are looking him over to-day to see how much he's hurt."

"Oh!" said Cora vaguely. Then she went indoors from the porch to prepare for the fishing trip.



CHAPTER XXI

MOTOR TROUBLES

"It is strange Laurel does not come back," remarked Bess, as the girls sat on the porch after a most unsuccessful fishing trip (as far as fish were concerned), "Somehow I feel she would if she could."

"That's it exactly," Cora corroborated. "If she could get back here this afternoon, we would have seen her. But then her father may have been too lonely without her, or any of many other things may have detained her."

Cora jumped up suddenly, and skipped down the path to where her motor boat was fastened. She would look over the engine. The wire connections had slipped, and she would tighten them, and make some other minor adjustments.

Cora found more to do on her boat than she had expected. The boys had had the craft out latest and had neglected to put down the oil cup levers. This caused the cylinder to be flooded with lubricant, and if there was one thing Cora disliked more than another it was to run an oil puffing boat, and "inhale the fumes."

She pulled on her heavy gloves and got to work to drain out the oil through the base cock. Bending over her task she did not see, neither did she hear, an approaching person. It was Ben.

"Busy, eh?" he said in his splendid, candid way. Cora was so glad it was only Ben.

"Oh yes," she replied, "the boys never seem to know how to leave a boat. This is thoroughly oil-soaked."

"They're careless that way," admitted Ben, stepping into the boat to see what the trouble was. "If I were you I would make some rules and tack 'em down by the license card."

"They would never read them," Cora declared. "There—just look at that oil," as she collected some in a funnel. "This would have made the muffler smoke like a locomotive."

Ben looked at the oil cups. "There isn't any thing meaner than running a boat that throws out soft coal smoke," he admitted. "Those boys left the plungers up. But I say, girl, where's your new friend?"

"Laurel?" asked Cora as she put the wrench in the tool box.

"Yes. I thought she had come down here to stay."

"Well, we thought so too, but then she could not be expected to leave the island—all at once," and Cora wondered if she were saying too much.

"It's queer to me," went on Ben. "Them fellows have something to do with that," and he nodded his head toward the landing.

"You mean—Peters and Tony?"

"Yes. And what I want to say, Miss, is this. You had best keep clear of them. The row at the landing isn't exactly fixed up. I think it had to do with something at Fern Island."

"About Laurel?"

"Yes. I have suspected for a long time that the little runs that Peters makes up there must have paid him pretty well. Now that he has fallen out with Tony, likely it'll all come to Jim. Best thing we can do, miss, is to keep a sharp look out for the girl. If you can get her to come to camp with you I fancy all the rest will soon straighten itself."

Cora wondered just how much Ben knew of the mystery of that island. She felt obliged to withhold Laurel's secret, yet she felt, too, that Ben would do everything to help her get the girl and the hermit away from their place of exile.

"I'll tell you, Ben," she said finally. "I'll come to you for advice just as soon as I find it is time to act. Depend upon it we are not going to leave Cedar Lake until the mystery of Fern Island is cleared up."

This seemed to satisfy Ben, for beneath the deep brown of his cheeks there showed the glow of color that came with pleasure.

"All right, little girl," he said, "if you want me before I come again, just let me know. Ben will be only too glad to stick by you and all the rest of them," meaning the campers at Camp Cozy and those who bungalowed at the Bungle.

He went off, shambling along with his face turned toward the sky and his feet taking care of themselves. Cora looked after him.

"Dear old Ben," Cora mused, "everything seems worth while when it takes 'everything' to make such a friend as you can be." Then she went back to her engine. She must tighten the wires, and leave the craft in readiness for a quick run.

"Oh, Cora!" came the voice of Bess suddenly, "you've missed it. We have had the most glorious time."

Bess approached, her cheeks as red as the sumac she carried, and her eyes as bright as the very ragged sailors that hung rather dangerously from her belt. "Hasn't Laurel come yet?"

"No, not yet," replied Cora, intent upon her task at the wires. "I am afraid she will hardly come to-night."

"Then we have got to go after her," declared Bess. "Jack said so. He said she could not stay alone on that island all night."

"Oh, did he?" Cora replied in an absent-minded way. "I have had such—a time—with this boat," and she pulled on the wires to make them taut, breaking one and necessitating a splice.

"Can't we take the boat to look for Laurel?" persisted Bess, with more concern than she usually showed.

"Why, of course, I suppose so," said Cora. "There, I guess that will do," and she straightened up with a sigh, for the use of the pliers made her hands ache.

"Why, Cora!" exclaimed Bess, "you look actually pale. You must be awfully tired."

"Me pale," and she laughed. "Now, Bess, don't get romantic. Just fancy me being pale!"

"Well, you are, and I insist that you come back to camp at once and get a drink of warm milk. Cora Kimball, you—look—scared!"

"Oh, I am. Think what it would mean if the boys had knocked my engine out. And it did seem for a time that there was no 'if' in it." Cora jumped lightly out of the boat and was ready to greet the other girls. Soon a discussion of color and its causes was in progress, Cora maintaining that her cause of anxiety had been that awful engine and its troubles.

Ed, Walter and Jack had joined the others.

"I say," began Ed, "where do we, go to look for the wild Olive or was it the mountain Laurel? Jack is in a fit, and Walter can't be held. What do you say if we all start out in a searching party? No one has been lost for twenty-four hours, and this state of affairs is getting monotonous."

Without waiting for an answer the girls and boys clambered into the Petrel while Bess went to the camp with Cora who insisted upon washing her hands before making the trip.

"Did anything happen, Cora, while we were away?" asked Bess kindly.

"Not a thing, Bess. I only wish something real would happen; we have so many imitations of excitement."



CHAPTER XXII

THE LAW AND THE LIGHTS

"I want to find her this time," insisted Jack. "Cora, please let me? I promise not to frighten her, and not even to speak to her if you object, but I do so want to find her."

"Seems to me you found her last time," objected Walter who was looking particularly well to-night, for his suit of Khaki and his brown skin seemed all of a piece. "You nearly knocked me down in your haste to find the hut first."

"But," Cora said seriously, "Laurel may not want you boys to find her. She may not even want me to do so. I am just taking chances. Suppose you allow Bess and me or Hazel or any two of us to go up to the hut first? Please do be reasonable, and not silly," Cora finished in a voice she seldom assumed.

"You may come along as dose as you like, until we are just up to the hut," Bess consented, with marked good sense, "as the woods are so thick and black, but when we get to the hut—"

"We can 'hut' it I suppose," snapped Jack. "All right, girls; all I can say is I hope a couple of Brownies, or a mountain lion pay their respects to you both for being so daring."

The boat was running beautifully. The cleaning out that Cora gave the base, and the regulating of the oil cups together with adjusting the wires, helped to make the mechanism run more smoothly, and she glided along without "missing," which means, of course that every explosion was in perfect rhythm to every other explosion. There was a "hot fat" spark as Cora explained.

"There's a big steamer," remarked Hazel, as a large boat glided along.

Cora swung so that the red light of the Petrel showed she was going to the right. The steamer gave two whistles indicating a left course. Cora answered with one blast which meant right. The steamer insisted on left and gave one more signal.

"What's the matter with them?" Jack demanded, taking the steering wheel from Cora. "They seem to own the lake."

No sooner had he said this than the big boat came so close to the smaller craft that a huge wave swept over the small forward deck and instantly the colored lights went out, being drenched. For a moment every one seemed stunned! The shock to the Petrel was as if she had been suddenly dipped into the depths of the lake. But as quickly as it happened just as quickly was it righted, and the offending boat steamed off majestically, as if it had merely bowed to an old acquaintance.

