"Splendid!" cried Frank. "And they frightened me so!"

"Look out for the biscuits, Mrs. Havel, please," begged Bess. "I am afraid they will be burned."

The lady returned hurriedly to the camp on the top of the hillock. When she mounted the rise from the shore, there was a circle of giggling youths about the open fireplace and a pile of moth-eaten buffalo hides near by. Dave was messing with the Dutch oven in which Bess had just before put the pan of biscuit for breakfast.

"Ho, ho!" cried Tubby. "Where are the girls?"

"Bear hunting, I bet!" cried Ferd Roberts.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Havel," said Dave, smiling rather sheepishly. "I hope we didn't scare you."

"You rather startled me—coming unannounced," admitted Mrs. Havel, but smiling quietly. "You surely have not breakfasted so early?"

"No. That's part of the game," declared another youth. "We claim forfeit—and in this case take payment in eats."

"I am afraid you are more slangy than understandable," returned Mrs. Havel. "Did you come for something particular?"

"Goodness! didn't you see those girls running?" cried Ferd.

"Running? Where to?" queried the chaperone.

Dave began to look more serious.

"Perhaps they are running yet!" squealed Tubby, only seeing the fun of it.

"Bet they've gone for help to hunt the bears," laughed another of the reckless youngsters.

"They'll get out the whole countryside to find 'em," choked Ferdinand Roberts. "That's too rich."

"Are you sure the girls didn't come your way, Mrs. Havel?" asked Dave, with anxiety.

"Oh, the girls will be back presently. I came up to see to the biscuit, Mr. Shepard. About inviting you to breakfast—You know, I am only a guest of Green Knoll Camp myself. I couldn't invite you," said Mrs. Havel, demurely.

The boys looked at each other in some surprise and Tubby's face fell woefully.

"Ca-can't we do something to help you get breakfast, Mrs. Havel?"

Mrs. Havel had to hide a smile at that, but she remained obdurate. "I have really nothing to do with it, Sir Tubby. You must wait for the girls to come," she said.

The boys began whispering together; but they did not move. They had scuttled over from their own camp early with the express intention of "getting one" on the girls, and making a breakfast out of it. But now the accomplishment of their purpose seemed doubtful, and there was a hollow look about them all that should have made Mrs. Havel pity them.

That lady, however, remembered vividly how she had run along the shore in fear of a flock of bears; this was a part of the boys' punishment for that ill-begotten joke.

The biscuit were beginning to brown, the coffee sent off a delicious odor, and here were eggs ready to drop into the kettle of boiling water for their four-minute submersion. Besides, there was mush and milk. Every minute the boys became hungrier.

"Aren't the girls ever coming?" sighed Tubby. "They couldn't be so heartless."

"They haven't gone far; have they?" queried Dave Shepard. "We saw their canoes on the beach."

Just then the laughter of the girls in the distance broke upon the ears of those on the hillock. They were approaching along the shore—apparently from the direction of Jarley's landing.

"They don't seem to have been much scared, after all," grumbled Tubby to Ferd.

"It was a silly thing to do, anyway," returned young Roberts. "Suppose we don't get any breakfast?"

At this horrid thought the fat youth almost fainted. The girls came in sight, and at once hailed the boys gaily:

"Oh! see who's here!" cried Frank. "What a lovely surprise!"

"Isn't it?" said Bess, but with rather a vicious snap. "We couldn't get along, of course, without having a parcel of boys around. 'Morning, Mr. Shepard."

Bess made a difference between Dave and the rest of the Busters, for Dave had helped her in a serious difficulty.

"Where's the professor?" demanded Grace. "Isn't he here, too?"

"He's having breakfast all by his lonesome over on the island," said Ferd, and Tubby groaned at the word "breakfast," while Dave added:

"We—we got a dreadfully early start this morning."

"Quite a start—I should say," returned Wyn, smiling broadly. "And now you're hungry, I suppose?"

"Oh, aren't we, just?" cried one of the crowd, hollowly.

"How about it, Bess? Is there enough for so many more?"

Bess was already sifting flour for more biscuit. She said: "I'll have another panful in a jiffy. Put in the eggs, Mina. We can make a beginning."

"There's plenty of mush," said Mina. "That's one sure thing."

"But we can't all sit down," cried Grace.

"You know, there are but six of these folding seats, and Wyn's been sitting on a cracker box ever since we set up the tents."

"Feed 'em where they're sitting," said Wyn, quickly. "Beggars mustn't be choosers."

"Jinks! we didn't treat you like this when you came over to our camp," cried Ferd.

"And we didn't come over almost before you were up in the morning," responded Frank, quickly. "How did you know we had made our 'twilights' at such an unconscionable hour?"

The girls were all laughing a good deal. Nobody said a word about the "bear" fright, and the boys felt a little diffidence about broaching the subject. Evidently their joke had fallen flat.

But the girls really had no intention of being mean to the six Busters. The first pan of biscuit came out of the oven a golden brown. Grace and Percy set them and the bowls of mush on the table, and handed around other bowls and a pitcher of milk to the circle of boys, sitting cross-legged on the ground like so many tailors.

There was honey for the biscuits, too, as well as golden butter—both from Windmill Farm. The eggs were cooked just right, and there were plenty of them. Crisp radishes and sliced cucumbers and tomatoes added to the fare.

"Gee!" sighed Tubby, "doesn't it take girls to live right in camp? And look at those doughnuts."

"I fried them," cried Mina, proudly. "Mrs. Havel showed me how, though."

"Mrs. Havel, come over to Gannet Island and teach us how to cook," cried Dave. "We don't have anything like this."

"Not a sweetie except what we buy at the Forge—and that's baker's stuff," complained Tubby.

"Don't you think you boys had better be pretty good to us—if you want to come to tea—or breakfast—once in a while?" asked Wyn, pointedly.

"Right!" declared Dave.

"Got us there," admitted Ferdinand.

"I'll see that they behave themselves, Wyn," cried Tubby, with great enthusiasm. "These fellows are too fresh, anyway——"

But at this the other boys rose up in their might and pitched upon Master Blaisdell, rolling him over and over on the grass and making him lose half of his last doughnut.

"Now, now, now!" cried Mrs. Havel. "This is no bear-garden. Try to behave."

The boys began to laugh uproariously at this. "What do you know about a bear-garden, Grace?" Ferd demanded.

"And wasn't that growling of Dave's awe-inspiring?" cried another.

"And weren't you scared, Frank Cameron?" suggested Tubby, grinning hugely when his mates had let him up. "I never did know you could run so fast."

"Why, pshaw!" responded Frank. "Did you boys really think you had scared us with those moth-eaten old robes?"

"How ridiculous!" chimed in Bess. "A boy is usually a good deal of a bear, I know; but he doesn't look like one."

"And—and there haven't been any bears in this country for—for years," said Grace, though rather quaveringly.

"Say! what do you know about all this?" demanded Dave, of his mates.

"Do you girls mean to say that you weren't scared pretty near into fits?" cried one lad.

"Did we act scared?" laughed Wyn. "I guess we fooled you a little, eh?"

"You're just as much mistaken," said Frank, "as the red-headed man was who went to see the doctor because he had indigestion. When the doctor told him to diet, it wasn't his hair he meant; but the red-headed man got mad just the same. Now, you boys——"

"Aw, come! come!" cried Dave. "You can't say honestly you were not scared. You know you were."

"I am afraid your joke fell flat, Davie," laughed Wyn. All the girls were enjoying the boys' discomfiture. "Of course, I suppose you thought you deserved your breakfast as a forfeit because you got a trick across on us. But you'll have to try again, I am afraid. Just because we ran doesn't prove that we did not recognize the combination of a boy and a buffalo robe."

"Aw, now!" cried one of the boys. "What did you run for?"

"There's a reason," laughed Percy.

"Wait!" advised Frank, shaking her head and her own eyes dancing. "You will find out soon enough why we ran."

"'He laughs best who laughs last,'" quoted Grace. "Bears, indeed!"

The boys were puzzled. Breakfast being over the girls went about their several tasks and paid their friends of the opposite sex very little attention. To all suggestions that they get out the canoes and go across to the island with the boys, or on other junkets, the girls responded with refusals. They evidently thought they had something like a joke themselves on the boys, and finally the latter went off through the brush toward the spot where they had tied their canoes, half inclined to be angry.

They were gone a long while, and were very quiet. The girls whispered together, and kept right near the tents, waiting for the explosion.

"At least," Wyn said, chuckling, "we gave them a good breakfast, so they won't starve to death; but if they want to go to the island they will have to swim."

"We've given them 'tit for tat,'" said Frankie, nodding her head. "Glad of it. And they'll pay the forfeit, instead of us."

"If they don't find the canoes," whispered Grace.

"They wouldn't find them in a week of Sundays," cried Percy.

"Then let's set them a good hard task for payment," suggested Bess.

"That's right. They oughtn't to have tried to scare us so," agreed Mina.

"I guess it is agreed," laughed Wyn, "to show them no mercy. Ah! here they come now."

The Busters slowly climbed the knoll in rather woebegone fashion. Their feathers certainly were drooped, as Frank remarked.

"Well," said Dave, throwing himself down on the sward, "we must hand it to you Go-Aheads. You've got us 'way out on the limb, and if you shake the tree very hard we'll drop off."

"No, thanks!" snapped Bess. "We don't care for green fruit."

"Oh, oh!" squealed Ferd. "I bet that hurt me."

"Now, there's no use quarreling," said Dave. "We admit defeat. Where under the sun you girls could have hidden our canoes I don't see. And your own haven't been used this morning, that's sure."

Wyn and her mates broke into uncontrollable laughter at this.

"Who's the joke on now?" cried Bess.

"What will you give to find your canoes?" exclaimed Frankie.

"Aw—say—don't rub it in," begged Tubby. "We own up to the corn. You beat us. Where are the canoes?"

"Ahem!" said Wynifred, clearing her throat loudly, and standing forth.

"Hear, hear!" cried Mina.

