transcribed from the 1902 harper and brothers edition by david price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk a house-boat on the styx by john kendrick bangs chapter i: charon makes a discovery charon, the ferryman of renown, was cruising slowly along the styx one pleasant friday morning not long ago, and as he paddled idly on he chuckled mildly to himself as he thought of the monopoly in ferriage which in the course of years he had managed to build up. "it's a great thing," he said, with a smirk of satisfaction--"it's a great thing to be the go-between between two states of being; to have the exclusive franchise to export and import shades from one state to the other, and withal to have had as clean a record as mine has been. valuable as is my franchise, i never corrupted a public official in my life, and--" here charon stopped his soliloquy and his boat simultaneously. as he rounded one of the many turns in the river a singular object met his gaze, and one, too, that filled him with misgiving. it was another craft, and that was a thing not to be tolerated. had he, charon, owned the exclusive right of way on the styx all these years to have it disputed here in the closing decade of the nineteenth century? had not he dealt satisfactorily with all, whether it was in the line of ferriage or in the providing of boats for pleasure-trips up the river? had he not received expressions of satisfaction, indeed, from the most exclusive families of hades with the very select series of picnics he had given at charon's glen island? no wonder, then, that the queer-looking boat that met his gaze, moored in a shady nook on the dark side of the river, filled him with dismay. "blow me for a landlubber if i like that!" he said, in a hardly audible whisper. "and shiver my timbers if i don't find out what she's there for. if anybody thinks he can run an opposition line to mine on this river he's mightily mistaken. if it comes to competition, i can carry shades for nothing and still quaff the b. & g. yellow-label benzine three times a day without experiencing a financial panic. i'll show 'em a thing or two if they attempt to rival me. and what a boat! it looks for all the world like a florentine barn on a canal-boat." charon paddled up to the side of the craft, and, standing up in the middle of his boat, cried out, "ship ahoy!" there was no answer, and the ferryman hailed her again. receiving no response to his second call, he resolved to investigate for himself; so, fastening his own boat to the stern-post of the stranger, he clambered on board. if he was astonished as he sat in his ferry-boat, he was paralyzed when he cast his eye over the unwelcome vessel he had boarded. he stood for at least two minutes rooted to the spot. his eye swept over a long, broad deck, the polish of which resembled that of a ball-room floor. amidships, running from three-quarters aft to three-quarters forward, stood a structure that in its lines resembled, as charon had intimated, a barn, designed by an architect enamoured of florentine simplicity; but in its construction the richest of woods had been used, and in its interior arrangement and adornment nothing more palatial could be conceived. "what's the blooming thing for?" said charon, more dismayed than ever. "if they start another line with a craft like this, i'm very much afraid i'm done for after all. i wouldn't take a boat like mine myself if there was a floating palace like this going the same way. i'll have to see the commissioners about this, and find out what it all means. i suppose it'll cost me a pretty penny, too, confound them!" a prey to these unhappy reflections, charon investigated further, and the more he saw the less he liked it. he was about to encounter opposition, and an opposition which was apparently backed by persons of great wealth--perhaps the commissioners themselves. it was a consoling thought that he had saved enough money in the course of his career to enable him to live in comfort all his days, but this was not really what charon was after. he wished to acquire enough to retire and become one of the smart set. it had been done in that section of the universe which lay on the bright side of the styx, why not, therefore, on the other, he asked. "i'm pretty well connected even if i am a boatman," he had been known to say. "with chaos for a grandfather, and erebus and nox for parents, i've just as good blood in my veins as anybody in hades. the noxes are a mighty fine family, not as bright as the days, but older; and we're poor--that's it, poor--and it's money makes caste these days. if i had millions, and owned a railroad, they'd call me a yacht-owner. as i haven't, i'm only a boatman. bah! wait and see! i'll be giving swell functions myself some day, and these upstarts will be on their knees before me begging to be asked. then i'll get up a little aristocracy of my own, and i won't let a soul into it whose name isn't mentioned in the grecian mythologies. mention in burke's peerage and the elite directories of america won't admit anybody to commodore charon's house unless there's some other mighty good reason for it." foreseeing an unhappy ending to all his hopes, the old man clambered sadly back into his ancient vessel and paddled off into the darkness. some hours later, returning with a large company of new arrivals, while counting up the profits of the day charon again caught sight of the new craft, and saw that it was brilliantly lighted and thronged with the most famous citizens of the erebean country. up in the bow was a spirit band discoursing music of the sweetest sort. merry peals of laughter rang out over the dark waters of the styx. the clink of glasses and the popping of corks punctuated the music with a frequency which would have delighted the soul of the most ardent lover of commas, all of which so overpowered the grand master boatman of the stygian ferry company that he dropped three oboli and an american dime, which he carried as a pocket-piece, overboard. this, of course, added to his woe; but it was forgotten in an instant, for some one on the new boat had turned a search-light directly upon charon himself, and simultaneously hailed the master of the ferryboat. "charon!" cried the shade in charge of the light. "charon, ahoy!" "ahoy yourself!" returned the old man, paddling his craft close up to the stranger. "what do you want?" "you," said the shade. "the house committee want to see you right away." "what for?" asked charon, cautiously. "i'm sure i don't know. i'm only a member of the club, and house committees never let mere members know anything about their plans. all i know is that you are wanted," said the other. "who are the house committee?" queried the ferryman. "sir walter raleigh, cassius, demosthenes, blackstone, doctor johnson, and confucius," replied the shade. "tell 'em i'll be back in an hour," said charon, pushing off. "i've got a cargo of shades on board consigned to various places up the river. i've promised to get 'em all through to-night, but i'll put on a couple of extra paddles--two of the new arrivals are working their passage this trip--and it won't take as long as usual. what boat is this, anyhow?" "the _nancy nox_, of erebus." "thunder!" cried charon, as he pushed off and proceeded on his way up the river. "named after my mother! perhaps it'll come out all right yet." more hopeful of mood, charon, aided by the two dead-head passengers, soon got through with his evening's work, and in less than an hour was back seeking admittance, as requested, to the company of sir walter raleigh and his fellow-members on the house committee. he was received by these worthies with considerable effusiveness, considering his position in society, and it warmed the cockles of his aged heart to note that sir walter, who had always been rather distant to him since he had carelessly upset that worthy and queen elizabeth in the middle of the styx far back in the last century, permitted him to shake three fingers of his left hand when he entered the committee-room. "how do you do, charon?" said sir walter, affably. "we are very glad to see you." "thank you, kindly, sir walter," said the boatman. "i'm glad to hear those words, your honor, for i've been feeling very bad since i had the misfortune to drop your excellency and her majesty overboard. i never knew how it happened, sir, but happen it did, and but for her majesty's kind assistance it might have been the worse for us. eh, sir walter?" the knight shook his head menacingly at charon. hitherto he had managed to keep it a secret that the queen had rescued him from drowning upon that occasion by swimming ashore herself first and throwing sir walter her ruff as soon as she landed, which he had used as a life-preserver. "'sh!" he said, _sotto voce_. "don't say anything about that, my man." "very well, sir walter, i won't," said the boatman; but he made a mental note of the knight's agitation, and perceived a means by which that illustrious courtier could be made useful to him in his scheming for social advancement. "i understood you had something to say to me," said charon, after he had greeted the others. "we have," said sir walter. "we want you to assume command of this boat." the old fellow's eyes lighted up with pleasure. "you want a captain, eh?" he said. "no," said confucius, tapping the table with a diamond-studded chop-stick. "no. we want a--er--what the deuce is it they call the functionary, cassius?" "senator, i think," said cassius. demosthenes gave a loud laugh. "your mind is still running on senatorships, my dear cassius. that is quite evident," he said. "this is not one of them, however. the title we wish charon to assume is neither captain nor senator; it is janitor." "what's that?" asked charon, a little disappointed. "what does a janitor have to do?" "he has to look after things in the house," explained sir walter. "he's a sort of proprietor by proxy. we want you to take charge of the house, and see to it that the boat is kept shipshape." "where is the house?" queried the astonished boatman. "this is it," said sir walter. "this is the house, and the boat too. in fact, it is a house-boat." "then it isn't a new-fangled scheme to drive me out of business?" said charon, warily. "not at all," returned sir walter. "it's a new-fangled scheme to set you up in business. we'll pay you a large salary, and there won't be much to do. you are the best man for the place, because, while you don't know much about houses, you do know a great deal about boats, and the boat part is the most important part of a house-boat. if the boat sinks, you can't save the house; but if the house burns, you may be able to save the boat. see?" "i think i do, sir," said charon. "another reason why we want to employ you for janitor," said confucius, "is that our club wants to be in direct communication with both sides of the styx; and we think you as janitor would be able to make better arrangements for transportation with yourself as boatman, than some other man as janitor could make with you." "spoken like a sage," said demosthenes. "furthermore," said cassius, "occasionally we shall want to have this boat towed up or down the river, according to the house committee's pleasure, and we think it would be well to have a janitor who has some influence with the towing company which you represent." "can't this boat be moved without towing?" asked charon. "no," said cassius. "and i'm the only man who can tow it, eh?" "you are," said blackstone. "worse luck." "and you want me to be janitor on a salary of what?" "a hundred oboli a month," said sir walter, uneasily. "very well, gentlemen," said charon. "i'll accept the office on a salary of two hundred oboli a month, with saturdays off." the committee went into executive session for five minutes, and on their return informed charon that in behalf of the associated shades they accepted his offer. "in behalf of what?" the old man asked. "the associated shades," said sir walter. "the swellest organization in hades, whose new house-boat you are now on board of. when shall you be ready to begin work?" "right away," said charon, noting by the clock that it was the hour of midnight. "i'll start in right away, and as it is now saturday morning, i'll begin by taking my day off." chapter ii: a disputed authorship "how are you, charon?" said shakespeare, as the janitor assisted him on board. "any one here to-night?" "yes, sir," said charon. "lord bacon is up in the library, and doctor johnson is down in the billiard-room, playing pool with nero." "ha-ha!" laughed shakespeare. "pool, eh? does nero play pool?" "not as well as he does the fiddle, sir," said the janitor, with a twinkle in his eye. shakespeare entered the house and tossed up an obolus. "heads--bacon; tails--pool with nero and johnson," he said. the coin came down with heads up, and shakespeare went into the pool-room, just to show the fates that he didn't care a tuppence for their verdict as registered through the obolus. it was a peculiar custom of shakespeare's to toss up a coin to decide questions of little consequence, and then do the thing the coin decided he should not do. it showed, in shakespeare's estimation, his entire independence of those dull persons who supposed that in them was centred the destiny of all mankind. the fates, however, only smiled at these little acts of rebellion, and it was common gossip in erebus that one of the trio had told the furies that they had observed shakespeare's tendency to kick over the traces, and always acted accordingly. they never let the coin fall so as to decide a question the way they wanted it, so that unwittingly the great dramatist did their will after all. it was a part of their plan that upon this occasion shakespeare should play pool with doctor johnson and the emperor nero, and hence it was that the coin bade him repair to the library and chat with lord bacon. "hullo, william," said the doctor, pocketing three balls on the break. "how's our little swanlet of avon this afternoon?" "worn out," shakespeare replied. "i've been hard at work on a play this morning, and i'm tired." "all work and no play makes jack a dull boy," said nero, grinning broadly. "you are a bright spirit," said shakespeare, with a sigh. "i wish i had thought to work you up into a tragedy." "i've often wondered why you didn't," said doctor johnson. "he'd have made a superb tragedy, nero would. i don't believe there was any kind of a crime he left uncommitted. was there, emperor?" "yes. i never wrote an english dictionary," returned the emperor, dryly. "i've murdered everything but english, though." "i could have made a fine tragedy out of you," said shakespeare. "just think what a dreadful climax for a tragedy it would be, johnson, to have nero, as the curtain fell, playing a violin solo." "pretty good," returned the doctor. "but what's the use of killing off your audience that way? it's better business to let 'em live, i say. suppose nero gave a london audience that little musicale he provided at queen elizabeth's wednesday night. how many purely mortal beings, do you think, would have come out alive?" "not one," said shakespeare. "i was mighty glad that night that we were an immortal band. if it had been possible to kill us we'd have died then and there." "that's all right," said nero, with a significant shake of his head. "as my friend bacon makes ingo say, 'beware, my lord, of jealousy.' you never could play a garden hose, much less a fiddle." "what do you mean my attributing those words to bacon?" demanded shakespeare, getting red in the face. "oh, come now, william," remonstrated nero. "it's all right to pull the wool over the eyes of the mortals. that's what they're there for; but as for us--we're all in the secret here. what's the use of putting on nonsense with us?" "we'll see in a minute what the use is," retorted the avonian. "we'll have bacon down here." here he touched an electric button, and charon came in answer. "charon, bring doctor johnson the usual glass of ale. get some ice for the emperor, and ask lord bacon to step down here a minute." "i don't want any ice," said nero. "not now," retorted shakespeare, "but you will in a few minutes. when we have finished with you, you'll want an iceberg. i'm getting tired of this idiotic talk about not having written my own works. there's one thing about nero's music that i've never said, because i haven't wanted to hurt his feelings, but since he has chosen to cast aspersions upon my honesty i haven't any hesitation in saying it now. i believe it was one of his fiddlings that sent nature into convulsions and caused the destruction of pompeii--so there! put that on your music rack and fiddle it, my little emperor." nero's face grew purple with anger, and if shakespeare had been anything but a shade he would have fared ill, for the enraged roman, poising his cue on high as though it were a lance, hurled it at the impertinent dramatist with all his strength, and with such accuracy of aim withal that it pierced the spot beneath which in life the heart of shakespeare used to beat. "good shot," said doctor johnson, nonchalantly. "if you had been a mortal, william, it would have been the end of you." "you can't kill me," said shakespeare, shrugging his shoulders. "i know seven dozen actors in the united states who are trying to do it, but they can't. i wish they'd try to kill a critic once in a while instead of me, though," he added. "i went over to boston one night last week, and, unknown to anybody, i waylaid a fellow who was to play hamlet that night. i drugged him, and went to the theatre and played the part myself. it was the coldest house you ever saw in your life. when the audience did applaud, it sounded like an ice-man chopping up ice with a small pick. several times i looked up at the galleries to see if there were not icicles growing on them, it was so cold. well, i did the best could with the part, and next morning watched curiously for the criticisms." "favorable?" asked the doctor. "they all dismissed me with a line," said the dramatist. "said my conception of the part was not shakespearian. and that's criticism!" "no," said the shade of emerson, which had strolled in while shakespeare was talking, "that isn't criticism; that's boston." "who discovered boston, anyhow?" asked doctor johnson. "it wasn't columbus, was it?" "oh no," said emerson. "old governor winthrop is to blame for that. when he settled at charlestown he saw the old indian town of shawmut across the charles." "and shawmut was the boston microbe, was it?" asked johnson. "yes," said emerson. "spelt with a p, i suppose?" said shakespeare. "p-s-h-a-w, pshaw, m-u-t, mut, pshawmut, so called because the inhabitants are always muttering pshaw. eh?" "pretty good," said johnson. "i wish i'd said that." "well, tell boswell," said shakespeare. "he'll make you say it, and it'll be all the same in a hundred years." lord bacon, accompanied by charon and the ice for nero and the ale for doctor johnson, appeared as shakespeare spoke. the philosopher bowed stiffly at doctor johnson, as though he hardly approved of him, extended his left hand to shakespeare, and stared coldly at nero. "did you send for me, william?" he asked, languidly. "i did," said shakespeare. "i sent for you because this imperial violinist here says that you wrote _othello_." "what nonsense," said bacon. "the only plays of yours i wrote were _ham_--" "sh!" said shakespeare, shaking his head madly. "hush. nobody's said anything about that. this is purely a discussion of _othello_." "the fiddling ex-emperor nero," said bacon, loudly enough to be heard all about the room, "is mistaken when he attributes _othello_ to me." "aha, master nero!" cried shakespeare triumphantly. "what did i tell you?" "then i erred, that is all," said nero. "and i apologize. but really, my lord," he added, addressing bacon, "i fancied i detected your fine italian hand in that." "no. i had nothing to do with the _othello_," said bacon. "i never really knew who wrote it." "never mind about that," whispered shakespeare. "you've said enough." "that's good too," said nero, with a chuckle. "shakespeare here claims it as his own." bacon smiled and nodded approvingly at the blushing avonian. "will always was having his little joke," he said. "eh, will? how we fooled 'em on _hamlet_, eh, my boy? ha-ha-ha! it was the greatest joke of the century." "well, the laugh is on you," said doctor johnson. "if you wrote _hamlet_ and didn't have the sense to acknowledge it, you present to my mind a closer resemblance to simple simon than to socrates. for my part, i don't believe you did write it, and i do believe that shakespeare did. i can tell that by the spelling in the original edition." "shakespeare was my stenographer, gentlemen," said lord bacon. "if you want to know the whole truth, he did write _hamlet_, literally. but it was at my dictation." "i deny it," said shakespeare. "i admit you gave me a suggestion now and then so as to keep it dull and heavy in spots, so that it would seem more like a real tragedy than a comedy punctuated with deaths, but beyond that you had nothing to do with it." "i side with shakespeare," put in emerson. "i've seen his autographs, and no sane person would employ a man who wrote such a villanously bad hand as an amanuensis. it's no use, bacon, we know a thing or two. i'm a new-englander, i am." "well," said bacon, shrugging his shoulders as though the results of the controversy were immaterial to him, "have it so if you please. there isn't any money in shakespeare these days, so what's the use of quarrelling? i wrote _hamlet_, and shakespeare knows it. others know it. ah, here comes sir walter raleigh. we'll leave it to him. he was cognizant of the whole affair." "i leave it to nobody," said shakespeare, sulkily. "what's the trouble?" asked raleigh, sauntering up and taking a chair under the cue-rack. "talking politics?" "not we," said bacon. "it's the old question about the authorship of _hamlet_. will, as usual, claims it for himself. he'll be saying he wrote genesis next." "well, what if he does?" laughed raleigh. "we all know will and his droll ways." "no doubt," put in nero. "but the question of _hamlet_ always excites him so that we'd like to have it settled once and for all as to who wrote it. bacon says you know." "i do," said raleigh. "then settle it once and for all," said bacon. "i'm rather tired of the discussion myself." "shall i tell 'em, shakespeare?" asked raleigh. "it's immaterial to me," said shakespeare, airily. "if you wish--only tell the truth." "very well," said raleigh, lighting a cigar. "i'm not ashamed of it. i wrote the thing myself." there was a roar of laughter which, when it subsided, found shakespeare rapidly disappearing through the door, while all the others in the room ordered various beverages at the expense of lord bacon. chapter iii: washington gives a dinner it was washington's birthday, and the gentleman who had the pleasure of being father of his country decided to celebrate it at the associated shades' floating palace on the styx, as the elysium _weekly gossip_, "a journal of society," called it, by giving a dinner to a select number of friends. among the invited guests were baron munchausen, doctor johnson, confucius, napoleon bonaparte, diogenes, and ptolemy. boswell was also present, but not as a guest. he had a table off to one side all to himself, and upon it there were no china plates, silver spoons, knives, forks, and dishes of fruit, but pads, pens, and ink in great quantity. it was evident that boswell's reportorial duties did not end with his labors in the mundane sphere. the dinner was set down to begin at seven o'clock, so that the guests, as was proper, sauntered slowly in between that hour and eight. the menu was particularly choice, the shades of countless canvas-back ducks, terrapin, and sheep having been called into requisition, and cooked by no less a person than brillat-savarin, in the hottest oven he could find in the famous cooking establishment superintended by the government. washington was on hand early, sampling the olives and the celery and the wines, and giving to charon final instructions as to the manner in which he wished things served. the first guest to arrive was confucius, and after him came diogenes, the latter in great excitement over having discovered a comparatively honest man, whose name, however, he had not been able to ascertain, though he was under the impression that it was something like burpin, or turpin, he said. at eight the brilliant company was arranged comfortably about the board. an orchestra of five, under the leadership of mozart, discoursed sweet music behind a screen, and the feast of reason and flow of soul began. "this is a great day," said doctor johnson, assisting himself copiously to the olives. "yes," said columbus, who was also a guest--"yes, it is a great day, but it isn't a marker to a little day in october i wot of." "still sore on that point?" queried confucius, trying the edge of his knife on the shade of a salted almond. "oh no," said columbus, calmly. "i don't feel jealous of washington. he is the father of his country and i am not. i only discovered the orphan. i knew the country before it had a father or a mother. there wasn't anybody who was willing to be even a sister to it when i knew it. but g. w. here took it in hand, groomed it down, spanked it when it needed it, and started it off on the career which has made it worth while for me to let my name be known in connection with it. why should i be jealous of him?" "i am sure i don't know why anybody anywhere should be jealous of anybody else anyhow," said diogenes. "i never was and i never expect to be. jealousy is a quality that is utterly foreign to the nature of an honest man. take my own case, for instance. when i was what they call alive, how did i live?" "i don't know," said doctor johnson, turning his head as he spoke so that boswell could not fail to hear. "i wasn't there." boswell nodded approvingly, chuckled slightly, and put the doctor's remark down for publication in _the gossip_. "you're doubtless right, there," retorted diogenes. "what you don't know would fill a circulating library. well--i lived in a tub. now, if i believed in envy, i suppose you think i'd be envious of people who live in brownstone fronts with back yards and mortgages, eh?" "i'd rather live under a mortgage than in a tub," said bonaparte, contemptuously. "i know you would," said diogenes. "mortgages never bothered you--but i wouldn't. in the first place, my tub was warm. i never saw a house with a brownstone front that was, except in summer, and then the owner cursed it because it was so. my tub had no plumbing in it to get out of order. it hadn't any flights of stairs in it that had to be climbed after dinner, or late at night when i came home from the club. it had no front door with a wandering key-hole calculated to elude the key ninety-nine times out of every hundred efforts to bring the two together and reconcile their differences, in order that their owner may get into his own house late at night. it wasn't chained down to any particular neighborhood, as are most brownstone fronts. if the neighborhood ran down, i could move my tub off into a better neighborhood, and it never lost value through the deterioration of its location. i never had to pay taxes on it, and no burglar was ever so hard up that he thought of breaking into my habitation to rob me. so why should i be jealous of the brownstone-house dwellers? i am a philosopher, gentlemen. i tell you, philosophy is the thief of jealousy, and i had the good-luck to find it out early in life." "there is much in what you say," said confucius. "but there's another side to the matter. if a man is an aristocrat by nature, as i was, his neighborhood never could run down. wherever he lived would be the swell section, so that really your last argument isn't worth a stewed icicle." "stewed icicles are pretty good, though," said baron munchausen, with an ecstatic smack of his lips. "i've eaten them many a time in the polar regions." "i have no doubt of it," put in doctor johnson. "you've eaten fried pyramids in africa, too, haven't you?" "only once," said the baron, calmly. "and i can't say i enjoyed them. they are rather heavy for the digestion." "that's so," said ptolemy. "i've had experience with pyramids myself." "you never ate one, did you, ptolemy?" queried bonaparte. "not raw," said ptolemy, with a chuckle. "though i've been tempted many a time to call for a second joint of the sphinx." there was a laugh at this, in which all but baron munchausen joined. "i think it is too bad," said the baron, as the laughter subsided--"i think it is very much too bad that you shades have brought mundane prejudice with you into this sphere. just because some people with finite minds profess to disbelieve my stories, you think it well to be sceptical yourselves. i don't care, however, whether you believe me or not. the fact remains that i have eaten one fried pyramid and countless stewed icicles, and the stewed icicles were finer than any diamond-back rat confucius ever had served at a state banquet." "where's shakespeare to-night?" asked confucius, seeing that the baron was beginning to lose his temper, and wishing to avoid trouble by changing the subject. "wasn't he invited, general?" "yes," said washington, "he was invited, but he couldn't come. he had to go over the river to consult with an autograph syndicate they've formed in new york. you know, his autographs sell for about one thousand dollars apiece, and they're trying to get up a scheme whereby he shall contribute an autograph a week to the syndicate, to be sold to the public. it seems like a rich scheme, but there's one thing in the way. posthumous autographs haven't very much of a market, because the mortals can't be made to believe that they are genuine; but the syndicate has got a man at work trying to get over that. these yankees are a mighty inventive lot, and they think perhaps the scheme can be worked. the yankee _is_ an inventive genius." "it was a yankee invented that tale about your not being able to prevaricate, wasn't it, george?" asked diogenes. washington smiled acquiescence, and doctor johnson returned to shakespeare. "i'd rather have a morning-glory vine than one of shakespeare's autographs," said he. "they are far prettier, and quite as legible." "mortals wouldn't," said bonaparte. "what fools they be!" chuckled johnson. at this point the canvas-back ducks were served, one whole shade of a bird for each guest. "fall to, gentlemen," said washington, gazing hungrily at his bird. "when canvas-back ducks are on the table conversation is not required of any one." "it is fortunate for us that we have so considerate a host," said confucius, unfastening his robe and preparing to do justice to the fare set before him. "i have dined often, but never before with one who was willing to let me eat a bird like this in silence. washington, here's to you. may your life be chequered with birthdays, and may ours be equally well supplied with feasts like this at your expense!" the toast was drained, and the diners fell to as requested. "they're great, aren't they?" whispered bonaparte to munchausen. "well, rather," returned the baron. "i don't see why the mortals don't erect a statue to the canvas-back." "did anybody at this board ever have as much canvas-back duck as he could eat?" asked doctor johnson. "yes," said the baron. "i did. once." "oh, you!" sneered ptolemy. "you've had everything." "except the mumps," retorted munchausen. "but, honestly, i did once have as much canvas-back duck as i could eat." "it must have cost you a million," said bonaparte. "but even then they'd be cheap, especially to a man like yourself who could perform miracles. if i could have performed miracles with the ease which was so characteristic of all your efforts, i'd never have died at st. helena." "what's the odds where you died?" said doctor johnson. "if it hadn't been at st. helena it would have been somewhere else, and you'd have found death as stuffy in one place as in another." "don't let's talk of death," said washington. "i am sure the baron's tale of how he came to have enough canvas-back is more diverting." "i've no doubt it is more perverting," said johnson. "it happened this way," said munchausen. "i was out for sport, and i got it. i was alone, my servant having fallen ill, which was unfortunate, since i had always left the filling of my cartridge-box to him, and underestimated its capacity. i started at six in the morning, and, not having hunted for several months, was not in very good form, so, no game appearing for a time, i took a few practice shots, trying to snip off the slender tops of the pine-trees that i encountered with my bullets, succeeding tolerably well for one who was a little rusty, bringing down ninety-nine out of the first one hundred and one, and missing the remaining two by such a close margin that they swayed to and fro as though fanned by a slight breeze. as i fired my one hundred and first shot what should i see before me but a flock of these delicate birds floating upon the placid waters of the bay!" "was this the bay of biscay, baron?" queried columbus, with a covert smile at ptolemy. "i counted them," said the baron, ignoring the question, "and there were just sixty-eight. 'here's a chance for the record, baron,' said i to myself, and then i made ready to shoot them. imagine my dismay, gentlemen, when i discovered that while i had plenty of powder left i had used up all my bullets. now, as you may imagine, to a man with no bullets at hand, the sight of sixty-eight fat canvas-backs is hardly encouraging, but i was resolved to have every one of those birds; the question was, how shall i do it? i never can think on water, so i paddled quietly ashore and began to reflect. as i lay there deep in thought, i saw lying upon the beach before me a superb oyster, and as reflection makes me hungry i seized upon the bivalve and swallowed him. as he went down something stuck in my throat, and, extricating it, what should it prove to be but a pearl of surpassing beauty. my first thought was to be content with my day's find. a pearl worth thousands surely was enough to satisfy the most ardent lover of sport; but on looking up i saw those ducks still paddling contentedly about, and i could not bring myself to give them up. suddenly the idea came, the pearl is as large as a bullet, and fully as round. why not use it? then, as thoughts come to me in shoals, i next reflected, 'ah--but this is only one bullet as against sixty-eight birds:' immediately a third thought came, 'why not shoot them all with a single bullet? it is possible, though not probable.' i snatched out a pad of paper and a pencil, made a rapid calculation based on the doctrine of chances, and proved to my own satisfaction that at some time or another within the following two weeks those birds would doubtless be sitting in a straight line and paddling about, indian file, for an instant. i resolved to await that instant. i loaded my gun with the pearl and a sufficient quantity of powder to send the charge through every one of the ducks if, perchance, the first duck were properly hit. to pass over wearisome details, let me say that it happened just as i expected. i had one week and six days to wait, but finally the critical moment came. it was at midnight, but fortunately the moon was at the full, and i could see as plainly as though it had been day. the moment the ducks were in line i aimed and fired. they every one squawked, turned over, and died. my pearl had pierced the whole sixty-eight." boswell blushed. "ahem!" said doctor johnson. "it was a pity to lose the pearl." "that," said munchausen, "was the most interesting part of the story. i had made a second calculation in order to save the pearl. i deduced the amount of powder necessary to send the gem through sixty-seven and a half birds, and my deduction was strictly accurate. it fulfilled its mission of death on sixty-seven and was found buried in the heart of the sixtyeighth, a trifle discolored, but still a pearl, and worth a king's ransom." napoleon gave a derisive laugh, and the other guests sat with incredulity depicted upon every line of their faces. "do you believe that story yourself, baron?" asked confucius. "why not?" asked the baron. "is there anything improbable in it? why should you disbelieve it? look at our friend washington here. is there any one here who knows more about truth than he does? he doesn't disbelieve it. he's the only man at this table who treats me like a man of honor." "he's host and has to," said johnson, shrugging his shoulders. "well, washington, let me put the direct question to you," said the baron. "say you aren't host and are under no obligation to be courteous. do you believe i haven't been telling the truth?" "my dear munchausen," said the general, "don't ask me. i'm not an authority. i can't tell a lie--not even when i hear one. if you say your story is true, i must believe it, of course; but--ah--really, if i were you, i wouldn't tell it again unless i could produce the pearl and the wish-bone of one of the ducks at least." whereupon, as the discussion was beginning to grow acrimonious, washington hailed charon, and, ordering a boat, invited his guests to accompany him over into the world of realities, where they passed the balance of the evening haunting a vaudeville performance at one of the london music-halls. chapter iv: hamlet makes a suggestion it was a beautiful night on the styx, and the silvery surface of that picturesque stream was dotted with gondolas, canoes, and other craft to an extent that made charon feel like a highly prosperous savings-bank. within the house-boat were gathered a merry party, some of whom were on mere pleasure bent, others of whom had come to listen to a debate, for which the entertainment committee had provided, between the venerable patriarch noah and the late eminent showman p. t. barnum. the question to be debated was upon the resolution passed by the committee, that "the animals of the antediluvian period were far more attractive for show purposes than those of modern make," and, singular to relate, the affirmative was placed in the hands of mr. barnum, while to noah had fallen the task of upholding the virtues of the modern freak. it is with the party on mere pleasure bent that we have to do upon this occasion. the proceedings of the debating-party are as yet in the hands of the official stenographer, but will be made public as soon as they are ready. the pleasure-seeking group were gathered in the smoking-room of the club, which was, indeed, a smoking-room of a novel sort, the invention of an unknown shade, who had sold all the rights to the club through a third party, anonymously, preferring, it seemed, to remain in the elysian world, as he had been in the mundane sphere, a mute inglorious edison. it was a simple enough scheme, and, for a wonder, no one in the world of substantialities has thought to take it up. the smoke was stored in reservoirs, just as if it were so much gas or water, and was supplied on the hot-air furnace principle from a huge furnace in the hold of the house-boat, into which tobacco was shovelled by the hired man of the club night and day. the smoke from the furnace, carried through flues to the smoking-room, was there received and stored in the reservoirs, with each of which was connected one dozen rubber tubes, having at their ends amber mouth-pieces. upon each of these mouth-pieces was arranged a small meter registering the amount of smoke consumed through it, and for this the consumer paid so much a foot. the value of the plan was threefold. it did away entirely with ashes, it saved to the consumers the value of the unconsumed tobacco that is represented by the unsmoked cigar ends, and it averted the possibility of cigarettes. enjoying the benefits of this arrangement upon the evening in question were shakespeare, cicero, henry viii., doctor johnson, and others. of course boswell was present too, for a moment, with his note-book, and this fact evoked some criticism from several of the smokers. "you ought to be up-stairs in the lecture-room, boswell," said shakespeare, as the great biographer took his seat behind his friend the doctor. "doesn't the _gossip_ want a report of the debate?" "it does," said boswell; "but the _gossip_ endeavors always to get the most interesting items of the day, and doctor johnson has informed me that he expects to be unusually witty this evening, so i have come here." "excuse me for saying it, boswell," said the doctor, getting red in the face over this unexpected confession, "but, really, you talk too much." "that's good," said cicero. "stick that down, boz, and print it. it's the best thing johnson has said this week." boswell smiled weakly, and said: "but, doctor, you did say that, you know. i can prove it, too, for you told me some of the things you were going to say. don't you remember, you were going to lead shakespeare up to making the remark that he thought the english language was the greatest language in creation, whereupon you were going to ask him why he didn't learn it?" "get out of here, you idiot!" roared the doctor. "you're enough to give a man apoplexy." "you're not going back on the ladder by which you have climbed, are you, samuel?" queried boswell, earnestly. "the wha-a-t?" cried the doctor, angrily. "the ladder--on which i climbed? you? great heavens! that it should come to this! . . . leave the room--instantly! ladder! by all that is beautiful--the ladder upon which i, samuel johnson, the tallest person in letters, have climbed! go! do you hear?" boswell rose meekly, and, with tears coursing down his cheeks, left the room. "that's one on you, doctor," said cicero, wrapping his toga about him. "i think you ought to order up three baskets of champagne on that." "i'll order up three baskets full of boswell's remains if he ever dares speak like that again!" retorted the doctor, shaking with anger. "he--my ladder--why, it's ridiculous." "yes," said shakespeare, dryly. "that's why we laugh." "you were a little hard on him, doctor," said henry viii. "he was a valuable man to you. he had a great eye for your greatness." "yes. if there's any feature of boswell that's greater than his