"What do you think of that!" exclaimed Walter, indignantly.

"I think a lot of it," replied Ed, "but the captain of that steamer would not likely want to see my thoughts."

"Small trick," declared Jack, "Even if he had the right to pass us so close, common lake manners obliged him to give in to the smaller boat."

"The lights are both out," Cora said anxiously.

"Well, we are almost to shore," Jack replied, "and it won't be worth while to stop here. We can light up again when we get in."

This seemed reasonable enough and so they sailed along.

"Hello!" exclaimed Walter, "is this another boat trying the same trick?"

A launch was steering very dose to the Petrel. The lights were conspicuously bright, and the engine ran almost noiselessly.

"What is it?" asked Jack, seeing that the captain wanted to speak with some one.

"I want you," replied a voice of authority. "You have no lights."

"Oh, you're the inspector," said Jack candidly. "Well, that steamer that just passed doused our lights, and we are going to land here to relight."

"Sorry, but that's against the law," replied the officer. "You fellows always have an excuse ready, and I can't accept it. You will have to come along with me."

"Arrested!" exclaimed Belle aghast.

"That's about what it amounts to," replied the man coolly. "Can you get in here?"

"Who?" asked Jack.

"The captain," replied the officer grimly.

"Where does he go?" Jack further questioned.

"See here, young man," spoke the inspector rather sharply. "Do you think I've got all night to bother with you?"

"I don't know as I do," replied Jack in the same voice, "but if you will just explain what you want us to do we will give you no further trouble." Jack knew one thing—to refuse to comply with the request of an officer is about the last thing to do if one values either money or liberty.

"That's the way to talk," replied the inspector. "So just suppose you take this rope and I'll tow, you along. I fancy the party would, rather come than let one go alone."

"Of course we would," declared Cora. "In fact I am the captain of this boat."

Jack gave her a meaning bump on the arm—it meant, "let me do the talking," and Cora understood perfectly.

"But where are we going?" wailed Belle, as the man threw the towline to Ed.

"Not far," answered the man. "I just have to take you in, and then you have to do the rest."

"What's the rest?" inquired Walter.

"Oh, pay a fine," said the man carelessly.

"How much?" inquired Ed.

"From five to twenty-five; as the judge sees fit. There, are you fast?"

"Guess so," growled Jack, to whom the arrest seemed like a case of "Captain Kidding."

"And we can't go to Laurel?" Hazel inquired with a sigh.

"Shame," commented Walter under his breath, "but Jack knows the best thing to do with the law is to jolly it."

"Law nothing," muttered Ed, as he took the steering wheel, Jack being busy with the towing line.

"Never mind," Cora suggested. "It will give us a new experience. I had the fool-hardiness to wish for some real excitement this very afternoon."

"But to be arrested!" gasped Bess with a frightened look.

"A distinctly new sensation," said Hazel with an attempt to laugh. "Just think of going before a real, live judge!"

But evidently the other girls did not want to think of it. They would rather have thought of anything else just then.

"Which way are you going?" Jack asked the man in the official boat. "I thought your judge lived on the East side?"

"He does, but we may take some other fellows in yet to-night. This is only one catch," and the inspector laughed unpleasantly.

"They are actually going to tour the lake with us," declared Ed. "If that isn't nerve!"

"Don't complain," cautioned Cora, "perhaps the longer the run the lighter the fine. And we are just waiting for our next allowance."

"And, being a pretty motor-boat, they will make it a pretty fine," mused Walter. "I would like to dip that fellow."

"Yes, they are going to let us tour the lake hitched on to the police boat! The situation is most unpleasant. But there is no way out of it," said Ed, sullenly.

"Suppose they won't take a fine, and want to lock us up?" asked Belle.

"If it were only one night in jail, I'd take it just to fool the man who wants the money, but I am afraid it might be ten days and that would be inconvenient," Jack remarked, as the police boat steamed off with the Petrel trailing. "They call this law. It may be the law but not its intention. We were almost landed, and just about to light up. I tell you they just need the money."

When they reached the bungalow, where judge Brown held his court, the three young men entered with the inspector, and when the judge had satisfied himself that he could not ask more than five dollars and costs for this "first offence" the fine was paid and the matter settled. Belle and Bess were greatly relieved when the culprits came back to the Petrel. They had a hidden fear that something else disgraceful might happen; perhaps the judge would detain the boys, or perhaps the girls would have to go in to testify. Cora's mind was pre-occupied however, and when the Petrel started off, and Jack asked her where to, she said back to Fern Island.



CHAPTER XXIII

A NIGHT ON THE ISLE

It was too late now for Cora to think of making her way to the pine hut without the boys, too dark, too late and too uncertain, so she agreed to allow Ed and Jack to go with her while Walter and the girls followed at some distance.

"There's a light," announced Jack, when they had covered the first hill.

"Yes, that's in the hut," Cora said.

Hurrying before her brother, Cora reached the thatched doorway. She pushed back the screen and saw Laurel leaning over the bed on the floor. As she entered Laurel motioned her not to speak. Then Cora saw that the girl was bending over her father.

"They shall not take me," he murmured. "I am innocent!"

"Hush, father dear," his daughter soothed. "'There is no one here, just your own Laurel," and she bathed his head with her wet handkerchief.

Cora instantly withdrew. She whispered to Jack, and he turned to meet the others, to prevent them coming nearer. Laurel followed her to the open air.

"Father is so changed!" she said under her breath, "while he seems worse, his mind is clearer, and I almost hope he will soon remember everything of the past."

"If his mind is clearer there is every hope for him," Cora replied. "I do hope, Laurel dear, that your exile and his will soon end."

Laurel put her hand to her head as if to check its throbbing. Yes, if it only would soon end!

"What happened?" asked Cora.

"He fell and struck his head on a rock," answered Laurel. "It was that night we were in the hut. It was he who came walking along in the darkness, and we thought it was some one else. He came to look for me after I signaled that time. It was my father!"

"He slipped and fell," she resumed in a moment. "We heard him, you remember, and then—then he went away—my poor father!"

Cora gasped in surprise. "Is he badly hurt?" she managed to ask.

"No, hardly at all. It was only a slight cut on his head, but the shock of it brought him to him self—restored his reason that was tottering. When he got up and staggered off his mind was nearly clear, but he did not dare come to the hut where we were for fear it might contain some of his enemies. He went looking for me, but I had gone with you.

"Since then he has talked of matters he has not mentioned in years and years. But he is not altogether better. Oh, Cora, if his mind would only become strong again, so he could dear up all the mystery!"

'The girls clung lovingly to each other. Then a moan from the hut suddenly called Laurel away, Cora knew Jack was waiting for her in the woods, and she hastened to him.

One whispered sentence to her brother was enough to explain it all to him.

"We must arrange to get him away from here—Laurel's father," he said, as he put his arms about Cora. "Do you think he is strong enough to be moved?"

"I'll ask Laurel," replied Cora joyfully. If only now both the hermit and his daughter could leave that awful island. The other girls stepped to the door in answer to Cora's signal.

"Oh, I am afraid he is too weak for that now," Laurel whispered. "But when he is able I will have him taken to a hospital. That man kept us in terror. Now he is gone and I feel almost free."

"You have heard that he is gone?" questioned Cora.

"I had a letter," replied the other simply, and this answer only served to make a new matter of query for Cora. But she could not ask it now.

"He is sleeping," said Laurel. "Look!"

Cora went over to the pallet and looked down at the man who lay there. Yes, he was noble looking in spite of the growth of his hair and beard, and Cora could see wherein his daughter resembled him. There seemed something like a benediction in that hut, and as the thought stole over her, Cora breathed a prayer that it should not come in the shape of death.