"Oh! you've got it all fixed up for us, I see," muttered Ferd.

"The understanding always has been," said Wyn, calmly, "that if one party succeeded in playing a practical joke on the other, and 'getting away with it,' as you slangy boys say, the party falling for the trick should pay forfeit. Isn't that so?"

"Go on! Do your worst," growled Ferd.

"That's right. You state the case clearly, Miss Mallory," said Dave, with a bow of mockery.

"And they never paid a forfeit for the time Tubby slid down our boathouse roof, plunk into the water," cried Bessie.

"Aw—that's ancient history," growled Tubby.

"Let us stick to recent events," agreed Wyn, smiling. "If we girls were at all frightened by your 'bear-faced' attempt to frighten us this morning, we have paid with a breakfast; haven't we?"

"And it was a good one," agreed Dave.

"It's made me go right to cooking again," said Bess. "A swarm of locusts would have brought about no greater devastation."

"Then, gentlemen," said Wynifred, "do you admit that the shoe is now on the other foot? You cannot find your canoes. Will you pay us to find them for you?"

"That's only fair," admitted Dave.

"Say! how do we pay you?" demanded Ferd.

"Shall I tell them what we demand, girls?" asked Wyn.

"Go ahead!" "It'll serve them right!" "They've got to do it!" were some of the exclamations from the Go-Aheads.

"Oh, let the blow fall!" groaned Dave.

"Then, gentlemen of the Busters Association, it is agreed by the ladies of the Go-Ahead Club that while we remain in camp on Green Knoll this summer, you young gentlemen shall cut and stack all the firewood we shall need!"

"Ow-ouch!" cried Ferd.

"What a cheek!" gasped Tubby, rolling his eyes.

"All the firewood you use?" repeated one of the other boys. "Why—that will be cords and cords!"

"Every stick!" declared Wyn, firmly.

"And I'd be ashamed, if I were you, to complain," pursued Bessie. "If you had been gentlemanly you would have offered to cut our wood before. You know that that is the one thing that girls can't do easily about a camp."

"Gee! you have quite a heap of stove wood yonder," said Tubby.

"That is what Mr. Jarley cut for us," Wyn said. "But it doesn't matter what other means we may have for getting our firewood cut. Will you accept the forfeit like honorable gentlemen?"

"Why, we've got to!" cried Ferd.

"We're honestly caught," admitted Dave Shepard. "I'll do my share. Two of us, for half a day a week, can more than keep you supplied—unless you waste it."

"And we can have the canoes back?" demanded one of the other Busters, eagerly.

And so it was agreed—"signed, sworn to, and delivered," as Frankie said. With great glee the girls led the Busters to the steep bank by the waterside, over which a great curtain of wild honeysuckle hung. This curtain of fragrant flowers and thick vines dragged upon the ground. There was a hollow behind it that Wyn had discovered quite by chance.

And this hollow was big enough to hide the six canoes, one stacked a-top of the other. One passing by would never have suspected the hiding place, and in hiding the craft the girls had left no tell-tale footprints.

So, for once at least, the Go-Aheads got the best of the Busters.



CHAPTER XVII

VISITORS

Bessie Lavine had written home, as she said she would, regarding her adventure with Wyn when they were overturned by the squall, and all about Polly Jarley. But the result of this letter—and the others that went along to Denton with it—was not just what the girls had expected.

Although Mrs. Havel, in charge of the Go-Aheads, reported regularly to her brother-in-law, Percy's father, the story of the overturn made a great stir among the mothers especially, whose consent to the six girls living under canvas for the summer had been gained with such difficulty.

"What do you know about this, girls?" cried Frank, on next mail day. "My mother and father are coming out here. They can stay but one night; but they say they must see with their own eyes just how we are living here."

"And my Uncle Will is coming," announced Grace. "What do you know about that? Mother has made him promise to come and see if I am all right."

"My mother says," quoth Mina, slowly, "that she doesn't doubt Mrs. Havel does the very best she can by us; but she and papa are coming up here with Mr. and Mrs. Cameron."

Bessie began to laugh, too. "Pa's coming," she said. "It's a plot, I believe. He says he has hired the Sissy Radcliffe, and all of our parents can come if they like. The boat's big enough. He will bring another sleeping tent and those who wish can sleep under canvas while they remain. The boat has lots of berths in it. Say! maybe we'll have a great time."

"I expect," said Mrs. Havel, looking up and smiling, from her own letter, "that your mothers, girls, will not really be content until they see for themselves how you are getting along. So we may as well make ready for visitors. They will arrive on Saturday. Some will remain only over Sunday and return by train from the Forge. But Mr. Lavine, I believe, and some of the gentlemen, will be here on the lake for a week, or more."

"No more oversets, now, girls," said Frankie. "That's what is bringing the mothers up here."

"My father is coming to see if he cannot do something for Polly Jarley," declared Bessie, with emphasis.

But Wynifred Mallory was quite sure that the Lavines—no matter how good their intentions now were toward the boatman's daughter—would find Polly rather difficult. Wyn had been down to the boatkeeper's house several times alone to see Polly; but the backwoods girl would not be shaken from her attitude. She would not come to Green Knoll Camp any more, nor would she send any word to Bess Lavine.

Bess really was sorry for what she had said and the way she had treated Polly. But the latter was obdurate.

"I don't want anything from those Lavines," she replied to Wyn's urging. "Only that Mr. Lavine should treat my father kindly. I'd pull the girl out of the lake again—sure! But I don't want her for a friend, and I don't want to be paid for doing my duty. You don't offer to pay me, Wynnie."

"No, dear. I couldn't pay you for saving my life," Wynifred admitted.

"Neither can they!" retorted Polly, heatedly. "They think they're so much above us, because they have money and we have none. They are like those millionaires at the other end of the lake—Dr. Shelton and the others. I don't want their money!"

But Polly's obstinacy was cutting the boatman's daughter out of a lot of fun. This fact became more pronounced, too, when the visitors from Denton, in the Sissy Radcliffe, came to Green Knoll Camp.

The Sissy was a big motor launch, and there was a good-sized party aboard. When the ladies had once seen how the girls and Mrs. Havel lived, they were glad to take advantage of the tent Mr. Lavine brought. The gentlemen slept aboard the launch, which was anchored at night off Green Knoll Camp.

There were indeed gay times, for instead of acting as "wet-blankets" to the young folks' fun, the visitors entered into the spirit of the outing and, with the Busters and Professor Skillings from Gannet Island, made a holiday of the occasion.

Both the girls and boys "showed off" in their canoes in the shallow water under the bank, and in their bathing suits. They showed the more or less anxious parents just how skillful they were in the management of the tricky craft.

When the canoes were overturned, the girls and boys were able to right them, bail them out, and scramble aboard again. They could all swim and dive like ducks—save Bessie and Tubby. But Bessie was improving every day, and Tubby never could really sink, they all declared, unless he swallowed so much of the lake for ballast that he would be able to wade ashore from the middle.

It was now the height of the camping season and the Busters and Go-Aheads, with their friends, were not the only parties along the shores of Lake Honotonka. The Jarleys were doing a good business, almost all their craft being in use most of the time. A battalion of Boy Scouts went into camp about ten miles to the west of Gannet Island and Dave and his mates had some friends among them.

Several small steamboats plied the waters of the lake with excursion parties. The people at Braisely Park often came down to Gannet Island and the neighborhood of Green Knoll in their boats. Altogether there was considerable intimacy among the campers and between them and the residents of Braisely Park.

This pleasant condition of affairs brought about the idea of the regatta, or boating sports. Some of the wealthy men at the west end of the lake arranged the events, put up the prizes for certain classes of boat trials and other aquatic sports, had the necessary printing and advertising done, and

HONOTONKA REGATTA DAY

became emblazoned on the billboards along the neighboring highways and railroad lines.

The events were entirely amateur and were confined to those actually camping on, or living on, the shores of the lake. Arrangements went ahead with a rush, the date being set so close that most of the parents and friends who had come up with Mr. Lavine from Denton were encouraged to stay over.

Some of the Busters were going to enter for the canoeing events, and there was a girls' contest, too, that interested our friends. Bessie Lavine could paddle a canoe as well as anybody, and she was eager to take part in one or two of the races. So she got out early one morning, with Wyn and Grace, and Mr. Lavine for referee, and they did some good work.

They chanced to get well over toward the Jarley boat landing and suddenly Wyn set up a shout:

"Polly! Polly Jolly! I never knew you had a canoe. Come on over here!"

She had caught sight of the boatman's daughter paddling near the shore in an Indian canoe. It was of birchbark and Polly shot it along under the stroke of her paddle as though it had the weight of a feather. And, indeed, it was not so heavy by a good deal as the cedar boats of the Go-Ahead girls.

Polly waved her hand and turned the canoe's prow toward Wyn. Not until she was right among the other canoes did she realize that in one of them sat Bessie Lavine.

"We are very glad to see you, Polly," declared Wyn. "Are you going to enter for the girls' races?"

"Good-morning, Polly," cried Grace, equally cordial. "What a pretty boat you have!"

Polly stammered some words of welcome and then looked from Bessie to Mr. Lavine. Evidently the boatman's daughter suspected who the gentleman was.

Mr. Lavine was a pleasant enough man to meet socially. It is true that both he and his daughter were impulsive and perhaps prided themselves on being "good haters." This does not mean that they were haters of that which was good; but that if they considered anybody their enemy the enmity was not allowed to die out.

"I am glad to see you again, Polly," Bess said, driving her canoe close to that of the boatman's daughter. "Won't you speak to me at all?"

"Oh, Miss Lavine! I would not be so rude as to refuse to speak to you," Polly replied. "But—but it doesn't do any good——"

"Yes, it does, Polly," Bess said, quickly. "This is my father and he wants to thank you for saving my life."