nose and ears, it's his great i," said the doctor. "you'd rather have him change his i to a u, i presume," said napoleon, quietly. the doctor waved his hand impatiently. "let's drop him," he said. "dropping one's biographer isn't without precedent. as soon as any man ever got to know napoleon well enough to write him up he sent him to the front, where he could get a little lead in his system." "i wish i had had a boswell all the same," said shakespeare. "then the world would have known the truth about me." "it wouldn't if he'd relied on your word for it," retorted the doctor. "hullo! here's hamlet." as the doctor spoke, in very truth the melancholy dane appeared in the doorway, more melancholy of aspect than ever. "what's the matter with you?" asked cicero, addressing the new-comer. "haven't you got that poison out of your system yet?" "not entirely," said hamlet, with a sigh; "but it isn't that that's bothering me. it's fate." "we'll get out an injunction against fate if you like," said blackstone. "is it persecution, or have you deserved it?" "i think it's persecution," said hamlet. "i never wronged fate in my life, and why she should pursue me like a demon through all eternity is a thing i can't understand." "maybe ophelia is back of it," suggested doctor johnson. "these women have a great deal of sympathy for each other, and, candidly, i think you behaved pretty rudely to ophelia. it's a poor way to show your love for a young woman, running a sword through her father every night for pay, and driving the girl to suicide with equal frequency, just to show theatre-goers what a smart little dane you can be if you try." "'tisn't me does all that," returned hamlet. "i only did it once, and even then it wasn't as bad as shakespeare made it out to be." "i put it down just as it was," said shakespeare, hotly, "and you can't dispute it." "yes, he can," said yorick. "you made him tell horatio he knew me well, and he never met me in his life." "i never told horatio anything of the sort," said hamlet. "i never entered the graveyard even, and i can prove an alibi." "and, what's more, he couldn't have made the remark the way shakespeare has it, anyhow," said yorick, "and for a very good reason. i wasn't buried in that graveyard, and hamlet and i can prove an alibi for the skull, too." "it was a good play, just the same," said cicero. "very," put in doctor johnson. "it cured me of insomnia." "well, if you don't talk in your sleep, the play did a christian service to the world," retorted shakespeare. "but, really, hamlet, i thought i did the square thing by you in that play. i meant to, anyhow; and if it has made you unhappy, i'm honestly sorry." "spoken like a man," said yorick. "i don't mind the play so much," said hamlet, "but the way i'm represented by these fellows who play it is the thing that rubs me the wrong way. why, i even hear that there's a troupe out in the western part of the united states that puts the thing on with three hamlets, two ghosts, and a pair of blood-hounds. it's called the uncle-tom-hamlet combination, and instead of my falling in love with one crazy ophelia, i am made to woo three dusky maniacs named topsy on a canvas ice-floe, while the blood-hounds bark behind the scenes. what sort of treatment is that for a man of royal lineage?" "it's pretty rough," said napoleon. "as the poet ought to have said, 'oh, hamlet, hamlet, what crimes are committed in thy name!'" "i feel as badly about the play as hamlet does," said shakespeare, after a moment of silent thought. "i don't bother much about this wild western business, though, because i think the introduction of the bloodhounds and the topsies makes us both more popular in that region than we should be otherwise. what i object to is the way we are treated by these so-called first-class intellectual actors in london and other great cities. i've seen hamlet done before a highly cultivated audience, and, by jove, it made me blush." "me too," sighed hamlet. "i have seen a man who had a walk on him that suggested spring-halt and locomotor ataxia combined impersonating my graceful self in a manner that drove me almost crazy. i've heard my 'to be or not to be' soliloquy uttered by a famous tragedian in tones that would make a graveyard yawn at mid-day, and if there was any way in which i could get even with that man i'd do it." "it seems to me," said blackstone, assuming for the moment a highly judicial manner--"it seems to me that shakespeare, having got you into this trouble, ought to get you out of it." "but how?" said shakespeare, earnestly. "that's the point. heaven knows i'm willing enough." hamlet's face suddenly brightened as though illuminated with an idea. then he began to dance about the room with an expression of glee that annoyed doctor johnson exceedingly. "i wish darwin could see you now," the doctor growled. "a kodak picture of you would prove his arguments conclusively." "rail on, o philosopher!" retorted hamlet. "rail on! i mind your railings not, for i the germ of an idea have got." "well, go quarantine yourself," said the doctor. "i'd hate to have one of your idea microbes get hold of me." "what's the scheme?" asked shakespeare. "you can write a play for _me_!" cried hamlet. "make it a farce-tragedy. take the modern player for your hero, and let _me_ play _him_. i'll bait him through four acts. i'll imitate his walk. i'll cultivate his voice. we'll have the first act a tank act, and drop the hero into the tank. the second act can be in a saw-mill, and we can cut his hair off on a buzzsaw. the third act can introduce a spile-driver with which to drive his hat over his eyes and knock his brains down into his lungs. the fourth act can be at niagara falls, and we'll send him over the falls; and for a grand climax we can have him guillotined just after he has swallowed a quart of prussic acid and a spoonful of powdered glass. do that for me, william, and you are forgiven. i'll play it for six hundred nights in london, for two years in new york, and round up with a one-night stand in boston." "it sounds like a good scheme," said shakespeare, meditatively. "what shall we call it?" "call it _irving_," said eugene aram, who had entered. "i too have suffered." "and let me be hamlet's understudy," said charles the first, earnestly. "done!" said shakespeare, calling for a pad and pencil. and as the sun rose upon the styx the next morning the bard of avon was to be seen writing a comic chorus to be sung over the moribund tragedian by the shades of charles, aram, and other eminent deceased heroes of the stage, with which his new play of _irving_ was to be brought to an appropriate close. this play has not as yet found its way upon the boards, but any enterprising manager who desires to consider it may address _hamlet_, _the house-boat_, _hades-on-the-styx_. he is sure to get a reply by return mail, unless mephistopheles interferes, which is not unlikely, since mephistopheles is said to have been much pleased with the manner in which the eminent tragedian has put him before the british and american public. chapter v: the house committee discuss the poets "there's one thing this house-boat needs," wrote homer in the complaintbook that adorned the centre-table in the reading-room, "and that is a poets' corner. there are smoking-rooms for those who smoke, billiardrooms for those who play billiards, and a card-room for those who play cards. i do not smoke, i can't play billiards, and i do not know a trey of diamonds from a silver salver. all i can do is write poetry. why discriminate against me? by all means let us have a poets' corner, where a man can be inspired in peace." for four days this entry lay in the book apparently unnoticed. on the fifth day the following lines, signed by samson, appeared: "i approve of homer's suggestion. there should be a poets' corner here. then the rest of us could have some comfort. while playing _vingt-et-un_ with diogenes in the card-room on friday evening a poetic member of this club was taken with a most violent fancy, and it required the combined efforts of diogenes and myself, assisted by the janitor, to remove the frenzied and objectionable member from the room. the habit some of our poets have acquired of giving way to their inspirations all over the clubhouse should be stopped, and i know of no better way to accomplish this desirable end than by the adoption of homer's suggestion. therefore i second the motion." of course the suggestion of two members so prominent as homer and samson could not well he ignored by the house committee, and it reluctantly took the subject in hand at an early meeting. "i find here," said demosthenes to the chairman, as the committee gathered, "a suggestion from homer and samson that this house-boat be provided with a poets' corner. i do not know that i approve of the suggestion myself, but in order to bring it before the committee for debate i am willing to make a motion that the request be granted." "excuse me," put in doctor johnson, "but where do you find that suggestion? 'here' is not very definite. where _is_ 'here'?" "in the complaint-book, which i hold in my hand," returned demosthenes, putting a pebble in his mouth so that he might enunciate more clearly. a frown ruffled the serenity of doctor johnson's brow. "in the complaint-book, eh?" he said, slowly. "i thought house committees were not expected to pay any attention to complaints in complaint-books. i never heard of its being done before." "well, i can't say that i have either," replied demosthenes, chewing thoughtfully on the pebble, "but i suppose complaint-books are the places for complaints. you don't expect people to write serial stories or dialect poems in them, do you?" "that isn't the point, as the man said to the assassin who tried to stab him with the hilt of his dagger," retorted doctor johnson, with some asperity. "of course, complaint-books are for the reception of complaints--nobody disputes that. what i want to have determined is whether it is necessary or proper for the complaints to go further." "i fancy we have a legal right to take the matter up," said blackstone, wearily; "though i don't know of any precedent for such action. in all the clubs i have known the house committees have invariably taken the ground that the complaint-book was established to guard them against the annoyance of hearing complaints. this one, however, has been forced upon us by our secretary, and in view of the age of the complainants i think we cannot well decline to give them a specific answer. respect for age is _de rigueur_ at all times, like clean hands. i'll second the motion." "i think the poets' corner entirely unnecessary," said confucius. "this isn't a class organization, and we should resist any effort to make it or any portion of it so. in fact, i will go further and state that it is my opinion that if we do any legislating in the matter at all, we ought to discourage rather than encourage these poets. they are always littering the club up with themselves. only last wednesday i came here with a guest--no less a person than a recently deceased emperor of china--and what was the first sight that greeted our eyes?" "i give it up," said doctor johnson. "it must have been a catacornered sight, whatever it was, if the emperor's eyes slanted like yours." "no personalities, please, doctor," said sir walter raleigh, the chairman, rapping the table vigorously with the shade of a handsome gavel that had once adorned the roman senate-chamber. "he's only a chinaman!" muttered johnson. "what was the sight that greeted your eyes, confucius?" asked cassius. "omar khayyam stretched over five of the most comfortable chairs in the library," returned confucius; "and when i ventured to remonstrate with him he lost his temper, and said i'd spoiled the whole second volume of the rubaiyat. i told him he ought to do his rubaiyatting at home, and he made a scene, to avoid which i hastened with my guest over to the billiard-room; and there, stretched at full length on the pool-table, was robert burns trying to write a sonnet on the cloth with chalk in less time than villon could turn out another, with two lines start, on the billiard-table with the same writing materials. now i ask you, gentlemen, if these things are to be tolerated? are they not rather to be reprehended, whether i am a chinaman or not?" "what would you have us do, then?" asked sir walter raleigh, a little nettled. "exclude poets altogether? i was one, remember." "oh, but not much of one, sir walter," put in doctor johnson, deprecatingly. "no," said confucius. "i don't want them excluded, but they should be controlled. you don't let a shoemaker who has become a member of this club turn the library sofas into benches and go pegging away at boot-making, so why should you let the poets turn the place into a verse factory? that's what i'd like to know." "i don't know but what your point is well taken," said blackstone, "though i can't say i think your parallels are very parallel. a shoemaker, my dear confucius, is somewhat different from a poet." "certainly," said doctor johnson. "very different--in fact, different enough to make a conundrum of the question--what is the difference between a shoemaker and a poet? one makes the shoes and the other shakes the muse--all the difference in the world. still, i don't see how we can exclude the poets. it is the very democracy of this club that gives it life. we take in everybody--peer, poet, or what not. to say that this man shall not enter because he is this or that or the other thing would result in our ultimately becoming a class organization, which, as confucius himself says, we are not and must not be. if we put out the poet to please the sage, we'll soon have to put out the sage to please the fool, and so on. we'll keep it up, once the precedent is established, until finally it will become a class club entirely--a plumbers' club, for instance--and how absurd that would be in hades! no, gentlemen, it can't be done. the poets must and shall be preserved." "what's the objection to class clubs, anyhow?" asked cassius. "i don't object to them. if we could have had political organizations in my day i might not have had to fall on my sword to get out of keeping an engagement i had no fancy for. class clubs have their uses." "no doubt," said demosthenes. "have all the class clubs you want, but do not make one of this. an authors' club, where none but authors are admitted, is a good thing. the members learn there that there are other authors than themselves. poets' clubs are a good thing; they bring poets into contact with each other, and they learn what a bore it is to have to listen to a poet reading his own poem. pugilists' clubs are good; so are all other class clubs; but so also are clubs like our own, which takes in all who are worthy. here a poet can talk poetry as much as he wants, but at the same time he hears something besides poetry. we must stick to our original idea." "then let us do something to abate the nuisance of which i complain," said confucius. "can't we adopt a house rule that poets must not be inspired between the hours of 11 a.m. and 5 p.m., or in the evening after eight; that any poet discovered using more than five arm-chairs in the composition of a quatrain will be charged two oboli an hour for each chair in excess of that number; and that the billiard-marker shall be required to charge a premium of three times the ordinary fee for tables used by versifiers in lieu of writing-pads?" "that wouldn't be a bad idea," said sir walter raleigh. "i, as a poet would not object to that. i do all my work at home, anyhow." "there's another phase of this business that we haven't considered yet, and it's rather important," said demosthenes, taking a fresh pebble out of his bonbonniere. "that's in the matter of stationery. this club, like all other well-regulated clubs, provides its members with a suitable supply of writing materials. charon informs me that the waste-baskets last week turned out forty-two reams of our best correspondence paper on which these poets had scribbled the first draft of their verses. now i don't think the club should furnish the poets with the raw material for their poems any more than, to go back to confucius's shoemaker, it should supply leather for our cobblers." "what do you mean by raw material for poems?" asked sir walter, with a frown. "pen, ink, and paper. what else?" said demosthenes. "doesn't it take brains to write a poem?" said raleigh. "doesn't it take brains to make a pair of shoes?" retorted demosthenes, swallowing a pebble in his haste. "they've got a right to the stationery, though," put in blackstone. "a clear legal right to it. if they choose to write poems on the paper instead of boring people to death with letters, as most of us do, that's their own affair." "well, they're very wasteful," said demosthenes. "we can meet that easily enough," observed cassius. "furnish each writing-table with a slate. i should think they'd be pleased with that. it's so much easier to rub out the wrong word." "most poets prefer to rub out the right word," growled confucius. "besides, i shall never consent to slates in this house-boat. the squeaking of the pencils would be worse than the poems themselves." "that's true," said cassius. "i never thought of that. if a dozen poets got to work on those slates at once, a fife corps wouldn't be a circumstance to them." "well, it all goes to prove what i have thought all along," said doctor johnson. "homer's idea is a good one, and samson was wise in backing it up. the poets need to be concentrated somewhere where they will not be a nuisance to other people, and where other people will not be a nuisance to them. homer ought to have a place to compose in where the _vingt-etun_ players will not interrupt his frenzies, and, on the other hand, the _vingt-et-un_ and other players should be protected from the wooers of the muse. i'll vote to have the poets' corner, and in it i move that cassius's slate idea be carried out. it will be a great saving, and if the corner we select be far enough away from the other corners of the club, the squeaking of the slate-pencils need bother no one." "i agree to that," said blackstone. "only i think it should be understood that, in granting the petition of the poets, we do not bind ourselves to yield to doctors and lawyers and shoemakers and plumbers in case they should each want a corner to themselves." "a very wise idea," said sir walter. whereupon the resolution was suitably worded, and passed unanimously. just where the poets' corner is to be located the members of the committee have not as yet decided, although confucius is strongly in favor of having it placed in a dingy situated a quarter of a mile astern of the house-boat, and connected therewith by a slight cord, which can be easily cut in case the squeaking of the poets' slate-pencils becomes too much for the nervous system of the members who have no corner of their own. chapter vi: some theories, darwinian and otherwise "i observe," said doctor darwin, looking up from a perusal of an asbestos copy of the _london times_--"i observe that an american professor has discovered that monkeys talk. i consider that a very interesting fact." "it undoubtedly is," observed doctor livingstone, "though hardly new. i never said anything about it over in the other world, but i discovered years ago in africa that monkeys were quite as well able to hold a sustained conversation with each other as most men are." "and i, too," put in baron munchausen, "have frequently conversed with monkeys. i made myself a master of their idioms during my brief sojourn in--ah--in--well, never mind where. i never could remember the names of places. the interesting point is that at one period of my life i was a master of the monkey language. i have even gone so far as to write a sonnet in simian, which was quite as intelligible to the uneducated as nine-tenths of the sonnets written in english or american." "do you mean to say that you could acquire the monkey accent?" asked doctor darwin, immediately interested. "in most instances," returned the baron, suavely, "though of course not in all. i found the same difficulty in some cases that the german or the chinaman finds when he tries to speak french. a chinaman can no more say trocadero, for instance, as the frenchman says it, than he can fly. that peculiar throaty aspirate the frenchman gives to the first syllable, as though it were spelled trhoque, is utterly beyond the chinese--and beyond the american, too, whose idea of the tonsillar aspirate leads him to speak of the trochedeero, naturally falling back upon troches to help him out of his laryngeal difficulties." "you ought to have been on the staff of _punch_, baron," said thackeray, quietly. "that joke would have made you immortal." "i _am_ immortal," said the baron. "but to return to our discussion of the simian tongue: as i was saying, there were some little points about the accent that i could never get, and, as in the case of the german and chinaman with the french language, the trouble was purely physical. when you consider that in polite simian society most of the talkers converse while swinging by their tails from the limb of a tree, with a sort of droning accent, which results from their swaying to and fro, you will see at once why it was that i, deprived by nature of the necessary apparatus with which to suspend myself in mid-air, was unable to quite catch the quality which gives its chief charm to monkey-talk." "i should hardly think that a man of your fertile resources would have let so small a thing as that stand in his way," said doctor livingstone. "when a man is able to make a reputation for himself like yours, in which material facts are never allowed to interfere with his doing what he sets out to do, he ought not to be daunted by the need of a tail. if you could make a cherry-tree grow out of a deer's head, i fail to see why you could not personally grow a tail, or anything else you might happen to need for the attainment of your ends." "i was not so anxious to get the accent as all that," returned the baron. "i don't think it is necessary for a man to make a monkey of himself just for the pleasure of mastering a language. reasoning similarly, a man to master the art of braying in a fashion comprehensible to the jackass of average intellect should make a jackass of himself, cultivate his ears, and learn to kick, so as properly to punctuate his sentences after the manner of most conversational beasts of that kind." "then you believe that jackasses talk, too, do you?" asked doctor darwin. "why not?" said the baron. "if monkeys, why not donkeys? certainly they do. all creatures have some means of communicating their thoughts to each other. why man in his conceit should think otherwise i don't know, unless it be that the birds and beasts in their conceit probably think that they alone of all the creatures in the world can talk." "i haven't a doubt," said doctor livingstone, "that monkeys listening to men and women talking think they are only jabbering." "they're not far from wrong in most cases if they do," said doctor johnson, who up to this time had been merely an interested listener. "i've thought that many a time myself." "which is perhaps, in a slight degree, a confirmation of my theory," put in darwin. "if doctor johnson's mind runs in the same channels that the monkey's mind runs in, why may we not say that doctor johnson, being a man, has certain qualities of the monkey, and is therefore, in a sense, of the same strain?" "you may say what you please," retorted johnson, wrathfully, "but i'll make you prove what you say about me." "i wouldn't if i were you," said doctor livingstone, in a peace-making spirit. "it would not be a pleasant task for you, compelling our friend to prove you descended from the ape. i should think you'd prefer to make him leave it unproved." "have monkeys boswells?" queried thackeray. "i don't know anything about 'em," said johnson, petulantly. "no more do i," said darwin, "and i didn't mean to be offensive, my dear johnson. if i claim simian ancestry for you, i claim it equally for myself." "well, i'm no snob," said johnson, unmollified. "if you want to brag about your ancestors, do it. leave mine alone. stick to your own genealogical orchard." "well, i believe fully that we are all descended from the ape," said munchausen. "there isn't any doubt in my mind that before the flood all men had tails. noah had a tail. shem, ham, and japheth had tails. it's perfectly reasonable to believe it. the ark in a sense proved it. it would have been almost impossible for noah and his sons to construct the ark in the time they did with the assistance of only two hands apiece. think, however, of how fast they could work with the assistance of that third arm. noah could hammer a clapboard on to the ark with two hands while grasping a saw and cutting a new board or planing it off with his tail. so with the others. we all know how much a third hand would help us at times." "but how do you account for its disappearance?" put in doctor livingstone. "is it likely they would dispense with such a useful adjunct?" "no, it isn't; but there are various ways of accounting for its loss," said munchausen. "they may have overworked it building the ark; shem, ham, or japheth may have had his caught in the door of the ark and cut off in the hurry of the departure; plenty of things may have happened to eliminate it. men lose their hair and their teeth; why might not a man lose a tail? scientists say that coming generations far in the future will be toothless and bald. why may it not be that through causes unknown to us we are similarly deprived of something our forefathers had?" "the only reason for man's losing his hair is that he wears a hat all the time," said livingstone. "the derby hat is the enemy of hair. it is hot, and dries up the scalp. you might as well try to raise watermelons in the desert of sahara as to try to raise hair under the modern hat. in fact, the modern hat is a furnace." "well, it's a mighty good furnace," observed munchausen. "you don't have to put coal on the modern hat." "perhaps," interposed thackeray, "the ancients wore their hats on their tails." "well, i have a totally different theory," said johnson. "you always did have," observed munchausen. "very likely," said johnson. "to be commonplace never was my ambition." "what is your theory?" queried livingstone. "well--i don't know," said johnson, "if it be worth expressing." "it may be worth sending by freight," interrupted thackeray. "let us have it." "well, i believe," said johnson--"i believe that adam was a monkey." "he behaved like one," ejaculated thackeray. "i believe that the forbidden tree was a tender one, and therefore the only one upon which adam was forbidden to swing by his tail," said johnson. "clear enough--so far," said munchausen. "but that the possession of tails by adam and eve entailed a love of swinging thereby, and that they could not resist the temptation to swing from every limb in eden, and that therefore, while adam was off swinging on other trees, eve took a swing on the forbidden tree; that adam, returning, caught her in the act, and immediately gave way himself and swung," said johnson. "then you eliminate the serpent?" queried darwin. "not a bit of it," johnson answered. "the serpent was the tail. look at most snakes to-day. what are they but unattached tails?" "they do look it," said darwin, thoughtfully. "why, it's clear as day," said johnson. "as punishment adam and eve lost their tails, and the tail itself was compelled to work for a living and do its own walking." "i never thought of that," said darwin. "it seems reasonable." "it is reasonable," said johnson. "and the snakes of the present day?" queried thackeray. "i believe to be the missing tails of men," said johnson. "somewhere in the world is a tail for every man and woman and child. where one's tail is no one can ever say, but that it exists simultaneously with its owner i believe. the abhorrence man has for snakes is directly attributable to his abhorrence for all things which have deprived him of something that is good. if adam's tail had not tempted him to swing on the forbidden tree, we should all of us have been able through life to relax from business cares after the manner of the monkey, who is happy from morning until night." "well, i can't see that it does us any good to sit here and discuss this matter," said doctor livingstone. "we can't reach any conclusion. the only way to settle the matter, it seems to me, is to go directly to adam, who is a member of this club, and ask him how it was." "that's a great idea," said thackeray, scornfully. "you'd look well going up to a man and saying, 'excuse me, sir, but--ah--were you ever a monkey?'" "to say nothing of catechising a man on the subject of an old and dreadful scandal," put in munchausen. "i'm surprised at you, livingstone. african etiquette seems to have ruined your sense of propriety." "i'd just as lief ask him," said doctor johnson. "etiquette? bah! what business has etiquette to stand in the way of human knowledge? conventionality is the last thing men of brains should strive after, and i, for one, am not going to be bound by it." here doctor johnson touched the electric bell, and in an instant the shade of a buttons appeared. "boy, is adam in the club-house to-day?" asked the sage. "i'll go and see, sir," said the boy, and he immediately departed. "good boy that," said thackeray. "yes; but the service in this club is dreadful, considering what we might have," said darwin. "with aladdin a member of this club, i don't see why we can't have his lamp with genii galore to respond. it certainly would be more economical." "true; but i, for one, don't care to fool with genii," said munchausen. "when one member can summon a servant who is strong enough to take another member and do him up in a bottle and cast him into the sea, i have no use for the system. plain ordinary mortal shades are good enough for me." as munchausen spoke, the boy returned. "mr. adam isn't here to-day, sir," he said, addressing doctor johnson. "and charon says he's not likely to be here, sir, seeing as how his account is closed, not having been settled for three months." "good," said thackeray. "i was afraid he was here. i don't want to have him asked about his eden experiences in my behalf. that's personality." "well, then, there's only one other thing to do," said darwin. "munchausen claims to be able to speak simian. he might seek out some of the prehistoric monkeys and put the question to them." "no, thank you," said munchausen. "i'm a little rusty in the language, and, besides, you talk like an idiot. you might as well speak of the human language as the simian language. there are french monkeys who speak monkey french, african monkeys who talk the most barbarous kind of zulu monkey patois, and congo monkey slang, and so on. let johnson send his little boswell out to drum up information. if there is anything to be found out he'll get it, and then he can tell it to us. of course he may get it all wrong, but it will be entertaining, and we'll never know any difference." which seemed to the others a good idea, but whatever came of it i have not been informed. chapter vii: a discussion as to ladies' day "i met queen elizabeth just now on the row," said raleigh, as he entered the house-boat and checked his cloak. "indeed?" said confucius. "what if you did? other people have met queen elizabeth. there's nothing original about that." "true; but she made a suggestion to me about this house-boat which i think is a good one. she says the women are all crazy to see the inside of it," said raleigh. "thus proving that immortal woman is no different from mortal woman," retorted confucius. "they want to see the inside of everything. curiosity, thy name is woman." "well, i am sure i don't see why men should arrogate to themselves the sole right to an investigating turn of mind," said raleigh, impatiently. "why shouldn't the ladies want to see the inside of this club-house? it is a compliment to us that they should, and i for one am in favor of letting them, and i am going to propose that in the ides of march we give a ladies' day here." "then i shall go south for my health in the ides of march," said confucius, angrily. "what on earth is a club for if it isn't to enable men to get away from their wives once in a while? when do people go to clubs? when they are on their way home--that's when; and the more a man's at home in his club, the less he's at home when he's at home. i suppose you'll be suggesting a children's day next, and after that a parrot's or a canary-bird's day." "i had no idea you were such a woman-hater," said raleigh, in astonishment. "what's the matter? were you ever disappointed in love?" "i? how absurd!" retorted confucius, reddening. "the idea of _my_ ever being disappointed in love! i never met the woman who could bring me to my knees, although i was married in the other world. what became of mrs. c. i never inquired. she may be in china yet, for aught i know. i regard death as a divorce." "your wife must be glad of it," said raleigh, somewhat ungallantly; for, to tell the truth, he was nettled by confucius's demeanor. "i didn't know, however, but that since you escaped from china and came here to hades you might have fallen in love with some spirit of an age subsequent to your own--mary queen of scots, or joan of arc, or some other spook--who rejected you. i can't account for your dislike of women otherwise." "not i," said confucius. "hades would have a less classic name than it has for me if i were hampered with a family. but go along and have your ladies' day here, and never mind my reasons for preferring my own society to that of the fair sex. i can at least stay at home that day. what do you propose to do--throw open the house to the wives of members, or to all ladies, irrespective of their husbands' membership here?" "i think the latter plan would be the better," said raleigh. "otherwise queen elizabeth, to whom i am indebted for the suggestion, would be excluded. she never married, you know." "didn't she?" said confucius. "no, i didn't know it; but that doesn't prove anything. when i went to school we didn't study the history of the elizabethan period. she didn't have absolute sway over england, then?" "she had; but what of that?" queried raleigh. "do you mean to say that she lived and died an old maid from choice?" demanded confucius. "certainly i do," said raleigh. "and why should i not tell you that?" "for a very good and sufficient reason," retorted confucius, "which is, in brief, that i am not a marine. i may dislike women, my dear raleigh, but i know them better than you do, gallant as you are; and when you tell me in one and the same moment that a woman holding absolute sway over men yet lived and died an old maid, you must not be indignant if i smile and bite the end of my thumb, which is the chinese way of saying that's all in your eye, betty martin." "believe it or not, you poor old back number," retorted raleigh, hotly. "it alters nothing. queen elizabeth could have married a hundred times over if she had wished. i know i lost my head there completely." "that shows, sir walter," said dryden, with a grin, "how wrong you are. you lost your head to king james. hi! shakespeare, here's a man doesn't know who chopped his head off." raleigh's face flushed scarlet. "'tis better to have had a head and lost it," he cried, "than never to have had a head at all! mark you, dryden, my boy, it ill befits you to scoff at me for my misfortune, for dust thou art, and to dust thou hast returned, if word from t'other side about thy books and that which in and on them lies be true." "whate'er be said about my books," said dryden, angrily, "be they read or be they not, 'tis mine they are, and none there be who dare dispute their authorship." "thus proving that men, thank heaven, are still sane," ejaculated doctor johnson. "to assume the authorship of dryden would be not so much a claim, my friend, as a confession." "shades of the mighty chow!" cried confucius. "an' will ye hear the poets squabble! egad! a ladies' day could hardly introduce into our midst a more diverting disputation." "we're all getting a little high-flown in our phraseology," put in shakespeare at this point. "let's quit talking in blank-verse and come down to business. _i_ think a ladies' day would be great sport. i'll write a poem to read on the occasion." "then i oppose it with all my heart," said doctor johnson. "why do you always want to make our entertainments commonplace? leave occasional poems to mortals. i never knew an occasional poem yet that was worthy of an immortal." "that's precisely why i want to write one occasional poem. i'd make it worthy," shakespeare answered. "like this, for instance: _most fair, most sweet, most beauteous of ladies_, _the greatest charm in all ye realm of hades_. why, my dear doctor, such an opportunity for rhyming hades with ladies should not be lost." "that just proves what i said," said johnson. "any idiot can make ladies rhyme with hades. it requires absolute genius to avoid the temptation. you are great enough to make hades rhyme with bicycle if you choose to do it--but no, you succumb to the temptation to be commonplace. bah! one of these modern drawing-room poets with three sections to his name couldn't do worse." "on general principles," said raleigh, "johnson is right. we invite these people here to see our club-house, not to give them an exhibition of our metrical powers, and i think all exercises of a formal nature should be frowned upon." "very well," said shakespeare. "go ahead. have your own way about it. get out your brow and frown. i'm perfectly willing to save myself the trouble of writing a poem. writing real poetry isn't easy, as you fellows would have discovered for yourselves if you'd ever tried it." "to pass over the arrogant assumption of the gentleman who has just spoken, with the silence due to a proper expression of our contempt therefor," said dryden, slowly, "i think in case we do have a ladies' day here we should exercise a most careful supervision over the invitation list. for instance, wouldn't it be awkward for our good friend henry the eighth to encounter the various mrs. henrys here? would it not likewise be awkward for them to meet each other?" "your point is well taken," said doctor johnson. "i don't know whether the king's matrimonial ventures are on speaking terms with each other or not, but under any circumstances it would hardly be a pleasing spectacle for katharine of arragon to see henry running his legs off getting cream and cakes for anne boleyn; nor would anne like it much if, on the other hand, henry chose to behave like a gentleman and a husband to jane seymour or katharine parr. i think, if the members themselves are to send out the invitations, they should each be limited to two cards, with the express understanding that no member shall be permitted to invite more than one wife." "that's going to be awkward," said raleigh, scratching his head thoughtfully. "henry is such a hot-headed fellow that he might resent the stipulation." "i think he would," said confucius. "i think he'd be as mad as a hatter at your insinuation that he would invite any of his wives, if all i hear of him is true; and what i've heard, wolsey has told me." "he knew a thing or two about henry," said shakespeare. "if you don't believe it, just read that play of mine that beaumont and fletcher--er--ah--thought so much of." "you came near giving your secret away that time, william," said johnson, with a sly smile, and giving the avonian a dig between the ribs. "secret! i haven't any secret," said shakespeare, a little acridly. "it's the truth i'm telling you. beaumont and fletcher _did_ admire _henry the eighth_." "thereby showing their conceit, eh?" said johnson. "oh, of course, i didn't write anything, did i?" cried shakespeare. "everybody wrote my plays but me. i'm the only person that had no hand in shakespeare. it seems to me that joke is about worn out, doctor. i'm getting a little tired of it myself; but if it amuses you, why, keep it up. _i_ know who wrote my plays, and whatever you may say cannot affect the facts. next thing you fellows will be saying that i didn't write my own autographs?" "i didn't say that," said johnson, quietly. "only there is no internal evidence in your autographs that you knew how to spell your name if you did. a man who signs his name shixpur one day and shikespeare the next needn't complain if the bank of posterity refuses to honor his check." "they'd honor my check quick enough these days," retorted shakespeare. "when a man's autograph brings five thousand dollars, or one thousand pounds, in the auction-room, there isn't a bank in the world fool enough to decline to honor any check he'll sign under a thousand dollars, or two hundred pounds." "i fancy you're right," put in raleigh. "but your checks or your plays have nothing to do with ladies' day. let's get to some conclusion in this matter." "yes," said confucius. "let's. ladies' day is becoming a dreadful bore, and if we don't hurry up the billiard-room will be full." "well, i move we get up a petition to the council to have it," said dryden. "i agree," said confucius, "and i'll sign it. if there's one way to avoid having ladies' day in the future, it's to have one now and be done with it." "all right," said shakespeare. "i'll sign too." "as--er--shixpur or shikespeare?" queried johnson. "let him alone," said raleigh. "he's getting sensitive about that; and what you need to learn more than anything else is that it isn't manners to twit a man on facts. what's bothering you, dryden? you look like a man with an idea." "it has just occurred to me," said dryden, "that while we can safely leave the question of henry the eighth and his wives to the wisdom of the council, we ought to pay some attention to the advisability of inviting lucretia borgia. i'd hate to eat any supper if she came within a mile of the banqueting-hall. if she comes you'll have to appoint a tasting committee before i'll touch a drop of punch or eat a speck of salad." "we might recommend the appointment of raleigh to look after the fair lucretia and see that she has no poison with her, or if she has, to keep her from dropping it into the salads," said confucius, with a sidelong glance at raleigh. "he's the especial champion of woman in this club, and no doubt would be proud of the distinction." "i would with most women," said raleigh. "but i draw the line at lucretia borgia." and so a petition was drawn up, signed, and sent to the council, and they, after mature deliberation, decided to have the ladies' day, to which all the ladies in hades, excepting lucretia borgia and delilah, were to be duly invited, only the date was not specified. delilah was excluded at the request of samson, whose convincing muscles, rather than his arguments, completely won over all opposition to his proposition. chapter viii: a discontented shade "it seems to me," said shakespeare, wearily, one afternoon at the club--"that this business of being immortal is pretty dull. didn't somebody once say he'd rather ride fifty years on a trolley in europe than on a bicycle in cathay?" "i never heard any such remark by any self-respecting person," said johnson. "i said something like it," observed tennyson. doctor johnson looked around to see who it was that spoke. "you?" he cried. "and who, pray, may you be?" "my name is tennyson," replied the poet. "and a very good name it is," said shakespeare. "i am not aware that i ever heard the name before," said doctor johnson. "did you make it yourself?" "i did," said the late laureate, proudly. "in what pursuit?" asked doctor johnson. "poetry," said tennyson. "i wrote 'locksley hall' and 'come into the garden, maude.'" "humph!" said doctor johnson. "i never read 'em." "well, why should you have read them?" snarled carlyle. "they were written after you moved over here, and they were good stuff. you needn't think because you quit, the whole world put up its shutters and went out of business. i did a few things myself which i fancy you never heard of." "oh, as for that," retorted doctor johnson, with a smile, "i've heard of you; you are the man who wrote the life of frederick the great in nine hundred and two volumes--" "seven!" snapped carlyle. "well, seven then," returned johnson. "i never saw the work, but i heard frederick speaking of it the other day. bonaparte asked him if he had read it, and frederick said no, he hadn't time. bonaparte cried, 'haven't time? why, my dear king, you've got all eternity.' 