"He's lovely," Cora said to Laurel. "Let us go out and not disturb him."

Jack and the others were waiting silently outside. Cora spoke to her brother. He understood.

"You girls had better go back," he said, "Ed and I will stay here to help Laurel."

"Oh, no, I must stay too. Perhaps in the morning we can take him away," insisted Cora.

Bess and Belle clung together. They had a fear of "the wild man" and it had not yet been dispelled. Hazel tried to induce Laurel to go back to camp and allow her and Cora to care for the father, but of course such an appeal was useless. Laurel would not think of leaving the sick man. It was finally arranged that Cora and Jack should remain, and then reluctantly the others started off with the promise of returning very early the next morning.

"I have some things to eat," Laurel told them. "I thought poor father would like a change, and I got them when I was at the Point."

"Oh, you save them," Jack said. "We had a good supper, and will make out all right until morning. But now tell me where I can get you fresh water."

Cora knew, and she took the extra lantern and started off with her brother. They talked of many things as they stumbled on through the woods.

"There's the spring. Look out! Don't fall in. My isn't that water clear even in the lantern light!" exclaimed Cora suddenly.

Jack filled the pail easily and then they turned back.

"But Jack," Cora began again, "you know there is some mystery about Mr. Starr. That must be his name, for Laurel signed hers so in the note she left."

"Whatever the mystery is, I feet certain it is nothing disgraceful," Jack assured her. "Very likely it was some plot to injure them, concocted by that fellow Jones."

The unfailing reason of this astonished Cora. How could Jack have guessed so near the facts?

"At any rate I think the poor man will be able to be moved in the morning," she finished, as they made their way up the hill. "It will be a wonderful thing if, after all, it comes out all right; that he is a free man, and that his slight injury may restore his scattered faculties."

"Let us hope so," said Jack fervently.

Cora wanted to tell him about the letter from Jones otherwise Brentano, but there was not time to do so before they reached the hut, so she reasoned it would be best to postpone it.

Laurel was sitting, holding her father's injured head when they entered the hut. He was awake now, and looking with such great, hungry eyes into his daughter's face.

"Now we have fresh water, father," she said. "Do you know my friends?"

"The girl, yes," he said 'feebly. "But the boy?"

"Her brother," said Laurel quickly, delight showing in her voice. "Isn't it good to have friends, father?"

"Good, very good," he said. Then he dosed his eyes again, and neither Cora nor Jack ventured to speak.

"It does not seem possible that he can talk so rationally," Laurel whispered. "Oh, I have now such hopes that he will get well."

"Of course he will," Jack assured her. "But you girls had better get some rest. I will sit up and watch."

Cora added her entreaties to those of her brother, and Laurel finally agreed to throw herself down on the straw bed in the far corner of the hut. Cora found room at the other end of the same bed, and presently their young natures gave in to the urgent demands of rest. Jack sat alone watching the white faced man who tossed and turned, muttering incoherent words.

"I did not do it," he would say. "I never saw the note."

"There, you want a drink," said Jack kindly, pressing the tin cup to the trembling lips.

"But Breslin knows! Oh, if I could only find Breslin!"

"Breslin," Jack repeated, astonished.

"Yes, Brendon Breslin. He knows!"

"Brendon Breslin!" Jack said again. This was the name of the wealthy man for whom Paul Hastings ran the fast steam launch.

"Oh, my head!" moaned the man, closing his eyes in pain.

Jack realized that this remark about the millionaire might mean a sudden return of memory, and he resolved to test it further, even at the risk of giving the aching head more pain. For if the memory lapsed again it might never be awakened.

"What does Breslin know?" he asked, leaning very dose to the sick man.

To his surprise the hermit sat bolt upright. "He knows that I never forged the note. It was that sneaking office boy."

That was the story! This man had been made to believe he had forged a note. His exile on the island was because of the supposed crime!

"Of course he knows," Jack soothed. "And to-morrow he will come to see you."

But the sick man was either unconscious, or sleeping. He did not reply.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE UNEXPECTED

"I heard a boat," Cora whispered to Jack, as on the following morning, he rubbed his eyes endeavoring to put sight into them.

"Well, what of it?" he asked.

"It seemed to stop at this landing," replied the sister.

"The girls most likely," and he got to his feet. "How is the old gentleman?"

"Much stronger, and his mind, Laurel thinks, is clearing."

"I think so too. It is an outrage that he has been allowed to suffer here without help. That scoundrel Jones must have fixed this up."

"Did you sleep any, Jack dear?" Cora asked. "I'm afraid you had a lonely vigil."

"Oh, I got a wink or two, and my patient was no trouble. Is that Laurel talking to him?"

"Yes, she seems overjoyed that he can talk rationally to her. But listen Jack! There are voices."

Brother and sister hurried to the door. Strangers were approaching—two men.

"Is—er—Miss Cora Kimball here?" asked one of them, in rather a hesitating voice.

"Yes, what is it?" asked Jack, suspiciously for somehow he did not like the appearance of the strangers.

"We'll do business with her," put in the taller of the two men.

Cora gave a gasp. Somehow she felt as if something unpleasant was about to happen.

"No, you won't do any business with her!" exclaimed Jack, "that is, not until you tell me first. What is it? Out with it!"

"Say, you're quite high and mighty for a young fellow," sneered the short man. "Who be you, anyhow, a lawyer? Because if you are you ought to have sense enough to know that we're detectives, after information, and if we can't get it peaceable we'll get it otherwise. How about that?"

"It doesn't worry me a particle," declared Jack easily. "Now, Cora, leave this to me," for he saw that his sister was much affected. "I'm her brother," he went on, turning to the men, "and not a lawyer, but I guess I can do just as well in this case. Now, what do you want?"

"Well, it's this way," began the tall one. "We heard that Miss Kimball might know something about the quarrel between Peters and Tony, or whatever his name was, and she might be able to put us on his track. Peters is hurt worse than we thought he was at first, and we want Tony. Does she know where he is?"

"No, she doesn't!" exclaimed Jack, before his sister could speak.

"Well, we have a tip about her and another girl being in a hut on Fern Island and being scared by a man," persisted the tall man. "No offense you know, only we thought she could help us out. The man who scared her and her friend may have been Tony."

"I—I didn't see any one—it was dark," explained Cora, before Jack could speak. "Some one approached, fell down and went away again."

"That may have been Tom!" excitedly said the short detective.

"'No, it was—" began Cora.

"Wait a minute," cried Jack. "Before she answers I want to know if you really have a right to the information. How do I know but you may be some one seeking to get evidence for a civil suit for Peters or Tony, and will drag us in as witnesses?"

"Oh, we're not," said the tall man hastily.

"Here's my court-house badge," and he displayed it. "This has nothing to do with a lawsuit. We just want to find Tony. If that wasn't him on the island who scared the girls, who was it? Surely she can't object to telling; it can't hurt her. Who was it?"

Before Cora could answer there was a sound at the door of the hut and a voice exclaimed:

"It was my father!"

There stood Laurel, and the officers shifted their gaze from Cora to her. They started eagerly forward, hoping to get the information they sought from the new witness.

"Tell us about it," urged the short man.

"No, let me, Laurel dear," interrupted Cora. "I can explain, Jack, and have it all over with. Really it's very simple."

Then, without at all going into the details of the mystery of the hermit, which information Cora felt the detectives had no right to possess, she told how she and Laurel had been in the hut and how the unknown man who so frightened, them had turned out to be Laurel's father, and that even now he was under care because of the injury he received.

"And he lived on Fern Island all this while?" asked one of the officers. "Why did he do that?"