"Indeed I do!" exclaimed Mr. Lavine, heartily. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you did——"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Polly, hurriedly. "I know all about that. You told me how you felt in your letter. And I'm sure I am obliged to you——"

"For what?" demanded the gentleman, smiling. "I have done nothing but acknowledge in empty phrases your bravery and good sense. I think a deal of my Bessie, and I must show you in some more substantial way how much I appreciate what you did for her."

"No, sir; you cannot do that," declared Polly, very much flushed, but with firmness, too.

"Oh, come, now I My dear girl! Don't be so offish——"

"You have thanked me sufficiently, sir," declared Polly. "If I did not know better than to accept anything more substantial myself, my father would not allow it."

"Oh, come now! Your father——"

"My father, sir, is John Jarley. He used to be your friend and partner in business. You have seen fit to spread abroad tales about him that he denies—that are untrue, sir," pursued Polly, her anger making her voice tremble.

"From you, Mr. Lavine, we could accept nothing—no charity. If we are poor, and if I have no advantages—such advantages as your daughter has, for instance—you are as much to blame for it as anybody."

"Oh! come now!"

"It is true. Your libelling of my father ruined his reputation in Denton. He could get no business there. And it worried my mother almost to death. So he had to come away up here into the woods."

"I really was not to blame for that, Polly," said Mr. Lavine.

"You were! Whether you realize it yourself, or not, you are the cause of all our troubles, for they began with your being angry with father over the Steel Rivet Corporation deal. I know. He's told me about it himself."

Mr. Lavine was putting a strong brake upon his temper. He was deeply grateful to Polly; but he was a proud man, too.

"Let us put aside the difference of opinion between John Jarley and myself, my dear girl," he said, quietly. "Perhaps he and I had better discuss that; not you and I. Bessie, I know, wishes to be your friend, and so do I. Had you not rescued her from the lake as you did, Polly, I should be mourning her death. It is a terrible thing to think of!"

Polly was silenced by this. But if she did not look actually sullen, she certainly gave no sign of giving way.

"So, my dear, you must see how strongly we both feel. You would be doing a kind action, Polly, if you allowed Bessie to be your friend."

"That is true, Polly," cried Bessie, putting out her hand again. "Do, do shake hands with me. Why! I owe you my life!"

"Don't talk that way!" returned the boatman's daughter. But she gave Bess her hand. "You make too much of what I did. And I don't want to seem mean—and ungrateful.

"But, truly, you can do nothing for me. No, Mr. Lavine; there is nothing I could accept. You have wronged my father——"

He put up his hand in denial, but she went on to say:

"At least, I believe so. You can do nothing for me. I would be glad if you would right the wrong you did him so long ago; but I do not want you to do that in payment for anything I may have done for Miss Bessie.

"No, sir. Right my father's wrong because it is a wrong and because you realize it to be such—that you were mistaken——"

"I do not see that," Mr. Lavine returned, stiffly.

"Then there is nothing more to be said," declared Polly, and with a quick flirt of her paddle, she drove her birchbark out of the huddle of other canoes and, in half a minute, was out of earshot.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE REGATTA

The late July morning that broke upon the scene of the last preparations for Honotonka regatta promised as fine a day as heart could wish.

There was a good breeze from early morning. This was fine for the catboat races and for the sailing canoes. Yet the breeze was not too strong, and there was not much "sea." This latter fact made the paddling less difficult.

The camps on Gannet Island and at Green Knoll were deserted soon after breakfast. The Busters took their canoes aboard the Happy Day, while Mr. Lavine's launch, the Sissy Radcliffe, carried the girls' canoes as well as the girls themselves.

They were two merry boatloads, and the boats themselves were strung with banners and pennants. As they shot up the sunlit lake they sighted many other craft headed toward Braisely Park, for some contestants had come from as far away as the Forge, at the head of the Wintinooski.

Suddenly Wyn, looking through the camp spyglass, recognized the patched sail of the Coquette, the little catboat in which Polly Jarley had come to the rescue of the two members of the Go-Ahead Club on that memorable day.

"Polly is aboard," she told Frank Cameron, passing the glass to her friend. "But who is the boy with her?"

"That's no boy!" declared the sharp-eyed Frankie. "Why! he's got a mustache."

"It's never Mr. Jarley himself?" exclaimed Wyn, in surprise.

"That's exactly who it is."

"I didn't think they'd both leave the landing at the same time. Do you suppose they have entered the Coquette in the free-for-all catboat race?"

"I shouldn't wonder. She's a fast boat if she is old and lubberly-looking. And Dr. Shelton has offered twenty-five dollars for the winning boat."

"It takes two to work a catboat properly, too. That is the understanding," said Wyn, thoughtfully: "a crew of two."

"Hope they win the race!" declared Frank, generously.

"So do I. And they've got Polly's birch canoe aboard. She will enter for the girls' canoe race, I am sure."

"All right," said Frank. "If you don't win the prize in that, my dear, then I hope Polly does."

"Why, I haven't a chance beside Bess, I am sure."

"That's all right. Bess is too erratic. One day she paddles well and the next she is 'way behind. It's her temperament. She's not a steady old warhorse like yourself, Wynnie."

"Thanks," laughed Wyn. "How about Polly? What do you call her?"

"I don't know. I admire her vastly," said Frank. "But Polly puzzles me. And I haven't seen her working at the paddle much. I only know that in a skiff she can out row any of the Busters."

"I fancy she can paddle some, too. And her canoe is as light as a feather. All those birchbarks are."

"The judges may handicap her, then. But, hullo! what's that Dave Shepard up to?"

Wyn turned to look at her next-door neighbor. Dave was writing upon a slip of paper. Once he looked across at Frank and Wyn and saw that the two girls were watching him.

He seemed confused, started as though to tear the paper up, and then hid it under a coil of rope at his feet. But he was very particular to hide every particle of the paper.

"What you doing there, Dave?" demanded Frank, with plain curiosity.

"Oh, nothing," responded the youth, and rose up, stretching his arms and yawning. It was plain that he did not wish to be questioned.

"What was that paper?" pursued Frank.

"Oh—that—er——It's of no consequence," declared Dave, and walked aft so as not to be further questioned.

"Now, he can't fool me!" cried Frank, under her breath. "It was something of consequence. I—I'm going to see."

"I wouldn't," said Wyn.

"Why not?"

"Well—whatever it is, it isn't ours."

"Pooh!"

"And he evidently didn't want us to see it."

"For that very reason I am going to look," declared Frankie. And the moment Dave was out of sight she sprang across the deck and lifted up the rope enough to pull out the paper.

The moment she scanned it, Wyn saw Frankie's face turn very red. She looked angry, and stamped her foot. Then she burst into a giggle, and slid the paper back out of sight again.

She came back to her friend with a mixture of emotions expressed on her countenance. "What do you suppose?" she demanded.

"Suppose about what?" asked Wyn.

"What do you suppose Dave wrote on that paper?"

"I give it up. Something that didn't concern us, as I told you."

"You're wrong," cried Frank, divided between wrath and amusement. "And it's just the very meanest thing!"

"Why, you excite my curiosity," admitted Wyn.

"That's what he did it for," declared Frankie.

"What did he write?" cried Wyn. "Out with it."

"He wrote: 'I bet an ice-cream treat all around that your curiosity will not permit you to leave this alone.' Now! could anything be meaner?"

"Ha, ha!" chuckled Wyn.

"Don't you see? We can't claim the treat without giving ourselves away? I believe I'll join forces with Bess. There is nothing meaner than a boy."

"Never mind," said Wyn. "I'll find some way of making Master Dave pay for the ice-cream treat, just the same. You see if I don't."

Soon after this the launches were sent to one side so as to leave the course clear, and the races began. The men's and boys' canoe races were very interesting, and Dave Shepard won a sweater, while one of the other Busters got the second prize of a dollar for quickness in overturning and righting a canoe.

Some "funny stunts" followed in the water, and then came a girls' swimming race. Here the Go-Ahead girls excelled, although there were more than a score of entries. Wyn Mallory won a two-hundred-yard, straightaway dash, while Frank was second and Grace Hedges third in the same race. The people who had come up from Denton cheered the girls enthusiastically. When the parents who had been so afraid for their daughters' safety saw how well able the girls were to take care of themselves, their anxiety was allayed.

After these swimming contests there was an interval of two hours for refreshments. A caterer had prepared tables of sandwiches and cold drinks, as well as ice cream and cake, on one of the bigger docks belonging to Braisely Park. In fact, it was Dr. Shelton's dock.

The catboat races were to follow the intermission and Wyn found that the Jarley Coquette had been entered. She ran over to the dock from which the "cats" were to start for the line, and as she approached the spot she heard loud voices and saw a little crowd of excited people.

The Coquette was almost the only catboat left. Dr. Shelton had backed Mr. Jarley up against a post on the wharf and, in a loud and angry voice, was telling the unfortunate boatman what he thought of him.

"You have the cheek to be in this race, John Jarley?" cried the angry man. "I don't mind your daughter—I pity her. But I'm hanged if I'll let a thief take part in this race—and me offering the prize. Get out of here!"

"Hold on, Shelton!" exclaimed one of his friends. "You're going too far when you call Jarley a thief."

"Or else you are not going far enough," chimed in another. "If you believe Jarley stole those images—and the boat—why don't you go about it right? Report it to the county prosecutor and have the man arrested."

"Or, if Jarley is not guilty," added another, "I advise him, as a lawyer, to sue you for damages."

"Let him sue and be hanged to him!" cried Dr. Shelton, who was a great, rough man, twice the size of the boatman, and with all the confidence of his great wealth, as well as his great muscle, behind him. "But he sha'n't sail in this race."

"We'll go back home, Father——Oh, let's go back!" cried Polly, from the cockpit of the dancing Coquette.

But Wyn Mallory knew that the Jarleys must have hoped to win the twenty-five dollar prize. The Coquette was being mentioned as a possible winner among the knowing ones about the course.

"Dr. Shelton!" she cried, tugging at the angry man's arm. "Do you mind if Polly and I sail the boat instead?"