'i know it,' replied frederick, 'but that isn't enough. read a page or two, my dear napoleon, and you'll see why.'" "frederick will have his joke," said shakespeare, with a wink at tennyson and a smile for the two philosophers, intended, no doubt, to put them in a more agreeable frame of mind. "why, he even asked me the other day why i never wrote a tragedy about him, completely ignoring the fact that he came along many years after i had departed. i spoke of that, and he said, 'oh, i was only joking.' i apologized. 'i didn't know that,' said i. 'and why should you?' said he. 'you're english.'" "a very rude remark," said johnson. "as if we english were incapable of seeing a joke!" "exactly," put in carlyle. "it strikes me as the absurdest notion that the englishman can't see a joke. to the mind that is accustomed to snap judgments i have no doubt the englishman appears to be dull of apprehension, but the philosophy of the whole matter is apparent to the mind that takes the trouble to investigate. the briton weighs everything carefully before he commits himself, and even though a certain point may strike him as funny, he isn't going to laugh until he has fully made up his mind that it is funny. i remember once riding down piccadilly with froude in a hansom cab. froude had a copy of _punch_ in his hand, and he began to laugh immoderately over something. i leaned over his shoulder to see what he was laughing at. 'that isn't so funny,' said i, as i read the paragraph on which his eye was resting. 'no,' said froude. 'i wasn't laughing at that. i was enjoying the joke that appeared in the same relative position in last week's issue.' now that's the point--the whole point. the englishman always laughs over last week's _punch_, not this week's, and that is why you will find a file of that interesting journal in the home of all well-to-do britons. it is the back number that amuses him--which merely proves that he is a deliberative person who weighs even his humor carefully before giving way to his emotions." "what is the average weight of a copy of _punch_?" drawled artemas ward, who had strolled in during the latter part of the conversation. shakespeare snickered quietly, but carlyle and johnson looked upon the intruder severely. "we will take that question into consideration," said carlyle. "perhaps to-morrow we shall have a definite answer ready for you." "never mind," returned the humorist. "you've proved your point. tennyson tells me you find life here dull, shakespeare." "somewhat," said shakespeare. "i don't know about the rest of you fellows, but i was not cut out for an eternity of ease. i must have occupation, and the stage isn't popular here. the trouble about putting on a play here is that our managers are afraid of libel suits. the chances are that if i should write a play with cassius as the hero, cassius would go to the first night's performance with a dagger concealed in his toga, with which to punctuate his objections to the lines put in his mouth. there is nothing i'd like better than to manage a theatre in this place, but think of the riots we'd have! suppose, for an instant, that i wrote a play about bonaparte! he'd have a box, and when the rest of you spooks called for the author at the end of the third act, if he didn't happen to like the play he'd greet me with a salvo of artillery instead of applause." "he wouldn't if you made him out a great conqueror from start to finish," said tennyson. "no doubt," returned shakespeare, sadly; "but in that event wellington would be in the other stage-box, and i'd get the greeting from him." "why come out at all?" asked johnson. "why come out at all?" echoed shakespeare. "what fun is there in writing a play if you can't come out and show yourself at the first night? that's the author's reward. if it wasn't for the first-night business, though, all would be plain sailing." "then why don't you begin it the second night?" drawled ward. "how the deuce could you?" put in carlyle. "a most extraordinary proposition," sneered johnson. "yes," said ward; "but wait a week--you'll see the point then." "there isn't any doubt in my mind," said shakespeare, reverting to his original proposition, "that the only perfectly satisfactory life is under a system not yet adopted in either world--the one we have quitted or this. there we had hard work in which our mortal limitations hampered us grievously; here we have the freedom of the immortal with no hard work; in other words, now that we feel like fighting-cocks, there isn't any fighting to be done. the great life in my estimation, would be to return to earth and battle with mortal problems, but equipped mentally and physically with immortal weapons." "some people don't know when they are well off," said beau brummel. "this strikes me as being an ideal life. there are no tailors bills to pay--we are ourselves nothing but memories, and a memory can clothe himself in the shadow of his former grandeur--i clothe myself in the remembrance of my departed clothes, and as my memory is good i flatter myself i'm the best-dressed man here. the fact that there are ghosts of departed unpaid bills haunting my bedside at night doesn't bother me in the least, because the bailiffs that in the old life lent terror to an overdue account, thanks to our beneficent system here, are kept in the less agreeable sections of hades. i used to regret that bailiffs were such low people, but now i rejoice at it. if they had been of a different order they might have proven unpleasant here." "you are right, my dear brummel," interposed munchausen. "this life is far preferable to that in the other sphere. any of you gentlemen who happen to have had the pleasure of reading my memoirs must have been struck with the tremendous difficulties that encumbered my progress. if i wished for a rare liqueur for my luncheon, a liqueur served only at the table of an oriental potentate, more jealous of it than of his one thousand queens, i had to raise armies, charter ships, and wage warfare in which feats of incredible valor had to be performed by myself alone and unaided to secure the desired thimbleful. i have destroyed empires for a bon-bon at great expense of nervous energy." "that's very likely true," said carlyle. "i should think your feats of strength would have wrecked your imagination in time." "not so," said munchausen. "on the contrary, continuous exercise served only to make it stronger. but, as i was going to say, in this life we have none of these fearful obstacles--it is a life of leisure; and if i want a bird and a cold bottle at any time, instead of placing my life in peril and jeopardizing the peace of all mankind to get it, i have only to summon before me the memory of some previous bird and cold bottle, dine thereon like a well-ordered citizen, and smoke the spirit of the best cigar my imagination can conjure up." "you miss my point," said shakespeare. "i don't say this life is worse or better than the other we used to live. what i do say is that a combination of both would suit me. in short, i'd like to live here and go to the other world every day to business, like a suburban resident who sleeps in the country and makes his living in the city. for instance, why shouldn't i dwell here and go to london every day, hire an office there, and put out a sign something like this: william shakespeare dramatist plays written while you wait i guess i'd find plenty to do." "guess again," said tennyson. "my dear boy, you forget one thing. _you are out of date_. people don't go to the theatres to hear _you_, they go to see the people who _do_ you." "that is true," said ward. "and they do do you, my beloved william. it's a wonder to me you are not dizzy turning over in your grave the way they do you." "can it be that i can ever be out of date?" asked shakespeare. "i know, of course, that i have to be adapted at times; but to be wholly out of date strikes me as a hard fate." "you're not out of date," interposed carlyle; "the date is out of you. there is a great demand for shakespeare in these days, but there isn't any stuff." "then i should succeed," said shakespeare. "no, i don't think so," returned carlyle. "you couldn't stand the pace. the world revolves faster to-day than it did in your time--men write three or four plays at once. this is what you might call a type-writer age, and to keep up with the procession you'd have to work as you never worked before." "that is true," observed tennyson. "you'd have to learn to be ambidextrous, so that you could keep two type-writing machines going at once; and, to be perfectly frank with you, i cannot even conjure up in my fancy a picture of you knocking out a tragedy with the right hand on one machine, while your left hand is fashioning a farce-comedy on another." "he might do as a great many modern writers do," said ward; "go in for the paper-doll drama. cut the whole thing out with a pair of scissors. as the poet might have said if he'd been clever enough: _oh, bring me the scissors_, _and bring me the glue_, _and a couple of dozen old plays_. _i'll cut out and paste_ _a drama for you_ _that'll run for quite sixty-two days_. _oh, bring me a dress_ _made of satin and lace_, _and a book--say joe miller's--of wit_; _and i'll make the old dramatists_ _blue in the face_ _with the play that i'll turn out for it_. _so bring me the scissors_, _and bring me the paste_, _and a dozen fine old comedies_; _a fine line of dresses_, _and popular taste_ _i'll make a strong effort to please_. "you draw a very blue picture, it seems to me," said shakespeare, sadly. "well, it's true," said carlyle. "the world isn't at all what it used to be in any one respect, and you fellows who made great reputations centuries ago wouldn't have even the ghost of a show now. i don't believe homer could get a poem accepted by a modern magazine, and while the comic papers are still printing diogenes' jokes the old gentleman couldn't make enough out of them in these days to pay taxes on his tub, let alone earning his bread." "that is exactly so," said tennyson. "i'd be willing to wager too that, in the line of personal prowess, even d'artagnan and athos and porthos and aramis couldn't stand london for one day." "or new york either," said mr. barnum, who had been an interested listener. "a new york policeman could have managed that quartet with one hand." "then," said shakespeare, "in the opinion of you gentlemen, we old-time lions would appear to modern eyes to be more or less stuffed?" "that's about the size of it," said carlyle. "but you'd draw," said barnum, his face lighting up with pleasure. "you'd drive a five-legged calf to suicide from envy. if i could take you and caesar, and napoleon bonaparte and nero over for one circus season we'd drive the mint out of business." "there's your chance, william," said ward. "you write a play for bonaparte and caesar, and let nero take his fiddle and be the orchestra. under barnum's management you'd get enough activity in one season to last you through all eternity." "you can count on me," said barnum, rising. "let me know when you've got your plan laid out. i'd stay and make a contract with you now, but adam has promised to give me points on the management of wild animals without cages, so i can't wait. by-by." "humph!" said shakespeare, as the eminent showman passed out. "that's a gay proposition. when monkeys move in polite society william shakespeare will make a side-show of himself for a circus." "they do now," said thackeray, quietly. which merely proved that shakespeare did not mean what he said; for in spite of thackeray's insinuation as to the monkeys and polite society, he has not yet accepted the barnum proposition, though there can be no doubt of its value from the point of view of a circus manager. chapter ix: as to cookery and sculpture robert burns and homer were seated at a small table in the dining-room of the house-boat, discussing everything in general and the shade of a very excellent luncheon in particular. "we are in great luck to-day," said burns, as he cut a ruddy duck in twain. "this bird is done just right." "i agree with you," returned homer, drawing his chair a trifle closer to the table. "compared to the one we had here last thursday, this is a feast for the gods. i wonder who it was that cooked this fowl originally?" "i give it up; but i suspect it was done by some man who knew his business," said burns, with a smack of his lips. "it's a pity, i think, my dear homer, that there is no means by which a cook may become immortal. cooking is as much of an art as is the writing of poetry, and just as there are immortal poets so there should be immortal cooks. see what an advantage the poet has--he writes something, it goes out and reaches the inmost soul of the man who reads it, and it is signed. his work is known because he puts his name to it; but this poor devil of a cook--where is he? he has done his work as well as the poet ever did his, it has reached the inmost soul of the mortal who originally ate it, but he cannot get the glory of it because he cannot put his name to it. if the cook could sign his work it would be different." "you have hit upon a great truth," said homer, nodding, as he sometimes was wont to do. "and yet i fear that, ingenious as we are, we cannot devise a plan to remedy the matter. i do not know about you, but i should myself much object if my birds and my flapjacks, and other things, digestible and otherwise, that i eat here were served with the cook's name written upon them. an omelette is sometimes a picture--" "i've seen omelettes that looked like one of turner's sunsets," acquiesced burns. "precisely; and when turner puts down in one corner of his canvas, 'turner, fecit,' you do not object, but if the cook did that with the omelette you wouldn't like it." "no," said burns; "but he might fasten a tag to it, with his name written upon that." "that is so," said homer; "but the result in the end would be the same. the tags would get lost, or perhaps a careless waiter, dropping a tray full of dainties, would get the tags of a good and bad cook mixed in trying to restore the contents of the tray to their previous condition. the tag system would fail." "there is but one other way that i can think of," said burns, "and that would do no good now unless we can convey our ideas into the other world; that is, for a great poet to lend his genius to the great cook, and make the latter's name immortal by putting it into a poem. say, for instance, that you had eaten a fine bit of terrapin, done to the most exquisite point--you could have asked the cook's name, and written an apostrophe to her. something like this, for instance: _oh, dinah rudd! oh, dinah rudd_! _thou art a cook of bluest blood_! _nowhere within_ _this world of sin_ _have i e'er tasted better terrapin_. _do you see_?" "i do; but even then, my dear fellow, the cook would fall short of true fame. her excellence would be a mere matter of hearsay evidence," said homer. "not if you went on to describe, in a keenly analytical manner, the virtues of that particular bit of terrapin," said burns. "draw so vivid a picture of the dish that the reader himself would taste that terrapin even as you tasted it." "you have hit it!" cried homer, enthusiastically. "it is a grand plan; but how to introduce it--that is the question." "we can haunt some modern poet, and give him the idea in that way," suggested burns. "he will see the novelty of it, and will possibly disseminate the idea as we wish it to be disseminated." "done!" said homer. "i'll begin right away. i feel like haunting tonight. i'm getting to be a pretty old ghost, but i'll never lose my love of haunting." at this point, as homer spoke, a fine-looking spirit entered the room, and took a seat at the head of the long table at which the regular club dinner was nightly served. "why, bless me!" said homer, his face lighting up with pleasure. "why, phidias, is that you?" "i think so," said the new-comer, wearily; "at any rate, it's all that's left of me." "come over here and lunch with us," said homer. "you know burns, don't you?" "haven't the pleasure," said phidias. the poet and the sculptor were introduced, after which phidias seated himself at homer's side. "are you any relation to burns the poet?" the former asked, addressing the scotchman. "i _am_ burns the poet," replied the other. "you don't look much like your statues," said phidias, scanning his face critically. "no, thank the fates!" said burns, warmly. "if i did, i'd commit suicide." "why don't you sue the sculptors for libel?" asked phidias. "you speak with a great deal of feeling, phidias," said homer, gravely. "have they done anything to hurt you?" "they have," said phidias. "i have just returned from a tour of the world. i have seen the things they call sculpture in these degenerate days, and i must confess--who shouldn't, perhaps--that i could have done better work with a baseball-bat for a chisel and putty for the raw material." "i think i could do good work with a baseball-bat too," said burns; "but as for the raw material, give me the heads of the men who have sculped me to work on. i'd leave them so that they'd look like some of your parthenon frieze figures with the noses gone." "you are a vindictive creature," said homer. "these men you criticise, and whose heads you wish to sculp with a baseball-bat, have done more for you than you ever did for them. every statue of you these men have made is a standing advertisement of your books, and it hasn't cost you a penny. there isn't a doubt in my mind that if it were not for those statues countless people would go to their graves supposing that the great scottish burns were little rivulets, and not a poet. what difference does it make to you if they haven't made an adonis of you? you never set them an example by making one of yourself. if there's deception anywhere, it isn't you that is deceived; it is the mortals. and who cares about them or their opinions?" "i never thought of it in that way," said burns. "i hate caricatures--that is, caricatures of myself. i enjoy caricatures of other people, but--" "you have a great deal of the mortal left in you, considering that you pose as an immortal," said homer, interrupting the speaker. "well, so have i," said phidias, resolved to stand by burns in the argument, "and i'm sorry for the man who hasn't. i was a mortal once, and i'm glad of it. i had a good time, and i don't care who knows it. when i look about me and see jupiter, the arch-snob of creation, and mars, a little tin warrior who couldn't have fought a soldier like napoleon, with all his alleged divinity, i thank the fates that they enabled me to achieve immortality through mortal effort. hang hereditary greatness, i say. these men were born immortals. you and i worked for it and got it. we know what it cost. it was ours because we earned it, and not because we were born to it. eh, burns?" the scotchman nodded assent, and the greek sculptor went on. "i am not vindictive myself, homer," he said. "nobody has hurt me, and, on the whole, i don't think sculpture is in such a bad way, after all. there's a shoemaker i wot of in the mortal realms who can turn the prettiest last you ever saw; and i encountered a carver in a london eating-house last month who turned out a slice of beef that was cut as artistically as i could have done it myself. what i object to chiefly is the tendency of the times. this is an electrical age, and men in my old profession aren't content to turn out one _chef-d'oeuvre_ in a lifetime. they take orders by the gross. i waited upon inspiration. to-day the sculptor waits upon custom, and an artist will make a bust of anybody in any material desired as long as he is sure of getting his pay afterwards. i saw a life-size statue of the inventor of a new kind of lard the other day, and what do you suppose the material was? gold? not by a great deal. ivory? marble, even? not a bit of it. he was done in lard, sir. i have seen a woman's head done in butter, too, and it makes me distinctly weary to think that my art should be brought so low." "you did your best work in greece," chuckled homer. "a bad joke, my dear homer," retorted phidias. "i thought sculpture was getting down to a pretty low ebb when i had to fashion friezes out of marble; but marble is more precious than rubies alongside of butter and lard." "each has its uses," said homer. "i'd rather have butter on my bread than marble, but i must confess that for sculpture it is very poor stuff, as you say." "it is indeed," said phidias. "for practice it's all right to use butter, but for exhibition purposes--bah!" here phidias, to show his contempt for butter as raw material in sculpture, seized a wooden toothpick, and with it modelled a beautiful head of minerva out of the pat that stood upon the small plate at his side, and before burns could interfere had spread the chaste figure as thinly as he could upon a piece of bread, which he tossed to the shade of a hungry dog that stood yelping on the river-bank. "heavens!" cried burns. "imperious caesar dead and turned to bricks is as nothing to a minerva carved by phidias used to stay the hunger of a ravening cur." "well, it's the way i feel," said phidias, savagely. "i think you are a trifle foolish to be so eternally vexed about it," said homer, soothingly. "of course you feel badly, but, after all, what's the use? you must know that the mortals would pay more for one of your statues than they would for a specimen of any modern sculptor's art; yes, even if yours were modelled in wine-jelly and the other fellow's in pure gold. so why repine?" "you'd feel the same way if poets did a similarly vulgar thing," retorted phidias; "you know you would. if you should hear of a poet to-day writing a poem on a thin layer of lard or butter, you would yourself be the first to call a halt." "no, i shouldn't," said homer, quietly; "in fact, i wish the poets would do that. we'd have fewer bad poems to read; and that's the way you should look at it. i venture to say that if this modern plan of making busts and friezes in butter had been adopted at an earlier period, the public places in our great cities and our national walhallas would seem less like repositories of comic art, since the first critical rays of a warm sun would have reduced the carven atrocities therein to a spot on the pavement. the butter school of sculpture has its advantages, my boy, and you should be crowning the inventor of the system with laurel, and not heaping coals of fire upon his brow." "that," said burns, "is, after all, the solid truth, phidias. take the brass caricatures of me, for instance. where would they be now if they had been cast in lard instead of in bronze?" phidias was silent a moment. "well," he said, finally, as the value of the plan dawned upon his mind, "from that point of view i don't know but what you are right, after all; and, to show that i have spoken in no vindictive spirit, let me propose a toast. here's to the butter sculptors. may their butter never give out." the toast was drained to the dregs, and phidias went home feeling a little better. chapter x: story-tellers' night it was story-tellers' night at the house-boat, and the best talkers of hades were impressed into the service. doctor johnson was made chairman of the evening. "put him in the chair," said raleigh. "that's the only way to keep him from telling a story himself. if he starts in on a tale he'll make it a serial sure as fate, but if you make him the medium through which other story-tellers are introduced to the club he'll be finely epigrammatic. he can be very short and sharp when he's talking about somebody else. personality is his forte." "great scheme," said diogenes, who was chairman of the entertainment committee. "the nights over here are long, but if johnson started on a story they'd have to reach twice around eternity and halfway back to give him time to finish all he had to say." "he's not very witty, in my judgment," said carlyle, who since his arrival in the other world has manifested some jealousy of solomon and doctor johnson. "that's true enough," said raleigh; "but he's strong, and he's bound to say something that will put the audience in sympathy with the man that he introduces, and that's half the success of a story-tellers' night. i've told stories myself. if your audience doesn't sympathize with you you'd be better off at home putting the baby to bed." and so it happened. doctor johnson was made chairman, and the evening came. the doctor was in great form. a list of the story-tellers had been sent him in advance, and he was prepared. the audience was about as select a one as can be found in hades. the doors were thrown open to the friends of the members, and the smoke-furnace had been filled with a very superior quality of arcadian mixture which scott had brought back from a haunting-trip to the home of "the little minister," at thrums. "friends and fellow-spooks," the doctor began, when all were seated on the visionary camp-stools--which, by the way, are far superior to those in use in a world of realities, because they do not creak in the midst of a fine point demanding absolute silence for appreciation--"i do not know why i have been chosen to preside over this gathering of phantoms; it is the province of the presiding officer on occasions of this sort to say pleasant things, which he does not necessarily endorse, about the sundry persons who are to do the story-telling. now, i suppose you all know me pretty well by this time. if there is anybody who doesn't, i'll be glad to have him presented after the formal work of the evening is over, and if i don't like him i'll tell him so. you know that if i can be counted upon for any one thing it is candor, and if i hurt the feelings of any of these individuals whom i introduce to-night, i want them distinctly to understand that it is not because i love them less, but that i love truth more. with this--ah--blanket apology, as it were, to cover all possible emergencies that may arise during the evening, i will begin. the first speaker on the programme, i regret to observe, is my friend goldsmith. affairs of this kind ought to begin with a snap, and while oliver is a most excellent writer, as a speaker he is a pebbleless demosthenes. if i had had the arrangement of the programme i should have had goldsmith tell his story while the rest of us were down-stairs at supper. however, we must abide by our programme, which is unconscionably long, for otherwise we will never get through it. those of you who agree with me as to the pleasure of listening to my friend goldsmith will do well to join me in the grill-room while he is speaking, where, i understand, there is a very fine line of punches ready to be served. modest noll, will you kindly inflict yourself upon the gathering, and send me word when you get through, if you ever do, so that i may return and present number two to the assembly, whoever or whatever he may be?" with these words the doctor retired, and poor goldsmith, pale with fear, rose up to speak. it was evident that he was quite as doubtful of his ability as a talker as was johnson. "i'm not much of a talker, or, as some say, speaker," he said. "talking is not my forte, as doctor johnson has told you, and i am therefore not much at it. speaking is not in my line. i cannot speak or talk, as it were, because i am not particularly ready at the making of a speech, due partly to the fact that i am not much of a talker anyhow, and seldom if ever speak. i will therefore not bore you by attempting to speak, since a speech by one who like myself is, as you are possibly aware, not a fluent nor indeed in any sense an eloquent speaker, is apt to be a bore to those who will be kind enough to listen to my remarks, but will read instead the first five chapters of the _vicar of wakefield_." "who suggested any such night as this, anyhow?" growled carlyle. "five chapters of the _vicar of wakefield_ for a starter! lord save us, we'll need a vicar of sleepfield if he's allowed to do this!" "i move we adjourn," said darwin. "can't something be done to keep these younger members quiet?" asked solomon, frowning upon carlyle and darwin. "yes," said douglas jerrold. "let goldsmith go on. he'll have them asleep in ten minutes." meanwhile, goldsmith was plodding earnestly through his stint, utterly and happily oblivious of the effect he was having upon his audience. "this is awful," whispered wellington to bonaparte. "worse than waterloo," replied the ex-emperor, with a grin; "but we can stop it in a minute. artemas ward told me once how a camp-meeting he attended in the west broke up to go outside and see a dog-fight. can't you and i pretend to quarrel? a personal assault by you on me will wake these people up and discombobulate goldsmith. say the word--only don't hit too hard." "i'm with you," said wellington. whereupon, with a great show of heat, he roared out, "you? never! i'm more afraid of a boy with a bean-snapper that i ever was of you!" and followed up his remark by pulling bonaparte's camp-chair from under him, and letting the conqueror of austerlitz fall to the floor with a thud which i have since heard described as dull and sickening. the effect was instantaneous. compared to a personal encounter between the two great figures of waterloo, a reading from his own works by goldsmith seemed lacking in the elements essential to the holding of an audience. consequently, attention was centred in the belligerent warriors, and, by some odd mistake, when a peace-loving member of the assemblage, realizing the indecorousness of the incident, cried out, "put him out! put him out!" the attendants rushed in, and, taking poor goldsmith by his collar, hustled him out through the door, across the deck, and tossed him ashore without reference to the gang-plank. this accomplished, a personal explanation of their course was made by the quarrelling generals, and, peace having been restored, a committee was sent in search of goldsmith with suitable apologies. the good and kindly soul returned, but having lost his book in the melee, much to his own gratification, as well as to that of the audience, he was permitted to rest in quiet the balance of the evening. "is he through?" said johnson, poking his head in at the door when order was restored. "yes, sir," said boswell; "that is to say, he has retired permanently from the field. he didn't finish, though." "fellow-spooks," began johnson once more, "now that you have been delighted with the honeyed eloquence of the last speaker, it is my privilege to present to you that eminent fabulist baron munchausen, the greatest unrealist of all time, who will give you an exhibition of his paradoxical power of lying while standing." the applause which greeted the baron was deafening. he was, beyond all doubt, one of the most popular members of the club. "speaking of whales," said he, leaning gracefully against the table. "nobody has mentioned 'em," said johnson. "true," retorted the baron; "but you always suggest them by your apparently unquenchable thirst for spouting--speaking of whales, my friend jonah, as well as the rest of you, may be interested to know that i once had an experience similar to his own, and, strange to say, with the identical whale." jonah arose from his seat in the back of the room. "i do not wish to be unpleasant," he said, with a strong effort to be calm, "but i wish to ask if judge blackstone is in the room." "i am," said the judge, rising. "what can i do for you?" "i desire to apply for an injunction restraining the baron from using my whale in his story. that whale, your honor, is copyrighted," said jonah. "if i had any other claim to the affection of mankind than the one which is based on my experience with that leviathan, i would willingly permit the baron to introduce him into his story; but that whale, your honor, is my stock in trade--he is my all." "i think jonah's point is well taken," said blackstone, turning to the baron. "it would be a distinct hardship, i think, if the plaintiff in this action were to be deprived of the exclusive use of his sole accessory. the injunction prayed for is therefore granted. the court would suggest, however, that the baron continue with his story, using another whale for the purpose." "it is impossible," said munchausen, gloomily. "the whole point of the story depends upon its having been jonah's whale. under the circumstances, the only thing i can do is to sit down. i regret the narrowness of mind exhibited by my friend jonah, but i must respect the decision of the court." "i must take exception to the baron's allusion to my narrowness of mind," said jonah, with some show of heat. "i am simply defending my rights, and i intend to continue to do so if the whole world unites in considering my mind a mere slot scarcely wide enough for the insertion of a nickel. that whale was my discovery, and the personal discomfort i endured in perfecting my experience was such that i resolved to rest my reputation upon his broad proportions only--to sink or swim with him--and i cannot at this late day permit another to crowd me out of his exclusive use." jonah sat down and fanned himself, and the baron, with a look of disgust on his face, left the room. "up to his old tricks," he growled as he went. "he queers everything he goes into. if i'd known he was a member of this club i'd never have joined." "we do not appear to be progressing very rapidly," said doctor johnson, rising. "so far we have made two efforts to have stories told, and have met with disaster each time. i don't know but what you are to be congratulated, however, on your escape. very few of you, i observe, have as yet fallen asleep. the next number on the programme, i see, is boswell, who was to have entertained you with a few reminiscences; i say was to have done so, because he is not to do so." "i'm ready," said boswell, rising. "no doubt," retorted johnson, severely, "but i am not. you are a man with one subject--myself. i admit it's a good subject, but you are not the man to treat of it--here. you may suffice for mortals, but here it is different. i can speak for myself. you can go out and sit on the banks of the vitriol reservoir and lecture to the imps if you want to, but when it comes to reminiscences of me i'm on deck myself, and i flatter myself i remember what i said and did more accurately than you do. therefore, gentlemen, instead of listening to boswell at this point, you will kindly excuse him and listen to me. ahem! when i was a boy--" "excuse me," said solomon, rising; "about how long is this--ah--this entertaining discourse of yours to continue?" "until i get through," returned johnson, wrathfully. "are you aware, sir, that i am on the programme?" asked solomon. "i am," said the doctor. "with that in mind, for the sake of our fellowspooks who are present, i am very much inclined to keep on forever. when i was a boy--" carlyle rose up at this point. "i should like to ask," he said, mildly, "if this is supposed to be an audience of children? i, for one, have no wish to listen to the juvenile stories of doctor johnson. furthermore, i have come here particularly tonight to hear boswell. i want to compare him with froude. i therefore protest against--" "there is a roof to this house-boat," said doctor johnson. "if mr. carlyle will retire to the roof with boswell i have no doubt he can be accommodated. as for solomon's interruption, i can afford to pass that over with the silent contempt it deserves, though i may add with propriety that i consider his most famous proverbs the most absurd bits of hack-work i ever encountered; and as for that story about dividing a baby between two mothers by splitting it in two, it was grossly inhuman unless the baby was twins. when i was a boy--" as the doctor proceeded, carlyle and solomon, accompanied by the now angry boswell, left the room, and my account of the story-tellers' night must perforce stop; because, though i have never heretofore confessed it, all my information concerning the house-boat on the styx has been derived from the memoranda of boswell. it may be interesting to the reader to learn, however, that, according to boswell's account, the story-tellers' night was never finished; but whether this means that it broke up immediately afterwards in a riot, or that doctor johnson is still at work detailing his reminiscences, i am not aware, and i cannot at the moment of writing ascertain, for boswell, when i have the pleasure of meeting him, invariably avoids the subject. chapter xi: as to saurians and others it was noah who spoke. "i'm glad," he said, "that when i embarked at the time of the heavy rains that did so much damage in the old days, there weren't any dogs like that fellow cerberus about. if i'd had to feed a lot of three-headed beasts like him the ark would have run short of provisions inside of ten days." "that's very likely true," observed mr. barnum; "but i must confess, my dear noah, that you showed a lamentable lack of the showman's instinct when you selected the animals you did. a more commonplace lot of beasts were never gathered together, and while adam is held responsible for the introduction of sin into the world, i attribute most of my offences to none other than yourself." the members of the club drew their chairs a little closer. the conversation had opened a trifle spicily, and, furthermore, they had retained enough of their mortality to be interested in animal stories. adam, who had managed to settle his back dues and delinquent house-charges, and once more acquired the privileges of the club, nodded his head gratefully at mr. barnum. "i'm glad to find some one," said he, "who places the responsibility for trouble where it belongs. i'm round-shouldered with the blame i've had to bear. i didn't invent sin any more than i invented the telephone, and i think it's rather rough on a fellow who lived a quiet, retiring, pastoral life, minding his own business and staying home nights, to be held up to public reprobation for as long a time as i have." "it'll be all right in time," said raleigh; "just wait--be patient, and your vindication will come. nobody thought much of the plays bacon and i wrote for shakespeare until shakespeare 'd been dead a century." "humph!" said adam, gloomily. "wait! what have i been doing all this time? i've waited all the time there's been so far, and until mr. barnum spoke as he did i haven't observed the slightest inclination on the part of anybody to rehabilitate my lost reputation. nor do i see exactly how it's to come about even if i do wait." "you might apply for an investigating committee to look into the charges," suggested an american politician, just over. "get your friends on it, and you'll be all right." "better let sleeping dogs lie," said blackstone. "i intend to," said adam. "the fact is, i hate to give any further publicity to the matter. even if i did bring the case into court and sue for libel, i've only got one witness to prove my innocence, and that's my wife. i'm not going to drag her into it. she's got nervous prostration over her position as it is, and this would make it worse. queen elizabeth and the rest of these snobs in society won't invite her to any of their functions because they say she hadn't any grandfather; and even if she were received by them, she'd be uncomfortable going about. it isn't pleasant for a woman to feel that every one knows she's the oldest woman in the room." "well, take my word for it," said raleigh, kindly. "it'll all come out all right. you know the old saying, 'history repeats itself.' some day you will be living back in eden again, and if you are only careful to make an exact record of all you do, and have a notary present, before whom you can make an affidavit as to the facts, you will be able to demonstrate your innocence." "i was only condemned on hearsay evidence, anyhow," said adam, ruefully. "nonsense; you were caught red-handed," said noah; "my grandfather told me so. and now that i've got a chance