"For his health I guess," said Jack sharply. "That doesn't concern your case against Tony, or whatever his name was, and this Peters. You've found out that my sister doesn't know anything to help you in your hunt, and you might as well skip out. This is private ground, you know."

"That doesn't make any difference to the law," growled the short man.

"Oh, yes it does," said Jack sweetly. "You're trespassers as much as any one else if you haven't a warrant, and I don't believe you have."

"No, I guess you're right," admitted the tall man, with as good grace as possible. "Come on," this to his companion, "we can't learn anything here. Let's go see old Ben."

Cora and Laurel had gone into the house. Jack did not want them annoyed again, and he wondered how the men had come to think that Cora might know something of the quarrel between Peters and Tony.

"It was probably just a guess," decided Jack. "There is certainly something like a mystery about the hermit, and—"

He interrupted his thoughts as he saw one of the men coming back.

"Hang it all! I wonder what he wants now?" thought Jack. The man soon informed him.

"I say, do you think the hermit, as you call him, would be well enough to testify in court about this case?" the detective asked.

"What case?" inquired Jack, wondering if the man suspected the reason for the hermit's exile.

"The Peters case."

"No, I don't think he would," was the young man's answer, and once more the man went to his boat.

As he and his companion started off, Jack saw the Petrel containing Bess, Hazel, Walter and Ed swinging up to the small dock. The young, folks looked closely at the two detectives.

"He may have to testify whether he wants to or not!" called the short officer back to Jack who was still watching them. "The law gets what it wants you know. This isn't the only case against Tony. He is an old offender."

"All right, have your own way about it," responded Jack easily, and he noted that the occupants of the Petrel seemed rather alarmed. Then they hastened to disembark as the police boat chugged away, and Jack ran down to meet them.



CHAPTER XXV

AWAKENED MEMORIES

"Oh, where is Cora!" gasped Bess, as she landed at the island rock, and almost fell fainting into Jack's arms.

"Why, she is with Laurel—in the hut. What ever is the matter, Bess?"

"We thought—thought they had taken you all to jail! Oh, those horrible men! Those detectives!"

"You silly," exclaimed Jack, seeing that the poor girl was really exhausted from fright. "Don't you know better than that?"

"But they would not believe us! They made us tell them where you were, and Belle is sick in bed. Their boat passed ours as we were coming in. We had a delay. Oh, we've been so alarmed!"

"Poor Belle," Jack murmured. "Now, Bess, just step up here and make sure for yourself that Cora is just as intact as when you last saw her. I am here to speak for myself. If anything she is better for a night's rest in the open. We expect to start a camp on this plan. It can't be beat."

Ed motioned Jack aside. "Wasn't that the police boat?" he asked.

"Yes, and Cora and I gave them all the clues they wanted. None at all in other words. They're after Tony."

"Oh! and Cora, is she all right?" Ed questioned further.

"Splendid. Did you hear the latest?"

"Which?" asked Ed, significantly.

"Laurel's father is almost better. The hermit, you know."

"You don't say! Can he testify?" asked Ed.

"He may be able to if they require it. But the queer part is it seems to have been the shock that awakened his brain. I have read of such cases."

Ed was silent, for the girls were returning. Hazel had her brown arms around Cora while Bess looked at Laurel as if she expected every moment her chum might evaporate. Walter towed on behind the little party.

"I must go down to the landing, Jack," Cora said. "I expect a registered letter, and it is most important that I get it at once."

Now this was the very thing that Jack did not want her to do—to get into the crowd of curious ones that would be sure to be congregated about the landing.

"Could I not fetch it? You don't want to leave the girls when they have just come up," Jack interposed.

"I am afraid this time I will have to get my own mail," said Cora with a smile. "Ed can run me down and we will come straight back."

This was finally agreed upon, although Jack did not like the arrangements. He called Ed aside and warned him not to let Cora leave the boat, not to let her speak to anyone, and not to let any one intercept her. "You can tell about those lawyer fellows," he finished. "They might think it their legal duty to interview her, for they know she has been let into the hermit's secret."

Ed readily promised all Jack said, punctuating his remarks with a display of arm muscle which meant that anyone would have to pass pretty close to it to reach Cora while she was in his company. Then they left.

Jack sat down on the ledge near the water. He was not given to the "glooms" but surely he had had more than his share of serious business lately. How it would end was his cause for anxiety. So he was pondering when Laurel touched his arm.

"Father would like to speak to you," she said in a faint voice. "He seems to think he knows you."

Jack jumped up suddenly. "He spoke to me very rationally last night," he said; "perhaps that is what he means."

He followed Laurel into the hut. The old man had gotten up and was as nicely washed and fixed as a sick person is usually when loving hands hover around.

"Good morning, sir," Jack said pleasantly, taking the seat beneath the opening in the boughs that served as a window.

"Good morning, good morning, and a really good morning it is," said the older man. "I wanted to speak with you. Laurel dear, is there not water to fetch?"

Laurel took the cue and hurried out, leaving Jack alone with the hermit.

"Young man," he began, "something has happened to clear my brain. A shock some fifteen years ago, if I have not lost all track of time, almost, if not altogether, deprived me of my reason." He paused and put his hand to his brown forehead, in a motion that seemed more a matter of habit than of necessity. "Then I came here, or he brought me here. I was all alone. Little Laurel must have been a baby, when one morning I found her at my side. Dear, sweet little cherub. He told me since that her mother had died!"

Jack did not venture an interruption. It all seemed too sacred for the lips of strangers to break in upon.

"Then we lived here. That man—!" He clenched his fist and Jack feared the excitement might be bad for his weakened head.

"Don't let us talk of him," Jack advised. "Let us consider what is best to do now."

"My brave boy!" and the hermit put his arm on Jack's shoulder. "That is always the mighty question for right; what is best to do now?"

A flush had stolen into his sunken cheeks, but Jack could see that it was not years, but trouble, that had marred his handsome face.

"He said I would be convicted—of that... crime!" The words seemed to burn his throat, for he put, his hand up as if to, choke further utterance.

"A crime you never committed," Jack ventured, without having the slightest knowledge of what it might mean to his listener.

"Can you prove it? Can you prove it!" gasped the man and for the moment Jack was frightened. He felt he was again in the presence of the mad hermit of Fern Island.

"Of course we can prove it. My sister has gone now for the absolute proof!" Jack was daring more and more each second. "But you spoke of Breslin. You said you knew him."

"I do! Where is he! Breslin always believed in me, and he could save me now," replied the man.

"Well, listen and try to be calm, or Laurel will not let me talk further to you," Jack cautioned. "Last night you mentioned the name of a wealthy banker, for whom my best friend works. This friend is a mechanical genius and he runs a racer boat for Brendon Breslin, the banker!"

"Where? Here? On these shores?" and the man was panting.

"Only a short distance off. But I tell you, Mr.—?"

"Starr," volunteered the man.

"Mr. Starr, if you will only get strong enough you can do a, great deal for yourself and Laurel._ The night that you fell a man was on this Island. Did you know Jim Peters?"

"Jim Peters!" repeated the hermit. "Yes, he was here the night Laurel went away with that nice young lady who looks like you."

Jack started at that. The night Laurel went away was the night Jim Peters had quarreled with Tony and been hurt.

"Did he come to the hunt?" asked Jack.

"No, but the other man did. Brentano and he quarreled, and he drove Jim Peters down to his boat. I saw them for I was wandering about wishing for Laurel, and I remember it all."

"If that man, Brentano, you call him, chased Peters into the boat did he get in with him?" Jack asked anxiously.

"Yes, I saw them shove off, but Peters was ugly and wanted to come back."

"Did he?"

"I had to hide then, as they might have injured me if they caught me. I did not see the boat go out or come back. I went to one of my many hiding places," finished the old man with evident effort.