"Eh? You—a girl?" grunted the doctor, "Well, why not? I've got nothing—as I said before—against his daughter. It's the man himself who has no business at this end of the lake. I sent him word so a month and more ago. I ought to have him arrested."

Win thought it would be less cruel to do so, and have the matter thrashed out in the courts. Mr. Jarley was stooping from the wharf, whispering with Polly.

"I can help her," Wyn cried, turning to the abused boatman. "Let me—do!"

"You are very kind, Miss Mallory," said Jarley.

The captain of the Go-Ahead Club leaped lightly down into the Coquette.

"What's our number—sixteen?" she cried. "Pay off the sheet, Polly. We're off." Then she added, in a low tone, to the weeping girl in the stern: "Don't you mind the doctor, Polly—mean old thing! We'll win the prize in spite of him—you see if we don't."



CHAPTER XIX

UNDER WHITE WINGS

Already the catboats were getting off from the starting line, in rotation of numbers and about two minutes apart. The course was ten miles (or thereabout) straightaway to the stake-boat, set far out in the lake—quite out of sight from the decks of the boats about the starting point—and turning that, to beat back. The wind was free, but not too strong. The out-and-return course would prove the boats themselves and the seamanship of their crews.

Being a free-for-all race, there had been brought together some pretty odd-looking craft beside the smart, new boats belonging to dwellers in Braisely Park. But the Jarleys' boat was by no means the worst-looking.

However, it attracted considerable attention because it was the only catboat "manned" by girls.

Wynifred Mallory had done this on impulse, and it was not usual for her to act in such a way. But her parents had gone home and she had nobody to ask permission of but Mrs. Havel—and she did not really know where the Go-Aheads' chaperone was.

Beside, there wasn't time to ask. The catboats were already getting under way. The Coquette was almost the last to start. Wyn was not at all afraid of the task before her, for she had helped Dave sail his cousin's catboat on the Wintinooski many times. She knew how to 'tend sheet.

The Go-Aheads and Busters recognized Wyn, and began to cheer her and Polly before the Coquette came to the line. Other onlookers caught sight of the two girls, and whether they knew the crew of the Coquette or not, gave them a good "send-off."

Polly had accepted Wyn's help quietly, but with a look that Wyn was not likely to forget. It meant much to the Jarleys if the Coquette won the twenty-five dollars. They needed every dollar they could honestly earn.

The boatman's daughter did not stop then to thank her friend. Instead she gave her brief, but plain, instructions as to what she was to do, and Wyn went about her work in a practical manner.

The catboat was sixteen feet over all, with its mast stepped well forward, of course, carrying a large fore-and-aft sail with gaff and boom. A single person can sail a cat all right; but to get speed out of one, and manoeuver quickly, it takes a sheet-tender as well as a steersman.

"Sixteen!" shouted the starter's assistant through his megaphone, and Polly brought the Coquette about and shot towards the starter's boat.

The boatman's girl had held off some distance from the line. Number Fifteen had just crossed and was now swooping away on her first tack toward the distant stake-boat. The momentum the Coquette obtained racing down to the line was what Polly wanted.

"Go!" shouted the starter, looking at his watch and comparing it with the timekeeper's.

The Coquette flashed past the line of motor-boats and smaller craft that lined the course for some distance. The course was not very well policed and one of the small steamers, with a party of excursionists aboard, got right in the way of the racing boats.

"Look out, Wynnie!" shouted Polly. "I'm going to tack to pass those boats."

Wyn fell flat on the decked-over portion of the Coquette, and the boom swung across. With gathering speed the catboat flew on and on. Although her sail was patched, and she was shabby-looking in the extreme, the Coquette showed her heels that day to many handsomer craft.

The various boats raced with each other—first one ahead, and then another. There were not many important changes in the positions of the contesting boats, however, until the stake-boat was reached.

But Number Sixteen passed Thirteen, Fifteen, and Twelve for good and all, before five miles of the course were sailed. The Coquette, when once she had dropped an opponent behind, never was caught by it.

Wyn was on the qui vive every moment. She sprang to obey Captain Polly's commands, and the latter certainly knew how to sail a catboat. She never let an advantage slip. She tacked at just the right time. Yet she sailed very little off the straight course.

The motor boats and steamboats came hooting after the racing catboats that their passengers might have a good view of the contest. These outside boats were a deal of a nuisance, and two of the tail-enders in the race dropped out entirely because of the closeness of the pleasure boats' pursuit.

"But they couldn't win anyway," Polly confided to Wynifred. "Get a bucket of water, dear. Dip it right up. That's right! Now throw it on the sail. Another! Another! It will hold the wind better if it is wet."

"What a scheme!" cried Wyn. "Oh, Polly! I wish you lived in Denton and went to our school and belonged to the Go-Ahead Club."

But Polly only shook her head. That was beyond the reach of possibility for her, she believed. But she thanked Wyn for suggesting it.

Neither girl let her attention to the present business fail, however. They were on their mettle, being the only girls in the race.

Some of the other crews had jollied them at the start; but the old Coquette passed first one and then another of the competing boats, and none of the other craft passed her.

Because of the fact that the boats had started about two minutes apart it was rather difficult to tell which was really winning. The leading boats were still far ahead when the Coquette rounded the stake-boat.

Polly took the turn as shortly as any craft in the race—and as cleanly. The Coquette made a long leg of her first tack, then a short one. Whereas it seemed as though at first the other craft were crowding Polly and Wyn close, in a little while the Coquette was shown to be among the flock of leading craft!

"Only Numbers One, Three, Four, Seven, and Nine ahead of us, Polly Jolly!" reported Wynifred. "And we're Sixteen! Why, it's wonderful! We are sailing two lengths to one of some of them, I verily believe!"

"But Conningsby's Elf, and the Pretty Sue are good sailers—I've watched 'em," said Polly. "And the Waking Up is splendidly manned. If our sail would only hold the wind! It's a regular old sieve."

Wyn splashed bucket after bucket of water into the bellying sail. On the long tacks the Coquette shot over the course like a great, swooping bird. When she passed near one of the excursion boats the spectators cheered the two girls vociferously.

Half-way back to the starting boat the Happy Day, into which the Go-Aheads and all the Busters had piled, shot alongside the racing catboat manned by the two girls, and from that point on their friends "rooted" for the Coquette.

The Coquette passed Numbers Seven and Nine; It did seem as though she must have sailed the course fast enough to bring her well up among the leaders, so many higher numbers than her own had been passed.

But Wyn and Polly were not sure, when they crossed the line, how they stood in the race.



CHAPTER XX

THE CANOE RACE

Dave Shepard, at the wheel of the Happy Day, ran directly behind the judges' boat and stopped.

"Who won?" cried the boys, in chorus. "Where does Number Sixteen stand?"

"How can we tell you until all the boats are in?" returned one of the gentlemen, smiling.

"Of course we know," declared Dr. Shelton. "And you are quite right to cheer them, boys. The Coquette is 'way ahead of everything else—those two girls are corkers!"

Instantly the Busters and the Go-Aheads began to cheer anew. The older members of their party aboard the Sissy Radcliffe took up the chorus. Wyn Mallory and Polly Jarley had beaten out the other catboats in the dingy old craft, and had won the twenty-five-dollar prize.

"It's all for you, dear," cried Wyn, when Polly kissed and thanked her. "Of course I don't need the money, while you and your father do. You'll take it from me—for friendship's sake, dear?"

"Yes, Wyn. From you," returned the boatman's daughter, with trembling lips.

"And now you are coming to try for the canoe prize, too? That will be a five-dollar gold piece. But you will have to fight all us Go-Ahead girls for it. I shall beat you myself, if I can," laughed Wynifred.

Dave had rushed the motor boat over to the landing and he got Wyn's and Polly's canoes into the water. The whistle had blown for the girls' canoe race the minute before, and the other girls were out on the lake.

Altogether there were forty-three canoes. Some were birchbarks like Polly's; but the large majority were cedar boats.

"Birchbarks line up at Dr. Shelton's landing!" bellowed the starter's voice through his megaphone. "Get me? Shelton's landing!"

Polly and the few other girls who had the Indian canoes waved their hands and got into position. They kept a pretty straight line.

"Now at the starting line here for you cedars!" cried the man, and Wyn, with her five mates, and the rest of the girl canoeists from all about the lake, tried to obey the command.

But there were so many of them that it was not altogether easy to get into line. Nearly forty canoes were "some bunch," to quote the slangy Frank, who was, by the way, just as eager as any of the other contestants.

Although Frank believed that Wyn, and perhaps Bess, as well as Polly and Grace, had a better chance than she of winning the race; there was, of course, a chance of the very best canoeist getting a spill and so being put out of the race.

It is not always the best paddler who wins; there is too much uncertainty in handling the "tippy" craft—especially in moments of excitement, and among many other similar craft.

So there was hope for any and all. The eager faces of the girls in the canoes showed it. They scuffled somewhat to get place on the line; but the entries had all been numbered, so it was merely a case of getting in right and leaving enough space on either side of one's bobbing canoe.

One of the starters was pulled up and down the line in a skiff to criticise. Not every girl was as fair-minded to her opponents as the girls from Green Knoll Camp, and there was some little bickering before the starter shouted for the whole crowd—both cedars and birches—to get ready.

"At the shot, remember," he cried through the megaphone. "Once around the stake-boat, to the right, and return. The birchbarks finish at this line, like the cedars. Now!"

A moment later the pistol shot rang out. There was a splash of paddles—even a clash of them, for some of the girls were too near each other and too eager.

The spectators cheered—the boys from Gannet Island doing especially well in that line. They were determined to root indiscriminately for the girls of Green Knoll Camp.

But within a very few minutes Dave Shepard shouted to his friends:

"Look what's coming up, fellows! See Polly!"

"Polly Jolly!" yelled the excitable Ferd. "Is that her in the first birchbark?"

"Of course it is," responded Tubby Blaisdell. "Well! did you ever see a girl like that before? Look at those arms. She's got better biceps than you have, Dave, m' boy!"