to slip in a word edgewise, i'd like mightily to have you explain your statement, mr. barnum, that i am responsible for your errors. that is a serious charge to bring against a man of my reputation." "i mean simply this: that to make a show interesting," said mr. barnum, "a man has got to provide interesting materials, that's all. i do not mean to say a word that is in any way derogatory to your morality. you were a surprisingly good man for a sea-captain, and with the exception of that one occasion when you--ah--you allowed yourself to be stranded on the bar, if i may so put it, i know of nothing to be said against you as a moral, temperate person." "that was only an accident," said noah, reddening. "you can't expect a man six hundred odd years of age--" "certainly not," said raleigh, soothingly, "and nobody thinks less of you for it. considering how you must have hated the sight of water, the wonder of it is that it didn't become a fixed habit. let us hear what it is that mr. barnum does criticise in you." "his taste, that's all," said mr. barnum. "i contend that, compared to the animals he might have had, the ones he did have were as ant-hills to alps. there were more magnificent zoos allowed to die out through noah's lack of judgment than one likes to think of. take the proterosaurus, for instance. where on earth do we find his equal to-day?" "you ought to be mighty glad you can't find one like him," put in adam. "if you'd spent a week in the garden of eden with me, with lizards eight feet long dropping out of the trees on to your lap while you were trying to take a sunday-afternoon nap, you'd be willing to dispense with things of that sort for the balance of your natural life. if you want to get an idea of that experience let somebody drop a calf on you some afternoon." "i am not saying anything about that," returned barnum. "it would be unpleasant to have an elephant drop on one after the fashion of which you speak, but i am glad the elephant was saved just the same. i haven't advocated the proterosaurus as a sunday-afternoon surprise, but as an attraction for a show. i still maintain that a lizard as big as a cow would prove a lodestone, the drawing powers of which the pocket-money of the small boy would be utterly unable to resist. then there was the iguanadon. he'd have brought a fortune to the box-office--" "which you'd have immediately lost," retorted noah, "paying rent. when you get a reptile of his size, that reaches thirty feet up into the air when he stands on his hind-legs, the ordinary circus wagon of commerce can't be made to hold him, and your menagerie-room has to have ceilings so high that every penny he brought to the box-office would be spent storing him." "mischievous, too," said adam, "that iguanadon. you couldn't keep anything out of his reach. we used to forbid animals of his kind to enter the garden, but that didn't bother him; he'd stand up on his hindlegs and reach over and steal anything he'd happen to want." "i could have used him for a fire-escape," said mr. barnum; "and as for my inability to provide him with quarters, i'd have met that problem after a short while. i've always lamented the absence, too, of the megalosaurus--" "which simply shows how ignorant you are," retorted noah. "why, my dear fellow, it would have taken the whole of an ordinary zoo such as yours to give the megalosaurus a lunch. those fellows would eat a rhinoceros as easily as you'd crack a peanut. i did have a couple of megalosaurians on my boat for just twenty-four hours, and then i chucked them both overboard. if i'd kept them ten days longer they'd have eaten every blessed beast i had with me, and your zoo wouldn't have had anything else but megalosaurians." "papa is right about that, mr. barnum," said shem. "the whole saurian tribe was a fearful nuisance. about four hundred years before the flood i had a pet creosaurus that i kept in our barn. he was a cunning little devil--full of tricks, and all that; but we never could keep a cow or a horse on the place while he was about. they'd mysteriously disappear, and we never knew what became of 'em until one morning we surprised fido in--" "surprised who?" asked doctor johnson, scornfully. "fido," returned shem. "'that was my creosaurus's name." "lord save us! fido!" cried johnson. "what a name for a creosaurus!" "well, what of it?" asked shem, angrily. "you wouldn't have us call a mastodon like that fanny, would you, or tatters?" "go on," said johnson; "i've nothing to say." "shall i send for a physician?" put in boswell, looking anxiously at his chief, the situation was so extraordinary. solomon and carlyle giggled; and the doctor having politely requested boswell to go to a warmer section of the country, shem resumed. "i caught him in the act of swallowing five cows and ham's favorite trotter, sulky and all." baron munchausen rose up and left the room. "if they're going to lie i'm going to get out," he said, as he passed through the room. "what became of fido?" asked boswell. "the sulky killed him," returned shem, innocently. "he couldn't digest the wheels." noah looked approvingly at his son, and, turning to barnum, observed, quietly: "what he says is true, and i will go further and say that it is my belief that you would have found the show business impossible if i had taken that sort of creature aboard. you'd have got mightily discouraged after your antediluvians had chewed up a few dozen steam calliopes, and eaten every other able-bodied exhibit you had managed to secure. i'd have tried to save a couple of discosaurians if i hadn't supposed they were able to take care of themselves. a combination of sea-serpent and dragon, with a neck twenty-two feet long, it seemed to me, ought to have been able to ride out any storm or fall of rain; but there i was wrong, and i am free to admit my error. it never occurred to me that the seaserpents were in any danger, so i let them alone, with the result that i never saw but one other, and he was only an illusion due to that unhappy use of stimulants to which, with shocking bad taste, you have chosen to refer." "i didn't mean to call up unpleasant memories," said barnum. "i never believed you got half-seas over, anyhow; but, to return to our muttons, why didn't you hand down a few varieties of the therium family to posterity? there were the dinotherium and the megatherium, either one of which would have knocked spots out of any leopard that ever was made, and along side of which even my woolly horse would have paled into insignificance. that's what i can't understand in your selections; with megatheriums to burn, why save leopards and panthers and other such everyday creatures?" "what kind of a boat do you suppose i had?" cried noah. "do you imagine for a moment that she was four miles on the water-line, with a mile and three-quarters beam? if i'd had a pair of dinotheriums in the stern of that ark, she'd have tipped up fore and aft, until she'd have looked like a telegraph-pole in the water, and if i'd put 'em amidships they'd have had to be wedged in so tightly they couldn't move to keep the vessel trim. i didn't go to sea, my friend, for the purpose of being tipped over in mid-ocean every time one of my cargo wanted to shift his weight from one leg to the other." "it was bad enough with the elephants, wasn't it, papa?" said shem. "yes, indeed, my son," returned the patriarch. "it was bad enough with the elephants. we had to shift our ballast half a dozen times a day to keep the boat from travelling on her beam ends, the elephants moved about so much; and when we came to the question of provender, it took up about nine-tenths of our hold to store hay and peanuts enough to keep them alive and good-tempered. on the whole, i think it's rather late in the day, considering the trouble i took to save anything but myself and my family, to be criticised as i now am. you ought to be much obliged to me for saving any animals at all. most people in my position would have built a yacht for themselves and family, and let everything else slide." "that is quite true," observed raleigh, with a pacificatory nod at noah. "you were eminently unselfish, and while, with mr. barnum, i exceedingly regret that the saurians and therii and other tribes were left on the pier when you sailed, i nevertheless think that you showed most excellent judgment at the time." "he was the only man who had any at all, for that matter," suggested shem, "and it required all his courage to show it. everybody was guying him. sinners stood around the yard all day and every day, criticising the model; one scoffer pretended he thought her a canal-boat, and asked how deep the flood was likely to be on the tow-path, and whether we intended to use mules in shallow water and giraffes in deep; another asked what time allowance we expected to get in a fifteen-mile run, and hinted that a year and two months per mile struck him as being the proper thing--" "it was far from pleasant," said noah, tapping his fingers together reflectively. "i don't want to go through it again, and if, as raleigh suggests, history is likely to repeat herself, i'll sublet the contract to barnum here, and let him get the chaff." "it was all right in the end, though, dad," said shem. "we had the great laugh on 'hoi polloi' the second day out." "we did, indeed," said noah. "when we told 'em we only carried firstclass passengers and had no room for emigrants, they began to see that the ark wasn't such an old tub, after all; and a good ninety per cent. of them would have given ten dollars for a little of that time allowance they'd been talking to us about for several centuries." noah lapsed into a musing silence, and barnum rose to leave. "i still wish you'd saved a discosaurus," he said. "a creature with a neck twenty-two feet long would have been a gold mine to me. he could have been trained to stand in the ring, and by stretching out his neck bite the little boys who sneak in under the tent and occupy seats on the top row." "well, for your sake," said noah, with a smile, "i'm very sorry; but for my own, i'm quite satisfied with the general results." and they all agreed that the patriarch had every reason to be pleased with himself. chapter xii: the house-boat disappears queen elizabeth, attended by ophelia and xanthippe, was walking along the river-bank. it was a beautiful autumn day, although, owing to certain climatic peculiarities of hades, it seemed more like midsummer. the mercury in the club thermometer was nervously clicking against the top of the crystal tube, and poor cerberus was having all he could do with his three mouths snapping up the pestiferous little shades of by-gone gnats that seemed to take an almost unholy pleasure in alighting upon his various noses and ears. ophelia was doing most of the talking. "i am sure i have never wished to ride one of them," she said, positively. "in the first place, i do not see where the pleasure of it comes in, and, in the second, it seems to me as if skirts must be dangerous. if they should catch in one of the pedals, where would i be?" "in the hospital shortly, methinks," said queen elizabeth. "well, i shouldn't wear skirts," snapped xanthippe. "if a man's wife can't borrow some of her husband's clothing to reduce her peril to a minimum, what is the use of having a husband? when i take to the bicycle, which, in spite of all socrates can say, i fully intend to do, i shall have a man's wheel, and i shall wear socrates' old dress-clothes. if hades doesn't like it, hades may suffer." "i don't see how socrates' clothes will help you," observed ophelia. "he wore skirts himself, just like all the other old greeks. his toga would be quite as apt to catch in the gear as your skirts." xanthippe looked puzzled for a moment. it was evident that she had not thought of the point which ophelia had brought up--strong-minded ladies of her kind are apt sometimes to overlook important links in such chains of evidence as they feel called upon to use in binding themselves to their rights. "the women of your day were relieved of that dress problem, at any rate," laughed queen elizabeth. "the women of my day," retorted xanthippe, "in matters of dress were the equals of their husbands--in my family particularly; now they have lost their rights, and are made to confine themselves still to garments like those of yore, while man has arrogated to himself the sole and exclusive use of sane habiliments. however, that is apart from the question. i was saying that i shall have a man's wheel, and shall wear socrates' old dress-clothes to ride it in, if socrates has to go out and buy an old dress-suit for the purpose." the queen arched her brows and looked inquiringly at xanthippe for a moment. "a magnificent old maid was lost to the world when you married," she said. "feeling as you do about men, my dear xanthippe, i don't see why you ever took a husband." "humph!" retorted xanthippe. "of course you don't. you didn't need a husband. you were born with something to govern. i wasn't." "how about your temper?" suggested ophelia, meekly. xanthippe sniffed frigidly at this remark. "i never should have gone crazy over a man if i'd remained unmarried forty thousand years," she retorted, severely. "i married socrates because i loved him and admired his sculpture; but when he gave up sculpture and became a thinker he simply tried me beyond all endurance, he was so thoughtless, with the result that, having ventured once or twice to show my natural resentment, i have been handed down to posterity as a shrew. i've never complained, and i don't complain now; but when a woman is married to a philosopher who is so taken up with his studies that when he rises in the morning he doesn't look what he is doing, and goes off to his business in his wife's clothes, i think she is entitled to a certain amount of sympathy." "and yet you wish to wear his," persisted ophelia. "turn about is fair-play," said xanthippe. "i've suffered so much on his account that on the principle of averages he deserves to have a little drop of bitters in his nectar." "you are simply the victim of man's deceit," said elizabeth, wishing to mollify the now angry xanthippe, who was on the verge of tears. "i understood men, fortunately, and so never married. i knew my father, and even if i hadn't been a wise enough child to know him, i should not have wed, because he married enough to last one family for several years." "you must have had a hard time refusing all those lovely men, though," sighed ophelia. "of course, sir walter wasn't as handsome as my dear hamlet, but he was very fetching." "i cannot deny that," said elizabeth, "and i didn't really have the heart to say no when he asked me; but i did tell him that if he married me i should not become mrs. raleigh, but that he should become king elizabeth. he fled to virginia on the next steamer. my diplomacy rid me of a very unpleasant duty." chatting thus, the three famous spirits passed slowly along the path until they came to the sheltered nook in which the house-boat lay at anchor. "there's a case in point," said xanthippe, as the house-boat loomed up before them. "all that luxury is for men; we women are not permitted to cross the gangplank. our husbands and brothers and friends go there; the door closes on them, and they are as completely lost to us as though they never existed. we don't know what goes on in there. socrates tells me that their amusements are of a most innocent nature, but how do i know what he means by that? furthermore, it keeps him from home, while i have to stay at home and be entertained by my sons, whom the encyclopaedia britannica rightly calls dull and fatuous. in other words, club life for him, and dulness and fatuity for me." "i think myself they're rather queer about letting women into that boat," said queen elizabeth. "but it isn't sir walter's fault. he told me he tried to have them establish a ladies' day, and that they agreed to do so, but have since resisted all his efforts to have a date set for the function." "it would be great fun to steal in there now, wouldn't it," giggled ophelia. "there doesn't seem to be anybody about to prevent our doing so." "that's true," said xanthippe. "all the windows are closed, as if there wasn't a soul there. i've half a mind to take a peep in at the house." "i am with you," said elizabeth, her face lighting up with pleasure. it was a great novelty, and an unpleasant one to her, to find some place where she could not go. "let's do it," she added. so the three women tiptoed softly up the gang-plank, and, silently boarding the house-boat, peeped in at the windows. what they saw merely whetted their curiosity. "i must see more," cried elizabeth, rushing around to the door, which opened at her touch. xanthippe and ophelia followed close on her heels, and shortly they found themselves, open-mouthed in wondering admiration, in the billiard-room of the floating palace, and richard, the ghost of the best billiard-room attendant in or out of hades, stood before them. "excuse me," he said, very much upset by the sudden apparition of the ladies. "i'm very sorry, but ladies are not admitted here." "we are equally sorry," retorted elizabeth, assuming her most imperious manner, "that your masters have seen fit to prohibit our being here; but, now that we are here, we intend to make the most of the opportunity, particularly as there seem to be no members about. what has become of them all?" richard smiled broadly. "i don't know where they are," he replied; but it was evident that he was not telling the exact truth. "oh, come, my boy," said the queen, kindly, "you do know. sir walter told me you knew everything. where are they?" "well, if you must know, ma'am," returned richard, captivated by the queen's manner, "they've all gone down the river to see a prize-fight between goliath and samson." "see there!" cried xanthippe. "that's what this club makes possible. socrates told me he was coming here to take luncheon with carlyle, and they've both of 'em gone off to a disgusting prize-fight!" "yes, ma'am, they have," said richard; "and if goliath wins, i don't think mr. socrates will get home this evening." "betting, eh?" said xanthippe, scornfully. "yes, ma'am," returned richard. "more club!" cried xanthippe. "oh no, ma'am," said richard. "betting is not allowed in the club; they're very strict about that. but the shore is only ten feet off, ma'am, and the gentlemen always go ashore and make their bets." during this little colloquy elizabeth and ophelia were wandering about, admiring everything they saw. "i do wish lucretia borgia and calpurnia could see this. i wonder if the caesars are on the telephone," elizabeth said. investigation showed that both the borgias and the caesars were on the wire, and in short order the two ladies had been made acquainted with the state of affairs at the house-boat; and as they were both quite as anxious to see the interior of the much-talked-of club-house as the others, they were not long in arriving. furthermore, they brought with them half a dozen more ladies, among whom were desdemona and cleopatra, and then began the most extraordinary session the house-boat ever knew. a meeting was called, with elizabeth in the chair, and all the best ladies of the stygian realms were elected members. xanthippe, amid the greatest applause, moved that every male member of the organization be expelled for conduct unworthy of a gentleman in attending a prize-fight, and encouraging two such horrible creatures as goliath and samson in their nefarious pursuits. desdemona seconded the motion, and it was carried without a dissenting voice, although mrs. caesar, with becoming dignity, merely smiled approval, not caring to take part too actively in the proceedings. the men having thus been disposed of in a summary fashion, richard was elected janitor in charon's place, and the club was entirely reorganized, with cleopatra as permanent president. the meeting then adjourned, and the invaders set about enjoying their newly acquired privileges. the smoking-room was thronged for a few moments, but owing to the extraordinary strength of the tobacco which the faithful richard shovelled into the furnace, it developed no enduring popularity, xanthippe, with a suddenly acquired pallor, being the first to renounce the pastime as revolting. so fast and furious was the enjoyment of these thirsty souls, so long deprived of their rights, that night came on without their observing it, and with the night was brought the great peril into which they were thrown, and from which at the moment of writing they had not been extricated, and which, to my regret, has cut me off for the present from any further information connected with the associated shades and their beautiful lounging-place. had they not been so intent upon the inner beauties of the house-boat on the styx they might have observed approaching, under the shadow of the westerly shore, a long, rakish craft propelled by oars, which dipped softly and silently and with trained precision in the now jet-black waters of the styx. manning the oars were a dozen evil-visaged ruffians, while in the stern of the approaching vessel there sat a grim-faced, weather-beaten spirit, armed to the teeth, his coat sleeves bearing the skull and cross-bones, the insignia of piracy. this boat, stealing up the river like a thief in the night, contained captain kidd and his pirate crew, and their mission was a mission of vengeance. to put the matter briefly and plainly, captain kidd was smarting under the indignity which the club had recently put upon him. he had been unanimously blackballed, even his proposer and seconder, who had been browbeaten into nominating him for membership, voting against him. "i may be a pirate," he cried, when he heard what the club had done, "but i have feelings, and the associated shades will repent their action. the time will come when they'll find that i have their club-house, and they have--its debts." it was for this purpose that the great terror of the seas had come upon this, the first favorable opportunity. kidd knew that the house-boat was unguarded; his spies had told him that the members had every one gone to the fight, and he resolved that the time had come to act. he did not know that the fates had helped to make his vengeance all the more terrible and withering by putting the most attractive and fashionable ladies of the stygian country likewise in his power; but so it was, and they, poor souls, while this fiend, relentless and cruel, was slowly approaching, sang on and danced on in blissful unconsciousness of their peril. in less than five minutes from the time when his sinister-craft rounded the bend kidd and his crew had boarded the house-boat, cut her loose from her moorings, and in ten minutes she had sailed away into the great unknown, and with her went some of the most precious gems in the social diadem of hades. the rest of my story is soon told. the whole country was aroused when the crime was discovered, but up to the date of this narrative no word has been received of the missing craft and her precious cargo. raleigh and caesar have had the seas scoured in search of her, hamlet has offered his kingdom for her return, but unavailingly; and the men of hades were cast into a gloom from which there seems to be no relief. socrates alone was unaffected. "they'll come back some day, my dear raleigh," he said, as the knight buried his face, weeping, in his hands. "so why repine? i'll never lose my xanthippe--permanently, that is. i know that, for i am a philosopher, and i know there is no such thing as luck. and we can start another club." "very likely," sighed raleigh, wiping his eyes. "i don't mind the club so much, but to think of those poor women--" "oh, they're all right," returned socrates, with a laugh. "caesar's wife is along, and you can't dispute the fact that she's a good chaperon. give the ladies a chance. they've been after our club for years; now let 'em have it, and let us hope that they like it. order me up a hemlock sour, and let's drink to their enjoyment of club life." which was done, and i, in spirit, drank with them, for i sincerely hope that the "new women" of hades are having a good time. the bobbsey twins on a houseboat by laura lee hope author of the "bobbsey twins," "the outdoor girls of deepdale," "the outdoor girls in florida," "the moving picture girls," "the moving picture girls at rocky ranch," etc. illustrated books by laura lee hope the bobbsey twins series for little men and women the bobbsey twins the bobbsey twins in the country the bobbsey twins at the seashore the bobbsey twins at school the bobbsey twins at snow lodge the bobbsey twins on a houseboat the bobbsey twins at meadow brook the moving picture girls series the moving picture girls the moving picture girls at oak farm the moving picture girls snowbound the moving picture girls under the palms the moving picture girls at rocky ranch the moving picture girls at sea the outdoor girls series the outdoor girls of deepdale the outdoor girls at rainbow lake the outdoor girls in a motor car the outdoor girls in a winter camp the outdoor girls in florida the outdoor girls at ocean view contents chapter i. good news ii. snap saves freddie iii. dinah's upset iv. at the houseboat v. the strange boy vi. freddie's fire engine vii. the two cousins viii. off in the "bluebird" ix. snoop and snap x. down the creek xi. the mean man xii. the wire fence xiii. the runaway boy xiv. off again xv. overboard xvi. the missing sandwiches xvii. in the storm xviii. strange noises xix. snap's queer actions xx. at the waterfall xxi. what bert saw xxii. the stowaway chapter i good news "what are you doing, freddie?" asked bert bobbsey, leaning over to oil the front wheel of his bicycle, while he glanced at his little brother, who was tying strings about the neck of a large, handsome dog. "making a harness," answered freddie, not taking time to look up. "a harness?" repeated bert, with a little laugh. "how can you make a harness out of bits of string?" "i'm going to have straps, too," went on freddie, keeping busily on with his work. "flossie has gone in after them. it's going to be a fine, strong harness." "do you mean you are going to harness up snap?" asked bert, and he stood his bicycle against the side of the house, and came over to where freddie sat near the big dog. "yes. snap is going to be my horse," explained freddie. "i'm going to hitch him to my express wagon, and flossie and i are going to have a ride." "ha! ha!" laughed bert. "you won't get much of a ride with that harness," and he looked at the thin cord which the small boy was winding about the dog's neck. "why not?" asked freddie, a little hurt at bert's laughter. freddie, like all small boys, did not like to be laughed at. "why, snap is so strong that he'll break that string in no time," said bert. "besides--" "flossie's gone in for our booty straps, i tell you!" said freddie. "then our harness will be strong enough. i'm only using string for part of it. i wish she'd hurry up and come out!" and freddie glanced toward the house. but there was no sign of his little sister flossie. "maybe she can't find them," suggested bert. "you know what you and flossie do with your books and straps, when you come home from school friday afternoons--you toss them any old place until monday morning." "i didn't this time!" said sturdy little freddie, looking up quickly. "i--i put 'em--i put 'em--oh, well, i guess flossie can find 'em!" he ended, for trying to remember where he had left his books was more than he could do this bright, beautiful, saturday morning, when there was no school. "i thought so!" laughed bert, as he turned to go back to his bicycle, for he intended to go for a ride, and had just cleaned, and was now oiling, his wheel. "well, flossie can find 'em, so she can," went on freddie, as he held his head on one side and looked at a knotted string around the neck of snap, the big dog. "i wonder how snap is going to like it?" asked bert. "did you ever hitch him to your express wagon before, freddie?" "yes. but he couldn't pull us." "why not?" "'cause i only had him tied with strings, and they broke. but i'm going to use our book straps now, and they'll hold." "maybe they will--if you can find 'em--or if flossie can," bert went on with a laugh. freddie said nothing. he was too busy tying more strings about snap's neck. these strings were to serve as reins for the dog-horse. since snap would not keep them in his mouth, as a horse does a bit, they had to go around his neck, as oxen wear their yokes. snap stretched out comfortably on the grass, his big red tongue hanging out of his mouth. he was panting, and breathing hard, for he and freddie had had a romping play in the grass, before quieting down for the horse-game. "there, snap!" freddie exclaimed, after a bit. "now you're almost hitched up. i wish flossie would hurry up with those straps." freddie bobbsey stood up to look once more toward the house, which his little twin sister had entered a few minutes before, having offered to go in and look for the book straps. she had not come back, and freddie was getting impatient. at last the little girl appeared on the side porch. her yellow hair blew in the gentle june breeze, making sort of a golden light about her head. "freddie! freddie!" she cried. "i can't find 'em! i can't find the book straps anywhere!" "why, i put 'em--i put 'em--" said freddie helplessly, trying to remember where he had put them, when he came in from school the day before. "you've got to come and help me hunt for 'em!" flossie went on. "mamma says she can't find the straps." "all right. i'll come," spoke freddie. "snap, you stay here!" he ordered, but the big dog only blinked, and stuck out his tongue farther than ever. perhaps he had already made up his mind what he would do when freddie let him alone. off toward the house went the little fat freddie. he was pretty plump--so much so that his father often called him a little "fat fireman." freddie was very fond of playing fireman, ever since the time he had owned a toy fire engine. but to-day he had other ideas. "i'll find those straps," he said, as he toddled off. "then we'll hitch snap to my express wagon, and flossie and i'll have a fine ride. don't you run away, snap." snap did not say whether he would or not. flossie, standing on the side porch, waited for her little brother. she was just his age, and only a little smaller in height. she was just about as fat and plump as was freddie, and both had light curly hair. they made a pretty picture together, and if freddie was a "fat fireman" flossie was a "fat fairy," which pet name her father often called her. "did you look under the sofa for the straps?" asked freddie when he had joined his sister. "yes. i looked there, and--and--everywhere," she answered. "i can't find 'em." "maybe snap hid 'em," suggested freddie. "maybe," agreed flossie. "he would, if he knew you were going to hitch him up with 'em." "pooh. he couldn't know that," said freddie. "i didn't know it myself until a little while ago, and i didn't tell anybody but you." "well, maybe snap heard us talking about it," went on flossie. "he's awful smart, you know, freddie, from having been in a circus." "but he isn't smart enough for that, even if he can do lots of tricks," freddie went on. "there's snoop!" he exclaimed, as a big, black cat ran across the lawn. "maybe she took our book straps." "she couldn't," said flossie. "our books were in 'em, and they'd be too heavy for snoop to drag." "that's so," admitted freddie. "well, come on, we'll find 'em!" the twins went into the house and began searching for the straps. high and low they looked, in all the usual, and unusual, places, where they sometimes tossed their books when they came in from school friday afternoons, with the joyous cry of: "no more lessons until monday! hurray!" but this time they seemed to have tossed their books and straps into some very much out-of-the-way place, indeed. "we can't find 'em," said flossie. "can't you take some strong string, to tie snap to the wagon, instead of the straps, freddie?" "i don't think so," he answered. "i know what to do. let's ask dinah. maybe she's seen 'em." "oh, yes, let's!" agreed flossie, and together they hurried to the kitchen where dinah, the big, good-natured, colored cook, was rattling the pots and pans. "dinah! dinah!" cried flossie and freddie in a twins' chorus. "yep-um, honey-lambs! what yo' all want?" asked dinah, opening the oven door, to let out a little whiff of a most delicious smell, and then quickly closing it again. "ef yo' wants a piece ob cake, it ain't done yit!" "oh, dinah! we don't want any cake!" said freddie. "what's dat? yo' don't want cake?" and dinah quickly straightened up, put her fat hands on her fat hips, and looked at the two children in surprise. "yo--don't--want--no cake!" gasped dinah. "what's de mattah? yo' all ain't sick, is yo'?" for that was the only reason she could think of why flossie and freddie should not want cake--as they generally did saturday morning. "no, we're not sick," said flossie, "and we'd like a piece of cake a little later, please dinah. but just now we want our book straps. have you seen 'em?" "book straps! book straps!" exclaimed dinah in great surprise. "go 'long wif yo' now! i ain't got no time to be bodderin' wif book straps, when dey's pies an' puddin's an' cakes t' bake. trot along now, an' let ole dinah be! book straps! huh!" flossie and freddie knew there was little use in "bodderin'" dinah any more, especially when she was in the midst of her baking. "come on, flossie," spoke freddie. "we'll have another look for those straps. next time i'll put our books where we can find 'em." once more the children started through the different rooms. they looked everywhere. but no straps could they find. "you see what a lot of trouble it makes, not only for you, but for others as well, when you don't take care of your books," said mrs. bobbsey gently. she knew it would be a good lesson for the twins to search for their things. next time they might remember. suddenly, from out in the yard, came a shout. "freddie! freddie! come out here, quick!" "that's bert!" exclaimed freddie. "oh, maybe he's found the straps, so we can harness up snap," cried flossie. but bert's next words soon told the younger twins that it was no such good luck as that, for he cried: "snap's running away, freddie! he's running away. if you're going to harness him up you'll have to catch him!" "oh dear!" cried flossie. "come on, help me catch him!" called freddie. together they ran into the yard. as bert had said, snap, getting tired of being tied to a post with a thin string, had broken the cord, and now was racing over the fields after another dog with whom he often played. "come back, snap! come back!" cried freddie. snap paid no heed. just then, through the front gate, came a girl. she looked so much like bert, with his dark hair and eyes, with his slimness and his tallness, that you could tell at once she was his sister. as soon as flossie saw her, she cried: "oh, nan! we were going to hitch snap to the express wagon, but freddie and i can't find our straps, and snap ran away, and--and--" "never mind, flossie dear," said nan. "wait until you hear the good news i have for you!" "good news?" exclaimed bert, coming away from his bicycle, toward his twin sister. "yes, the very best!" nan went on. "it's about a houseboat! now, flossie and freddie, sit down on the grass and i'll tell you all about the good news!" chapter ii snap saves freddie down on the soft green grass of the lawn, sat the two sets of bobbsey twins. yes, there were two "sets" of them, and i shall tell you how that was, in a little while. "begin at the beginning," suggested bert to his sister. he always liked to hear all of anything, so nan prepared to skip nothing. "well," said nan, as she leaned over to re-tie the bow of flossie's hair ribbon. it had become loose in the hurried search for the book straps. "well, you know i went down to papa's lumber office this morning, to bring him the letter that came here to the house by mistake. it was a letter from--" "you can skip that part of it," suggested bert. "i don't want to wait so long about hearing the news." "well, i thought i'd tell you everything," said nan. "anyhow, when i was in papa's office he bought it." "what did he buy?" asked freddie, getting to the point more quickly than bert would have done. "what'd he buy, nan?" "a houseboat," went on the older girl twin. "mr. marvin was there, and he sold papa the marvin houseboat. oh! and such fun as we're--" "what's a houseboat?" interrupted flossie. "it's a boat with a house on it, of course," spoke bert, eagerly. "i know. i've seen lots of them. you can live in them just like in a house, only it's on water. there's more room in a houseboat than in a regular boat. go on, nan." "are we going to live in it?" asked freddie. "i think so--at least part of the time," said nan. "now i'll tell you all i know about it. i couldn't stay to ask all i wanted to, as papa was busy. besides, it was sort of a secret, and i found it out by accident before he meant me to. so you mustn't tell mamma yet--it's to be a surprise to her," and nan looked at the two smaller twins, and raised a cautioning finger. "i won't tell," promised flossie. "neither will i," promised freddie. "is that all you're going to tell us, nan?" "well, isn't that enough?" demanded nan. "i think it's just fine, that we're going to have a houseboat! i've always wanted one." "so have i," spoke bert. "go on, nan! tell me more about it. how big is it? is there an engine in it? where is it? can we go on board? when is papa going to get it? is there a room for me in it? i wonder if i can run the engine and steer? how much did it cost?" "gracious!" cried nan, pretending to cover her ears with her hands. "it will take me all morning, bert, to answer those questions. please start over again." "first tell me where i can see the boat," suggested bert. "i want to go look at it." "it's down in the lake," said nan. "come on, flossie," spoke freddie. "there's snap coming back now, and maybe we can catch him. then we'll harness him up. dinah ought to be done with her baking now, and maybe she can find those straps for us. here, snap!" flossie and freddie, being some years younger than bert and nan, did not care to bear much more about the houseboat just then. that they were going to have one was enough for them. they were much pleased and delighted, but they had the idea of hitching snap to the express wagon, and they could not get that out of their minds. "you go in and ask dinah to help you look for the straps," directed freddie to his little sister, "and i'll catch snap. here, snap! snap!" he called to the dog who had come back into the yard after a romp and frolic with his animal friend. snap was glad enough to stretch out on the grass and rest. he was tired from his run. freddie put his arms around the dog's neck, and laid his head down on the shaggy coat. "now you can't run away again," said freddie, as he pretended to go to sleep, while flossie toddled into the house once more, to have another look for the missing book straps. at a little distance from freddie sat nan and bert, talking about the houseboat, and the good times they would have on board. freddie roused up, and looked toward the house. flossie had not yet come out. "it takes her a long time," said the little boy. "we won't have any ride at all, if she doesn't hurry up." then freddie saw something else that attracted his attention. this was bert's bicycle, leaning now against the side of a shed. bert was too much interested in the houseboat to want to ride just then. a new idea came into freddie's head. "i'm going to have a ride on bert's wheel, while i'm waiting for flossie to come out with the straps," said the little twin chap. "bert won't care." freddie did not take any chances on asking bert. his elder brother was still busy talking to nan about the new houseboat. freddie scrambled to his feet. "now you stay there, snap!" he commanded the big dog, for snap, ready again for some fun, was anxious to follow his little master. "lie down, snap!" ordered freddie, and snap again stretched out. freddie walked slowly over toward the bicycle. of course he was too small to ride it in the regular way, with his feet on the pedals, for his little legs were not long enough to reach them. but he could sit on the seat, and bert had taught him how to steer a little, so that though a bicycle has only two wheels, and will tip over if it is not properly guided, freddie could manage to ride a little way on it without toppling over, especially if some one put him on and gave him a push, or if he was given a start down a little hill. "i'm going to have a ride," thought freddie. "i'll have a little ride, while i'm waiting for flossie." freddie had a velocipede of his own, but that had three wheels instead of two. freddie thought two wheels were much more fun than three. "if i can get up on that bicycle, i'll have a nice ride," murmured freddie. he looked toward the house. flossie was not in sight. she had not yet found the straps. then freddie looked toward bert and nan. they were still busy talking about the houseboat. they paid no attention to freddie. the little twin chap looked around until he had found a small box. by stepping on this he could get up on the seat of the bicycle, which was leaning against the shed. then freddie could give himself a little push, and away he would go. there was a little hill leading from where the bicycle stood down to the gate, and into the road. the gate was open. "maybe i can even ride down the road a little way," thought freddie to himself. "that would be great." it was rather hard work for freddie to get up on the bicycle from the box, but he managed it. then he sat on the leather saddle, and took hold of the handle bars. as i have told you, he knew how to steer, even though he could not reach the pedals. "here i go!" cried freddie softly, as he gave himself a little push. down the hill he went, along the path, straight for the yard gate. "oh! i'm going out in the road!" exclaimed freddie, this time out loud, for he was far enough away from nan and bert now. and into the road he did go, on bert's bicycle. the wheel was going faster and faster, for