"Well, Mr. Starr, you have relieved my mind greatly, and I hope I have not taxed your brain too strongly. But the fact is the detectives are trying to find out about those men and every bit of information helps. The police, you know, like to clear things up to suit themselves," Jack said.

At the word "police," the man winced. Jack noticed the change of manner, and at once turned the subject to that of the health of his listener. He urged him to get up enough strength to leave the island, for Laurel's sake, as well as for his own.

"But I have lived here like a wild man," argued Mr. Starr, "in fact I fear I have grown to be one in ways and manners. Solitude may be good for some, but for those in distress—"

"Exactly. But you are not going to have any more solitude. You see we have invaded your camp, and when my sister Cora makes a discovery she always insists upon developing it. I never did see the beat of Cora for finding things out," and the pride in Jack's voice matched the toss of his handsome head.

"And my little girl will have a friend," mused the elder man. "Well, in moments when I could think, that torturing thought of my dragging her down with me was too much. It drove me back always to the old, old despair." The look of terror, that Jack noticed before came back into the haggard face. It was as if he feared to hope.

Laurel was at the door. Her face was a picture of happiness as she stood there gazing at her father. Her skin was as dark as the leaves that outlined the entrance to the hut; her eyes lighted up the rude archway: and her lithe figure completed the bronze statuette.

Jack's eyes fell upon her in unstinted admiration. Generations of culture are not easily undone even by the wild life of a forest.

"You are better every minute, father," she said simply, "I think the cure you need comes from pleasant company."

"None could be more pleasant than your own, my dear," he answered, "but now I want to go and see my birds. And I must feed that cripple rabbit. He was shot," to Jack, "but the leg is mending nicely. I missed him so, for he knew us so well and would eat from our hands. You see we established a little kingdom here. Laurel was queen and we, the birds and other life creatures, were all her subjects."

Laurel blushed through her tan. "Yes, he had to do something," she said, "else the days would have been too long."

The chug of a motor-boat interrupted them. "That's Cora," said Jack, and so it was.



CHAPTER XXVI

IN SEARCH OF HONOR

Cora brought back with her the letter promised by Brentano in his note of mystery. This time she confided in Laurel her scheme for unraveling the tangled skein in the web of dishonor that had been woven about the strange girl's father.

Ben had spoken to Cora at the Landing. He seemed to think that Cora might know more about the trouble between Peters and Tony than he had expected at first.

"But I don't, Ben," she insisted, while Ed was absent getting mail. "You give me credit for being better able to solve mysteries than I am. Is he worse hurt than they thought, Ben?"

"Much worse, miss. Of course, he's not dangerous, but the officers want Tony the worst way. Now if you could tell where to find him—"

"But I can't," she explained. "They came to me—"

And then she stopped suddenly. If Ben did not know of the visit of the detectives she was not going to tell him. She had had a faint suspicion that Ben might have sent them to her. But he evidently had not.

"Yes—yes," he said eagerly. "You were sayin', Miss Cora, that—"

"Oh, nothing, Ben," she answered quickly. "I think I am really so happy at having helped Laurel, that I don't know what I am saying."

"Yes, indeed you can well be, Miss," and Ben looked at her with what Cora thought a strange gaze. Still, she might be mistaken. Then she made some excuse to stroll away.

Walter had rambled off with Hazel and Bess. The day was now one of those so wonderful in August, when nature seems tired of her anxieties, and rests in a perfect ocean of content. The haze had cleared from the water, the hills were shimmering in the rival honors of sunlight and shadows, and Cedar Lake from far and near was glorious. Not a breeze broke the spell:

"No brisk fairy feet, bend the air, strangely sweet, For nature is wedding her lover!"

This line prompted Cora. Somehow the joy of relief was the one thing that had ever overcome her, and now, although nothing in all, the strange things that had happened around her, or had warped the life of Laurel and her father seemed really cleared away, still there was that odd look on old Ben's face, there was a new light in Laurel's eyes, and something like vigor in the voice of Mr. Starr. Oh, if he could and would only tell about that note! Then everything else might await time for adjustment.

Cora took Jack and Laurel down under the broken chestnut tree to tell them about the letter. It was best, she concluded not to mention it yet to Mr. Starr.

"You know," she began, "that Brentano, that is the man of many names," she explained to Jack, "promised to send me information that would clear Mr. Starr of his supposed crime."

Laurel drew a deep breath. The word crime made her almost shudder.

"And this is to-day's letter." She opened the bulky envelope. "He says so much about a girl's power of influence," Cora explained, as if not wanting to read that part of the letter. Then he says this:

"'I have some excuse for my folly. When I was a very little child my mother died. My farther was an expert mathematician employed by the Mexican government. From a tiny lad I watched him make those fascinating rows of figures, and I always wanted to know what they meant. He told me money, riches, gold, and I got to believe that the way to acquire money was to make figures, and do wonderful things with pen and ink. When I was twelve years old my father died, and I was left, with considerable money, in the care of an old nurse who idolized me. Poor old Maximina! She meant no wrong, but who was to guide me? Then the money was gone and the nurse was also gone. I had to follow some occupation, and a friend coming to America brought me with him. At fifteen I was a bank runner. It was there I met Mr. Starr, the respected first clerk of the bank. He liked me, talked to me and was my friend. Then I got in with a set of so called scientific cranks. I knew something about the ways of hypnotism, and when I wanted money the temptation came."

Cora stopped, for Laurel had clutched at Jack's arm. Her face was a faded yellow and her eyes were twitching.

"Shall we wait for the rest, Laurel?" Cora asked. "Perhaps it is—too painful for you now!"

"Oh, no! It is not pain, it is agony. This boy whom my father befriended!"

"But you see he was not born a scoundrel," Jack interrupted. "He is now trying to make amends."

"Yes," sighed Laurel, "please go on, Cora."

Cora read: "I have kept proofs of everything, but if the authorities refuse to accept these proofs I am willing to come back to America and give myself up. You will find the papers marked 'bank records' in a chest in the back kitchen of Peters shack. They are sealed in a big tin can marked 'red paint.' What are they saying about Peters? That must be a hard nut for the Lake people to crack, but since they know so much, or they think they know, it might be a good thing to let them find out how little they really do know. I am sorry for poor Peters. He got ugly, however, and it was his own fault?"

As Cora read these last few words her, eyes left the paper. What did he mean? Why did he not say more? He knew Peters' shack held the needed proofs of that forgery case. It would take many days to write to and hear from Mexico. All this was dashing before Cora's confused mind.

"The thing to do," spoke Jack, "is to go to the shack at once. When we find those papers we may believe the man."

"I believe him now," said Laurel, "for all that he says of my father I have heard in his ravings. Poor, dear father! And to think I was too young to help him!"

"It was evidently not a question of age," said Jack, "when one is hypnotized into the belief that he has committed a crime it would take scientific treatment to restore him to his correct view of the case. To remove you from the possibility of this, I suppose, is the very reason that Brentano brought you here."

"We cannot go for the papers to-day," Cora said, "for we must, if possible, get Mr. Starr either to the boys' bungalow, or to our camp. Which do you think, Jack?"

"We will take him to our bungalow, certainly. And it seems to me he is smart and bright enough for the trip now. If we wait later he might have some reaction," Jack replied.

Laurel agreed with him, and presently they broached the matter to Mr. Starr.

"But I cannot go just now," the hermit argued. "I have that little lame rabbit—"

"Why, father," and Laurel folded her arms around him, "don't you think it would be dreadful to disappoint our friends when they have waited the whole night? And they must want to get back to their comfortable quarters."

"Looking at it that way," he faltered, "I suppose I ought to. But how can a man leave the woods when he has been in them for ten years?"