For the girls were in their bathing dresses and Polly's bare arms were displayed to the best advantage as she flashed past the motor boat. Her face was set—her eyes bright. And she weaved back and forth as she drove the paddle with the steadiness of a machine.

"Hooray for Polly Jolly!" yelled Ferd Roberts, again.

The Busters took up the chorus. They could not restrain their enthusiasm, for the pace at which Polly was overhauling the cedar boats was really marvelous.

Of course, it was a foregone conclusion that some of the contestants would drop out. These canoes Polly passed as though they were standing still.

In the lead were Wyn, Bess, Grace, Frank, and half a dozen other girls from about the lake. There were already two spills, and several slight collisions followed. The handicap on the birch canoes was really greater than was expected, for being in the rear, they had to dodge all the overset boats and the other paddlers who did not know enough to keep out of the course.

But Polly Jarley had taken the outside and she shot by all the trouble easily. She was soon clinging to the skirts of the head canoes and it looked, before the turn, as though she would soon be in the lead herself.

Up ahead Wyn and Bess and Grace were struggling almost neck and neck with two strange girls. The captain of the Go-Aheads wanted to win—she wanted to do so very much. She was a good sport, and therefore a good loser; but that does not necessarily mean that one likes to lose.

Bessie Lavine was paddling splendidly for her—it was evidently one of her good days. Frank Cameron had fallen behind—indeed, she had clashed with another girl and both were out of the race.

Grace Hedges was almost as big and strong as Polly Jarley; but she lacked the training of the boatman's daughter. Polly was used to hard work every day of her life. That is different from gymwork and a little paddling, or swimming, or other athletic fun a few times a week.

But Grace was doing finely and she even might have won had she not tried unwisely to pass one of her rivals. Her paddle clashed with that of the other girl. Both canoeists were straining hard—and their tempers were a bit strained, too.

"I wish you'd look where you're going, Miss!" snapped the other girl, and before Grace could return the compliment—had she so wished—the two canoes crashed together and both girls were spilled into the lake.

There was no danger in these spills. Two motor boats followed behind and picked up the swamped contestants.

But before Grace was picked up she saw Polly Jarley flash by in the birchbark. There were but three cedar boats ahead of the boatman's daughter, and all were coming down the return course, the paddlers straining to do their very best.

Wyn had a splendid, even stroke; Bess was getting heated, and bit her lip as she paddled. It always hurt Bess when she lost. Up from the rear Polly urged her birchbark with long, steady heaves that seemed to prove her magnificent muscles tireless.

The spectators began to shout for the boatman's daughter. They saw that she was making a magnificent attempt to win the race.

But when Wyn heard them shouting for another number rather than her own—she did not notice which!—she put forth every ounce of spare strength she possessed.

Bess was left behind by the captain of the Go-Ahead Club. Her canoe quivering, her paddle actually bending under her work, Wyn dashed on. Bess and the other girl were out of the race—hopelessly. It lay between Wyn and the birchbark canoe.

Polly did not withhold her paddle when she saw her friend dart ahead; it was a perfectly fair race. But the boatman's girl had done so well at first, considering her handicap and all, that there was little wonder if she could not keep up the gruelling work. She had no reserve force, as Wyn had.

The latter dashed over the mark with undiminished speed. Polly only halted long enough to congratulate her.

"It's dear of you to be glad, Polly, when I know you wanted the prize," cried Wyn. "But we couldn't both have it."

"You have helped me enough to-day, Wynifred," replied Polly, softly. "Now father and I will go home. He told me how it would be, if he came down here; but at least we won the big prize, thanks to you, and money means so much to us now!"

The day was not over yet for the Go-Aheads and the Busters, although the races were finished. Somehow the news was spread among the campers on Gannet Island and Green Knoll that there was to be a "grand treat" at the ice-cream tables, and they gathered "like eagles to the kill," Frankie poetically declared.

The waiter brought heaping dishes of cream, there were nice cakes, and Tubby's unctuous smile at one end of the table radiated cheer. They were all very jolly and nobody asked who was to pay the piper until the waiter gravely brought Dave Shepard the check and a slip of paper.

"Hi! did I order this feed?" demanded Dave, startled by the size of the check.

"I was ordered to give the check to you—and the paper," quoth the waiter, calmly.

"Gee, Dave! somebody's stung you!" croaked Tubby, with his mouth still full.

Dave unfolded the paper slowly, and read in his own handwriting: "I bet an ice-cream treat all around to the Go-Ahead girls that your curiosity would not permit you to leave this alone."

"You don't deny your own handwriting; do you, sir?" queried the waiter, with a perfectly grave face. "I served the company on that order, Mr. Shepard."

"That Wyn Mallory! She got me!" groaned Dave, and paid up like a man.

"But what's the use of trying to put a joke over on those girls?" he said to Tubby afterward. "They're always turning the tables on a fellow."

"Very good table, too—very good table," agreed Tubby, smacking his lips. "But you're so reckless with your promises, Dave."

Mr. Lavine's man took the Happy Day and the canoes back to camp, while the whole party of young folk piled aboard the larger Sissy. They had a fine time sailing down the lake and reached the Cave-in-the-Wood Camp at late supper time.

There was still light enough on the water for the voyagers to see a boat rocking on the waves in the little cove where Polly Jarley had first been introduced to the two canoe clubs.

"And that's Polly and her father there now," said Dave, quickly.

"Yes. It's the Coquette," agreed Wyn.

"What are they doing in there?" asked Frankie. "See! he is standing up and gesticulating—not to us. He's talking to Polly."

"That is the place where he had the misfortune to lose Dr. Shelton's motor boat last winter," said Wyn. "Don't you remember?"

"You see," Dave cried, "he is showing her the place where the limb fell again—and the direction the boat must have taken in the fog."

"A lot he knows where it went," said Tubby, scornfully. "He was swept overboard, and as far as he knows the Bright Eyes might have gone right up into the air!"

"But it didn't explode, you see, nor did it have wings," laughed Wynifred. "So it took no aerial voyage—we may be sure of that. I'd give anything to find where it sank."

"So would I, Wyn," cried Dave. "If we could locate the sunken boat, Mr. Jarley could easily prove he had neither stolen it nor the silver images."

"I'd give something handsome to have the mystery explained, myself," said Mr. Lavine, suddenly.

"What would you give, Father?" asked his daughter.

"I'll tell you," he replied, smiling. "I understand both of your clubs—the Go-Aheads and the Busters—are anxious to really own a motor boat. Frank Dumont, here, tells me he has got to go home with the Happy Day to-morrow, as his vacation is ended.

"Now, I'll make you boys and girls an offer," pursued Mr. Lavine, more earnestly. "You'll hunt in packs, anyway—the boys together and the girls together. If the girls find the sunken boat I'll present them with a motor boat as good as the Happy Day; and if the boys have the luck, then the boat shall belong to the Busters. What say?"

"We say 'Thanks!'" cried Dave, instantly.

"We think it is very handsome of you, sir," declared Wyn, coming over to the gentleman and taking his hand. "And I know why you do it, sir—so I thank you twice. If poor Mr. Jarley could be absolved of Dr. Shelton's accusation, it would help a whole lot."

"Humph!" muttered Mr. Lavine, "I heard Shelton going on about Jarley myself to-day, and it made me ashamed—I'm free to own it. I never did think John as bad as all that!"

"It sounds different when you hear somebody else say it," whispered Dave in Wynifred's ear.

Mr. Lavine's proposal, however, met with enthusiastic favor on the part of both clubs. A motor boat would be just the finest thing to own! Both boys and girls determined to find the lost Bright Eyes before the season was out.



CHAPTER XXI

THE WAY OF THE WIND

"Did you know," said Professor Skillings, visiting Camp Green Knoll with the Busters several days later, "that there are several thousand Poles in the Wintinooski Valley?"

"You surprise me," remarked Mrs. Havel.

"Fine things to grow beans on, Professor," declared Dave, coming up with a brimming bucket of water from the spring.

"Not the right kind of poles, my boy—not the right kind of poles," said the professor, smiling gently, and offering Mrs. Havel a cocoanut-cup of the sparkling water. "You see what a misunderstanding of terms will do," the professor added, in his argumentative way. "A little knowledge—especially a little scientific knowledge—is a dangerous thing."

"You are right, Professor," cried Tubby, who was within hearing distance. "Did you hear about what Dr. Mackenzie's servant girl did?"

"Dr. Mackenzie is very erudite," commented the professor, dreamily.

"That's right. Anyhow, the girl heard a lot of talk about bugs, and grubs, and germs, and the like—and it proves just what Professor Skillings says about the danger of knowing a little science."

"How's that, Tubby?" queried one of the interested young folk.

"Why, one day the doctor's wife asked this servant for a glass of water, and the girl brought it.

"'It has a very peculiar taste, Mary,' said Mrs. Mackenzie.

"'Sure, ma'am, it's all right, ma'am. There ain't a germ in it, for I ran it through the colander before I brought it to you, ma'am!' says Mary. Oh, Mary had picked up some scientific notions, all right, all right!"

"I believe there would be more breeze up on Windmill Farm," observed Wynifred Mallory.

"Wish I was up there, then," growled Tubby, who had quite collapsed after telling his joke.

"Let's go!" suggested Frankie.

"There will be plenty of wind bye and bye," said Dave, thoughtfully eyeing the clouds on the horizon.

"Listen to the weather prophet," scoffed Ferdinand.

"I tell you!" cried Frankie, jumping up. "Let's go up into the windmill and see how far one can really see from that height. The farmer's wife says it is a great view—doesn't she, Wyn?"

"I'm game," responded Wyn. "We'll be no warmer walking than we are sitting here talking about the heat."

She and Frankie and Dave started off ahead; but Tubby would not come, nor would Grace Hedges. The others, however, saw some prospect of amusement and were willing to pay the price.

They began to be paid for their walk as soon as they came out into the open fields of Windmill Farm. A little breeze had sprung up and, although it was fitful at first, it soon grew to a steady wind from across the lake.