bert had just oiled it and it rode very smoothly. "this is great!" freddie cried. "maybe i can ride all the way to the bridge." he looked down the road to where a little white bridge spanned a small brook. and then, as freddie looked, he saw something which made his heart beat very fast indeed. for, coming right toward him, was a team of horses, hitched to a big lumber wagon--it was one of freddie's papa's own lumber teams, as the little boy could see for himself. on came the trotting team, pulling the heavily laden lumber wagon, and, worst of all, there was no driver on the seat to guide the horses. they were trotting away all by themselves, and freddie was out in the road, on the bicycle that was far too big for him. "oh dear!" cried freddie. just then he heard flossie scream. she had come out on the side porch, and she saw the team coming toward her little brother. "nan! bert!" screamed flossie. "look at freddie!" nan and bert jumped up and raced down the path. "freddie's in trouble again!" thought bert. it was not the first time freddie had gotten into mischief. though usually he was a pretty good boy, he sometimes made trouble without intending to. i have told you there were two sets of bobbsey twins, and those of you who have read the first book of this series know what i mean by that. the first book is called "the bobbsey twins," and in that i told you how the bobbsey family lived in an eastern city called lakeport, at the head of lake metoka. mr. bobbsey was a lumber merchant, and owned a large sawmill, and a yard, near the lake, in which yard were piled many stacks of lumber. nan and bert were the older bobbsey twins, being past nine, while flossie and freddie were about "half-past-five." so you see that is how there were two sets of twins. nan was a tall, slender girl, with a dark face and red cheeks. her eyes were brown, and so were her curls. bert, too, was quite dark, like nan. flossie and freddie were very light, with blue eyes. they were short and fat, instead of tall and thin. so you see the two sets of twins were very different. oh! such good times as the bobbsey twins had! i could not tell you all of them, if i wrote a dozen books. but some of the good times i have related in the first book. in the second, called "the bobbsey twins in the country," there are more happenings mentioned. uncle daniel bobbsey, his wife sarah, and their son harry lived in the country, at a place called meadow brook, and there the twins often went on their vacation. uncle william minturn, and his wife emily, with their nine-year-old daughter dorothy, lived at ocean cliff. as you might guess, this was on the coast, and in the third book, "the bobbsey twins at the seashore," i have told you of the good times the children had there, how they saw a wreck, and what came of it. in "the bobbsey twins at school" you will find out how they came to get the dog snap, as a pet. they already had a black cat, named snoop, but one day, when the twins, with their father and mother, were on a railroad train, something happened, and snoop was lost. they found snap, instead. he was a circus dog, and--but there, if you want to read of snap, you must do so in the book about him. i shall tell you this much, though. snap was a very fine dog, and could do many tricks, and in the end the bobbseys kept him for a pet, as well as getting back their lost cat snoop. when school was over for the winter holidays one year, the bobbseys went to "snow lodge," and in the book of that name i have told you about a queer mystery the twins helped solve while out amid the snow and ice. now the bobbseys were back in their fine house in lakeport, where dinah, the fat cook, gave them such good things to eat, and where sam johnson, her husband, kept the lawns so nice and green for the children to play on. just now freddie bobbsey would have been very glad, indeed, to be playing on that same lawn instead of being on his brother's bicycle, rolling toward the team of lumber horses, who were coming straight for him. "oh, look at freddie! look at freddie!" screamed flossie, dropping the two book straps which she had at last found. "save him, nan! bert! oh, freddie!" "i 'clar t' goodness!" exclaimed fat dinah in the kitchen. "dem chillens am up t' some mo' trouble!" "freddie, steer to one side! steer out of the way!" shouted bert, as he ran for the gate. he could not hope to reach his little brother in time, though. freddie was too frightened and excited to steer. the bicycle was going fast--faster than he had ever ridden on it before. all he could do was to sit tight, and hold fast to the handle bars. "oh, he'll be run over!" cried nan, as she, too, raced after bert. the team, with no driver to guide it, ran faster and faster. freddie began to cry. and then, all at once, the front wheel of the bicycle ran over a stone, and turned to one side. the handle bars were jerked from freddie's grasp, and over he went, wheel and all! luckily for him, he fell to one side of the road, on the soft grass, or he might have been injured, but, as it was, the fall did not hurt him at all. one of his little fat legs, though, became tangled up in the wire spokes of the front wheel, and freddie lay there, with the wheel on top of him, unable to get up. "oh, bert! bert!" screamed nan. "grab him--quick!" shouted dinah, waddling down the walk. but she was too fat to go fast enough to do any good. "roll out of the way, freddie!" cried bert. freddie was too much entangled in the wheel to be able to move. and, all the while, the lumber team was coming nearer and nearer to him. would the horses, with no driver at the reins, know enough to turn to one side, or would the wheels roll over poor freddie and the bicycle? nan covered her face with her hands. she did not want to look at what was going to happen. "i must get there in time to pull him out of the way!" thought bert, as he ran as fast as he could. but the team was almost on freddie now. suddenly the dog snap, who had jumped up when he heard the shouts, saw what the danger was. snap knew about horses, and he was smart enough to know that freddie was in danger. without waiting for anyone to tell him what to do, snap ran straight for the lumber team. leaping up in front of them, and barking as loudly as he could, snap turned the trotting horses to one side. and just in time, too, for, a little more, and one of the front wheels of the heavily loaded lumber wagon would have run over the bicycle in which freddie was still entangled. "bow wow!" barked snap. the horses were perhaps afraid of being bitten, though snap was very gentle. at any rate, they turned aside, and would have run on faster, only snap, leaping up, grabbed the dangling reins in his teeth and pulled hard on them. "whoa!" called bert. when the horses heard this, and felt the tug on the lines, they knew it meant to stop. and stop they did. snap had saved freddie. chapter iii dinah's upset "what's the matter? what has happened?" asked mrs. bobbsey, who had run out to the front porch, upon hearing the excited cries, and the exclamations of fat dinah, the cook. "oh! has anything happened to any of the children?" "yes'm, i s'pects there has, ma'am," said dinah. "pore li'l freddie am done smashed all up flatter'n a pancake, mrs. bobbsey!" "freddie--oh!" "he's all right!" shouted bert, who had, by this time, reached his little brother, and was lifting him out of the bicycle. "not hurt a bit, are you, freddie?" "n--no, i--i guess not," said freddie, a bit doubtfully. "i--i'm scared, though." "nothing to be frightened at now, freddie," said bert, holding up the little chap, so his mother could see him. "why, freddie isn't hurt, dinah," said mrs. bobbsey, in great relief. "what made you think so?" "well, i seed him all tangled up in dat two-wheeled velocipede ob bert's, an' de hoss team was comin' right down on de honey-lamb. i thought shuah he was gwine t' be squashed flatter'n a pancake. but he ain't! bless mah soul he ain't! oh, dere's mah cake burnin'!" and into the kitchen ran dinah, glad, indeed, that nothing had happened worse than the scare freddie received. "good snap! good old dog!" said nan, as she patted his head. "bow wow!" barked snap. he still held the horse reins in his strong white teeth. he was not going to let the horses go yet. "oh, freddie!" cried mrs. bobbsey, when she understood what had happened. "what danger you were in! why did you take bert's wheel?" "i--i wanted a ride, mamma. i didn't think i'd fall off, or that the team would come." "you must never do it again," said mrs. bobbsey. "never get on bert's wheel again, unless he is with you to hold you. you are, too small, yet, for a bicycle." "yes'm," said freddie in a low voice. "but where is the driver of the wagon?" went on mrs. bobbsey, looking at the empty seat. "maybe he fell off," suggested nan, who had taken freddie from bert, the latter picking up his wheel, and looking to see if it had been damaged by the fall. but it was all right. "here comes a driver now," said flossie, who saw one of the men from her father's lumber yard hurrying along the road. "is anybody hurt?" the man asked, as he came up, running and breathing fast, for he had come a long way. "no one, i think," answered mrs. bobbsey. "but my little boy had a very narrow escape." "i am sorry," said the driver. "i left the team standing out in front of the lumber yard, while i went in the office to find out where i was to deliver the planks. when i came out the horses were trotting away. i guess they were scared by something. i ran fast, but i could not catch them." "snap caught them for you," said the twins' mother, as she looked at the former circus dog, who was still holding the horse-reins. "yes, he's a good dog," the lumber wagon driver said. "i was afraid, when i saw how far the horses had gone, that they might do some damage. but i'm glad no one was hurt." "i think we all are glad," spoke mrs. bobbsey. "it was partly my little boy's own fault, for he should not have gotten on his brother's bicycle. but he won't do it again." "no, i never will!" promised freddie, as he rubbed his leg where it had been bruised a little from becoming tangled up in the wire spokes. snap barked and wagged his tail, as the driver took the lines from him, and then, when the man drove off with the horses and the load of lumber, mrs. bobbsey went with the twins back into the yard. "well, i'm glad all the excitement is over," she said. "where were you, nan? grace lavine called for you, but i looked out in the yard and did not see you, so she went away again." "why, i went down to papa's office, mamma, with that letter you gave me for him." "yes, i know, but i supposed you had come back. what kept you so long?" "well, i--er--i was talking to papa, and---" nan did not want to go on, for she did not want to tell that she had been talking about the houseboat. mr. bobbsey had been intending to keep that as a little secret surprise for his wife, but now, if her mother asked about it, nan felt she would have to tell. she hardly knew what to say, but just then something happened that made everything all right. mr. bobbsey himself came hurrying down the street, from the direction of his lumber office. he seemed much excited, and his hat was on crooked, as though he had not taken time to put it on straight. "is everything all right?" he called to his wife. "none of the children hurt?" "no, none of them," she answered with a smile. mr. bobbsey could see that for himself now, since freddie and flossie were going up the walk together, freddie tying one of the book straps around the dog's neck, while nan and bert followed behind them, with mrs. bobbsey. "someone telephoned to me," said the lumber merchant, "that they saw one of our teams running away down this street, and i was afraid our children, or those of some of the neighbors, might be hurt. so i hurried down to see. did you notice anything of a runaway team?" "yes," said mrs. bobbsey. "but everything is all right now. only i haven't yet heard what it was that kept nan so long down at your office," and she smiled. nan looked at her father, and mr. bobbsey looked at nan. then they both smiled and laughed. "to tell you the truth," said mr. bobbsey, with another smile, "nan discovered a secret i was not going to tell at once." "a secret?" asked mrs. bobbsey in surprise. "yes, it's about---" began nan. then she stopped. "go on. you might as well tell her," said mr. bobbsey, laughing. "i know!" exclaimed freddie, who was all over his fright now. "it's about a boathouse and---" "a houseboat!" interrupted bert. "you've got the cart before the horse, freddie." "that's it!" exclaimed nan. "papa has bought the marvin's houseboat, mamma, and we're going to have lovely times in it this summer." "and i'm going to run the engine," declared bert. "i'm going to be fireman!" cried fat freddie. "i'm going to put on coal and squirt water on the fires!" "i'm going to sit on deck and play with my dolls," spoke flossie, who was trying to climb up on snap's back to get a ride. mrs. bobbsey looked at her husband. "really?" she asked. "have you bought the boat?" "yes," he replied, "i have. you know we have been thinking of it for some time. lake metoka would be just fine for a houseboat, and we could go on quite a cruise with one. mr. marvin wanted to sell his boat, and as he and i had some business dealings, and as he owed me some money, i took the boat in part payment." "and is it ours now, papa?" asked bert. "yes, the houseboat is ours. it is called the bluebird, and that is a good name for it, since it is painted blue--like your eyes, little fat fairy!" he cried, catching flossie up in his arms. "is it a big boat, papa?" asked bert. like most boys he liked things big and strong. "well, i think it will be large enough," said mr. bobbsey with a smile as he set down flossie and caught up freddie in the same way. "were you frightened when you fell down and saw the lumber team coming toward you?" he asked. "a little," freddie said. "but i wished my legs were long enough so i could ride bert's bicycle. then i could get out of the way." "you'd better keep away from the wheel until you are bigger," said his father, who had been told about the accident and the excitement. "but now i must get back to the office. i have plenty of work to do." "oh, but can't you stay just a little longer, to tell us more about the boat!" pleaded nan. "when can we have a ride in it?" "a boat is called 'her,'" interrupted bert, "well, 'her' then," said nan. "tell us about her, papa. i didn't hear much at your office." "you heard more than i meant you to," said mr. bobbsey with a smile. "nan came in with that letter just as mr. marvin and i were finishing our talk about the houseboat," he went on. "i was going to keep it secret a little longer, but it's just as well you should know now. "i think you will like the bluebird. it has a little gasoline engine, so we can travel from place to place. and there is a large living room, a kitchen, several bed rooms and a nice open deck, where we can sit, when it is too hot to be inside." "oh, that's going to be great!" cried bert. "i want a room near the engine." "and can i be a fireman?" asked freddie. "i want to be near mamma--and you," spoke little flossie. "oh, isn't it going to be lovely!" exclaimed nan, clapping her hands. "scrumptious, i call it!" cried bert, and he ran into the house, through the hall, and into the dining-room, just as big, fat dinah, the cook, was entering the same room, carefully holding a big cake which she had just covered with white frosting. "oh dear!" cried bert, as he ran, full tilt, into the big cook. "good land ob massy!" fairly yelled dinah. "wha--wha---" but that was all she could say. she tried to save herself from falling, but she could not. nor could bert. he went down, on one side of the doorsill, and dinah sat down, very hard, on the other, the cake bouncing from her hands, up toward her head, and then falling into her lap. chapter iv at the houseboat "did--did i hurt you, dinah?" asked bert, after he had gotten his breath. "i'm--i'm sorry--but did i hurt you?" "hurt me? hurt me, honey lamb? no indeedy, but i done reckon yo' has hurt yo'se'f, honey! look at yo' pore haid!" and she pointed her fat finger at bert. "why, what's the matter with my head?" he asked, putting up his hand. he felt something sticky, and when he looked at his fingers, he saw that they were covered with white stuff. "oh, it's the frosting off the cake!" said nan with a laugh. "you look something like one of the clowns in the circus, bert, only you haven't enough of the white stuff on." "and look at dinah!" laughed freddie. "she's turning white!" "what's dat, honey lamb? turnin' white?" gasped the big, colored cook. "don't say dat!" "it's the cake frosting on dinah, too!" said mrs. bobbsey. "oh, bert! why aren't you a little more careful?" "i'm sorry, mamma," bert said, as he watched dinah wipe the frosting off her face with her apron. "i didn't know she was coming through the door then." "and i shore didn't see yo', honey lamb," went on the cook. "land ob massy! look at mah cake!" she cried, as she gazed at the mass in her lap. "all de frostin' am done slid off it!" "yes, you're a regular wedding cake yourself, dinah," said mr. bobbsey, who had come in to see what all the noise meant. "well, this seems to be a day of excitement. i'm glad it was no worse, though. better go up stairs and wash, bert." "the cake itself isn't spoiled," said mrs. bobbsey, lifting it from dinah's lap, so the colored cook could get up. it was no easy work for her to do this, as she was so fat. but at last, after many groanings and gruntings, she rose to her feet, and took the cake from mrs. bobbsey. "i'll put some mo' frostin' on it right away, ma'am," she said. "an' i hopes nobody else runs inter me," she went on with a laugh. "i shuah did feel skeered dat bert was hurt bad." they could all laugh at the happening now, and after mr. bobbsey had told a little more about the new houseboat, he went back to the office. "come on, flossie," suggested freddie. "now you've found the book straps, we can hitch snap to the express wagon. where'd you find 'em?" "the straps were on our books, under the hall rack," said flossie. "that's just where i left 'em!" exclaimed freddie. "i knew i left 'em somewhere." "but next time you must remember," cautioned his mother. "and remember another thing--no more bicycle rides--you stay on your velocipede." "yes'm," said freddie. "come on, flossie. where's snap?" when the little twins went to look for their big, shaggy pet, who could do so many circus tricks, they could not find him. "have you seen snap?" asked freddie of dinah's husband, sam johnson, who was out in the barn. "snap?" repeated the colored man. "why, freddie, i done jest see snap paradin' down de road wif dat black dog from mr. brown's house." "then snap's gone away again," said flossie with a sigh. "never mind, freddie. let's play steamboat, and you can be the fireman." "all right," he agreed, much pleased with this idea. "we'll make believe we're in our new houseboat. come on." "steamboat" was a game the smaller twins often played on the long saturdays, when there was no school. all they needed was an old soap box for the boat, and some sticks for oars. then, with some bits of bread or cake, which dinah gave them to eat, in case they were "shipwrecked," they had fine times. meanwhile, bert and nan had asked permission of their mother to go over to where some of their boy and girl friends lived, so they were prepared to have a good time, too. "oh, but what fun we'll have on the houseboat, won't we, bert?" said nan. "that's what we will," he agreed with a laugh. monday morning came, after sunday (as it always does if you wait long enough) and the two sets of bobbsey twins started for school. "i wish we didn't have to go," said bert, as he strapped up his books. "i want to go down to our new houseboat." "but you must go to school," said his mother with a smile. "there will not be many more days now. june will soon be over, and you know school closes a little earlier than usual this year. so run along, like good children." off they hurried and soon they were mingling with their boy and girl friends, who were also on their way to their classes. "you can't guess what we're going to have," said freddie to a boy named johnnie wilson, who was in his room. "kittens?" asked johnnie. "no." "puppies?" "no." "i give up--what is it?" "a houseboat," said freddie. "it's a house on a boat, and you can live in it on water." "huh!" said johnnie. "there isn't any such thing." "yes, there is, too, isn't there, flossie?" and freddie appealed to his small sister. "'course there is," she said. "our papa bought one, and freddie's going to be the fireman, and i'm going to cook the meals, so there! haven't we got a houseboat, nan?" "yes, dear," answered the older sister, who was walking with bert. at this, coming from nan, johnnie had nothing to say, except that he murmured, as he walked away: "huh! a houseboat's nothing. we've got a baby at our house, and it's got hair on its head, and two teeth!" "a houseboat's better'n a baby," was freddie's opinion. "it is not!" cried johnnie. "it is so!" freddie exclaimed. "hush!" begged nan. "please don't dispute. houseboats and babies are both nice. but now it's time to go to school." the bobbsey twins could hardly wait for the classes to be out that day, for their mother had promised to call for them after lessons, and, with their father, they were going to see the bluebird. the houseboat had been brought up the lake by mr. marvin, and tied to a dock not far from mr. bobbsey's lumber office. the boat was now the property of mr. bobbsey, but that gentleman had not yet fully planned what he would do with her. just as the children were trooping out of the school yard, along came mrs. bobbsey. nan and flossie saw their mother and hastened toward her, while freddie and bert came along more slowly. in a little while all five of them were at mr. bobbsey's lumber office. he came out of his private room, when one of his clerks told him mrs. bobbsey and the children were there. "ah, what can i do for you to-day?" asked mr. bobbsey of his wife, just like mr. fitch, the grocery-store-keeper. "would you like a barrel of sawdust, ma'am; or a bundle of shingles to fry for the children's suppers?" and mr. bobbsey pretended he was no relation to his family. "i think we'll have a houseboat," said his wife with a laugh. "have you time to take us down to it? i can't do a thing with these children, they are so anxious to see the bluebird." "well, i hope they'll like her," said mr. bobbsey, "and not pull any feathers out of her tail." "oh, is there a real bird on the boat?" asked flossie. "no, papa is only joking," said nan, with a smile. mr. bobbsey put on his hat, and soon the whole bobbsey family had reached the place where the boat was tied. at the first sight of her, with her pretty blue paint and white trimming, nan cried: "oh, how lovely!" "and how big it is!" exclaimed freddie his eyes large and round with wonder. "let's go aboard--where's the gang-plank?" asked bert, trying to use some boat language he had heard from his father's lumbermen. the bluebird was indeed a fine, large houseboat, roomy and comfortable. the children went inside, and, after looking around the main, or living room, and peering into the dining-room, nan opened the door of a smaller compartment. inside she saw a cunning little bed. "oh, may i have this room?" she asked. "isn't it sweet!" "here's another just like it," said mrs. bobbsey, opening the next door. "that will be mine," said flossie. "my room's going to be back here, by the engine," spoke bert, as he picked out his sleeping place. "and i'll come with you," said freddie. "i'm going to be fireman!" gleefully the children were running about, clapping their hands, and finding something new and strange every minute. "where is your room, mamma?" asked nan. "we ought to have let you and papa have first choice." "oh, there are plenty of rooms," said mr. bobbsey. "let's go up on deck and---" he stopped suddenly, and seemed to be listening. "what is it?" asked his wife. "there seems to be some one on this boat beside ourselves," answered mr. bobbsey. "i'll go look." chapter v the strange boy the bobbsey twins looked at one another, and then at their mother, as mr. bobbsey went out of the living room of the houseboat, toward the stairway that led up on deck. bert tried to look brave, and as though he did not care. nan moved a little closer to her mother. as for flossie, she, too, was a little frightened, but freddie did not seem at all alarmed. "is it somebody come to take the boat away from us?" he asked in his high-pitched, childish voice. "if it is--don't let 'em, papa." they all laughed at this--even mr. bobbsey, and he turned to look around, half way up the stairs, saying: "no, freddie, i won't let them take our boat." "pooh! just as if they could--it's ours!" spoke bert. "who could it be on board here, mamma?" asked nan. "i don't know, dear, unless it was some one passing through the lumber yard, who stopped to see what the boat looked like," answered mrs. bobbsey. "papa will soon find out." the noise they had heard was the footsteps of some one walking about on the deck of the houseboat. "perhaps it was one of the men from the office, who came to tell papa he was wanted up there, or that some one wanted to speak to him on the telephone," went on mrs. bobbsey. she saw that the children, even bert, were a little alarmed, for the boat was tied at a lonely place in the lumber yard, and tramps frequently had to be driven away from the piles of boards under which there were a number of good places to sleep. mr. bobbsey did not mean to be unkind to the poor men who had no homes, but tramps often smoke, and are not careful about their matches. there had been one or two fires in the lumber yard, and mr. bobbsey did not want any more blazes. soon the footsteps of the children's father were heard on the deck above them, and, a little later freddie and the others could hear the talk of two persons. "i guess it was one of the men," said mrs. bobbsey. "i'm going to see," spoke bert, and he moved toward the stairway, followed by nan, flossie and freddie. they went up on deck and saw their father talking to a strange boy. none of the bobbsey children knew him. "are you looking for some one?" asked mr. bobbsey kindly, of the strange boy. often, when he was in distant parts of the lumber yard, and he was wanted at the office, or telephone, his men might ask some boy to run and tell the owner of the yard he was needed. but mr. bobbsey had never seen this lad before. "no, sir, i--i wasn't looking for any one," said the boy, as he looked down at his shoes, which were full of holes, and put his hands into the pockets of his trousers, which were quite ragged. "i was just looking at the boat. it's a fine one!" "i'm glad you like it," said mr. bobbsey with a smile. "could you go to sea in this boat?" asked the boy, who was not very much older than bert. "go to sea? oh, no!" answered mr. bobbsey. "this boat is all right on a lake, or river, but the big waves of the ocean would be too strong for it. we don't intend to go to sea. why? are you fond of sailing?" "that's what i am!" cried the boy. "i'm going to sea in a ship some day. i'm sick of farm-life!" and his eyes snapped. "are you a farmer?" asked the twins' father. "i work for a farmer, and i don't like it--the work is too hard," the boy said, as he hung his head. "there is plenty of hard work in this world," went on mr. bobbsey. "of course too much hard work isn't good for any one, but we must all do our share. where do you work?" "i work for mr. hardee, who lives just outside the town of lemby," answered the boy. "oh, yes, i know mr. hardee," spoke mr. bobbsey. "i sold him some lumber with which he built his house. so you work for him? but what are you doing so far away from the farm?" "mr. hardee sent me over here, to lakeport, on an errand." "well, if i were you i wouldn't come so far away from where i left my horse and wagon," cautioned mr. bobbsey, for the place where the boat was tied was a long distance from the main road leading from lakeport to lemby. "i didn't come in a wagon," said the boy. "i walked." "what! you don't mean to say you walked all the way from lemby to lakeport?" exclaimed mrs. bobbsey, who had now come up on deck. "yes'm, i did," answered the boy. "mr. hardee said he needed the horses to work on the farm. he said i was young, and the walk would do me good. so mrs. hardee, she gave me some bread and butter for my lunch, and i walked. i'm walking back now, and i came this way by the lake. it's a short cut. "then i happened to see this boat here. i like boats, so i thought it wouldn't hurt to come on board." "oh, no, that's all right!" said mr. bobbsey quickly. "i'll be glad to have you look around, though this is only a houseboat, and not built for ocean travel. so you work for mr. hardee, eh? what's your name?" "will watson," the boy said. mrs. bobbsey was trying to motion to her husband to come toward her. it seemed as though she wanted to say something to him privately. "will watson, eh?" went on mr. bobbsey. "i don't seem to know any family of that name around here." "no, i don't belong around here," the boy said. "i come from out west--or i used to live there when i was littler. i've got an uncle out there now, if i could ever find him. he's a gold miner." "a gold miner?" said mr. bobbsey, and then his wife came up to him, and whispered in his ear. just what she said the twins could not hear, but, a moment later mr. bobbsey said: "bert, suppose you take will down and show him the boat, since he is so interested." "oh, i'm going to!" cried freddie. "i want to show him where i'm going to be a fireman." "and i want to show him my room," said flossie. the strange boy looked at the little twins and smiled. he had a nice face, and was quite clean, though his clothes were ragged and poor. "come along down if you like," said bert kindly. "there's a lot to see below the deck." with a friendly nod of his head will watson followed the three children. nan stayed on deck with her parents. "it's a shame to make him walk all the way from lemby here and back," said mrs. bobbsey. "it must be all of five miles each way." "it is," said mr. bobbsey. "quite a tramp for a little fellow." "can't you find some way to give him a ride back?" asked his wife. "aren't any of your wagons going that way?" "perhaps," replied mr. bobbsey. "i'll find out, and i'll send him as near to mr. hardee's place as i can." "poor little fellow," said mrs. bobbsey, and she thought how hard it would be if her son bert had to go to work for his living so young. "he seems like a nice boy," spoke mr. bobbsey, "and from what i know of mr. hardee he isn't an easy man to work for. well, have you seen enough of the boat, nan? do you think you'll like it?" "oh, i just love it," nan answered. "i'm so anxious for the time to come when we can go sailing, or whatever you do in a boat like this. mamma, may i bring some of my things from home to fix up my room?" "i think so--yes. we shall have to talk about that later. i think it is time we started home now. dinah will not want to wait supper for us." "well then, run along," said mr. bobbsey. "i'll get the others up from down below." "and you won't forget about trying to give that boy a ride home?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "no, indeed," replied her husband. "i'm going right back to the office now, and i'll take him with me. i'll let him ride on the wagon that's going nearest to lemby." mr. bobbsey met bert and the strange boy coming up. "it sure is a dandy boat!" said will watson with a sigh of envy. "if ever i go away to sea, i hope i'll have as nice a room as yours," and he looked at bert. "i just couldn't help coming on the boat when i saw her tied here," he went on. "i hope you didn't mind." "not a bit!" exclaimed mrs. bobbsey, wishing she had some of dinah's cake or crullers with her to give to the boy, for the twins' mother thought he looked hungry. the door, leading into the cabin of the houseboat was locked, and they all went on shore, over the gangplank, the board that extended from the dock to the boat. "good-bye, bluebird!" called flossie, waving her fat, chubby, little hand toward the houseboat. "we'll soon be back." "and i'm going to bring my fire engine, when i come again," exclaimed freddie. "if the boat gets on fire i can put it out." "boats can't get on fire in the water!" declared flossie. "they can so--can't they, papa?" appealed the little boy. "well, sometimes, perhaps. but we hope ours doesn't," replied mr. bobbsey with a smile. he led the way off the boat, and as will was about to walk on along the lake shore, on his return to lemby, mrs. bobbsey said: "wouldn't you like a ride back, little boy?" "indeed i would," he said. "my feet hurt, on account of my shoes being so full of holes, i guess. i'm pretty tired, but i had a little rest. i don't expect to get back much before dark." "well, perhaps you can ride nearly all the way," went on mrs. bobbsey. "my husband has some lumber wagons going in your direction." "yes, come along and we'll see what we can do for you," put in the twins' father, nodding at the strange boy. will went off with mr. bobbsey, while nan, bert, flossie and freddie walked with their mother. "oh, mamma, when do you think we can go in our boat?" asked flossie. "well, as soon as school closes, my dear." "and will we sail across the ocean?" freddie wanted to know. "of course not!" cried bert. "a houseboat isn't a ship." "that boy knew about ships," said nan. "i like him, don't you, mamma?" "yes, he seemed real nice. he hasn't a very easy life, i'm afraid, working on a farm. but we must hurry on to supper. we'll talk about the boat after papa comes home." chapter vi freddie's fire engine "papa, when can we go sailing in the houseboat?" "may i take my fire engine along?" "where did you leave that boy?" "did he get a ride to lemby?" "thus bert, freddie, flossie and nan questioned mr. bobbsey when he came home to supper after the visit to the bluebird. "my! my!" exclaimed the lumber merchant, as he stopped in the hall to hang up his hat. "what a lot of talk all at once! let me see--whose question shall i answer first?" "did you manage to get that poor boy a ride?" asked mrs. bobbsey. it was the first time she had had a chance to ask her question. "answer mamma first," said bert politely. "the rest of us can wait." mr. bobbsey gave his older son a pleased look, and then replied: "yes, i found that one of our lumber wagons was going within half a mile of the village of lemby, so i let the boy ride with the driver. it will give him a good lift." "indeed it will," said mrs. bobbsey. "i felt so sorry for him. i wish i could help him!" "i hope the horses don't run away," spoke freddie with such a serious air that they all laughed. "i guess they won't run away, little fat fireman!" said mr. bobbsey, as he caught freddie up in his arms. "they are good, steady horses, and they had a pretty heavy load to drag. so will won't be in any danger. but i hope supper is ready. i'm hungry!" "but you didn't answer my question," said nan. "when are we going in the houseboat, father?" "oh, whenever school ends and your mother is ready," was the answer. "i should say in about two weeks." "good!" cried bert. "and are we going to take snap along?" he asked, as he caught sight of the trick dog outside, standing on his hind legs, while sam johnson held up a bone for him. snap was "begging" for his supper, as he often did. "yes, i think we can find room for snap on board," the lumber man said. "what about our cat, snoop?" asked flossie. "i want to take snoop along. wouldn't you like to go in a boat, snoop?" and flossie picked the fat cat up in her arms. snoop was quite an armful now. "don't you want to go, snoop?" "meow!" was all snoop said, and that might have meant anything at all. "supper first," suggested mr. bobbsey, "and after that we'll talk about the boat." the meal was a merry one, and there was much talk and laughter. as dinah brought on one good thing to eat after another, mrs. bobbsey said: "i hope every one has as nice a supper as we have." "were you thinking of any one in particular?" asked her husband. "yes, of that poor boy who came on the boat to-day," she answered. "i wonder if he has a good supper after his long walk this morning?" "well, they say mr. hardee doesn't feed his help any too well," spoke mr. bobbsey. "but now let's talk about our houseboat trip." "oh, what fun we'll have!" cried freddie and flossie, clapping their chubby hands. "did you plan a trip?" mrs. bobbsey wanted to know. "well, partly, yes. i thought we could go down lake metoka to lemby creek. we haven't been down that direction in some time." "lemby creek!" exclaimed bert. "isn't that the name of the place where that boy came from?" "well, lemby is a town on lemby creek," spoke his father. "will watson works on mr. hardee's farm, and that is just outside the village. lemby creek is about ten miles long, and by going along that we can get into lake romano. that is a large body of water, and there is a waterfall at the farther end." "a waterfall!" cried freddie. "oh, goodie! can we go see it, papa?" "i guess so," said mr. bobbsey. "we'll make this a long trip. it will take over a month, but of course we won't travel every day. some days we'll just anchor the boat in a shady place, and---" "fish!" interrupted bert. "yes, fish, or go in swimming--anything to have a good time," mr. bobbsey said. "oh, won't we have fun!" cried freddie again. "we'll take snoop and snap along, and they'll like it, too." "i guess snap will, because he's fond of the water," said bert, with a laugh. "but snoop doesn't care for it." "snoop can sleep on deck in the sun," said nan. "she'll like that. i wish i could ask one of my girl friends to come along with us for the houseboat trip. we have so many nice rooms on the bluebird it seems a pity not to use them." "and i'd like one of my boy chums, too," spoke bert. flossie and freddie were busy trying to make snoop do one of the tricks the circus lady had taught her. but snoop wanted to go out in the kitchen, and have dinah give her some supper. "company, eh?" exclaimed mr. bobbsey, slowly. "well, i don't know. we have plenty of room on the bluebird. i wonder how it would do to ask harry and dorothy to come with us?" he inquired of his wife. "oh, cousin harry!" cried bert. "that would be fine!" "and cousin dorothy!" added nan. "she and i could have lovely times together. do ask her, mother!" "we might ask the cousins," agreed mrs. bobbsey. "they haven't been to visit us in some time, and i think both harry and dorothy would enjoy the trip." harry and dorothy, as i have told you, were cousins of the bobbseys. harry lived at meadow brook, in the country, and dorothy at ocean cliff, near the sea. "i'll write to-morrow," said mrs. bobbsey, "and find out if they can go with us. now have we anything else to settle about our trip?" "what about something to eat?" asked freddie, in such a funny, anxious voice, that all the others laughed. "my goodness, little fat fireman!" exclaimed his father. "here you have just finished your supper, and you are already hungry again." "oh, i'm not hungry now," explained freddie, "but i will be on the boat." "don't worry," said his mother. "dinah is coming with us." "oh, then it will be all right," went on the little twin, with a contented sigh. "come on, flossie," he called to his small sister, "i know how we can have some fun. 