"It must be hard," Cora agreed, "and if you want to come back we could arrange to build you a real camp out here, one in which Laurel might have some comforts. But first you must get strong. Just think of beef tea-broth—can't you smell it?"

"Girl! Girl!" he exclaimed with a real smile brightening his benevolent face, "you have a way! Laurel, we have no trunks to pack," he said, half grimly, "have we?"

"But we have things to take with us," 'and she jumped up so pleased, believing that he had almost, if not entirely, consented to go.

"Where's that rabbit?" asked Jack.

Walter and the girls were coming the other way.

"It's in a mossy bed just back of where Bess stands," said Laurel.

"Then he's the first thing to be packed," said Jack, walking straight for the path where the others stood.

From that time until the Petrel landed at the lower end of Cedar Lake Mr. Starr, the hermit, felt that he was in a dream. At the same time he allowed himself to be guided and managed with the simplicity of a child, for his awakened memory seemed stunned by this new turn of affairs. He was weak, of course, but with all the hands that now crowded around him his every need was well looked after.

"I'll get Dr. Rand," Ed volunteered. "They say he is wonderful on mental cases."

"But he needs rest first," insisted the busy Cora, for she and Laurel had gone directly to the boys' bungalow with Mr. Starr.

Between them all the illness seemed overwhelmed. In fact, the man's eyes, the safest signal of the brain, were as dear as those of the young persons who so eagerly watched his every move.

Dr. Rand came at once. He diagnosed the case as one of mental shock, and called the patient convalescent. A nurse however was called in to hurry the recovery, and this necessitated the renting of another bungalow for the boys.

There had never been more excitement around the wood camp. The boys ran this way and that, each anxious to outdo the other in the accomplishment of something important. Finally Cora suggested that they all go away to make sure that Mr. Starr would have real quiet.

"Can't we go for the papers? To the shack?" Laurel ventured.

"We might," Jack replied. "I see no reason why we should not."

"Let us three go," proposed Cora, "I mean you and Laurel and I, Jack. It might be best not to attract attention."

Once more the Petrel sailed up the lake, this time toward the Everglades. Cora thought of that day when she and Bess dared take the same journey, when the strange man sat at the willowed shore ostensibly making sketches. She thought now that his work then must have been the forging of a letter to hand the poor demented hermit of Fern Island.

"The shack is just over there, Jack," she said, pointing out the willows.

"There's another boat anchored there," Jack said. "It looks like an important craft too."

He had seen it before. It was the very boat in which the detective and the police officer sailed up to the far island the morning they came searching for evidence in the Jones' case.

"The path is narrow," Cora said, "but I happen to know it." She led the way.

"There are men!" exclaimed Laurel as they neared the shack.

Two men were trying to force open the low window. Cora drew back, for one of the men was in uniform.

"I suppose they have not finished the case," Jack ventured, and at that very moment he would have given a great deal to have had his sister and Laurel back at camp.

The men had not yet seen them. They forced open the window, and were now inside.

"Let us turn back," Jack suggested. "They may ask us questions—"

"But the papers," begged Laurel. "They mean so much to father. And what if those men should take them?"

"They will likely take everything they can lay their hands on," Jack answered, "and I suppose it will be best for us to go on."

"Certainly," Cora said, knowing well that it was on her account that Jack hesitated. "They cannot do more than ask questions."

But scarcely had she uttered the words than they saw the two men walk out of the shack, and one of them had the can marked "red paint!"



CHAPTER XXVII

A BOLD RESOLVE

Seeing their precious papers, or the receptacle that was said to contain them, in the hands of the detective, Cora and Laurel both drew back. They could not now demand them, was the thought that flashed to the mind of each, and yet to leave them in possession of the officers, was the very worst thing that could have happened, for there was always the danger of the old story coming up and then the risk to Mr. Starr, after all his years of evading the law!

"They have no right to them," Jack said under his breath.

"Hush!" Cora whispered, "they are going the other way!"

The two men were talking. Suddenly one of them said loudly enough for the listeners to hear:

"It might be dynamite. Not for me! Here goes!" and he carefully set the can down under a bush.

"Yes," said the other man. "You are right. Those two fellows were up to most anything. We will get Mulligan. He could smell dynamite," and with that they turned, took a new path toward the shore, and were soon sailing off in their boat.

For a few moments neither of the three, who were standing there watching, spoke. Then Cora's face brightened.

"They are ours, Laurel's," she said, "and we have a right to take them."

"But the law is queer on such points," Jack argued. "I have known men to be put in jail for what they call interfering with an officer when the officer could not do just what he wanted to with some spunky citizen. I should not like to touch the can of red paint."

"But my father," said Laurel, in the most pleading of tones. "Think what it means! How we have suffered; and now, when this is at our very hands!"

"But suppose it were something other than the papers," cautioned Jack. "Those men had a pretty bad reputation."

"I will take all the risks," declared Cora, and before Jack could detain her she ran to the bush, pushed it aside, and grasped the can.

Jack hurried to take it from her. "Let me have it, Cora; if there is a risk it must be mine."

"All right, Jack dear," she replied, "I am sure there is nothing in it heavier than papers. Wouldn't you think those men could have guessed that?"

"Perhaps they did not want to," said Jack. "You can never tell what they want or mean. They have a system even the country fellows, and it covers a multitude of failures." He shook the can, put it to his ear, rolled it a few feet, picked it up again and laughed. "Mr. Mulligan won't find this can," he said, "Somehow it is attractive, and I am anxious as you girls to see what is in it. If we get in trouble for taking it—well, we'll see," and he led the way down to the Petrel.

On the water they passed the police boat, but the can of "red paint," was snugly resting under Laurel's skirts in the bottom of the boat.

"Will you tell your father at once, Laurel?" Cora asked.

"If he is well enough. Oh, I can scarcely wait. Coral, what wonderful good luck you brought to us," and she reached out her hand to press Cora's.

"Don't be too sure," cautioned the other, "it is not all cleared up yet."

"But I feel sure," she insisted. "Brentano was too clever to do anything half way."

"He certainly was a star," Jack admitted. "But I hope he will not insist upon keeping up the correspondence with Cora. He might give us the hoo-doo."

They were soon at their dock. The Peter Pan was tied, there, and that meant that Paul Hastings was at the bungalow. Jack thought instantly of Paul's employer, the banker, whose name Mr. Starr had mentioned. It did seem now that things were shaping themselves to tell all the story.

"Who is the stranger?" Cora asked, noticing a man in a dressing robe sitting on the little rustic porch.

"I—wonder—" Jack said.

"It's father," almost screamed Laurel, "and he has had his hair cut and his beard taken off! Doesn't he look lovely!"

"It can't be," Cora said hesitatingly. "That man is so young!"

"He's my dear father, just the same," declared the delighted girl, hurrying from the boat up to the bungalow.

The man did not turn his head to greet her, but she was not to be deceived by his little ruse. "What a surprise!" she exclaimed. "I scarcely knew you."

"But you did know me," he replied, with a happy smile. "I feel years and years younger, my dear."

"Indeed you look it," Cora said. "I wonder how you ever hid such good looks."

The nurse was fetching the beef tea, Paul took the cup from her hand. Jack made a wry face at Laurel, indicating that they would have to watch Paul and the pretty new nurse. Then he took the chair nearest Mr. Starr. The can of "red paint" had been safely hidden in a locker of the Petrel.

"Your friend has been telling me the wonders of his fast boat," began Mr. Starr to Jack, speaking of Paul.

"Yes. This is the young man who is employed by Brendon Breslin," Jack replied.

"Employed by Brendon Breslin!" exclaimed Mr. Starr. "Is Mr. Breslin around here?"