The distant haze was dissipated, and when the boys and girls reached the top of the hill they were glad they had come.

"I bet we have a storm bye and bye," Dave said. "But isn't the air up here cool?"

"Let's climb up into the loft," Frank urged. "The farmer's wife said we could."

"They're all away from home to-day," Wyn said. "But I don't believe they will mind. When we came up for the milk this morning Mrs. Prosser told us they were going on a Sunday school picnic."

"I'd like to set the old thing to working," remarked the inquisitive Ferdinand. "What do you know about it, Dave?"

"It starts by throwing in this clutch," replied the bigger boy, just inside the door. "If the wind keeps on the farmer will probably grind a grist when he comes back. You see, there are several bags of corn and wheat yonder."

The girls were already finding their way up the dusty ladders, from loft to loft of the tower. Frank got to the top floor first and called out her delight at the view.

"Come on up!" she cried. "There is plenty of room. It's bigger up here than you think—and the breeze is nice. There are two windows, and that makes a fine draught."

The boys trooped up behind the Go-Aheads—all but Ferdinand. But none of them missed him for some minutes.

What a view was obtained from the window of the mill! The whole panorama of Lake Honotonka and its shores, with a portion of the Wintinooski Valley, lay spread like a carpet at their feet—woods and fields, cultivated land in the foreground, the rocky ridges of Gannet Island, Jarley's Landing, the Forge, the steep shore of the lake beyond the Wintinooski, and so around to the fine houses in Braisely Park and the smoke of the big city to the west.

In the midst of their exclamations there came a sudden jar through the heavily-timbered building that startled them.

"What's that?" cried Mina.

"An earthquake!" laughed Frankie.

"It's the sails!" yelled Dave, starting for the ladder. "What are you doing down there, Ferd?"

The groaning and shaking continued. The arms of the windmill were going round and round—every revolution increasing their speed.

"Stop that, Ferd!" shouted Dave again, starting to descend the ladder.

"Isn't that just like a boy?" demanded Bess, in disgust. "He just had to fool with the machinery."

"What do you suppose the miller will say?" queried Wyn, anxiously.

The roar of the whirling arms almost drowned their voices. The wind had increased to a brisk breeze. With the sails so well filled the arms turned at top-notch speed. The tower shook as though it were about to tumble down.

"Oh, dear me!" moaned Mina, the timid one. "Let us get out of here."

"Why doesn't Dave make him stop it?" shouted Frankie.

"Why doesn't the foolish Ferd stop it himself?" was Wyn's demand.

The other boys were already tumbling down the ladder, and the girls followed as fast as possible. It was rather dark below, and when they came to the ground floor, it was full of dancing dust-particles. Dave and Ferd were busy over the machinery near the door.

"Can't you stop it, Dave?" shrieked Percy.

"The confounded thing is broken!" announced Dave, in disgust.

"Goodness me!" cried Frank. "I want to get out of here."

She started for the door; but Wyn grabbed her just in time. Past the open door whirled the sails of the mill—one after the other—faster and faster. And so close were the sails to the doorway that there was not room for the very smallest of the Go-Ahead girls to get out without being struck.

Dave stared around at the others. It was almost impossible to hear each other speak—and what was there to say? Each boy and girl realized the situation in which Ferd's meddling had placed them.

Until the wind subsided they were prisoners in the tower.

Ferd Roberts subsided into a corner, and hid his face in his hands. He had done something that scared his inquisitive soul to the very bottom.

He had started the sails, and then, in trying to throw out the clutch, he had started the millstones as well. They made most of this noise that almost deafened them.

Finally, however, Dave pushed the power belt from the flywheel, and the stones stopped turning; but there was no way of stopping the sails. To step outside the door was to court instant death, and until the wind stopped blowing it seemed as though there would be no escape.

"And the wind blows sometimes two or three days at a stretch!" cried Frankie.

"It's lucky Tubby isn't up here with us," Dave said, grimly. "He would want to cast lots at once to see which one of the party should be eaten first."

"Ugh! don't joke like that, Dave," begged Mina. "Maybe we will be dreadfully hungry before we get out of this place."

"I'm hungry now," announced Frankie.

"It is near time for luncheon," agreed Wyn.

"'Luncheon'! Huh!" ejaculated Dave. "I s'pose that's the feminine of 'lunch.' I could eat a stack of pancakes and a whole can of beans right now. I'm too hungry for any mere 'luncheon.'"

"Oh, dear! It's so hot down here," sighed Percy. "If we've got to stay, let's go upstairs again, where there is some air stirring."

"Let's wave a signal from the window. Maybe somebody will see it and come to our rescue," suggested Frank.

"And what could they do?" demanded Wyn, "These sails can't be stopped from the outside; can they, Dave?"

"Not that I know of," replied Dave. "If there was a tree near, a fellow might tie a kedge rope to it, and then throw the kedge over one of the arms. But that would tear the machinery all to pieces, I suppose, it would stop it with such a jerk."

Just then Mina Everett uttered a shrill cry of alarm. "Look! Look!" she cried. "It's afire! We'll burn up in here! Oh, oh, Wynnie! what shall we do?"

The others turned, aghast There was blue smoke spurting out around the shaft above their heads.



CHAPTER XXII

THE PRISONERS OF THE TOWER

"Fire!" cried Percy Havel. "Oh! what shall we do?"

"Well, your yelling about it won't put it out," snapped Frank.

But Dave Shepard had sprung up the ladder and immediately announced the trouble.

"The axle is getting overheated. See that can of oil yonder, Ferd? Come out of your trance and do something useful, boy! Quick! hand me the can."

But it was Wyn who got it to him. Dave quickly refilled the oil cups and squirted some of the lubricant into the cracks about the shaft. The smoke immediately drifted away.

"The rest of you go up where it's cooler," he commanded. "I will remain here and play engineer. And for goodness' sake, pray for the wind to die down!"

The situation was really serious; nobody among the prisoners of the tower knew what to do.

While the wind swung the arms of the mill round and round, there was no chance to get out. Not that they did not all cudgel their brains within the next hour to that end. There were enough suggestions made to lead to a dozen escapes; only—none of the suggestions were practical.

It was less noisy, now that Dave had stopped the millstones; but the building continued to tremble, and the great wheel to creak.

"What a donkey the man was to let them cut his door right behind the arms," exclaimed Frankie.

"And with no proper means of stopping the sails from inside, once the wind began to blow," added Percy.

"No. That's my fault," admitted Ferdinand. "I broke the gear some way."

"Well, if we only had an axe," said one of the other boys, "we might cut our way out of the building on the side opposite the door."

But Dave had already searched the mill for tools. There wasn't even a rope. Had there been, they could have let themselves down from the high window to the ground.

"It should be against the law to build windmills without proper fire-escapes," declared Frank, trying to laugh.

But it was hard to joke about the matter. It looked altogether too serious.

The wind continued to blow steadily—a little harder, indeed, as time passed; but the sun grew hotter. It came noon, and they knew that those at Green Knoll Camp had long since expected them back.

Finally a figure appeared upon the path far down the hill. They recognized Tubby Blaisdell trudging painfully up the slope in the hot sun, evidently an unwilling messenger from Mrs. Havel and Professor Skillings.

They began to shout to Tubby, although they knew very well it was useless. He couldn't have heard their voices down there, even if the windmill hadn't made so much noise.

But the girls fluttered their hats from the window and, bye and bye, the stolid fat youth, glancing up while he mopped his brow, caught sight of the signals. He halted, glared up at the window from under his hand, and then hurried his steps.

"Oh, you Tubby!" shouted Frank, at last, thrusting her tousled curls out of the window. "Can't you help us?"

He heard these words, and looked more bewildered than ever.

"Say! what do you want?" he bellowed up at them. "Don't ask me to climb up those ladders, for I can't. And Mrs. Havel and the prof. say for you to come back to camp. They think a storm is coming. Besides—aren't you hungry?"

"Hungry! why, Tub," yelled down Ferd, "if we could only get at you, we'd eat you alive!"

Tubby looked more than a little startled, and glanced behind him to see that the way of retreat was clear.

"Well, why don't you come down and get your lunch, then?" demanded young Blaisdell.

"We can't," said Wyn, and she explained their predicament.

"Can't stop those sails?" gasped Tubby. "Why—why—Where's the man who owns the old contraption?"

They explained further. Tubby went around to the other side and caught a glimpse of Dave playing engineer. The chums shouted back and forth to each other for some time.

Tubby wanted to see if he couldn't stop the sails by making a grab at them.

"You do it, Tubby, and the blamed things will throw you a mile through the air," declared Dave. "Besides, we don't want to smash the farmer's mill. We have done enough harm as it is. So, there's no use in backing one of those heavy wagons into it and wrecking the sails. No. I guess we've got to stand it here for a while."

They heard one of the girls calling, and Tubby lumbered around to see Frankie gesticulating from the window.

"Oh, Tubby! don't leave us to starve—and we're so awfully thirsty, too," cried Wyn, pushing her friend to one side. "Get us a bucket of water from the well, first of all."

"Gee! how am I going to get it up to you—throw it?" cackled the fat youth.

"You get the bucket—and a rope," commanded Wyn.

"But if he can throw a rope up to us, we can get out of this fix," Ferdinand cried. "Can't we, Dave?" he asked of his captain, who had come up the ladders for a breath of fresh air.

"Tubby couldn't throw a coil of rope for a cent. He couldn't learn to use a lasso, you know."

"And we girls could not get down on a rope," objected Bess.

"We could lower you," Ferd declared.

"It would have to be a pretty strong rope," said Dave. "And maybe there isn't anything bigger than clothes line about the farm."

Which proved to be the case. At least, Tubby could find nothing else and finally brought the brimming bucket and the line he had found on the drying green behind the farmhouse.

"I can't throw the thing up so high," complained Tubby, after two or three attempts.

"Wait!" commanded Wyn.

"Hold on! Wynnie's great mind is at work."