'scuse me," he murmured, as he and the other little twin slipped from their chairs. mr. and mrs. bobbsey, with nan and bert, remained at the table for some time longer, talking about the coming trip in the bluebird. as mr. bobbsey had said, it would be about two weeks, yet, before they could start. there were two weeks more of school, but the classes would close earlier than usual that summer, because an addition was to be built to the school building, and the men wanted to get to work on it, to have it finished in time for school early in september. "so we'll get an extra week or so of vacation," explained bert. "and we'll spend it all on the houseboat." "well, perhaps not all of it," said mr. bobbsey. "i may not be able to stay with you all that while. but we'll spend a month or two on the bluebird." "what will we do the rest of vacation?" asked bert. "oh, perhaps we'll go to the mountains, or some place like that," his mother said with a smile. "it isn't settled yet." "is it a high waterfall at lake romano?" asked nan. "i just love them." "yes, it's a pretty high one," her father said. "i haven't been to lake romano in some years, but i remember it as a very beautiful place." "i'm sure we shall enjoy it," mrs. bobbsey said. "is the fishing good?" bert wanted to know. "so i have heard. we'll take some poles and lines along, anyhow, and try our luck," his father replied. mr. bobbsey pushed back his chair from the table, and looked around for the evening paper. bert and nan had some home work to do, to get ready their lessons for the next day's school classes, and mrs. bobbsey got out her sewing basket. there were always stockings to mend, if there was nothing else of the children's that needed attention. the house was quiet except for the distant rattling of dishes in the kitchen, where fat dinah was singing away as she worked. suddenly her song ceased, and she was heard to exclaim: "now yo' want t' be careful, honey lamb! doan't yo' go to muxin' up dinah's clean kitchen flo'." "no, we won't, dinah!" replied freddie's voice. "if any gets spilled, i'll wipe it up," said flossie. "i wonder what those children are up to now?" remarked mrs. bobbsey, as she rolled up two stockings she had just darned. "oh, i guess they're all right," said mr. bobbsey easily, as he turned over a page of the evening paper. the next moment there came a shout from dinah in the kitchen. "stop it, freddie. stop it, i say!" cried the fat, colored cook. "yo' suah am gittin' me all wet! oh, there it goes ag'in! stop it!" "i--i can't!" cried freddie. "hold your hand over it, flossie!" "oh, now it's squirting on me!" came in flossie's tones. "make it stop, freddie." "it--it won't stop!" was the frightened answer. "oh! land ob massy!" shouted dinah. "sam! sam! mr. bobbsey, come heah quick! it's squirtin' all ober!" "oh! something has happened!" exclaimed mrs. bobbsey, starting toward the kitchen. "maybe a water pipe has burst," suggested mr. bobbsey, dropping his paper and making a jump toward the kitchen. as he did so, he heard dinah cry again: "oh, yo' am all wet, honey lamb! yo' is all soakin' wet! oh, now it's comin' fo' me ag'in! oh, stop it, freddie! stop it!" "i--i can't!" was all freddie said. the next moment mr. bobbsey, followed by his wife, had reached the kitchen. there they saw a queer sight. in the middle of the floor stood flossie and freddie, water dripping from their hands and faces. dinah, too, was wet, and she was fairly flying around, with a plate in one hand and a dish towel in the other. and, all about the kitchen was spurting a stream of water, while over by the stove stood freddie's toy fire engine. it was this engine that was spraying the water all over the room. chapter vii the two cousins "oh, freddie! what has happened?" cried mrs. bobbsey. "it--it's the---" began freddie, but that was as far as he got, for just then the stream of water from his toy engine spurted right into his open mouth. "shut it off!" cried mr. bobbsey. "here, i'll do it!" he started across the kitchen floor. "look out, massa bobbsey!" yelled dinah. "it'll cotch yo' shuah. it done cotched me!" and then as she saw the little rubber hose of freddie's fire engine swing around, and the nozzle point at her, the fat cook ran into the dish-closet and shut the door. "how did it happen?" asked mrs. bobbsey, not so excited, now that she found nothing serious was the matter. "freddie--freddie--he wanted to try how his fire engine worked, 'cause he hadn't played with it this week," explained flossie. freddie was busy wiping the water from his face. "so he filled the tank, and wound it up, and now--and now--it won't--it won't stop-squirtin'!" went on flossie. "it--it---" and then she, too, had to stop talking, for the hose was spurting water at her now. "i'll shut it off. something must be the matter with the spring," said mr. bobbsey. he walked toward freddie's fire engine, which was pretty large, for a toy. but before he reached it, the water hose had swung around, and, instead of sprinkling flossie, was aimed at mr. bobbsey. however he did not mind. holding the newspaper in front of his face, freddie's father reached the fire engine, and turned off the machinery that pumped the water. "there!" he cried. "the fire's out! the only damage is from water," and he laughed, for he was wet, and so were mrs. bobbsey, flossie and freddie; and the kitchen itself was pretty well sprinkled. "what's it all about?" asked bert, for he and nan, who had been studying their lessons, had heard the noise of the excitement, and had run to the kitchen to see what had caused it. "oh, freddie turned in a false alarm," said mr. bobbsey. "how did you come to put water in your engine, when mamma has told you not to do so in the house?" he asked the little boy. "be--be--cause," said freddie slowly, "i wanted to see if it would--work. i'm going to take it on the houseboat with me." "well, i guess it worked all right," bert said, as he looked around at the wet kitchen. luckily there was oil cloth on the floor, and the walls were painted, so the water really did no harm. dinah slowly opened the door of the dish-closet, and peered out. "am it all done, honey lamb?" she asked, looking at freddie. "yes, dinah! it's all done squirtin'," he said. "i guess there isn't any more water, anyhow." "no," said mr. bobbsey, with a smile, as he looked in the tank of the engine, "it's all pumped out." freddie's toy fire engine was a large and expensive one his uncle had given him on christmas. it was made as nearly like a real engine as possible, only instead of working by steam, it worked by a spring. when a spring was wound up, it operated a small pump in the engine. the pump made water spurt out through a little rubber hose, and the water for the engine was poured into a tank. the tank held about two gallons, so you see when it was all pumped out in the kitchen, and spurted on those in the room, it made them pretty wet. "it's clean water," said nan, when every one had somewhat cooled down, "and it's so warm to-night, i wouldn't mind being sprayed with a hose myself." "still, freddie shouldn't have done it," said mrs. bobbsey. "i have told you not to play with your engine in the house, when it had water in it, freddie. how did you come to disobey me?" she asked, for usually the little fellow was very good about minding. "i--i didn't mean to, mamma," he said "first i just wanted to see if the engine tank leaked, so i put in some water. i didn't think it would hurt, out here on the kitchen oil cloth, and honestly i wasn't going to squirt it." "no, i suppose not," said mr. bobbsey, wiping the water from his face, and glancing at his soaked newspaper. "so i just filled the tank with water from the sink," explained freddie. "i--i helped him," confessed flossie, ready to take her share of the blame. "what happened next?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "why--er--i just wanted to see if the spring was all right, so i wound that up," freddie went on. "then i sort of forgot about the water in the tank, and before i knew it, why it--it went off--sudden like." "land ob massy! i should say it done did go off--suddint laik!" exclaimed dinah. "fust i knowed i was dryin' de dishes an' den i got a mouth full ob watah. i shuah did t'ink a watah pipe had done gone an' busted. i shuah did!" "it--it just kept on squirtin'!" said freddie. "i couldn't stop it like it always used to stop." "no, the pump is out of order," said mr. bobbsey, as he looked at the now empty fire engine. "it wouldn't stop pumping. well, i'm glad it wasn't a real fire, and glad that no one is hurt. put your engine away now, freddie, and, after this, don't play with water in the house, when mamma has told you not to." "i won't," promised freddie. "but it's a good engine, isn't it?" "oh, yes, it's a good engine, all right." "and i can take it on the houseboat, can't i?" "yes, but you won't need to put any water in. there'll be enough in the creek and lakes," said mrs. bobbsey with a smile. "come now, flossie and freddie, you are wet, so you might as well get undressed and go to bed. it is nearly time, anyhow, and you have had quite a day of it. off to bed!" off to bed the twins went. dinah wiped up the kitchen, and, as she did so, she murmured over and over again: "it shuah did go off suddint laik! it shuah did!" flossie and freddie, little the worse for their wetting, went off to school next day, with nan and bert. the two sets of twins talked of many things on their way to their classes, but, most of all, they talked of the coming trip on the houseboat, and of the accident to the fire engine the night before. "i do hope cousin dorothy can come with us," said nan, as she left bert to walk along with nellie parks. "and i hope harry can go," said bert. "better hurry along, freddie," he called to his little brother. "there goes your bell, and yours, too, flossie." the two little tots turned into the gate of the school that led to the yard where the smallest pupils formed in line. "well, even if harry and dorothy can't go, i'll take my fire engine," said freddie. "and we'll take snoop and snap, so we won't be lonesome," suggested flossie. "oh, won't it be fun, freddie!" "yes, i wish it was time to go now. i'm tired of school," said the little fellow. but school must go on, whether there are houseboat parties or not, so the bobbsey twins had to study their lessons. i think that day, however, bert must have been thinking of other things than his books, for when the teacher asked him what an island was, bert gave a queer answer. instead of saying it was a body of land, surrounded by water, bert said: "an island is a fire engine in the kitchen." "why, bert bobbsey! what are you thinking of?" asked the teacher. "oh, i--i was thinking of something that happened at our house last night," bert went on, while all the children in the room laughed. "then you'd better tell us about it," suggested miss teeter, the instructor, for she was very kind. so bert told of freddie's mishap, and how it was he happened to be thinking of that instead of the right answer to the question about the island. "i hear you have a houseboat, bert," said john blake, a boy in the same room, as the children came out of school that afternoon. "yes, my father bought the one mr. marvin owned," said bert. "it's a fine one, too. we're going to have a trip in her soon." "you're a lucky boy!" exclaimed john. "can't you take me down and show me over the boat?" "i'd like to," said bert, "but father said i wasn't to go aboard, when he was not with me." "pooh! he'll never know," suggested danny rugg, a boy with whom bert had had more or less trouble. "you needn't tell your father you went to the boat. come on, take us down and let's see it." "no," said bert, quietly but firmly. "maybe my father wouldn't know i had been on board, but i'd know it." "aw, you're a fraid-cat!" sneered danny. "come on, take us down, and we'll have some fun." "no," said bert with a shake of his head. "i'm sorry. some other time, after i've asked my father if i may, i'll show you all over the bluebird." "i want to go now," danny said. "oh, there's plenty of time," spoke john, pleasantly. "i wouldn't want bert to do what his father told him not to, just to oblige me. i'll see the boat some other time, bert; that will do just as well." "huh! he's a fraid-cat!" muttered danny again, as he shuffled off, muttering to himself. several times he had made trouble for the bobbsey twins, and bert was not any too friendly with him. danny was a bully in the school. bert wished, very much indeed, that he could have taken some of his boy friends down to the houseboat, but his father had a good reason for not wanting any boys aboard, unless he could be with them. workmen were making certain changes in the craft, and doing some painting inside and outside. a few days after this, when the bobbsey twins reached home from school, mrs. bobbsey met them at the door, saying: "i have good news for you, children!" "what is it?" cried bert. "don't we have to go to school any more?" freddie. "are we going on the houseboat sooner than we expected?" nan wanted to know. "it's about your two cousins--harry and dorothy," went on mrs. bobbsey. "they have both accepted our invitations, and they will come with us on the trip! won't that be nice?" "lovely!" exclaimed nan, her eyes shining with delight. "dorothy and i'll have such nice times together!" "and harry and i'll catch a lot of fish," declared bert. the days went on. the houseboat was nearly ready for her trip. very soon school would close. "come on, bert, can't you show us over the boat now?" asked danny rugg one afternoon, on his way home from school, with nan's brother, and some other boys. "i can't to-day, but perhaps i can to-morrow," said bert. "i'll ask my father." "he'll never know about it," tempted danny again, but bert could not be influenced that way. "never mind, i'll fix you!" threatened danny, which was what he usually said, when he could not have his own way. bert thought little of the threat at the time, though later he recalled it vividly. it was that night, just as the smaller twins were getting ready for bed, that the telephone in the bobbsey house rang out a call. "i'll answer it," said mr. bobbsey, as he went to the instrument. "hello!" he called. then his wife and children heard him cry: "what! is that so! that's too bad! yes, i'll attend to it right away. i wonder how it happened?" "oh, what has happened?" cried mrs. bobbsey, in alarm. "is the lumber yard on fire again?" asked freddie, thinking of his toy engine. "not as bad as that," said mr. bobbsey, as he quickly put on his hat. "but the watchman at the dock just telephoned me that our houseboat, the bluebird, has gotten adrift, and is floating out into the lake." chapter viii off in the "bluebird" for a few seconds after mr. bobbsey told of the news he had heard over the telephone, none of the twins seemed to know what to say. they just stared at their father, and i really believe, for a moment, that flossie and freddie thought he was playing a joke on them. then mrs. bobbsey seemed to understand it. "what!" she cried. "our houseboat adrift?" "that's what the watchman tells me," said mr. bobbsey, as he started for the front door. "but who did it?" asked bert, managing to get his tongue in working order. "can't you get her back again?" asked nan. "our boat, i mean." "let me come with you!" pleaded freddie. "and i want to come, too!" added flossie. she seldom wanted to be left behind, when her twin brother went anywhere. "no, no! you children must stay here," said mr. bobbsey. "i will hurry down to the lake, and come right back. i'll tell you all about it, when i return." "but what could have happened?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "what would make our boat go adrift?" "oh, some of the ropes might have come loose," replied her husband. "or the ropes might even have been cut through, rubbing against the dock. the wind is blowing a little, and that is sending the boat out into the lake. i'll get one of our steam tugs, and go after her. it will not take long nor be hard work to bring her back." a number of small steam tugs were owned by mr. bobbsey for use in hauling lumber boats, and lumber rafts about lake metoka. some of these tugs were always at the dock, and one always had steam up, ready for instant use. "well, i hope you get the bluebird back all right," said bert. "we don't want to miss our trip, especially after we have asked harry and dorothy." "oh, it would be too bad to disappoint them," put in nan. "oh, i'll get the boat back all right," declared mr. bobbsey. flossie and freddie breathed sighs of relief. they were not worried now, for they knew their father would do as he said. fat dinah put her head in through the door of the sitting room. "am anyt'ing de mattah?" she asked. "i done heah yo' all talkin' in heah, an' i t'inks maybe dat honey lamb freddie done got his steam enjine squirtin' watah ag'in." "not this time, dinah," said mrs. bobbsey, for the cook was almost like one of the family. then the twins' mother explained what the trouble was. "i 'clar t' goodness!" dinah exclaimed. "suffin's always happenin' in dish yeah fambily." it was not a very serious happening this time. mr. bobbsey hurried down to his lumber yard in the darkness of the june evening. he was gone about an hour, when the telephone rang. on account of the little excitement flossie and freddie had been allowed to stay up, although it was long past their usual bedtime. "i'll answer it," said mrs. bobbsey, as the telephoned bell stopped jingling, for bert had started from his seat. "oh, it's papa," the twins' mother went on, after she had listened for a second after saying "hello!" "is the boat all right?" asked nan, anxiously. "yes," answered her mother, and then she turned to listen to the rest of mr. bobbsey's talk over the telephone. "papa went after the bluebird, and brought her safely back," mrs. bobbsey explained, when she had hung up the receiver. "he'll be here in a few minutes to tell us all about it. he telephoned from the lumber office after he had our boat safe." "oh, i'm so glad the boat's all right," said nan. "pooh, i knowed it would be--when papa went after it," said freddie, with a sleepy yawn. "you must say 'knew,' not 'knowed,' dear," spoke mamma bobbsey. "and now i think it is time for you and flossie to go to bed." neither of the smaller twins offered any objection. they were too sleepy to want to stay up and listen to the story of the bringing back of the bluebird. nan and bert were anxious to hear it, and mr. bobbsey came in soon after flossie and freddie were tucked in bed. he told the story of the drifting houseboat. "how did it break loose?" asked bert. "it didn't break loose," said his father. "some one untied the knots in the ropes." "untied!" cried mrs. bobbsey. "how did it happen?" "why, some one went aboard the boat," explained mr. bobbsey, "and i think it must have been some boys, for i found this cap," and he held up a gray one. "why!" cried bert when he saw it. "that's danny rugg's cap!" "i thought so," went on mr. bobbsey. "danny, and some of his chums, must have gone on the boat early this evening. they played about, as boys will, and some of them, either on purpose or accidentally, must have loosed the knots in the ropes before coming ashore. then the boat just drifted away after that." "those boys had no right to go on our boat!" said nan. "no, they had not," agreed her father, "but i'm glad there was no real damage done. the watchman saw the bluebird soon after she had drifted away from the dock, and he telephoned me. i went out in one of our tugs and soon brought her back. so you think this is danny rugg's cap, bert?" "i'm sure of it, yes, sir. danny wanted me to take him, and some of the other boys, on the boat, but i wouldn't." "i'm glad you remembered what i told you," spoke mr. bobbsey, and bert blushed with pleasure. "i'll give danny his cap in the morning," bert went on. "it may surprise him to know where he lost it." "i don't believe you can surprise that danny rugg very much," said mrs. bobbsey. the next morning, when bert took danny's cap to school with him, and handed it to the boy who had caused so much trouble, a queer look came over danny's face. "thanks," he said. "i was wondering where i left that. i guess i must have dropped it, when i was--playing football over in the fields." "no, you dropped it on our houseboat, the bluebird, just before you and the other fellows untied the ropes that let her go adrift," said bert. "and you'd better keep off her after this!" "huh! i'm not afraid of your father!" was all danny growled, as he stuffed his cap in his pocket, for he had worn another to school. when danny's chums learned that it was known who had set the boat adrift, they were rather frightened. when they realized the damage they might have done, they kept away from mr. bobbsey's lumber yard for a long time. one day, about a week after this, the bobbsey twins hurried home from school without stopping to play with any of their friends. "why are you in such a hurry?" asked grace lavine of nan. "we expect our cousins to-day," nan answered. "then we are going to get ready to go away in our houseboat." surely enough, when the twins reached home, there the cousins were to greet them--dorothy and harry, one from the seashore, and the other from the country. "oh, but i'm so glad to see you!" cried nan, as she hugged and kissed dorothy. "and i'm so glad to come," dorothy answered with a smile. "it was lovely of you to invite me to go on your boat." "we'll have a lot of fun," said bert to harry. "that's what we will," replied the boy from the country. "we're both awful glad to see you!" chimed in flossie, speaking both for herself and for freddie. "but we can't play with the fire engine." "not if we put water in," added freddie. "what in the world do they mean?" asked dorothy, wonderingly. "oh, i'll have to tell you," laughed nan, as she explained about the accident. the cousins had much to tell the twins, and talk about, and the twins had as much more to tell, so, for a time, there was a merry sound of talk and laughter. dorothy and harry had come by different trains, one from the seashore and the other from the country, but they had reached the bobbsey house at the same time. their schools had not yet closed, but as they were both well advanced in their studies, their parents had allowed them to leave their classes ahead of time, since they were both sure to "pass." "just think!" cried nan, when there was a moment of quiet. "in three days more our school will close, and then we'll go on the trip." "won't it be lovely!" murmured dorothy. i leave you to imagine all that took place in those three days. schooldays came to an end, and the bobbsey twins were among those at the heads of their classes. then came a packing-up time, and the bobbsey house was a scene of great excitement. trunks and boxes were taken aboard the bluebird, a man was hired to run the gasoline engine. plenty of good things to eat were stowed away in the kitchen lockers, as cupboards are called on a boat. at last all was ready for the start. snoop and snap, of course, were on hand, as was dinah. mr. bobbsey saw to it that his family, and the two cousins, were safely aboard, and then he gave the order to cast off the lines. the bluebird floated away from the dock, and out into the lake that was almost as blue as her name. "all aboard!" cried bert. "toot! toot!" whistled freddie, pretending to be an engine. "oh, look out! you're stepping on my doll!" screamed flossie, who had put her toy down on the deck a moment. "good-bye! good-bye!" called nan to grace lavine, and some others of her girl friends, who had come down to the dock to see them off. "good-bye!" "good-bye!" echoed the girls, waving their hands. "come on!" called bert to harry, as he started for the lower cabin. "what are you going to do?" asked the boy from the country. "let's get out our fishing poles. maybe we can catch something for dinner." "that's right!" agreed harry. slowly the bluebird moved out into the lake, for the gasoline engine was working. the houseboat trip of the bobbsey twins had begun, and many things were to happen before it was to end. chapter ix snoop and snap nan and dorothy, after waving good-bye to the girl friends on the dock, went down to the living room of the houseboat. there they found mrs. bobbsey and dinah putting away some of the things that had been brought on board at the last moment. "i 'clar t' goodness!" exclaimed the colored cook, "dish yeah houseboatin' am wuss dan movin'!" "oh, not quite as bad as that," said mrs. bobbsey, with a laugh. "but what are you going to do, nan, dear? do you like it, dorothy?" "oh! indeed i do," answered the "seashore cousin," as nan called her to distinguish her from harry, who lived in the country. "we are just going to our rooms for a minute, mother," nan answered. "i want to show dorothy my new sailor suit." every body on the houseboat was busy, even down to flossie and freddie, and the two little twins were busy having fun. mrs. bobbsey and dinah were engaged in putting to rights the different rooms, for there were a number on the bluebird, which was built for a large family. bert and harry were up on deck fishing, as the boat moved slowly through the blue waters of metoka lake. flossie and freddie, as i have said, were playing, the little girl with her doll, and freddie with a new toy his father had bought him. as for mr. bobbsey, he was down in the engine room with "captain white." mr. white was one of mr. bobbsey's men who had once been in charge of a tugboat, but one day there was an accident aboard, and mr. white was made lame for life. but mr. bobbsey liked his faithful employee, and kept him at work, and since mr. white could not do heavy tasks, he was allowed to do easy ones. mr. white was called "captain" by every one, though he was not really a captain. still, he knew a great deal about boats, the weather clouds and storms, and all things such as sea captains are supposed to know. when mr. bobbsey bought mr. marvin's houseboat, he at once began to think of some one who could sail it for him, and take care of the gasoline engine. naturally, he thought of captain white. so the bluebird was put in charge of captain white, who, you may be sure, was very glad to be on the water again, even if it was only in a slow-moving houseboat, and not in a swift steam tug. mr. bobbsey and captain white were down in the motor, or engine room together. mr. bobbsey was learning how to run the gasoline engine. i have told you how the bluebird was driven along through the water by a small engine. it was not a steam engine, such as are found in many boats, but a gasoline one, such as those in most automobiles. mr. bobbsey did not intend to sail very fast in the houseboat. in fact, for many days, he expected to just drift along, or push the boat with a long pole through some shallow creek, or in parts of the lake where it was not deep. when he wanted to move more quickly from place to place, there was the gasoline engine all ready to use. and captain white knew how to use it. mr. bobbsey came up out of the little motor room after a while, and watched his wife and dinah putting things away. the boat was moving down the lake. "oh, look at your face!" suddenly cried mrs. bobbsey. "what's the matter with it?" asked her husband, putting his hand up to his nose, as almost any person will do when you speak of his face. "it's all black!" went on mrs. bobbsey. "so are your hands. oh, richard! what have you been doing?" "learning to run the gasoline engine," he said. "i want to know how it works so that if we need to start any time when captain white is on shore, or asleep, i can do it." "i hope you won't start off any time when captain white is on shore," said mrs. bobbsey. "you don't know enough about a boat to run it without him." "very well, then. i promise i'll run the gasoline engine only when captain white is asleep," said mr. bobbsey, with a laugh. "and then, if anything happens, i'll only have to awaken him, and ask him what is wrong." "that's the best plan," said mrs. bobbsey, also laughing. "and now you had better go wash your face. some one might see you--looking like that." there was a nice little bathroom aboard the bluebird, and mr. bobbsey was soon splashing away with the water and soap. meanwhile mrs. bobbsey and dinah finished their work, and went up on deck. it was a very pleasant day, and with the sun shining down from a blue sky overhead, just warm enough, and not too hot, with a gentle breeze that hardly ruffled the surface of the lake, but which made it delightfully cool as the boat moved slowly along. in short, it was just perfect weather, as the bobbsey twins started off on their houseboat. nan and dorothy, having finished looking at each other's dresses, which always seems to delight girls, had come up on deck so that now the whole bobbsey family, and their country, and seashore cousin visitors also, were there. "have you caught any fish yet?" asked mr. bobbsey, walking over to where bert and harry were dangling their lines in the water. "not yet, but we've had two or three bites," said bert, hopefully. "i think you'll have better luck when we reach some quiet place, and anchor," mr. bobbsey went on. "at any rate, you need not worry, if you don't catch any fish. dinah will be able to give us something else for dinner, i think." "i think so, too," said harry with a laugh. "i can smell something cooking now." this was so. for, though the bobbseys had started early that morning, there was so much to do that it was now nearly noon. to them it seemed only an hour or so since they had started. dinah was a good cook. she kept one eye on the clock and the other on the things she was cooking. and she made up her mind that the meals would be on time, even if they were served on a houseboat. so it was the cooking of dinner that harry smelled. "oh, dorothy!" exclaimed nan, after a little while, during which the two girls looked across the lake to the distant shores they had left. "i must show you a new trick snap has learned." "what! another trick?" cried dorothy. "my! he knows a lot of them now. he certainly is a clever dog!" snap, as i have told you, used to belong to a circus before the bobbseys bought him, so perhaps learning tricks came easier to him than to most dogs. "yes, i taught him this trick myself," went on nan. "he will walk around on his hind legs, and carry a doll in his front paws, just like a nurse girl. when i dress him up in one of my old skirts and a jacket, he is too funny for anything! i'll make him do the trick now, only i won't dress him up, for i can't find the clothes he wears. i don't believe we brought them. but i'll make him carry the doll for you. here, snap!" called nan. the dog, who had been sleeping in a sunny spot on deck, near snoop, the black cat, sprang up, when he heard his name called. "where are you going to get a doll for him to carry?" asked dorothy. "i'll take flossie's. you'll let sister take your doll to make snap do a trick, won't you, dear?" she asked. "yes, nan," answered flaxen-haired flossie. "i just love to see snap do that trick! he carries the doll so cute!" flossie brought her doll to nan, and snap stood near, wagging his tail, for he seemed to know what was coming. "now, snap," said nan, pointing her finger at the dog, "i want you to show dorothy how you play nurse-girl, and carry a doll." "bow wow!" barked snap. that was what he always said when any one spoke to him. i suppose he knew what he meant, but no one else did. at any rate, he seemed to understand what was said to him. "up, snap! up!" called nan suddenly, and snap rose on his hind legs, holding his fore paws out in front of him, so nan could place the doll on them. this the little girl did, putting flossie's "sawdust baby" carefully across snap's paws. "now take the doll for a walk!" ordered nan, and, with another bark, off snap started, parading across the deck. "oh, isn't he too cute!" cried dorothy, laughing and clapping her hands. "oh, what a smart dog he is!" "isn't he!" agreed nan. "bert said i never could teach him to do a trick, but i did." "indeed you did!" agreed dorothy. "now come back here, snap!" ordered nan. but just then something happened. how it was no one knew exactly, but bert suddenly caught a fish. he was so surprised at getting a hard bite on his line, that he jerked it up quickly. something flashed in the sunlight, and, the next moment, a little sunfish landed flapping on the deck, right in front of the sleeping black cat snoop. "flop!" went the fish, and snoop awakened with a jump. up to her feet she leaped like a flash, and then she saw the fish. snoop was very fond of fish, and made a spring for the one bert had caught. but the fish was wet and slippery, and no sooner had snoop pounced on it with her claws than the fish slid across the deck of the houseboat. snoop slid after it, just as she often slid across the kitchen oilcloth, when she sprang for a piece of string that flossie or freddie would pull along to make the cat play. right across the deck, after the slippery fish slid snoop, and, the next instant, the poor cat had slid right off the deck, and fallen into the lake with a splash! chapter x down the creek "there goes snoop!" "oh, somebody get her!" nan and dorothy both shouted at the same time. as for bert, he was so surprised at having caught a fish, and at seeing the cat slide off the deck with it, that he could say nothing. it was almost the same with harry. he had jumped to his feet, however, and had run toward snoop, but too late. then, all of a sudden, snap, with a loud bark, gave one spring, and the next moment he had jumped right over the deck railing, under which snoop had slid. right over it went snap, and down into the lake. for he knew that snoop had fallen in, and, being the kind of a dog that asks nothing better than to save something, or somebody, from the water, snap was right on hand. "oh, my doll! my doll!" cried flossie. "snap is taking my doll into the lake with him! come back, snap! come back!" snap did not stop to listen. he had, indeed, taken flossie's doll with him. he had been holding it on his front paws as snoop slid overboard, and, as he gave a jump, snap did not come down on all four legs. he jumped while he was yet standing on his hind ones, and of course the doll went over the rail with him. "what has happened?" cried mrs. bobbsey, as she heard the screaming, and the splashes in the water. "have any of the children fallen in?" for she had gone to another part of the deck, with dinah, out of sight of the twins for a moment. now she came hurrying back, and a single look showed her that the children were all safe. "what has happened?" she asked again. "as nearly as i can figure out," said mr. bobbsey, "bert caught a fish, snoop tried to get it and fell into the water, and now snap has gone in after snoop." "and snap has my doll! she'll get all wet--she'll be drowned!" cried flossie. "i'll get her for you," offered harry. but just now they were all anxious to see what snap and snoop did. mr. and mrs. bobbsey and the children looked over the side of the houseboat. they saw the black cat swimming about in the lake, and snap, who was a fine water-dog, was paddling toward her. "hadn't you better stop the boat?" asked mrs. bobbsey, for the bluebird was slowly floating away from the dog and the cat. "yes, i guess it would be best," said mr. bobbsey. so he called out: "captain! captain white! stop the boat! something overboard!" down in the little motor room mr. white heard the shout, and he at once shut off the gasoline engine. then he came up on deck as fast as his lame leg would let him, to see what was wrong. "what's that you say?" he asked. "somebody fell overboard?" "the dog and the cat," explained mr. bobbsey. "i wonder how we can get them out? it's snoop and snap who are in the water." "and my doll!" added flossie. "i want my doll back!" "oh, yes, and flossie's doll," added mr. bobbsey. "i guess you'd better get in the rowboat, captain white. it will be easier to lift them out from there." "i'll do it, mr. bobbsey," the captain said, as he limped down stairs again. by this time snap had swum to where poor snoop was paddling about in the water. the dog gently took hold of the cat by the back of the neck, where her loose fur would give a good hold. then snap, holding snoop's head well up out of the water, started back for the houseboat. "good old snap!" called mr. bobbsey. snap wanted to bark and wag his tail, as he always did when any one spoke pleasantly to him, but he knew if he opened his mouth to bark now, he would have to drop snoop. and snap had hard enough work swimming, without trying to wag his tail. on he came toward the boat. by this time captain white had gotten into the small boat, which was pulled after the bluebird, by a rope, and he was rowing toward the dog. seeing that the smaller boat was nearer, snap swam toward that, instead of toward the larger one. he held snoop carefully up out of the water. "that's a good dog, snap!" called captain white, as snap came nearer. "i'll take her now." the engineer lifted poor, wet, dripping snoop into his boat. she crawled close up to captain white, for she was much frightened. after snap had delivered the cat he had rescued, he turned back again. "where are you going?" asked captain white. "don't you want to get in my boat, too, snap?" "bow wow!" barked snap. this time he could open his mouth, as he was not carrying a cat. "oh, he's going to get my doll!" cried flossie. "look, snap is after my doll!" and so he was. after taking snoop safely to the boat, snap had seen flossie's doll floating on the top of the water, and had swum toward that, just as he would have gone toward a floating stick, had there been one near. "ok, now he's got her!" cried the happy flossie. "now snap has my doll. goodie!" "and, as she's a wooden doll, the water won't hurt her," said nan, with a laugh, "everything is coming out all right." and so it seemed. taking the doll in his mouth, as he had taken the cat, snap swam back toward the small boat, where captain white waited for him, now and then petting poor snoop. just as the dog had done with the cat, so he did with the doll, giving her to the engineer of the bluebird. then, seeing that his work was all done, snap once more swam toward the big boat, not trying to get into the small one. "good dog, snap!" cried mr. bobbsey, as he leaned over to lift him in, for there were no steps by which to climb up the side of the bluebird. this time snap barked and wagged his tail, and then he gave himself a big shake to get rid of the water. he sent a regular shower of spray all about. "come, girls!" cried mrs. bobbsey with a laugh, "this is no place for us. we haven't our bathing suits on!" and she, with nan and dorothy, ran back out of the way of the scattering drops from snap's shaggy coat. a little later captain white rowed up with snoop and flossie's doll, and the little girl at once said she was going to put a dry dress on the doll, so she wouldn't "take cold." "well," said mr. bobbsey, when the excitement had died down. "that's over, at any rate. all that over one little fish!" "that's so--my fish started it all!" said bert. "i wonder what became of it?" and he looked at his empty hook, dangling from the line of his pole. "the fish dropped off," said harry. "i saw it. but it was only a little one. it wouldn't have been any good." "poor snoop!" said mrs. bobbsey. "all your trouble for nothing! you didn't get the fish." "oh, i'll soon catch some more for her, won't we, harry?" bert asked. "that's what we will," answered the country cousin. "now if yo' folks am all done fallin' ovahbo'd i'se ready t' gib yo' all suffin t' eat," said dinah, coming up from the dining-room. "and i think we are ready to eat," said mrs. bobbsey. "this traveling on the water has given me an appetite." "i guess it has all of us," spoke mr. bobbsey with a laugh, as he noticed the eager, hungry looks on the faces of the children. "and give snoop and snap something good and hot, so they won't take cold," suggested nan. "though i don't believe they will this weather, it's so warm." "i'm going to give my dollie hot chocolate," said flossie, who, by this time, had put a dry dress on her pet. the meal was a merry one, though at first the children, especially flossie and freddie, were too excited to eat. then, too, it was so strange eating on a boat that was moving through the water, for the engine had been started again. several times, during the meal, the two smaller twins jumped up from the table to run to the windows and look out over the lake. at last their mother said: "now, flossie and freddie, you must sit still and finish your dinner. otherwise you may be ill. you'll have plenty of time to see things after you leave the table." snap was soon dry, from lying in the sun, and, a little later, snoop was as warm and fluffy as before she had fallen into the lake. she picked out a warm spot on deck near snap, for they had been the best of friends since the first day they had met, when snoop came back from her long trip to cuba, as i have told you in another book. all the rest of that day the houseboat traveled over lake metoka. the children sat on heck, and watched other boats pass them. some of them were loaded with lumber for mr. bobbsey. others were pleasure boats, and those on board waved their hands to the bobbsey twins and their cousins. "are we going to travel all night?" asked bert of his father, when dinah called that supper was ready. "no, we are going to anchor soon. we will go a little nearer shore first, though." "and when will we start through lemby creek toward lake romano?" "oh, in a day or so, i fancy." it was such a pleasant evening, that even the little twins were allowed to stay up on deck past their usual bedtime, looking at the twinkling stars, and the lights of other boats on the lake. when flossie and freddie did get to bed, they did not go to sleep at once. it was very strange to them, sleeping on a boat in the water. finally the two little people dozed off, and then the older folks went to bed. in the middle of the night freddie woke up. at first he could not remember where he was, and he wondered at the queer rocking motion of the boat, for a little wind was ruffling the lake. suddenly there came a loud toot. "mamma! papa! i heard something!" cried freddie, sitting up. "yes, dear. it was only the whistle of another boat," said his mother, who was in the room next to him. "go to sleep again." freddie did. "well, i sure am going to catch some fish to-day," said bert, when he and harry went up on deck next morning, after breakfast. "we'll try, anyhow," harry said. "we're nearer shore now, and the fishing ought to be better. i'll get my line.". whether it was on account of the bait they used, or because the fish were not plentiful, the boys did not know, but they did not get even one bite. anyhow, they had fun. the bluebird went slowly across the lake. the bobbseys were in no hurry, and they wanted to enjoy the pleasant weather. for three days they sailed over the blue waters, and then mr. bobbsey told captain white to steer toward lemby creek. "we'll go through the creek into lake romano," said the twins' father. "that is a much larger lake. we'll spend most of our houseboat vacation there. we will also visit the big waterfall." "that will be lovely!" exclaimed dorothy. though she lived near the sea, she also loved inland waters, such as rivers and lakes. the houseboat moved so slowly, and was such a safe craft, that bert and harry were allowed to steer at times, when mr. bobbsey or captain white stood near them in case of any danger. the two boy cousins had taken turns steering, until the bluebird was close to the place where lemby creek emptied into lake metoka. "you'd better let me take the steering wheel, now," said mr. bobbsey to bert. "there is a little current from the creek into the lake, and we don't want to run ashore." in a little while the houseboat was safely in the creek. this stream of water was narrow, though it was deep enough to float the bluebird easily. the shores were so close, at times, that the tree branches overhung the deck, and brushed the rails. "i could almost jump ashore," said harry. "but you mustn't try it!" cautioned his aunt. "you might fall in, and snap couldn't rescue you as easily as he did snoop or the doll." as the houseboat went slowly around a bend in the creek, nan, who stood in front, near her father, suddenly uttered a cry, and pointed toward shore. "what is it?" asked mr. bobbsey. "there's that boy--will watson!" spoke nan. "you know--the one who liked our boat so," and she pointed to the strange lad who worked for mr. hardee. the boy was walking along the shore of the creek, a fish pole over his shoulder. "oh, let's ask him how to catch fish!" proposed bert. "we haven't had any luck at all!" chapter xi the mean man