"Gone to the city to-day," replied Paul, "but I take him home every night in the Peter Pan. That's what he wants the best boat on the lake for."

"He always believed me, and never wanted me to go away," Mr. Starr said. "And now if I could see him—"

"I don't see why you cannot," put in Jack. "He often rides by here, doesn't he Paul?"

"He thinks this the prettiest end of the lake," Paul replied. "But if you ever knew him and he was your friend I am sure he would be only too glad to make a special trip to see you, for he boasts he never forgets an old friend," Paul said.

"That's him—that's Brendon," exclaimed Mr. Starr, moving uneasily in his chair. "I feel I must be dreaming."

There was a general pause—for realization. Everyone felt indeed it was like a dream, and almost beyond human power to grasp. Mr. Starr swept his hand over his forehead.

"Laurel," he called, "I wonder if I couldn't take a ride in the Peter Pan. Ask the nurse, please—?"

"Oh, no," objected that young lady. "It would not be wise for you to take another boat ride to-day. We will ask the doctor about it tomorrow."

"Don't be impatient, father," pleaded Laurel. "You must not forget how weak your head has been."

"All right, child. But I want it cleared up," he murmured. "I feel there is no safety for me until I'm vindicated."

"Come on, Jack," whispered Cora. "We must open that can."

Paul was leaving. Cora and Jack walked to the dock with him. He assured them both that Mr. Breslin would call very soon, and also promised to be on hand on the following Wednesday evening when the girls and boys were planning to have a celebration.

"They will never know but that it is really paint," Cora remarked, as she and Jack walked boldly up the path with the precious tin can. "Just take it around to the back, and be careful opening it."

"Dynamite?" asked Jack with a smile.

"No, but you might damage something," she replied.

"No worry about damaging myself?" he persisted. "Well, Cora, I hope it contains—some jewels. Wouldn't that be nice?"

There was no chance for further conversation. Cora went to the porch while her brother carried out her instructions. Presently she made some excuse, and left Laurel alone, talking with her father.

She found Jack sitting on the wash bench with the can opened and in his hands.

"Didn't go off?" she asked, peering into the tin.

"Not a go," replied Jack, "but look! What did I tell you! There's an envelope marked for Laurel, and feel! Are they not stones? Diamonds or pearls?"

"You romancer!" exclaimed Cora, as she felt the bulky envelope. "I admit they do feel like stones, but they may be merely corals. But oh, Jack! Do let me see!"

"Lets call Laurel," he suggested. "We cannot read any of those papers. They are for her, or her father, to open."

"Oh, of course," and Cora looked rebuked. "I had no idea of reading anything, but I thought we should make sure of what was in the can before we got Laurel excited over it," and she slipped around the side of the bungalow to beckon to Laurel.

The girl's face turned white when she saw why she was wanted. "I am so afraid of disappointment," she murmured with a sigh.

"Well, there's something in here," Jack told her. "Look at this," and he handed her the heavy envelope.

She read her name—then she tore open the paper. A necklace fell out on her lap!

"Mother's!" she exclaimed, pressing the golden chain to her lips reverently. "Darling mother's!"

"And the stones are amethysts!" Cora exclaimed as Laurel held up the gems.

"Yes, it was father's wedding present to mother," Laurel told them. "Oh, I scarcely know how to tell him all this."

"Tony was a pretty decent robber after all," remarked Jack. "He kept them for you, at any rate."

"Yes, poor man. Perhaps, as he said, his one temptation was to do clever things with a pen. Let us look over the papers."

"Perhaps your father had best see you do that," Jack suggested.

"Oh no. I think I had better know first," Laurel insisted. "Let me open this," and she carefully broke a large red seal on a packet of documents yellow with age.

Paper after paper she took out. Finally what she was looking for she found. It was a check that had been cashed and cancelled! It bore the marks also of "forgery!"

"That's it," she exclaimed. "That is the ten thousand dollar check!"



CHAPTER XXVIII

ALL ENDS WELL-CONCLUSION

"I remember it all—it's like a book open before me!"

Laurel had insisted upon her father reclining in the hammock, and she was now fussing with his pillows, that he might nestle deeper in their softness. It was he who was speaking. On the porch sat Brendon Breslin, looking into Peter Starr's face like one enchanted. There was Cora moving a big fan so that apparently without her doing it, the breeze reached the man in the hammock. Jack was there and Ed was inside the bungalow teasing Walter who had "discovered" the new nurse. Hazel, Bess and Belle were busy—there was to be "something doing."

A day had passed since the opening of the can of "red paint." In fact it was the evening following that eventful performance. Paul had only to say "Peter Starr"' to Mr. Breslin, and the latter was ready to be at the bungaloafers' camp. So the story was unwinding.

"Do you really feel able to talk?" asked the millionaire banker. "I will insist now—you got, the better of me once, Peter."

"Yes, Mr. Starr," Cora added to the request. "Do be careful."

"And she asks me to be careful!" He actually seized Cora in his trembling arms. "She! Why she risked her life for us. It was she who found my Laurel! She who came to us at night to be sure we would not repel her! She who followed up that—"

"Oh, please, hush!" Cora begged, "or it will be she who causes your relapse," she insisted.

"Indeed no," and the man held in his hands before him the flushed face of Cora. "What you have done cannot be told of in this rude way."

"Father, I'll be jealous," said Laurel, trying to relieve the tension.

Cora slipped away. It was Mr. Breslin who spoke next.

"And you really remember?" he asked of Mr. Starr. "How was it that you ran away?"

"The bank president's name had been forged to a check for ten thousand dollars!"

"Yes, I know that well," said Mr. Breslin.

"And they traced the forgery to me!"

"But you knew you were innocent!"

"I knew it, but I was frightened by the accusation, and they had found trials of the signature in my desk!"

"I have a letter that explains that," Cora imparted, and then she told how Brentano had confessed to the forgery, and to his almost hypnotic influence over Mr. Starr.

"And then?" inquired Mr. Breslin.

"Brentano told me I must go. He fixed everything. I have been on the island ten years," and the hermit sighed heavily.

"How did you live?" asked the banker.

"He fixed that," and there was bitterness in his tone. "He brought me letters regularly. These were alleged to come from those who would prosecute me if I did not keep on paying money!"

At this statement the banker dashed up from his seat. "The scoundrel!" he almost hissed. "He ought to be jailed! If I had him here I'd do it too. I'm mayor of this borough."

"Oh, Mr. Breslin!" exclaimed Laurel. "He must not have been entirely bad. See how he saved the papers—the proofs—and how he kept for me my mother's jewels."

"That's the sentimental mire that foreign criminals wallow in," he replied with irony. "I cannot see that it mitigates the crime."

"And yet," interrupted Mr. Starr, "see how the influence of a mere girl turned him to right? I did like that boy!"

Cora and Laurel had crept away to the far end of the porch. Two men came up the path.

"Hello!" said Mr. Breslin. "Officers!"

There was surprise on the officers' faces when they saw Mr. Breslin, their superior officer, the mayor of Cedar Lake, sitting on the porch. Greetings were exchanged and finally they ventured to make known their mission.

They had heard that someone saw Cora Kimball take the state's evidence—the can of "red paint!"

"But what was a can of paint?" asked the mayor. "As if a girl would want that," and his voice was almost mocking.

"Well, it might have been dynamite," and the man who wore brass buttons shook his head sagely.

"A girl steal a can of dynamite," repeated Mr. Breslin mockingly.

The officers were trying to see who was in the hammock. But the man therein sank back into the cushions, while Jack carelessly slipped his chair directly in front of him.

"Why didn't you take it when you saw it?" asked the town's mayor.