"Everybody sit down and unlace his or her shoes. I want the lacings," declared Wynifred.

"Hurray!" exclaimed Ferd. "Wait a bit, Tubby; don't wear your poor little self to a grease spot trying to throw that rope over the mill."

Tubby, nothing loath, sat down and breathed heavily. The day was hot in spite of the high wind.

Wyn got all the shoe strings and tied them together, with a bolt fastened to the lower end for a sinker, and let it down to the ground. There Tubby attached the end of the clothes line and they pulled it up. It was long enough, and strong enough, and Dave carefully raised the bucket of water—and oh! how good it tasted to the thirsty prisoners.

They were all provided with cups, for the Academy teachers and the Denton mothers were rather insistent on that point.

"But, oh, golly!" burst forth Frank, "if they'd only made us always carry an emergency ration."

"We didn't expect to be cast away on a desert island in this fashion," said Dave.

But Wyn had another idea.

"There are melons on the back porch. I saw them there this morning. Go get us a lot, Tubby. Send 'em up by the bucket-full. And there are tomatoes in the garden, and some summer apples on that tree by the fence corner. We'll make it all right with Mrs. Prosser. Why, say! we sha'n't starve."

"I'll get you some eggs if you want 'em," suggested the willing youth. "I hear the hens cackling."

But all objected to raw eggs and thought the melons and fresh tomatoes would suffice.

"You go back to camp and report," ordered Dave, through the window. "The prof, and Mrs. Havel will be having conniption fits if these girls don't show up pretty soon. Tell 'em we're all right—but goodness knows we want the wind to stop blowing."

It did not seem, however, as though the wind had any such intention. After Tubby Blaisdell departed it blew even stronger.

It was hard to keep the whole party in good temper. The imprisonment was getting on their nerves. Besides, the sky was growing darker, although it was not yet mid-afternoon; and not long after the fat youth was out of sight, heavy drops of rain began to fall.

Rather, the wind whipped the raindrops in at the tower window. Patter, patter, patter, they fell, faster and faster, and in the distance thunder rumbled.

The picnicking farmers should be home ahead of this storm; yet, if they came, they could not stop the sails of the windmill. The shaft groaned and smoked, but Dave kept the oil cups filled.

Nearer and nearer came the thunder, and the lightning began to flash. Some of the girls were frightened. Nor was this a pleasant place in which to be imprisoned during an electrical storm. The tall, revolving arms seemed just the things to attract the lightning.

They all were glad—boys as well as girls—to retire to the ground floor of the mill while the elements shrieked overhead and the rain pounded upon the roof and the sails. It was really a most unpleasant situation.



CHAPTER XXIII

WYN HITS SOMETHING

In the midst of the storm a voice hailed them from outside. Dave went to the doorway and saw—through the falling rain—Farmer Prosser, standing by his horses' heads. He had just brought his family home from the picnic and they had scurried into the house.

"What are you doing in there?" demanded the farmer. "Can't you stop the sails?"

Dave explained, making it as light for Ferd as possible.

"Well! I've been expecting something like this ever since the mill was put up. We can't do anything about it now. But I believe the wind will shift soon. And if it does, perhaps I can stop the sails from outside here."

It was nearly dark, however, and quite supper-time, before the farmer's prophecy came true. Then the rain suddenly ceased to fall (the thunder and lightning had long since rolled away into the distance) and the wind dropped.

The farmer and his man rigged a brake to fall against the narrow breadth of shaft which extended outside of the mill wall, and so brought pressure to bear upon the revolving axle. This helped bring the sails to a stop.

How thankfully the Go-Aheads and the Busters got out of that tower, it would be difficult to express. Professor Skillings had started up through the rain to see what he could do; but on the way he had picked up a white pebble washed out of the roadside by the rain, and there being something peculiar about it, he stopped under a hedge to examine it by the light of his pocket lamp. Then he must needs proceed with his ever-present geological hammer to break the stone in two. Long after dark his electric lamp was flashing down there on the hillside like some huge wavering firefly.

Not that he could have done a thing to help his young friends. Mrs. Prosser, the farmer's wife, had the most practical idea of anybody; for, the minute the boys and girls were out of the mill, she insisted that they troop into the farmhouse kitchen and there sit down to her long table and "get outside of" great bowls of milk and bread, with a host of ginger cookies on the side.

So the incident ended happily after all, though Ferdinand Roberts's spirits drooped for several days. It was well for him to suffer in spirit—as Frankie said: it might teach him a lesson. And he had to pay the farmer for the damage he had done to the machinery.

Ferdinand never had any money. He spent his allowance in advance, borrowing of the other Busters whenever he could. When he got money from home he had to sit down and apportion it all out to his creditors, and then had to begin borrowing again.

He had hard work scraping together the wherewithal to pay Mr. Prosser; but the boys made it up for him, and the girls would have helped—only Dave Shepard had instilled it into Ferd's mind that it was not honorable to borrow from a girl.

However, having cleaned his own pocket and strained his credit to the snapping point, Ferdinand was over at the Forge with Tubby a couple of days afterward and beheld something in a store window that he thought he wanted.

"Oh, Tubby!" he cried. "Lend me half a dollar; will you? I must have that."

Tubby looked at him out of heavy-lidded eyes, and croaked: "Snow again, brother; I don't get your drift!"

When Ferd went from one to the other of his mates they all refused—if not quite as slangily as the fat youth, Ferd found himself actually a pauper, with all lines of credit shut to him. It made him serious.

"If all you fellows, and the old prof., should suddenly die on me up here—what would I do?" gasped Ferd. "Why—I'd have to walk home!"

"Or swim," said Dave, heartlessly. "You'd pawn your canoe, I s'pose."

Speaking of swimming, that was an art in which several of the boys, as well as Bessie Lavine and Mina Everett, needed practice. Beside the early morning dip, both clubs often held swimming matches either at Green Knoll Camp, or off the boys' camp on Gannet Island.

The boys built a good diving raft and anchored it in deep water after much hard work. The good swimmers among the girls—especially Wyn and Grace—liked to paddle over to the raft and dive from it.

Late in the afternoon the Go-Aheads had come to the raft in their canoes dressed only in their bathing suits, and found that the boys had gone off on some excursion, and that even Professor Skillings was not in sight at Cave-in-the-Wood Camp.

"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Bess, with satisfaction. "Now we can have a good time without those trifling boys bothering us. I'm going to learn to dive properly, Wyn."

"Sure," returned her friend and captain, encouragingly. "Now's the time," and she gave Bess a good deal of attention for some few minutes.

The other girls disported themselves in the deep water to their vast enjoyment. Bessie learned a good bit about diving and finally sat upon the edge of the float to rest.

Wyn dived overboard.

She had taken a long slant out from the float, but once under the surface she turned and went deeper. She was like an otter in the water, and having stuffed her ears with cotton she felt prepared to remain below a long time.

Once she had opened her eyes while diving with Bess, and she thought she saw a shadowy something on the bottom of the lake that was neither a boulder nor a waterlogged snag.

She beat her way to the bottom as rapidly as possible; but the light did not follow her. She could see nothing when she opened her eyes. It seemed as though something overshadowed her.

The water was tugging at her; she could not remain below for long. But as she turned to drift up again, her shoulder touched something. She struck out and reached it. But the blow really pushed her away and she floated upward toward the surface.

When she paddled to the raft she was panting, and Frank demanded:

"What's the matter, Wyn? You look as if you'd seen a ghost I believe you stay down too long."

"No," gasped Wyn. "I—I hit something."

"What was it?"

"Why—why, it looked like a wagon. 'Twas something."

"I suppose so!" laughed Frank. "Wagon with a load of hay on it—eh?"

Wyn said nothing more. She sat upon the float, with her knees drawn up and hugged in her brown arms, and thought. The other girls could get nothing out of her.

She wasn't dreaming, however. She was thinking to a serious purpose.

It had looked like a wagon—as much as it looked like anything else. But, of course, she had seen it very dimly. She knew by the touch that it was of wood; but it was no waterlogged tree, although there was slime upon it It was not rough; but smooth.

Of course, it wasn't a wagon. Nor was it a huge box. Neither wagon nor box could have got out here, fifteen or twenty rods off Gannet Island.

Wyn glanced over toward the island and saw that she could look right into the cove where John Jarley had met with his accident. According to the boatman's story, as he went overboard from the motor boat he gave the wheel a twist that should have shot her directly out of the cove toward the middle of the lake.

"But suppose the boat didn't respond, after all, to the twist of the wheel?" Wyn was thinking. "Or, suppose the slant of the rudder was not as great as he supposed?"

She fixed in her mind about the spot where the thing lay she had hit, and then glanced back to the tree on the bank of the cove, that showed the long scar where the branch was torn off.

The line between the two was clear. The motor boat might have run out exactly on that course and missed the wooded point which guarded the entrance to the cove.

Suppose the thing she had hit when she dived was the Bright Eyes, Dr. Shelton's lost motor boat?

Wyn was about to shout to the other girls—to call them around her to divulge the idea that had come into her mind—when a hail from the water announced the return of the Busters.

She remembered Mr. Lavine's promise. The two clubs were rivals in this matter. Wouldn't it be a fine thing for the Go-Aheads to own a motor boat all by themselves!

Wyn got up and dived again. But she did not dive toward the mysterious something that she had previously found. She swam stoutly instead to meet the coming Busters.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE NIGHT ALARM

Wyn Mallory had "another mind," as the saying is, before the Go-Aheads left the island and paddled swiftly for their own camp.

She determined not to say anything to her girl friends of the club about the sunken object she had hit under the water. Perhaps it was nothing of any consequence; then they would laugh at her. If it was the lost motor boat, to tell the girls might spread the story farther than it ought to be spread at once.

The Go-Aheads and the Busters were rivals. Mr. Lavine had promised the prize to whichever club found the sunken boat and the box of silver images that Dr. Shelton had accused John Jarley of stealing.

"And it may not be anything, after all," thought Wyn. "It may be a false alarm. Then the boys would have the laugh on us."