certainly it seemed a good place to fish, in lemby creek, for there were many shady pools near the banks--pools that looked as though fish swam in them, just waiting to be caught. as harry and bert looked more closely at the boy nan had pointed out to them, they saw that he carried a string of fish, as well as the pole. "oh, he's caught some!" cried bert. "let's ask how he does it." "and where he caught them," suggested harry. "i will," agreed bert. "hey there, will!" he called. "where'd you get the fish?" the farm boy, who had seen the houseboat, and who was hurrying toward her, waved his hand as bert called to him. then, as he came nearer across the green meadow through which the creek ran, he shouted: "plenty of fish all around you. just throw in from the boat, and you'll get all you want." "what kind of bait do you use?" asked mr. bobbsey, for neither bert nor harry had thought to inquire about that, and the right kind of bait is as much needed in catching fish, as is water itself. "grasshoppers are best just now," answered will. "and we've been fishing with worms!" said bert. "no wonder!" "oh, worms are all right most times," will went on. "but the fish are hungry for grasshoppers now. i'll give you some. i've got lots left." he came to the edge of the creek, and mr. bobbsey, who was steering the boat, sent it in close to shore. "we might as well tie up here for the night, i think," he said. "that will give you boys a chance to talk to will, and learn how to catch fish." a little later the houseboat was rubbing along the grassy bank, and the water was so deep close to shore that there was really no need of putting out the board, called the "gangplank," for any one to get off. mr. bobbsey, knowing that flossie and freddie could not make the little jump needed to take them ashore, called to captain white to run out a small board instead of the regular large one. "come on, harry!" called bert. "we'll get some of those grasshoppers." he started down the stairs leading from the deck, intending to go ashore, but his mother touched him on the arm, and said, in a low voice: "why don't you ask that boy to come on board?" "why?" asked bert. "well, i was just going to give you children some of the corn muffins dinah has just baked, and perhaps will would like---" "oh, of course! now i understand!" cried bert. "of course. i say, will!" he went on, calling down from the upper deck, "can't you come aboard? we're going to have some of dinah's corn muffins, and maybe you'd like to sample one." somewhat to the surprise of mrs. bobbsey, as well as to the wonderment of bert and harry, will did not seem eager to accept the invitation. "i'd like to come on board, very much," he said, looking back of him, and on all sides, as though he feared some one was after him. "but you see i haven't got much time. i ought to be back at the farm now. mr. hardee set me to hoeing a patch of corn, and i'm supposed to be back in time to feed the horses before supper. and it's almost supper time now." "well, we don't want you to be late," said mrs. bobbsey. "here, bert," she said, as dinah came out of the kitchen with a big plate of muffins, "you take some of these to will, and you can walk along a little way with him, and talk about fishing. then he won't be late. "but don't go too far," she added, "for supper will soon be ready." "we won't!" promised bert. taking some of the delicious corn muffins, the two boys hurried ashore, snap, the dog, barking joyously, bounding along with them. flossie and freddie did not care to go ashore just then, as the little girl twin was playing with her doll, and her brother was trying to make snoop do one of the tricks that the circus lady had taught the cat in cuba. mrs. bobbsey went down to the dining-room, to talk to dinah about the evening meal, while mr. bobbsey and captain white got out the ropes with which to tie the houseboat fast to some trees on the bank of the creek. meanwhile bert and harry walked along with will. "have some muffins," invited bert politely, passing his new friend some of the corn cakes that dinah knew so well how to bake. "thanks! they're good!" said will, as he bit into one. "say, you have some fine fish!" exclaimed harry, half enviously. "where'd you catch them?" "oh, up the creek aways--near where i was hoeing corn. you can have 'em, if you want 'em." "what! do you mean to give them to us?" asked bert in surprise. "after all the work you had catching them?" "oh, it wasn't any work catching 'em," said will quickly. "it was fun. but it won't be any fun taking 'em home, for mr. hardee will be mad." "why?" asked harry, as he began eating a second muffin. "well, he'll say i was catching fish instead of hoeing corn. but i caught all these in the noon hour, when i'm supposed to have a little time off. but he wouldn't believe that, so there's no use taking the fish home. you can have 'em. there's some pretty big sunnies, and a couple o' nice perch." "sure you don't want them?" asked bert. "no. i'd be glad to give 'em to you. and here's some grasshoppers i didn't use. they'll be good to fish with to-morrow." "thanks," said bert, as he took the tin box will held out. inside could be heard a queer little "ticking" noise, as the grasshoppers leaped up against the cover. "say, these are sure some fine fish!" exclaimed will. "oh, you'll catch just as nice ones to-morrow," the country boy said. "i'll have to run now, or i'll be late at the farm." "good-bye!" called bert and harry as will hurried off along the edge of the creek. "see you to-morrow, maybe." will had no idea that he would see his friends then. he knew he had a hard day's work in prospect for the next day--weeding a large patch of onions that were so far away from the creek that he would have no chance, even at his noon hour, of going down to the water for a cool little swim. will did not know what queer things were going to happen to him very soon, nor did any of the bobbseys realize what a part they were to play in the life of poor, friendless will watson. "he's a nice boy, isn't he?" asked harry of bert, as they turned back toward the boat, with their fish and bait. "yes, i like him a lot. it's too bad he has to work so hard on the farm." "yes, it sure is." talking of the luck they expected to have the next day, fishing, the cousins soon reached the bluebird. there they found their father and captain white waiting for them. "we've decided to move the boat farther down the creek before we tie up for the night," said mr. bobbsey, "but we didn't want to go before you boys came back." "are you going to start up the engine again?" asked bert. "if you are, i wish you'd let me try to do it." "no, you are too small to go near gasoline motors," said his father. "besides, we are not going to use the engine. we'll just push the boat along with poles from the bank. we're not going very far, but your mother thought it would be nicer to spend the night in a more open place." "yes," said mrs. bobbsey, "i thought perhaps some animals might jump out of the trees on our deck." the trees on shore were very close to the boat, some of the branches overhanging the railing. at the mention of animals, bert's eyes opened wider. "say, if i had a gun i could shoot them, if they came aboard," he said, his eyes glistening. "nonsense!" exclaimed his mother. "i'd rather have an animal on board than let you have a gun. you might get shot." "i--i could squirt water on 'em with my fire engine!" shouted freddie, who had given up trying to make snoop do any tricks. "oh, we had enough of your engine, little fat fireman," said mr. bobbsey with a laugh. "now then, if you're all ready, we'll move the boat." it was rather hard work to start the bluebird, but once it had begun to move, it went more easily through the water. captain white had one pushing pole, mr. bobbsey another, and bert and harry used one between them. soon the houseboat moved out from the narrow part of the creek, and from under the trees, to a place where wide meadows were found on either side. a little farther, going around a bend in the stream, the bobbseys came in sight of a farmhouse, a barn and several other buildings near it. "oh, look!" cried nan. "somebody lives there." "yes, that's mr. hardee's farm, i think," said mr. bobbsey. "we can tie up our boat here, and then, if we want some milk or eggs, we can easily get them." "i needs some aigs," spoke dinah. "done used de lastest one in dem muffins." "then we'll make the boat fast here," decided mr. bobbsey. "with your corn muffins, dinah, and the fish will gave us, we'll have a fine supper. as soon as the boat is fast you and harry can clean the fish, bert." beyond the broad expanse which lay between the wide meadows, the creek had narrowed again opposite the farmhouse and barn. in fact, it was so narrow, that if there had been another houseboat on the stream, there would have been trouble for the bluebird to pass. this narrow part was not, however, very long, and beyond it the creek broadened out again. mr. bobbsey and captain white had just finished fastening the ropes from the boat to some stakes driven into the ground, when mrs. bobbsey, who had come up from the dining-room, called out: "oh, look, richard!" "what is it?" asked her husband. "that man! see! i'm afraid he is going to give that boy a whipping. and see, it's will--the boy who gave bert the fish!" mr. bobbsey looked to where his wife pointed, and saw, coming out of the barn, a grizzled farmer, leading by the arm a boy whom mr. bobbsey at once recognized as will watson. keeping a tight grip on the lad's arm with one hand, the farmer raised his other hand, in which was a long horsewhip. then he cried: "i'll teach you to waste your time goin' fishin'! i'll teach you! th' idea o' fishin' when i set you to hoein' corn! wastin' my time! i'll learn you!" "oh, but, mr. hardee!" cried poor will. "i only fished in the noon hour when i'm not supposed to work!" "not supposed to work!" cried the mean man, as he brought the whip down on will's shoulders. "you're supposed t' work here all th' while i tell you--'cept when you're asleep! i'll teach you!" and again the cruel whip swished down. "oh, richard!" cried mrs. bobbsey faintly, as she covered her eyes with her hands. "can't you stop that?" chapter xii the wire fence mr. bobbsey did not waste any time talking. with a run and a jump he was on shore, and then he started across the meadow toward the place where the mean farmer was whipping will, who was crying out loud. for the cruel whip hurt. "hold on a minute, mr. hardee!" exclaimed mr. bobbsey, when he was near enough to make himself heard. back on the deck of the houseboat mrs. bobbsey, the twins, their cousins and dinah watched and waited to see what would happen. "you talkin' to me?" sharply demanded the mean farmer of mr. bobbsey. "yes, mr. hardee. i asked you to wait a minute before you keep on whipping that boy. i happened to hear part of what he said, and i think he is in the right." "in th' right? what do you mean?" "i mean i think he tells the truth, when he says he fished only during the noon hour. we saw him as he came along, and he gave the fish he had caught to my boy." "oh, he did, hey?" exclaimed mr. hardee. "i was wonderin' what become of 'em. give 'em away, did he? wa'al, he knowed better'n to bring 'em here. i knowed he'd been wastin' his time. when i set a boy to hoein' corn, an' he comes home smellin' of fish, i know what he's been doin' jest th' same as when i see a boy's head wet on a hot day i know he's been in swimmin'! you can't fool me. he's frittered away his time, when he ought t' be hoein' corn, an' now i'm goin' to take it out of him!" again he raised the whip, and struck the boy. "oh, please don't!" begged will. "honest i didn't fish except at noon hour, an' i ate my lunch in one hand, and fished with the other, so i wouldn't waste any time. i only took half an hour, instead of three-quarters you said i could have at noon, and i went right to work hoein' corn again." "humph! that's easy enough to say," spoke mr. hardee, "but i don't believe you. i told you i'd whip you if you went fishin' ag'in, an' i'm goin' to do it!" again the lash fell. "please don't!" begged will, trying to break loose. but the angry farmer held him in too firm a grip. "look here!" exclaimed mr. bobbsey with flashing eyes. "i believe that boy is telling the truth!" "wa'al, i don't," snapped the mean farmer. "an' i'm goin' to give him a good lesson." "not that way, mr. hardee!" cried mr. bobbsey, taking a step forward. "huh! you seem to know my name," said the farmer, stopping in his beating of the boy, "but i don't know you." "my name is bobbsey," said the twins' lather, and the farmer started. "i'm in the lumber business over at lakeport. i guess you bought some lumber of me, didn't you, for your house." "wa'al, s'posin' i did?" asked mr. hardee. "i paid you for it, didn't i?" "yes, i think so." "wa'al, then that don't give you no right to interfere with me! this is my hired boy, an' i can do as i please with him." "oh, no, you can't, mr. hardee!" said mr. bobbsey quickly. "what's that? i can't? wa'al, i'll show you! stand back now, i'm goin' to give him a good threshin'!" again he raised the whip, but it did not fall on poor, timid, shrinking will. for mr. bobbsey snatched it away from the angry farmer's hand and flung it far to one side. "here! what'd you mean by that?" demanded mr. hardee, his face more flushed than ever with anger. "i mean you're not going to beat that boy!" replied the twins' father. "he hasn't done anything to deserve it, and i'm not going to stand by and see him abused. is he your hired boy?" "i took him out of the poorhouse--nobody would hire him. he's bound out to me until he's of age, an' i can do as i please with him." "oh, no, you can't," said mr. bobbsey. "i happen to know something of the law. you have no right to beat this boy, and if you try to do it now, or again, and i hear of it, i'll make a complaint against you. don't you strike him again, especially when he hasn't done anything." mr. hardee seemed so surprised that he did not know what to say. his grip on will's arm slipped off, and will quickly stepped to one side. there were tears in his eyes, and on his face. "i believe this boy was telling the truth," said mr. bobbsey. "even if he did fish a little during the time you call yours, that would be no excuse for using a horsewhip on him." "i tell you he's bound out to me, and i can do as i please with him!" cried mr. hardee. "no, you can't," said mr. bobbsey. "you have no right to be cruel, even if he is a poor boy, and is bound out to you. haven't you any folks, will?" he asked. "no--no, sir," was the half-sobbed answer. "no near folks. i come from th' poorhouse, just as he says. but i've got an uncle somewhere out west. he's a miner. if he knew where i was, he'd look after me." "where is your uncle?" asked mr. bobbsey. "i--i got his address, but i can't write very good, or i'd send him a letter." "let me have his address," went on mr. bobbsey. "and i'll see what i can do." "look here!" cried the farmer. "i won't have you interferin' in my business! you ain't got a right to!" "every one has a right to stop a poor boy from being unjustly beaten," said the twins' father. "will, you get me that address. i'll be here a day or so, in my houseboat, and you can bring it down to me. do you think you can find it, and let me know where your uncle lives?" "yes, sir." "then do it." "now you look-a-here!" began mr. hardee, "i won't have you, nor anybody else, interferin' with my hired help. i---" "i'm not interfering except to stop you from horsewhipping a boy," said mr. bobbsey. "any one has a right to do that." "humph!" was all the farmer said, as he over and picked up the horsewhip mr. bobbsey had taken from him. the twins' father thought perhaps the farmer was going to use it again, but he did not. mr. hardee turned to will and said: "get along up to the house, and eat your supper! there's lots o' work to be done afore dark. an' if i catch you fishin' any more, i'll make you---" "but i wasn't fishin' except at the noon hour," the boy interrupted. "that's enough of your talk!" the farmer cried as he walked toward the barn. "go on!" mr. bobbsey went back to the houseboat. "it's all right," he said cheerfully to his wife and children. "i made him stop hurting will." "did he--did he hit him very hard?" asked freddie, for punishment of that sort was totally unknown in the bobbsey home. of course the children did not always do right, but they were punished by having some pleasure taken away from them, and never whipped. "no, will wasn't much hurt," said mr. bobbsey, for he did not want his children, or their cousins, to worry too much over what they had seen. yet mr. bobbsey could not help but think that the cruel lash must have hurt will more than the boy himself showed. "he--he won't whip him any more, will he?" asked little flossie. "no, not any more," said mr. bobbsey, for he had made up his mind he would, if necessary, take the boy away from the mean farmer before any more whipping could be done. "suppah am ready!" called dinah from the kitchen. "an' i done wants yo' all t' come right away fo' it gits cold!" "we're coming!" cried mrs. bobbsey. "and after supper we'll sit on deck and sing songs." she wanted to do something to take out of the minds of the children the memory of the unpleasant scene they had just observed. "i wish it would hurry up and come morning," said bert. "why?" asked his father. "so harry and i can go fishing. i'm sure we'll catch some with the grasshoppers for bait." "well, i hope you have good luck," laughed mr. bobbsey. the supper was much enjoyed. the fish, which will had given the bobbseys, made a fine meal, with the corn muffins and other things dinah cooked. after supper they all sat out on the deck of the houseboat, enjoying the beautiful june evening. from the farm of mr. hardee came the sounds of mooing cows, and whinnying horses, with an occasional grunt of the pigs, or the barking of dogs. nothing was seen of the farmer himself, or of poor will. "can you do anything for him?" asked mrs. bobbsey of her husband, after the children had gone to bed that night. "i hope so, yes. if, as he says, he has an uncle somewhere in the west, and i can get his address, i'll write to him, and ask him to look after will. the boy needs a good home." "indeed he does. oh, i'm so glad you didn't let him get that whipping!" "i'll help him all i can," promised mr. bobbsey. the twins' father rather hoped that the hired boy might slip down to the houseboat that evening, with his uncle's address, but nothing was seen of him. in the morning a strange thing happened. mr. bobbsey and captain white decided that it would be better to take the boat a little farther down lemby creek, and tie it fast to the bank in a more shady spot than the one opposite the farm buildings. "it will be better fishing in the shade, too," mr. bobbsey said to the boys. so the gasoline engine was started, and the boat started off. it had not gone very far, though, before mr. bobbsey, who was steering, called to captain white to shut off the engine. "what's the matter?" asked captain white. "you're going farther than this; aren't you?" "i wanted to, yes. but we can't go any farther." "why not?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "nothing has happened to the boat, has there, richard?" "no, not to the boat. but look there!" and mr. bobbsey pointed ahead. stretched across a narrow part of lemby creek was a strong wire fence, fastened to posts driven into the bottom of the stream. the bluebird could go no farther on her voyage. the fence stopped her. as mr. bobbsey, the twins and the cousins looked at the strong wire fence, they saw mr. hardee come along the shore. he looked at the houseboat, and shook his fist, grinning in no pleasant fashion. "i guess you won't go no farther!" he cried. "i've put a stop to your fancy trip all right! huh!" chapter xiii the runaway boy "oh, papa, can't we go on to lake romano?" asked nan, as she came up on deck with dorothy, and saw the big wire fence stretched across the creek to stop them. "it doesn't look so--unless we can fly over that," and her brother bert pointed to the metal strands that went from post to post. "it does seem to hinder us," said mr. bobbsey. he was trying to think of what would be best to do. he looked at mr. hardee, who seemed to think it all a fine joke. "papa, i know how we can get through," eagerly said little freddie, who was holding snoop in his arms. the big black cat was almost too much of a load for the little boy, but freddie wanted her to do some tricks, and he held her so she would not run away. "i know how to get past that fence," the little twin went on. "how?" asked his father, rather absentmindedly. "how?" "just cut the wires!" said freddie, as though no one but himself had thought of that. "if i had one of those cutter-things the telephone man had, when he climbed the pole in front of our house, i could cut the wires and we could go right on up the creek." "yes, i suppose so, my little fat fireman," said mr. bobbsey. "but i don't believe the man who put that fence up there would let us cut the wires." "it's queer," said mrs. bobbsey. "that fence wasn't across the creek before, was it?" "i don't know," answered her husband. "it looks as though it had been put up lately--even last night, perhaps. but i haven't been along the creek in some time, so i can't be sure." "it wasn't here last week, that's certain," captain white spoke. "for i was up here then fishing, and i didn't see it. i fancy that mr. hardee knows something about it." "i shouldn't wonder," agreed mr. bobbsey. "now the question is: what are we to do? we can't go on through the fence, and we can't very well go around it, for the bluebird won't float on dry ground. and i don't want to go back. this is the only way to get to lake romano." "i know what to do, papa," spoke flossie. "we can ask that man to take down the wires, if freddie can't cut them with the cutter-thing." "yes, i suppose we could do that," mr. bobbsey said, slowly. by this time mr. hardee had come closer to the houseboat, which had drifted near to the shore. "will you take that fence down, and let us go past?" asked mr. bobbsey, as politely as he could. "no, i won't!" snapped mr. hardee in reply. "no!" "but we want to go on down the creek," explained the twins' father, "and we can't get past the fence." "i know you can't!" said mr. hardee with a chuckle. "that's what i put it up there for. i strung it last night--me and my hired men. i didn't think you'd hear, and you didn't. give you a sort of surprise, didn't it?" "it certainly did," and mr. bobbsey's voice was stern. "and i want to say that you had no right to stretch that fence across the creek to stop my boat. you had no right!" "oh, yes, i had!" said mr. hardee with a sneer. "this is a public creek," went on mr. bobbsey. "maybe it is, in certain places," said the mean farmer, "but here the creek runs through my land. i own on both sides of it, and i own the creek itself. if i don't want to let anybody go through in a boat, i don't have to." "oh, so you own the creek here, do you?" asked mr. bobbsey, rather surprised. "yes, i do." "and you aren't going to let us pass?" "nope! that's why i strung that fence last night. it's a good, strong fence, and if you run into it, and try to bust it i'll have th' law on ye!" "oh, you needn't worry that i'll do anything like that," spoke mr. bobbsey. "but why won't you let us pass?" "because of what you did last night--interferin' between me and my help. you wouldn't let me give will watson the threshin' he deserved, an' i won't let you pass through my creek. i want you to back up your boat, too, and go back where you come from. i own that part of the creek where you are now." "come now, be reasonable," suggested mr. bobbsey. "i stopped you from beating that boy only because you were in the wrong. if you'll just think it over, you'll say so yourself. and, just for that, you shouldn't stop my boat from going up the creek." "well, i have stopped you, and i'm going to keep on stoppin' you!" cried mr. hardee, again shaking his fist. "you can't get past my fence. it's a good strong fence." "i--i could cut it, if i had one of those cutter-things, the telephone man had," said freddie, in his clear, high voice. "hush, freddie dear," said his mother. "leave it to papa." mr. bobbsey was silent a moment, and then he went on: "and so you strung that fence in the night, and won't let my houseboat pass, just because i stopped you from beating that boy?" "that's it," the mean farmer said. "and for more than that, too." "what do you mean?" asked mr. bobbsey quickly. "i mean that you made that boy, will watson, run away." "run away!" exclaimed mrs. bobbsey, in surprise. "yes, run away," repeated the farmer. "he didn't come down to breakfast this mornin', and when i went to call him to do the chores, he was gone. and, what's more, i think you had somethin' to do with him runnin' away," went on the angry farmer. "you put a lot o' notions in his head. you're to blame!" "now look here!" exclaimed mr. bobbsey. "we don't know any more about that boy running away than you do, mr. hardee. if he has gone, i'm sorry for him, for he may have a hard time. i'm not sorry i stopped you from beating him, though. perhaps he is around the farm somewhere." "no, he isn't!" insisted the farmer. "he's gone. what clothes he had he took with him. he's run away, and it's your fault, too. i put up that fence last night to pay you back for interferin', an' now i'm glad i did, for you're to blame for will runnin' off." "i tell you that you are mistaken," went on mr. bobbsey. "but if you feel that way about it, there is no use talking to you. then you won't take down that wire fence and let us pass?" "no, i won't, and i order you, and your boat, out of my part of the creek. go back where you come from. you can't go through to lake romano this way!" mr. bobbsey turned and looked at the wire fence. it certainly was a strong one, and the farmer and his hired men had worked well during the night. it was far enough off from where the bluebird then was so that the pounding on the posts, to drive them into the mud of the creek bottom, was not heard. "well, i guess there's nothing for us to do but to go back," said mr. bobbsey. he felt very sorry, when he saw the looks of disappointment on the faces of the twins and their cousins. "papa," said freddie again, "if i had one of those wire-cutter things, i could snip that wire like the telephone men did." "yes, but we haven't one, little fat fireman, and we would have no right to use it if we had," said mr. bobbsey. "no, i must think of some other way." "it's too bad," said mrs. bobbsey. "i wonder what has become of that poor runaway boy?" she asked. "i don't know," answered mr. bobbsey. but, had he only known it, will watson was nearer than any one suspected. chapter xiv off again "what are we going to do?" asked mrs. bobbsey, as she stood at the side of her husband on the deck of the houseboat. mr. bobbsey was looking at the wire fence, as though trying to find a way to get past it--either under it, or over it, or to one side or the other of it. of course he did not think it wise to try little freddie's plan of breaking the wire with a "cutter thing" such as the telephone men carried. "well," said mr. bobbsey, after a bit, "i guess the only thing for us to do is to go back, until we are anchored in some part of lemby creek that doesn't belong to mr. hardee." "does he really own this water?" asked bert. "well, he says so, and i have no doubt but what he does," said mr. bobbsey. "if he owns land on both sides of the creek, naturally he owns the creek, too." "and we can't go up or down it?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "not unless he lets us." "what about the fishes?" asked bert "he can't stop them from swimming up and down." "no, he can't do that," agreed his father, with a smile. "then can he stop harry and me from catching fish?" bert wanted next to know. "not if you fish somewhere else than in his waters," spoke the twins' father. "the best thing for us to do is to go back where we were at first, near where the creek runs into lake metoka. there we can anchor for a time." "but how are we going to get to lake romano?" asked nan. "i want to show dorothy the big waterfall." "well, perhaps we can get there a little later," her father said. "just now mr. hardee has the best of us, and we'll have to do as he says. so, captain white, i guess we'll have to back up the boat, as we can't go past the fence." "if i had one of those wire-cutter things," began freddie, "i could snip that wire as easy as anything." he seemed to think of nothing else. "oh, you and flossie had better go play with snap, or snoop," suggested bert with a laugh. "or you can come and watch harry and me fish. we're going to as soon as we get back aways." "i'm going to fish, too," declared freddie, eagerly. the creek, near mr. hardee's farm, was so narrow that the houseboat could not be turned around in it, and it had to go backward. this was easy, since the bluebird was something like a ferry boat, built to go backward or forward. the twins were a little sad as they saw their boat backing up, but it could not be helped. "we'll have a good time fishing, anyhow," said harry. "that's right," agreed bert. "i wonder if that boy will took his fishing rod with him? he'd probably need it, if he has run away, and is going out west to find his uncle." "why would he need a fish-rod?" asked nan. "to catch fish to eat," her brother said. "he'll have to have something, and fish are the easiest to get. i almost wish i had gone with him. it will be lots of fun." "oh, but it will be very hard, too," said mrs. bobbsey. "think of the lonely nights he'll have to spend, and perhaps with no place to sleep, but on the hard ground. and when it rains---" "i guess i'll stay home!" laughed bert, as though he had ever had an idea of running away from home. slowly the bluebird made her way backward until she had passed some posts near the edge of the water. these posts marked the boundary line of mr. hardee's farm. he did not own beyond them, and captain white said the creek was public property there. "then we'll anchor here," decided mr. bobbsey, as he steered the houseboat toward shore. "then i think i'll take a little trip back to lakeport." "and leave us alone?" cried mrs. bobbsey. "only for a short while. i want to see some friends of mine, and find out if mr. hardee really has the right to fence off lemby creek. i don't believe he has." "will you be back to-night?" "oh, yes. it isn't far to lakeport. i can walk across the fields and go by trolley." "i do hope you can find some way of getting past the fence," said mrs. bobbsey. "it would be too bad to have our trip spoiled." as mr. bobbsey was getting ready to go back to town, dinah came out of the dining-room, looking rather puzzled. "what is the matter?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "are you worried because we can't get those eggs from mr. hardee?" "well, yessum, dat's partly it," said the fat cook. "we's got t' hab eggs, an' other things too." "bert and harry can walk to the village," said mr. bobbsey. "it isn't far from here. i'll go part way with them. so don't worry, dinah." "oh, dat isn't all dat's worryin' me, massa bobbsey. but did yo' say de chillums could hab dem corn muffins whut was left over?" and she looked at mrs. bobbsey. "the corn muffins that were left over?" repeated the twins' mother. "no, i said nothing about them. and they know they should not eat between meals without asking me. why, are the muffins gone, dinah?" "yessum; fo' ob 'em. i put 'em on a plate on de dinin' room table, but now dey's gone." "maybe snap took them," suggested mr. bobbsey. "snoop wouldn't, for she doesn't like such things. but snap is very fond of them." freddie, who heard the talk, hurried over to where the dog was lying asleep in a patch of sunlight, and opened his mouth. "no, snap didn't take 'em," said freddie. "there aren't any crumbs in his teeth." "well, maybe you can tell that way, but i doubt it," laughed mr. bobbsey. "perhaps you forgot where you put the muffins, dinah, or maybe there were none left." "oh, i'se shuah i done put 'em on de table," said the fat cook, "an' i'se shuah dey was some left. i'll go look some mo', though." as there were a few other things besides eggs that were needed for the kitchen of the houseboat, bert and harry planned to take a basket, and go to the nearest village store for them. they would walk across the fields with mr. bobbsey. "we'll fish when we come back," said bert. "and get enough for dinner and supper," added harry. "better get enough for one meal first," suggested nan, with a laugh. the houseboat was now made fast to the bank of the creek some distance away from the wire fence mr. hardee had stretched across the stream. it was not to be seen, nor were the farm buildings. the last the bobbseys had observed of the farmer was as he stood near his wire fence, shaking his fist at the houseboat. mr. bobbsey did not just know how he was going to get past the fence with the bluebird, or how he could get mr. hardee to cut the wire. the twins' father decided to ask the advice of some friends. meanwhile bert and harry had reached the store, and had brought the eggs, and other groceries, back to dinah. "did you find those corn muffins?" asked bert. "because, if you did, harry and i would like some. may we have one, mother?" "if dinah has them, yes." "but i cain't find 'em!" complained the fat cook. "dem muffins hab jest done gone an' hid de'se'ves." "oh, i guess we ate them up without knowing it," bert said, with a laugh. "never mind, dinah, a piece of cake, or pie will do just as well." "go 'long wif yo'!" cried the cook with a laugh. "i'se got suffin else t' do 'cept make cake an' pies fo' two hungry boys. yo' jest take a piece ob bread an' butter 'till dinnah am ready." "all right," agreed bert. "it won't be long until twelve o'clock. come on, harry, and we'll see what luck we have fishing." "i'm ready," was harry's answer. "i'll get you the bread and butter," offered nan, and she did, adding some jam to the bread, which was a delightful surprise to the two boys. "i want to fish, too," said freddie. "all right, i'll fix you a line," offered bert. "but be careful you don't fall in. a fish might pull you overboard." soon the three boys were dangling their lines over the rail of the bluebird, while nan helped her mother with some of the rooms, which, even though they were on a boat, needed "putting to rights." dinah was busy in the kitchen. by this time mr. bobbsey had reached lakeport by the trolley. he was going to his lumber office, thinking some of his friends, whom he might call on the telephone could suggest a way out of the trouble. before he reached the lumber yard, however, he met an acquaintance on the street, a mr. murphy. "why, hello, mr. bobbsey!" exclaimed mr. murphy. "i thought you were off on a vacation with your family in a houseboat." "i was," said the lumber merchant, "but i came back." "back so soon? didn't you like it?" "oh, yes, first rate. but we can't go any farther." "can't go any farther? what's the matter, did your boat sink?" "no, but we're stuck in lemby creek. mr. hardee, a farmer who owns land on both sides of the creek, has put a wire fence across to stop us from going on to lake romano." "is that so! well, that's too bad. how did it happen?" "i'll tell you," said mr. bobbsey. then he told the story of stopping the angry farmer from beating will watson, and how the fence had been built in the night. "well, that certainly was a mean trick on the part of mr. hardee," said mr. murphy. "and so the boy ran away?" "yes, and mr. hardee accused me of knowing something about him, but i don't--any more than you do." "i suppose not. but now the question is, how are you going to get past that wire fence?" "i don't know. the only way i see is to get mr. hardee to cut it, or take it down, and he says he won't do either." "humph! let me see. there ought to be a way out of it. i believe he has the right, as far as the law goes, to put that fence up, but no one else would be so mean. i guess we'll just have to force him to cut those wires, as your little boy, freddie, suggested." "yes, but how can we do it?" asked mr. bobbsey. "mr. hardee is very headstrong, and set in his ways." "let me see," spoke mr. murphy slowly, "isn't his name jake hardee?" "yes, i believe it is." "and didn't he buy from you the lumber to build his house?" "yes, i sold him the lumber, but he paid me for it," said mr. bobbsey. "i couldn't get any hold on him that way. he paid for the lumber in cash." "yes," cried mr. murphy, "but he got the money from me to pay you, and he hasn't paid me back. he still owes me the money, and he gave me a mortgage on his house as security. i've got a hold on him all right. he owes me some interest money, too." i might say to you little children that when a man wants to build a house and has not enough money, he goes to another man and borrows cash, just as your mamma sometimes borrows sugar, or tea, from the lady next door. when the man borrows money to build his house, he gives to the man who lends him the cash, a piece of paper, called a mortgage. that paper says that if the man who borrowed the money does not pay it back, and also pay interest for the use of it, the man who lent him the money can take the house. the house is "security" for the loaned money. it is just as if your mamma went next door to borrow a cup of sugar, and said: "now, mrs. jones, if i don't pay you back this sugar, and a little more than you gave me, for being so kind as to lend it to me--if i don't pay it back in a week, why you can keep my new sunday hat." and your mamma might give mrs. jones a sunday hat as "security" for the cup of sugar. of course ladies do not do those things, but that is what a mortgage is like. "yes." said mr. murphy to mr. bobbsey, "mr. hardee borrowed from me the money to buy from you the lumber for his house. and he hasn't paid me back the money, nor any interest on it. i think i'll go up and have a talk with him. and, when i get through talking, i guess he'll let you go through his wire fence." "i hope he will," said mr. bobbsey, "for it would be too bad to have our trip spoiled." "i'll go right back with you," offered mr. murphy. so it happened that mr. bobbsey, with his friend, reached the houseboat, in lemby creek, shortly after dinner. "oh, back so soon?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "what are you going to do, mr. murphy?" "have a talk with mr. hardee." mr. bobbsey and mr. murphy walked down the bank of the creek to the farm. they found mr. hardee mending a broken harness. "mr. hardee," said mr. murphy, "i hear you have put a wire fence across lemby creek, so my friend, mr. bobbsey, can't get past with his houseboat." "yes, i have," growled the farmer, "and that fence is going to stay up, too! i'll show him he can't come around here, interferin' with me when i try to punish my help. he made will run away too." "no, i did not. i know nothing of him," said mr. bobbsey. "mr. hardee," went on mr. murphy. "i want you to take down that fence, and let the houseboat go on up the creek." "and i'm not going to!" "very well, then," said mr. murphy, quietly, "perhaps you are ready to pay me the interest on my mortgage which has been due me for some time, mr. hardee." the farmer seemed uneasy. "well, to tell you the truth," he said, "i haven't got that money just now, mr. murphy. times have been hard, and crops are poor, and i'm short of cash. can't you wait a while?" "i have waited some time." "well, i'd like to have you wait a little longer. i'll pay you after a while." "and i suppose you'll take down that wire fence, and let mr. bobbsey and the twins go past--after a while?" "well--maybe," growled the mean farmer. "maybe won't do!" exclaimed mr. murphy. "i want you to take the wire fence down right away." "well, i'm not going to do it. he interfered with me, and made that boy run away, and i'm not going to let him go up my part of the creek." "well, then, mr. hardee, if you can't do something for mr. bobbsey, as a favor, i can't do anything to oblige you. mr. bobbsey is a friend of mine and unless you cut your wire fence, i'll have to foreclose that mortgage, and take your house in payment for the money you owe me. that's all there is about it. either pay me my money--or cut that fence. it must be one or the other." mr. hardee squirmed in his seat, and seemed very uneasy. "i--i just can't pay that money," he said. "then i'll have to take your house away." "i--i don't want you to do that, either." "then cut the wire fence!" cried mr. murphy. "wa'al, i--i guess i'll have to," said mr. hardee, but it was clearly to be seen that he did not want to. he went into the barn, and came out wearing a pair of rubber boots, and carrying a pair of pincers--the "wire-cutting things," as freddie called them. wading out into the creek mr. hardee snipped the wires of the fence. "there, now you can go on," he said to mr. bobbsey, but his tone was not pleasant. "i thought i knew how to make him give in," whispered mr. murphy. "thank you," said mr. bobbsey to his friend. they hurried back to the houseboat. "we're going on again!" cried the twins' father. "the fence is down." "oh, fine!" said bert. "now for the waterfall!" sighed nan, who loved beautiful scenery. "oh, i've caught a fish!" suddenly shouted freddie and he jumped about so that his mother, with a scream, ran toward him, fearing he would go overboard. chapter xv overboard "look out, freddie!" "be careful there, little fat fireman!" thus mrs. bobbsey cried to the small twin, and thus mr. bobbsey also warned his son, who had pulled up his pole with a jerk, when he felt a nibble on the fish-line. "i'll look out for him!" cried bert, and he got between his little brother and the railing of the boat, so there would be no danger of freddie's falling overboard. freddie had no intention of getting into the water, but he was much excited over his fish. "i caught it all myself!" he cried. "i caught a fish all by myself, and nobody helped me. didn't i, bert?" "yes, freddie, except that harry put on the grasshopper bait." "but where's the fish?" asked nan, who, as yet, had not seen one. "here it is!" cried freddie, as he ran toward the end of his line which lay on deck. "i caught a fish, and it's all mine--every bit," and he held up a little, wiggling sunfish which, somehow or other, had been caught on the tiny hook. "oh, it's a real, live fish!" squealed flossie, dropping her doll to get a better view of this new plaything. "are we going to have it for supper, freddie?" "no!" cried the little fat fellow, as he tried to hold the fish up by the swinging line in one hand, and grasp it in the other. the fish was so slippery that, every time freddie had it, his hand slid off of it. "we're not going to eat my fish!" cried freddie. "i'm going to keep it forever, in a glass globe, and make it do tricks!" the others gathered around to see freddie's catch, for the little fellow was very proud of his success, though, once or twice before, on trips to the country, he had been allowed to fish with bert and nan. he was too impatient to sit still long, so he never caught much. "here comes snoop," said mr. bobbsey, with a laughing glance at his friend mr. murphy, who had come back to the houseboat with him, after the mean farmer had cut the wire fence. "snoop can't have my fish!" cried freddie, now hugging his dangling prize close to his waist. "oh, you'll get your clothes all dirty!" cried mrs. bobbsey, as the black cat came snooping and sniffing around, for she smelled fish, which she very much liked. "go 'way, snoop! you can't have my fish!" cried freddie. "i'm going to put it in a glass globe, and keep it forever and teach it to do tricks." "i guess swimming is the only trick a fish can do," said bert, with a laugh, "and you don't have to teach them that. they know it already." freddie was so afraid that snoop might get his fish, that dinah brought him up a glass dish, in which, when it was filled with water, the little "sunny" was allowed to swim around. the hook had become fastened in only a corner of the mouth, and the fish was not hurt in the least. freddie was as proud as though he had caught a whale or a shark. he did not care to fish any more, but stood on deck near the box on which had been placed the dish containing his fish. bert and harry, who had caught some larger fish, went back to their rods and lines, while nan took up freddie's pole and used it for herself. flossie divided her time between getting her doll to "sleep" and watching freddie's fish. "well, are we really going up the creek?