"Well," explained the other man, "we didn't fancy the blow-up. We went for Mulligan who knows about such things, and when we came back it was gone."

"You had better tell that story before the jury," and the sarcasm in Mr. Breslin's tone was unmistakable. "Suppose you tell them that a girl took what you were afraid to touch!"

Seeing that it was useless to argue with the mayor, they turned to leave.

"Wait," he said good naturedly, "I have my boat here. Take a ride with me. It's better than walking the dusty roads. Good evening," he said. "Mr. Fennelly," (to Mr. Starr,) "I hope you will regain your health by the time your son has to return to college!"

"Fennelly," said one officer to the other. "That's not the name, it was Starr! We're on the wrong trail." And they hurried away. Thus had Mr. Breslin saved the hermit from having to testify.

"Laurel," Cora said wearily, "let us go for a little walk. My nerves are all snarled up, and only a walk will unravel them. We will have time to go as far as the hemlocks before those girls and boys make up their minds to disband."

"But it is dark," objected Laurel.

"All the better; the quiet will be more effective. Come on, Laurel. Surely you do not mind a dark evening."

"Oh, no indeed, Cora," she replied, winding her arm, about her friend's waist, "but I was thinking it might shower."

"Oh, we could beat any shower," insisted, Laurel, "Come let us get away before they miss us."

It was getting very dark indeed, but they heeded it not, so interested were they in their chat.

They talked of many things, as girls will, and Laurel told much of her half-wild life, on Fern Island, while Cora related some of her own experiences. Then they returned to the house, where they found the others assembled.

"Let's have some fun," suggested Walter.

"I vote for charades," said Jack. "I'll be a fish."

"All right!" exclaimed the nurse, entering into the spirit of the fun, "here's where you swim!" and she poured a glass of water down Jack's back. He accepted the challenge and made exaggerated motions as if he were struggling in deep water. There was a gale of laughter, and that was the beginning of a gay time. The troubles of the past seemed all forgotten.

The now happy party remained together for several days and in the meanwhile there were many developments.

Through the efforts of Mr. Breslin everything regarding the former hermit was cleared up, and his name was once more restored to its untarnished honor. There was absolutely no charge against him, and on learning this, his health took a big change for the better. As for Laurel, she was happier than she had been in many years.

The injury to Jim Peters did not amount to as much as had been feared at first and he gradually recovered. There was no trace of "Tony," as everyone called Brentano. The search for him was given up, but the officers who had been fooled by the can of "red paint" had a hard time living down the joke against them. Cora destroyed all the correspondence she had received. It was like a bad dream, all but that part about helping Laurel and her father, and she wanted to forget it. Laurel also destroyed the letter Jack had picked up the night of the search. It was one from Brentano, and she, too, wanted no remembrance of him. This epistle had a slight connection with the mystery.

Old Ben proved a good friend and Cora was sorry for the momentary feeling she had had against him. He showed the boys many woodland haunts and took them to secret fishin' "holes" unknown to the general public. The lads voted him a "brick."

It was a bright, beautiful day and every one was happy—happy because of the fine weather and because everything had turned out so well.

"I feel just like doing something!" exclaimed Cora, who, came in from a walk in the woods.

"What, sis?" asked Jack, making a grab for her which she adroitly avoided.

"Oh—almost anything. Since so much of our summer was spoiled in exploring and in solving mysteries, suppose we dispel the gloom with a spell of reckless gaiety."

"Suppose," agreed Hazel. "What shall it be? I vote for water fun. We can have parties and that sort of stuff all winter."

"Fishing! The very thing!" exclaimed Cora, "and give prizes for fish, near fish, and no fish."

"Oh, the boys would be sure to win on the fish number," said Hazel, "but let's try it. We have to have live bait, I suppose."

"And we can haul the bait nets. Did you ever see them cast one of those thirty feet ones?" asked Cora.

"Never," replied Hazel. "But when shall we start, and what do we start? I'll dig for worms."

"To-night we will go for the bait, and you can go out with a lantern in the darkest parts of the woods to dig for worms," Cora said, knowing, that this would put an end to Hazel's offer.

"In the woods? In our own back yard. I know how to turn stones over. I have often helped Paul," Hazel attested.

But it was casting the big thirty foot net that really furnished the best sport. It was dropped from a rowboat by Bess and Cora while Laurel and Belle rowed. Then when it was all spread out they had to row very quickly in a circle to close the bottom and to drag in the unsuspecting little fishes that were to make the live bait.

The first trial resulted in Belle resigning as oarsman. She had lost a gold-rimmed side-comb overboard, besides getting very wet when the boat turned suddenly and "took a wave."

"I can row alone," insisted Laurel. "Cora and Hazel must manage the net."

This time they did bring up some fish—a whole drove of wiggling, frightened little minnies.

"How do we get them out?" asked Bess, more frightened than the fish.

"Pick them out and put them in the bait box," Cora explained, while Bess made a negative face.

"It seems a shame to use them for bait," Laurel said, as on the pier they opened the net carefully and saw the pretty silvery things slip around. "Couldn't we put them some place to grow up?"

"The fish-orphans' home," suggested Cora. "But I must have a few. You know, girls, fish have no brains. That's the reason I suppose they go into the brain business when they get a chance at humans."

The very next afternoon the girl's fishing party rowed out from Center Landing. Walter went along to take the fish off the hooks of Belle and Bess who declared they would never be able to do that. The other boy's composed a rival party.

Ben was at the landing, and he wished them all sorts of luck besides telling them the secret spots where fish dwelt. They went deep into the cove, as Ben said the pickerel loved to lay in the grasses there.

Bess and Belle insisted upon following the directions on the box of a patent "plug" they had purchased and cast near a lily pond, reeling in so slowly that Hazel and Cora had both had "strikes" before the twins saw their white make believe fish come to the surface. This sort of casting was for bass of course.

"I've got one! I've got one!" shouted Cora, as she pulled in a handsome big, black bass.

This won the first and last prize, for it was an exceptionally fine specimen.

"We knew you would have the best luck, Cora," Hazel said without malice, as she dragged up a very small, scared sunny. "We knew it. You always do."

"It isn't luck," added Laurel, "It's skill. She knew that she must pull up as soon as the fish struck. I lost something. It might have been a snake but it got away because I was not quick enough."

There was quite a laugh when Jack, after a hard struggle, during which he protested that he must have the biggest pickerel in the lake, pulled in a large mud turtle. Later, however, he redeemed himself by catching one of the long fish which gave him quite a battle of the line. The other boys did well, and the girls were not far behind them.

"Well," remarked Cora, during a lull in the proceedings when they had gone ashore to eat the lunch they had brought along, "we really haven't had so much fun as this since we came to the lake. There was so much excitement."

"There are other vacations coming," predicted Ed. "There is no telling what may happen since she has learned to adjust a spark plug, and regulate a timer."

Ed was right; there were other adventures in store for the motor girls, and what they consisted of will be related in the next volume of this series to be entitled "The Motor Girls on the Coast or The Waif from the Sea."

The afternoon waned. No one felt like going fishing after lunch. Besides, as Cora said, they, had enough, and they were all cleaned up from the "mess" of baiting hooks.

And now, for a time we will take leave of the girls, as they are sitting on the shady shores of Cedar Lake, talking—talking—and the boys listening, with occasional remarks.

"And I'm so glad it all came out right," Cora murmured. "You are to go to school with me, Laurel—mother has planned about that."

"And it was so good of Mr. Breslin to arrange to have father do clerical work for him," added the woodland maid. "Oh, how lovely everything is!"

And the sun, sinking to rest, cast a rosy glow over the peaceful waters of the lake.

THE END