To make sure of what she had hit when she dived seemed to Wyn to be the principal thing. And how could she make sure of this without going down specially to examine the mystery?

"How under the sun am I going to do that without the boys seeing me?" she mused. "And if I take the girls into my confidence they will all want to be there, too—and then sure enough the Busters will catch us at it. Dear me! I don't know what to do—really."

She had half a mind to take Frank into her confidence; but, then, Frank was such a joker. The girls and boys had often talked about hunting for the missing motor boat; but since Mr. Lavine had gone back to Denton, after the regatta, neither club had seriously attempted a search for the Bright Eyes.

Polly had told Wyn how men from Meade's Forge had searched for the boat when she was first lost; and some of the bateau men had kept up the search for a long time. Had the motor boat and the silver images been found, Dr. Shelton might have been obliged to pay a large reward to obtain them, for not all of the bateau men of the lake were honest.

"Some of them bothered father a good deal while he was first laid up from his accident, coming by night and trying to get him to give them details which he hadn't given to the other searchers. They thought he must know just where the Bright Eyes was sunk," Polly had told the captain of the Go-Ahead Club. "But they got tired of that after a while. They saw he really did not know what had become of the boat."

Polly! She was the one to confide in, Wyn decided. And the captain of the Go-Ahead Club did not decide upon this until after the other girls in the big tent, and Mrs. Havel, were all asleep. Wyn had been awake an hour wondering what she would better do.

Now, convinced that the boatman's daughter would be a wiser as well as safer confidante at this stage than Frank or the others, Wyn wriggled out of her blanket and seized her bathing suit. It was a beautiful warm night. She was no more afraid of the woods and lake at this hour than she was by daylight.

So she slipped into the suit, got out of the tent without rousing any of the others, selected her own paddle from the heap by the fireplace, and ran barefooted down to the shore. It took but a minute to push her canoe into the water.

She paddled away around the rushes at the end of the strip of sand below the knoll, driving the canoe toward the Jarley Landing. Out of the rushes came a sudden splashing, and some water-fowl, disturbed by her passing, spattered deeper into hiding.

Wyn only laughed. The warm, misty night wrapped her around like a cloak; yet there was sufficient light on the surface of the lake for her to see her course a few yards ahead.

This was a real adventure—out in her canoe alone in the dark. And how fast she made the light craft travel through the still water!

She reached the landing in a very short time. Hopping out, she hauled up the canoe. Was that the water splashing—or was there a sound behind her on the float? Was it a footstep—somebody hastening away?

Now, for the first time, Wyn felt a little tremor. But she was naturally too brave to be particularly disturbed by such a fancy. Who would be lurking about the Jarleys' place at this hour?

So, after a moment, she shook off her doubt, and ran lightly up the float and along the path to the little cottage. She knew Polly's window well enough, and dark as it was, she soon found the spot.

It was shuttered, and the shutter was bolted on the inside; but Wyn scratched upon the blind and after doing so a second time she heard a movement within.

"Polly!" she breathed.

She did not want to awaken Mr. Jarley. She just felt that she could not explain to him. Of course, what she had hit under the water might have nothing to do with the sunken boat, and Wyn shrank from disturbing the boatman himself about it.

"Polly!" she exclaimed, again in a whisper, "it's I—Wyn—Wyn Mallory."

At once she heard her friend's voice in return. The shutter opened. Polly blinked at Wyn through the darkness.

"My dear! What do you want? What has happened?" asked the girl of the woods.

"Come on out—do, Polly. I've got something to tell you. Just put on your bathing suit," Wyn whispered.

"For pity's sake! What is it?"

"Don't awaken your father. Come."

"Just a minute," whispered the sleepy Polly, and in not much longer than the time stated she crept through the window.

"I'd wake father if I went out by the door," she said. "Now come down to the landing. What are you doing 'way over here at this time o' night?"

"I have the most surprising thing to tell you."

"What about?"

"I wish you'd go over to Gannet Island with me and see if I'm right. The moon will be up bye and bye; won't it?"

"Yes. But what do you mean? What is the mystery?" inquired Polly. Then she seized Wyn's arm and demanded that she "Hush!" although Wyn's lips were not open at the moment.

"I declare I thought I heard something just then," whispered Polly.

"You're bound to hear things in the dark," returned Wyn, cheerfully.

"But it was somebody coughing."

"A bird?" ventured Wyn. "I heard one splashing in the sedges as I came along in the canoe."

"A bird clearing its throat?" laughed Polly. "Not likely!"

She did not bother about it again, but squeezed Wyn's arm. "Tell me what the matter is. It must be something very important to bring you 'way over here alone at night."

"That's right. It is," replied Wyn, and she related to Polly the thing that was troubling her.

"And, oh, Polly! if that thing I hit under the water should be that boat——"

"Oh, Wyn! What would father say?"

"He'd be delighted. So would we all. And we must find out for sure."

"I'll tell him in the morning. We'll go there and see——"

But Wyn stopped her. She showed her how necessary it was for the matter to be looked into secretly. Mr. Lavine had promised to give a motor boat to whichever club found the sunken Bright Eyes and the silver images. And the Busters must not know a thing about it until they were sure——

"Then Mr. Lavine believes father's story about the boat?" burst in Polly.

"I believe he does, Polly, dear. I think, Polly, that he would be very, very glad to have Mr. Jarley cleared of all suspicion. He is sorry for your father's trouble. I think his attitude, toward your father has changed from what it must have been at one time."

"It ought to be!" exclaimed Polly.

"Of course. But we none of us always do all we ought to do," observed Wyn mildly.

"If we are going to try and find that place where you dived to-day, Wyn, we'd better be about it," Polly urged.

"You'll go now?" cried Wyn.

"Of course I will. The boys will be asleep up in their camp. We will take the Coquette. There is a breeze."

"Let's tow my canoe behind, then," said Wyn, eagerly. "Come on! I'm just crazy to dive for the thing again. If it is the Bright Eyes——"

Polly insisted upon hunting out a couple of old blankets to wrap about them if the wind should turn chill.

"And after you have been overboard you'll want something to protect you from the night air," she said.

"Oh, Polly! do you suppose I can find the place again?" cried Wyn, infinitely more eager than the boatman's daughter.

"You say it's right off the boys' float? Well! we can look, I guess."

"Feel, you mean," laughed Wyn. "For I couldn't see anything down there even by daylight—it was so deep."

"All right. We'll look with our hands. I shall know if it's a boat, Wyn, once I reach it."

"And I hope it is" gasped Wyn. "Not alone for your sake, Polly. Why, if it is the Bright Eyes, the Go-Aheads will own a motor boat their very own selves. Won't that be fine?"

But Polly was too busy getting the catboat ready to answer. The Coquette was moored just a little way off the landing, and the two girls went out to her in Wyn's canoe.

There was a lantern in her cuddy and Polly lit it. Then they slipped the buoyed moorings and spread a little canvas. There was quite a breeze, and it was fair for their course to Gannet Island. Soon the catboat was laying over a bit, and the foam was streaking away behind them in a broad wake.

"What a lovely night!" sighed Wyn. "And it will be the very gladdest night I ever saw if that thing I hit proves to be the Bright Eyes."

Polly had glanced behind them frequently. "Don't you hear anything?" she asked finally.

"Hear what?"

"Hush! that's somebody getting up a sail. Can't you hear it?"

Wyn listened, and then murmured: "Your ears must be sharper than mine, Polly. I hear nothing but the slap of the water."

"No. There is another sailboat under weigh. Where can it be from?"

"You don't suppose your father was aroused, and is coming after us?" asked Wyn.

"Of course not. Beside, the Coquette is the only sailing boat—except a canoe—that we have at present. The other cat is loaned for a week. And I heard the hoops creaking on the mast as a heavy sail went up."

"Some crowd of fishermen?" suggested Wyn.

"But where's their light?"

Wyn stared all around. "You're right," she gasped. "There isn't a single twinkling lantern—except ashore."

Polly, sitting in the stern seat, reached for their own lantern and smothered its rays. "We won't show a gleam, either," she muttered.

"Why! who could it possibly be?" cried Wyn. "Do you think somebody may be following us?"

"I don't know," returned Polly, grimly. "But I thought I heard something back there at our house. We were talking loud. If those silver images were worth all Dr. Shelton says they were, there are more than us girls who would like to find them."

"My goodness me! I didn't think of that," observed Wyn Mallory, with a little shiver. "Do you suppose we really are being followed?"



CHAPTER XXV

THE STRANGE BATEAU

Polly laughed a little. Yet she spoke seriously.

"You needn't be so worried, Wyn. I know most of the men who do business on the lake. Some of them are mighty fine fellows, and others are just the opposite; but I'm not afraid of the worst of them."

"If they followed us, and we did find the sunken motor boat, couldn't they grapple for the box of silver images, and steal them?" demanded Wyn.

"Not easily. You see, they don't know where the box was stowed. Father told nobody but me. The Bright Eyes was a good-sized boat, and they'd have some trouble getting up the box without raising the boat herself."

"I suppose that's so," admitted Wyn, less anxiously, as the Coquette carried them swiftly toward Gannet Island. "But these men you speak of might interfere with us."

"Yes. That's so. But they'd get as good as they sent, I reckon," said Polly, who didn't seem to have a bit of fear.

Wyn was no coward; she had shown that the time she and Bessie Lavine were spilled out of their canoes in the middle of the lake. But she had not lived, like Polly, in the woods with few but rough people for associates.

Soon they passed Green Knoll Camp, lying peacefully in the light of the moon that was just then rising above the Forge. Its rays silvered all the knoll and made the camp a charming spot.

"I hope none of them will wake up and find me gone," remarked Wyn, chuckling.

Polly gave the tiller and sheet to her friend and stood up to get a better view of the lake astern of them. At first she saw nothing but the dim shores and the silvering water. Then, some distance out, Polly caught sight of a ghostly sail drifting across the path of moonlight.