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "yes, mr. murphy got the farmer to cut the wire fence, so we can get past," said mr. bobbsey. "we had better start, too, for mr. hardee might change his mind, and put back the wire fence." "i guess there isn't much danger of that," spoke mr. murphy. "but you have a fine boat. i don't wonder that you didn't want to stay cooped up here in this creek." flossie, who had come over near the visitor, said: "there's a stove in our kitchen, and dinah cooks things on it--good things to eat!" "does she?" cried mr. murphy, catching the little girl up in his arms. "that's fine!" "i think you might take that as an invitation to dinner," said mrs. bobbsey, with a laugh. "thanks, i will stay, and see how it feels to eat on board a houseboat," replied the man who had helped mr. bobbsey. bert and harry decided that they had caught enough fish now, so they pulled in their lines, and soon the bluebird was moving slowly up the creek, toward lake romano, though it would be a day or so before the bobbseys reached it. as the houseboat went past the wire fence, which had been cut, the twins and their cousins looked at it in wonder. only the posts stood there now, and there was room enough between them for the houseboat to pass. a little way back from the shore stood mr. hardee. "i'm not going to let every boat go past that wants to!" he called to mr. bobbsey. "i'll let you through, as a favor to mr. murphy, but i'm not going to have a whole lot of them sailin' up and down my creek!" "just as if it would hurt the water," said bert, in a low voice. they were all glad when a turn of the stream hid mr. hardee from sight. the mean farmer evidently thought he had not been unpleasant enough, for he ran after the houseboat a little way, crying: "if you see anything of that good-for-nothing boy of mine, i want you to tell him to come back here, or it will be the worse for him." "we're not likely to see him," said mr. bobbsey. "i don't know about that," went on the farmer. "i believe you folks know something about him." "that's all nonsense!" said mr. bobbsey, sharply. "i've told you we don't know where he is, and haven't seen him since you tried to horsewhip him. that ought to be enough." "wa'al, we'll see," was the growling answer, as the mean farmer turned away. the houseboat kept on, until it was well past mr. hardee's land, and then, in a pleasant part of the creek, it was tied to the bank. dinah served supper. "see! i told you we had a stove, and that dinah could cook things," said flossie, as a plate full of steaming hot corn muffins was set on the table. "so you did, my dear!" exclaimed mr. murphy, who sat next to the little "fat fairy." flossie seemed to think the most wonderful part of the houseboat was the kitchen and the stove. when the pleasant meal was over, they sat on deck in the evening, until it was time for mr. murphy to go home. he was to walk across the meadow, about a mile, to get a trolley car. mr. bobbsey went with him, part of the way. for several days after this, the bobbsey twins had all sorts of amusements on the house-boat. the bluebird was still kept in the creek, for it was so pleasant there, along the shady waterway, that mrs. bobbsey said they might as well enjoy it as long as possible. "but i want to see the big lake and the waterfall," said nan. "we'll soon be there," promised her father. one day the houseboat was moved along the creek for about a mile, and anchored there. bert and harry found the fishing so good, that they wanted to stay a long time. they really caught some large perch and chub. "but we didn't come on this trip just to fish," said mr. bobbsey. "there are other things to do. we want to go in swimming, when it gets a little warmer, and then, too, we can take some walks in the woods on the shores of lake romano." "and can we have picnics, and take our lunch?" asked freddie. "yes, little fat fireman," answered his father, laughing. freddie had been kept so busy with other amusements, that he had not once played with his fire engine, since coming on board. "let me catch some fish," begged flossie, on the afternoon of the day when they were to move from the place that bert and harry liked so well. "you may take my line," offered freddie. "i'm tired of fishing." i think perhaps freddie grew weary because he had had no bites. that one fish he had caught, and which had caused so much excitement, seemed to be all he could get. that one was still alive in the glass dish, which bert had made into sort of an aquarium. "i'm going to catch a big fish," said flossie, as she laid her doll down beside the sleeping dog snap, and took freddie's pole. "don't fall in--that's all," cautioned mrs. bobbsey. "i'll watch her," offered dorothy, for nan had gone down to help dry the dishes, it being her "turn." somehow or other, every one forgot flossie for a moment, and even dorothy, who had promised to watch her, forgot when she saw some small boats, filled with young folks on an excursion, pass the houseboat. suddenly there came a scream from little flossie. "i see him! i see him!" she cried. "he's on our boat!" the next moment her mother, who turned quickly as she heard flossie's voice, saw the little girl lean far over the rail of the bluebird. then came a splash. flossie had fallen overboard! chapter xvi the missing sandwiches "flossie is in the water!" "get the boat!" "snap! jump in and get her!" "oh, flossie!" so many were the excited cries that followed the falling over the rail of little flossie, that no one could tell who was speaking, or crying out. harry, who was near the rail, turned sharply as he heard the splash, and then, quickly casting off his coat, he gave a clean dive over the side. harry was a country boy, and had learned to swim when very young. he was not at all afraid of the water, and, more than once, he had pulled from "the old swimming hole," boys smaller than himself, who had gone beyond their depth, and could not get out. "i'll get her!" cried harry, as he dived over the side. "oh, it's all my fault!" sobbed dorothy. "i said i'd watch her. but i forgot! it's all my fault!" "no, it isn't, dear!" said nan, quickly putting her arms around her cousin. "flossie does things so quickly, sometimes, that no one can watch her. but we'll get her out, for the water isn't deep." it was deep enough though, on that side of the boat, to be well over flossie's head, and of course, plunging down from the height she did, she at once went under water. snap seemed to understand what had happened, and to know that his services were needed, for he gave a bark, and made a rush for the rail. "don't let him jump in!" cried mr. bobbsey to bert. "if harry can get her, snap might only make trouble. hold him back, bert, while i get the rowboat." mrs. bobbsey, with one arm around freddie, had rushed to the rail to look down. she saw flossie come to the surface, choking and gasping for breath, and then saw harry, who had gone under, but who had come up again, strike out for the little girl. "oh, save her!" gasped mrs. bobbsey. "he will!" said bert. "harry's a fine swimmer. come back, snap!" he called to the big dog, getting his hands on his collar, just in time, for snap was determined to go to the rescue himself. he whined, pulled and tugged to get away from bert. "help me hold him!" cried bert to nan. "i will!" she answered, glad to be doing something. together the two older bobbsey twins managed to keep snap back. dorothy, too, helped, for snap was very strong. "did flossie go after a fish?" asked freddie, and he asked it in such a queer way that it would have caused a laugh at any other time. just now every one was too frightened to laugh. after all, there really was not so much danger. mr. bobbsey had taught flossie some of the things one must do when learning to swim, and that is to hold your breath when you are under water. for it is the water getting into the lungs that causes a person to drown. after her first plunge into the creek, the little girl thought of what her father had told her, and did hold her breath. "i--i'll get you!" called harry to her. "don't be afraid, flossie! i'll get you!" flossie was too much out of breath to answer, so she did not try to speak. harry was soon at her side, and called to her: "now put your hands on my shoulders, flossie, and i'll swim to the boat with you. don't try to grab me around the neck." harry knew how dangerous it was for a person trying to rescue another in the water to be choked. flossie was a wise little girl, even if she was not very old. she did as her cousin told her, and, with flossie's hands on his shoulders, harry began to swim toward the bluebird. he did not have to go very far, though, for by this time mr. bobbsey and captain white were there with the rowboat, and the two children were soon lifted in. they were safe, and not harmed a bit, except for being wet through. "oh, flossie, whatever did you do it for?" asked her mother, when she had hugged the dripping little girl in her arms. "why did you do it?" "do what, mamma?" flossie asked. "lean over so far." "i wanted to see if i had a fish," went on flossie. "and i had to lean over. and then i saw him." "saw whom?" asked her father. "what do you mean?" "why, i saw him--that boy," and flossie seemed surprised that her father did not understand. "what boy?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "did you fall asleep there, flossie, and were you dreaming, when you fell in?" "no, mamma. i didn't fall asleep. i saw him, i tell you." "i heard her say something about seeing some one, just as she went over the rail, head first," dorothy said. "but whom do you mean, flossie?" asked puzzled mrs. bobbsey. "why, that boy--the one the bad man whipped." "oh, will watson!" exclaimed bert. "where did you see him, flossie? was he in one of the excursion boats that went past?" "no, he was on our boat--down there," and flossie pointed straight down. "i saw him!" she declared. "i guess she must have dozed off a little, and dreamed it," spoke mr. bobbsey, with a smile. "that was it. the sun was so hot, that she just slept a little as she was fishing. she might have had a bite, and that awakened her so suddenly that she gave a jump and fell over the rail. i must have it built higher. then there won't be any danger." "yes, do," said mrs. bobbsey. "we've had scares enough." "but i did see that boy--the one that gave bert the fish," insisted flossie. "he was on our boat. i saw him as plain as anything." "it must have been some one in the excursion boats that looked like him," spoke nan. "no, i saw will!" declared the little twin, and, rather than get her excited by disputing, they allowed her to think she really had seen a strange face, as she leaned over. "but of course she either dreamed it, or saw some one she thought was that runaway boy," mr. bobbsey said, afterward. "it's all nonsense to think he was on our boat." snap, who had not been allowed to go to the rescue, much as he had wanted to, leaped about flossie, barking and wagging his tail in joy. "anybody would think he'd done it all," said bert. "say, harry, you're all right! that was a dandy dive!" and he clapped his cousin on the back. "indeed we never can thank you enough. harry," said mrs. bobbsey, and tears of thankfulness glistened in her eyes. "oh, it wasn't anything at all," the country boy said, modestly blushing, for he did not like such a "fuss" made over him. "i knew i could get her out." "well, it was very fine of you," said mr. bobbsey, warmly. "now then, you had better change your clothes, for, though it is summer, you might take cold. and flossie, too, must change." "yes, i'll look after her," said her mother "now remember, little fat fairy," mrs. bobbsey went on, giving flossie her father's pet name, "you must never lean over the rail again. if you do---" "but i saw---" began flossie. "no matter what you saw--don't lean over the rail!" said her mother. "if you do, we shall have to give up this houseboat trip." this seemed such a dreadful thing, that flossie quickly promised to be very careful indeed. "but i did see him, all the same!" she murmured, as her mother took her to the bedroom to change her clothes. "i saw that boy on our boat." the others only laughed at flossie for thinking such a queer thing. "that poor boy is far enough away from here now," said bert. "i wonder if he will really try to make his way out west?" "i don't know," answered harry, who had changed to a dry suit, hanging his other in the sun to let the water drip out of it. "i've read of boys making long journeys that way." "i wouldn't want to try it," spoke bert. "neither would i," said his cousin. "this houseboat suits me!" flossie was little the worse for her accident, and was soon playing about again with snoop and snap, and with freddie. the little fellow and his sister made the dog and cat do many tricks. it was the day after this, when the bluebird had gone a little farther up the creek, that mrs. bobbsey planned a little picnic on shore. they were not far from a nice, green forest. "we'll have dinah put us up a little lunch, and we'll go in the woods and eat it," said mrs. bobbsey. "oh, that will be fun!" cried nan. "won't it, dorothy?" "indeed it will," said the seashore cousin. "i'm going to take my doll," flossie said. "there's no water in the woods for her to fall in, is there, mamma?" "no, not unless you drop her into a spring," laughed mrs. bobbsey. "i'll see if dinah has finished making the sandwiches," offered nan. "she had them almost finished a little while ago." but when nan went to the dining-room, she found the colored cook very much excited. "what is the matter, dinah?" asked nan. "mattah! what am de mattah?" dinah repeated, "dey's lots de mattah, missie nan." "why, what can it be?" "de sandwiches is gone, dat's what's de mattah!" "the sandwiches, dinah?" "yes'm, de sandwiches what i done make fo' de excursnick!" "oh, you mean for our picnic, dinah?" "yes'm, dat's it. excursnick i calls it. but de sandwiches i done jest made am gone. i s'pects massa bert or his cousin done take 'em fo' fun." "oh, no, dinah. bert nor harry wouldn't do that. are you sure you made the sandwiches?" "i'se jest as shuah, missie nan, as i am dat i'se standin' heah. i'se jest as shuah as i is dat time when i made de corn cakes, an' somebody tuck dem! dat's how shuah i is! dem sandwiches what was fo' de excursnick am done gone completely." "but have you looked everywhere, dinah?" asked nan. "eberywhere! under de table an' on top ob de table. i had dem sandwiches all made an' on a plate. i left dem in de dinin' room to go git a basket, an' when i come back, dey was gone entirely. i want t' see yo' ma, missie nan. i ain't gwing t' stay on dish yeah boat no mo, dat's what i ain't!" "but why not, dinah?" asked nan, in some alarm. "because dey's ghostests on dish yeah boat; dat's what dey is! an' i ain't gwine stay on no ha'nted boat. fust it were de corn cakes, an' now it's de sandwiches. i'se gwine away--i ain't gwine stay heah no mo'!" chapter xvii in the storm dinah was certainly very much frightened, but nan was not. she knew better than to believe in such things as "ghosts," and, though the sandwiches might have disappeared, the little girl felt sure there must be some reasonable explanation about the mystery. "i'll call mamma, dinah," offered nan. "she won't want you to leave us now, when we have just started on this trip." "go on, honey lamb, call yo' ma," agreed the fat cook. "but i ain't gwine t' stay on dish yeah boat no mo'! dat's settled. call yo' ma, honey lamb, an' i'll tell her about it." mrs. bobbsey had heard the excited voice of dinah and had come down to the dining-room of the houseboat to see what it was all about. "what is it, dinah?" she asked. "it's ghostests, mrs. bobbsey--dat's what it is," said the cook. "ghostests what takes de sandwiches as fast as i make 'em--dat's de trouble. i can't stay heah no mo'!" mrs. bobbsey looked to nan for an explanation. the little girl said: "dinah made a plate of sandwiches for our picnic---" "dat's right, for de excursnick," put in dinah. "and she left them on the table," went on nan. "but when she went to get a basket to put them in, and came back---" "dey was clean gone!" burst out the colored cook, finishing the story for nan. "an' ghostests took 'em; ob dat i'se shuah. so you'd bettah look fo' anoder cook, mrs. bobbsey." "nonsense, dinah! we can't let you go that way. it's all foolishness to talk about ghosts. probably the door was left open, and snap might have taken the sandwiches, though i never knew him to take anything off the table. but it must have been snap." "no'm, it couldn't be," said dinah. "it wasn't snap." "how do you know?" "could snap come through a closed do', mrs. bobbsey. could snap do that?" "come through a door? no, i don't believe he could. but he might open it. snoop can open doors." "yes, maybe do's that hab a catch on, but not knob-do's, snoop can't open, an' snap can't neither. besides, de do' was shut when i left de sandwiches on de table an' went fo' de basket." "oh, was it?" asked mrs. bobbsey, trying to think of how the pieces of bread and meat could have been taken. "it shuah was," went on dinah. "nobody took dem sandwiches, but a ghostest, an' i can't stay in no boat what has ghostests." "nonsense!" laughed mrs. bobbsey. "i know how it was done, dinah. i know how the sandwiches were taken." "how, mrs. bobbsey?" asked the colored cook, as she stood looking first at the empty plate on the table, and then at nan and lastly at mrs. bobbsey. "why, through that window," said the twins' mother, pointing to an open window on the side of the bluebird. "snap must have come in that window, and taken the sandwiches. he was probably very hungry, poor dog, though he knows better than to do anything like that." "no'm, mrs. bobbsey," went on dinah. "snap couldn't hab come in fru dat window, fo' it opens right on to de watah. he'd hab to stand in de watah to jump in, an' he can't do that." "no, perhaps not," admitted mrs. bobbsey. "oh, i dare say you forgot where you put the sandwiches, dinah. now don't worry a bit more about them. just make some fresh ones, and we'll go on our little picnic." "but i'se gwine t' leab," said dinah. "i ain't gwine stay on a boat, where ghostests takes sandwiches as fast as i can make 'em." "you shall come with us on the picnic," said nan's mother. "when we come back, there won't be any ghost. now don't fuss. just make some fresh sandwiches, and we'll go. i'm sure it was snap." "and i'se shuah it were a ghostest," murmured dinah, as she went out to the kitchen. "mamma, who do you think it could have been?" asked nan of her mother. "why, snap, to be sure, little daughter." "but with the door shut, and the window opening out on the water?" went on nan. "oh, dogs are very smart," said mrs. bobbsey. "smarter than we think. now suppose you help dinah make more sandwiches. we are late." nan went out to the kitchen, while mrs. bobbsey made her way up on deck, where she found her husband talking to captain white about the motor engine of the houseboat. "richard, i want to speak to you," said mrs. bobbsey, and when she and the twins' father were in a quiet corner of the deck, mrs. bobbsey went on: "richard, i think there are thieves about here." "bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "thieves! what do you mean?" "well, i mean that dinah says a plate of sandwiches was just taken, and you remember the time the corn muffins were missing?" "yes, but perhaps dinah was mistaken both times, or snap might have taken a bite between meals." "hardly snap this time," mrs. bobbsey went on, "and dinah, though she does forget once in a while, would not be likely to do so twice in such a short time. no, i think some tramps along shore must have come along quietly in a boat, reached or climbed in through the window and taken the sandwiches." "well, perhaps they did," mr. bobbsey, said. "i'll tell captain white, and we'll keep a lookout. we don't want thieves coming around." "no, indeed," said mrs. bobbsey. "dinah threatens to leave, if any more queer things happen." "well, we wouldn't know how to get along without dinah," said mr. bobbsey, with a smile. "i'll put some wire netting over the windows. i was going to do it anyhow, for the mosquitoes will soon be buzzing around. the netting will keep thieves from reaching in and taking our nice sandwiches." "yes, i think the netting would be a good idea," said his wife. "but it certainly is queer." a little later, the bobbsey twins--both sets of them--with their cousins, mother, father, and dinah went ashore for the little picnic in the woods, taking with them the fresh sandwiches that nan had helped to make. "you shan't have any of these--at least not until we want you to have them," said nan to snap, the dog, who, of course, was not left behind. yet, the more she thought of it the more sure nan was that snap had not taken the others. "but, if he didn't, who did?" she wondered. "oh, isn't it just lovely in these woods!" exclaimed dorothy, as they walked along on the soft moss under the trees. at the seashore, where she lived, the woods were too far away to allow her to pay many visits to them, and she always liked to walk in the cool forests. harry, though he lived in the country, not far from the woods, liked them as well as did the bobbsey twins, and the children were soon running about, playing games, while snap raced about with them, barking and wagging his tail. dinah sat down near the lunch basket. "don't you want to walk around a bit?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "no'm," answered the fat cook. "i ain't gwine t' leab dish yeah basket ob victuals until dey's eaten. dey ain't no ghostests, nor no dogs, gwine t' git nothin' when i'se heah! no'm!" and dinah slipped her fat arm in through the handle of the basket. "let's look for chestnuts!" cried freddie. "i love chestnuts!" "it's too early for them," said his father. "but if you find me a willow tree, i can make you some whistles." the children found one, near a little brook, and mr. bobbsey was soon busy with his knife. the bark slipped off easily from the willow wood, which is why it is so often used for whistles. soon all four children were blowing whistles of different tones, and making so much noise that, with the barking of snap, who seemed to think he must bark every time a whistle was blown, mrs. bobbsey cried out for quietness. "come on, we'll go farther off in the woods and play indian," suggested bert, and soon this game was under way. it was lunch time almost before the children knew it, and what fun it was to sit around the table cloth dinah spread out on the grass, and eat the good things from the basket. snap was given his share, but snoop, the black cat, had not come along, staying on the houseboat with captain white. "isn't this fun?" cried nan to dorothy. "indeed it is! oh, i can't tell you how glad i am that you asked me to come on this trip!" "oh! look at that big bug!" suddenly cried freddie, and he made a jump toward his mother, to get out of the way of a big cricket that had hopped onto the white table cloth. "look out, freddie!" called his father. "you'll upset your glass of lemonade!" mr. bobbsey spoke too late. freddie's heel kicked over the glass, and the lemonade spilled right into mrs. bobbsey's lap. "oh, freddie!" cried bert. "never mind--it's an old dress," laughed mrs. bobbsey, "and there's more lemonade. accidents will happen on picnics. never mind, freddie." the cricket was "shooed" away by nan, freddie's glass was filled again, and the picnic went on merrily. soon it was time to go back to the boat. as they walked along through the woods, mr. bobbsey glanced up now and then through the trees at the sky. "do you think it's going to rain?" his wife asked. "not right away, but i think we are soon going to have a storm," he said. "oh, well, the houseboat doesn't leak, does it?" "no, but i don't want to go out on lake romano in a storm, and i intended this evening to go on up the creek until we reached the lake. but i'll wait and see what the weather does." "well, did anything happen while we were gone?" asked mrs. bobbsey of captain white, as they got back to the houseboat. "no, not a thing," he answered. "it was so still and quiet here, that snoop and i had a nice sleep," and he pointed to the black cat, who was stretched out in his lap, as he sat on deck. as it did not look so much like a storm now, mr. bobbsey decided to move the houseboat farther up the creek, almost to where the stream flowed from lake romano, so as to be ready to go out on the larger body of water in the morning, if everything was all right. the engine was started, and just before supper, the bluebird came to a stop in lemby creek about a mile from the big lake. she was tied to the bank, and then supper was served. then followed a pleasant hour or two on deck, and when it was dark, the children went into the cabin and played games until bedtime--nan and bert, as well as the smaller twins and the cousins, were asleep when mrs. bobbsey, who had sat up to write some letters, heard her husband walking about on deck. "what are you doing?" she called to him through a window. "oh, just looking at the weather," he answered. "i think we're going to have a storm after all, and a hard one, too. i'm glad we're safely anchored." sure enough. that night, about twelve o'clock, the storm came. there was at first distant, muttering thunder, which soon became louder. then lightning followed, flashing in through the windows of the houseboat, so that mrs. bobbsey was awakened. "oh, it's going to be a terrible storm," she said to her husband. "oh, perhaps not so very bad," he answered. "here comes the rain!" then it began to pour. but the houseboat was well built, and did not leak a bit. next the wind began to blow, gently at first, but finally so hard that mr. bobbsey could hear the creaking of the ropes that tied the boat to trees on shore. "i think i'd better look and see if those ropes are well tied," he said, getting up to dress, and putting on a raincoat. he had hardly gotten out on deck, before the houseboat gave a sudden lurch to one side, and then began to move quickly down stream. "oh, what has happened?" cried mrs. bobbsey. at the same time flossie and freddie awakened, because of the loud noise from the storm. "mamma! mamma!" they cried. "richard, has anything happened?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "yes!" he shouted. "the strong wind has broken the ropes, and we are adrift. but don't worry. we'll soon be all right!" faster and faster went the bluebird, while all about her the rain splashed down, the wind blew, the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed. chapter xviii strange noises the frightened cries of flossie and freddie soon awakened nan and bert, and it was not long before harry and dorothy, too, had roused themselves. "what's the matter?" asked bert. "oh, we've gone adrift in the storm," his mother said. "but don't worry. papa says it will be all right." "come up on deck and see what's going on!" cried bert to harry. he had begun to dress, and now he thrust his head out from his room. "hurry up, harry," he added. "we want to see this storm." "no, you must stay here," mrs. bobbsey said. "it is too bad a storm for you children to be out in, especially this dark night. your papa and captain white will do all that needs to be done." "mamma, it--it isn't dark when the lightning comes," said freddie. he did not seem to be afraid of the brilliant flashes. "no, it's light when the flashes come," said his mother. "but i want you all to stay here with me. it is raining very hard." "i should say it was!" exclaimed harry, as he heard the swish of the drops against the windows of the houseboat. "is snap all right, mamma?" asked flossie. "and snoop? i wouldn't want them out in the storm." "they're all right," mrs. bobbsey said. "oh, what's that!" suddenly cried nan, as the houseboat gave a bump, and leaned to one side. "we hit something," bert said. "oh, i wish i could go out on the deck!" "no, indeed!" cried his mother. "there! they've started the engine. now we'll be all right." as soon as mr. bobbsey had found out that the houseboat had broken loose from the mooring ropes in the storm, he awakened captain white, and told him to start the motor. this had been done, and now, instead of drifting with the current of the creek, the boat could be more easily steered. soon it had been run into a sheltered place, against the bank, where, no matter how hard the wind blew, it would be safe. "are we all right now?" asked mrs. bobbsey, as her husband came down to the cabin. "yes, all right again," he said. "there really was not much danger, once we got the motor started." "is it raining yet?" asked freddie, who was sitting in his mother's lap, wrapped in a sweater. "indeed it is, little fat fireman," his father answered. "you wouldn't need your engine to put out a fire to-night." the patter of the raindrops on the deck of the houseboat could still be heard, and the wind still blew hard. but the thunder and lightning were not so bad, and gradually the storm grew less. "well, we'd better get to bed now," said mr. bobbsey. "to-morrow we shall go to the big lake." "did the storm take us far back down the creek?" asked bert. "not more than a mile," said his father. "and the man can't tie us in with wire again, can he?" freddie wanted to know. "if he does, and i had one of those cutter-things, i could snip it." "you won't have to, freddie," laughed bert. "speaking of that mean farmer reminds me of the poor boy who ran away from him," said mrs. bobbsey to her husband, when the children had gone to bed. "i wonder where he is to-night, in this storm?" "i hope he has a sheltered place," spoke the father of the bobbsey twins. not very much damage had been done by the storm, though it was a very hard one. in the morning the children could see where some big tree branches had blown off, and there had been so much rain, that the water of the creek was higher. but the houseboat was all right, and after breakfast, when they went up the creek again, they stopped and got the pieces of broken rope, where the bluebird had been tied before. the houseboat then went on, and at noon, just before dinah called them to dinner, nan, who was standing near her father at the steering wheel, cried: "oh, what a lot of water!" "yes, that is lake romano," said mr. bobbsey. "we'll soon be floating on that, and we'll spend the rest of our houseboat vacation there." "and where shall we spend the rest of our vacation?" asked bert, for it had been decided that the houseboat voyage would last only until about the middle of august. "oh, we haven't settled that yet," his father answered. on and on went the bluebird, and, in a little while, she was on the sparkling waters of the lake. "i don't see any waterfall," said freddie, coming toward his father, after having made snap do some of his circus tricks. "the waterfall is at the far end of the lake," said mr. bobbsey. "i wonder if there are any fish in this lake?" spoke bert. "let's try to catch some," suggested his cousin harry, and soon the two boys were busy with poles and lines. the bobbsey twins, and their cousin-guests, liked lake romano very much indeed. it was much bigger than the lake at home, and there were some very large boats on it. bert and harry caught no fish before dinner, but in the afternoon they had better luck, and got enough for supper. the evening meal had been served by dinah, snap and snoop had been fed, and the family and their guests were up on deck, watching the sunset, when dinah came waddling up the stairs, with a queer look on her face. "why, dinah! what is the matter?" asked mrs. bobbsey, seeing that something was wrong. "have you lost some more sandwiches?" "no'm, it ain't sandwiches dish yeah time," dinah answered. "but i done heard a funny noise jest now down near mah kitchen." "a funny noise?" repeated mr. bobbsey. "what was it like?" "jes like some one cryin'," dinah answered. "i thought mebby one ob de chilluns done got locked in de pantry, but i opened de do', an' dey wasn't anybody dere. 'sides, all de chilluns is up heah. but i shuah did heah a funny noise ob somebody cryin'!" mrs. bobbsey looked at her husband and said: "you'd better go see what it is, richard." chapter xix snap's queer actions the bobbsey twins looked at one another. then they glanced at their cousins, harry and dorothy. next the eyes of all the children were turned on fat dinah. "was--was it a baby crying?" freddie wanted to know. "yes, honey lamb--it done did sound laik a baby--only a big baby," explained the colored cook. "maybe it was one of flossie's dolls," the little "fat fireman" went on. "flossie's dolls can't cry!" exclaimed nan. "not even the one that says 'mama,' when you punch it in the back. that can't cry, because it's broken." "well, flossie says her dolls cry, sometimes," said freddie, "and i thought maybe it was one of them now." "it was snoop, our cat," said bert, with a laugh. "that's what you heard, dinah, snoop crying for something to eat. maybe she's shut up in a closet." "probably that's what it was, dinah," said mrs. bobbsey. "i'll go let her out," said mr. bobbsey, starting toward the lower part of the houseboat. "'scuse me, mr. bobbsey," said dinah firmly, "but dey ain't no use yo' going t' let out no cat snoop." "why not, dinah?" "because it wasn't any cat dat i done heah. it was a human bein' dat i heard cryin', dat's what it was, an' i know who it was, too," the colored woman insisted. "who, dinah?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "it was de same ghostest dat done took mah cakes an' sandwiches, dat's who it was. i'se mighty sorry t' leab yo', mrs. bobbsey, but i guess i'll done be goin' now." "what, dinah!" cried her mistress. "going? where?" "offen dish yeah boat, mrs. bobbsey. i cain't stay heah any mo' wif a lot of ghostests." "nonsense, dinah!" exclaimed mr. bobbsey. "there isn't any such thing as a ghost, and you know it! it's silly to even talk about such a thing. now you just come with me, and show me where you heard those noises." "no, sah, i cain't do it, mr. bobbsey," the colored cook exclaimed, moving backward. "why not?" mr. bobbsey wanted to know. "'cause it's bad luck, dat's why. i ain't goin' neah no ghostest---" "don't say that again, dinah!" exclaimed mrs. bobbsey sharply, with a glance at the children. "oh, we're not afraid, mother!" chimed in bert. "we know there's no such thing as a ghost." "that's right," spoke his father. "but, dinah, i must get this matter settled. it won't do for you to be frightened all the while. you must come and show me where you heard the noise." "has i got to do it, mrs. bobbsey?" asked dinah. "yes, i think you had better." "well, den, i heard de noise right down in de passageway dat goes from de kitchen to de dinin' room. dat's where it was. a noise laik somebody cryin' an' weepin'." "and are you sure it wasn't snoop, dinah?" "shuah, mr. bobbsey. 'cause why? 'cause heah's snoop now, right ober by miss dorothy." this was very true. the little seashore cousin had been playing with the black cat. "snap howls sometimes," said freddie, who seemed to be trying to find some explanation of the queer noise. "lots of times he used to howl under my window, and i'd think it was some boy, but it was only snap. he used to like to howl at the moon." "dat's right, so he does, honey lamb," dinah admitted. "but dere ain't no moon now, an' snap's eatin' a bone. he don't never howl when he's eatin' a bone, i'se sartain ob dat." "oh, well, if it wasn't the dog or cat, it was some other noise that can easily be found," said mr. bobbsey. "i'll go have a look." "i'm coming, too," said nan. "and so am i!" exclaimed bert. harry and dorothy looked at each other a moment, and then dorothy said, rather unhesitatingly: "i'm not afraid!" "i should say not!" cried mrs. bobbsey. "what is there to be afraid of, just in a noise?" "let's all go!" suggested harry. "good!" cried mr. bobbsey, for he wanted his children not to give way to foolish fears. they were not "afraid of the dark," as some children are, and from the time when they were little tots, their parents had tried to teach them that most things, such as children fear, are really nothing but things they think they see, or hear. "aren't you coming, dinah?" asked mrs. bobbsey, as they all started for the lower part of the houseboat. "no'm, i'll jest stay up heah an'--an' git a breff ob fresh air," said the colored cook. "come on, children," called mr. bobbsey, with a laugh. "we'll very soon find out what it was." they went down off the deck, to the passageway between the kitchen and dining-room. this place was like a long, narrow hall, and on one side of it were closets, or "lockers," as they are called on ships. they were places where different articles could be stored away. just now, the lockers were filled with odds and ends--bits of canvass that were sometimes used as sails, or awnings, old boxes, barrels and the like. mr. bobbsey opened the lockers and looked in. "there isn't a thing here that could make a crying noise, unless it was a little mouse," he said, "and they are so little, i can't see them. i guess dinah must have imagined it." "let's listen and see if we can hear it," suggested mrs. bobbsey. all of them, including the children, kept very quiet. snap, the trick dog, was still gnawing his bone in the kitchen. they could hear him banging it on the floor as he tried to get from it the last shreds of meat. snoop, the black cat, was up on deck in the sun. "i don't hear a thing," said mrs. bobbsey. indeed it was very quiet. "hark!" suddenly called nan. "isn't that a noise?" they all listened sharply, and then they did hear a faint sort of crying, or whining, noise. "oh!" exclaimed freddie. "it's a---" "it's the boat pulling on one of the anchor ropes," said mr. bobbsey, for the bluebird was anchored out in the lake by two anchors and ropes, one at each end. "the wind blows the boat a little," the children's father explained, "and that makes it pull on the ropes, which creak on the wooden posts with a crying noise." "i know!" exclaimed flossie. "just like our swing rope creaks, when it's going slow." "exactly," said her mother. mrs. bobbsey was glad that the little girl could think out an explanation for herself that way. "there it goes again!" suddenly exclaimed bert. they all heard the funny noise. there was no doubt but that it was the creaking of the rope by which the boat was tied. "here, dinah!" called mr. bobbsey, with a laugh. "come down here. we've found your ghost." "i doan't want to see it!" exclaimed the colored cook, "jest toss it overbo'd!" "it's nothing but a noise made by a creaking rope," said nan. "and you can't throw that overboard." "all right, honey lamb. yo' can call it a rope-noise ef yo' all laiks," said dinah, when finally she had been induced to come down. "but i knows it wasn't. it was some real pusson cryin', dat's what it was." "but you said it was a ghost, dinah!" laughed bert, "and a ghost is never a real person, you know. oh, dinah!" "oh, go long wif yo', honey lamb!" exclaimed the fat cook. "i ain't got no time t' bodder wif you'. i'se got t' set mah bread t' bake t'morrow. an' dere's some corn cakes, ef yo' ma will let yo' hab 'em." "i guess she will," said bert, with a laugh. "some cakes and then bed." they all thought the "ghost" scare was over, but mr. bobbsey noticed that when dinah went through the passage between the kitchen and dining-room, she hurried as fast as her feet would take her, and she glanced from side to side, as though afraid of seeing something. every one slept soundly that sight, except perhaps dinah, but if anything disturbed her, she said nothing about it, when she got up to get breakfast. it was a fine, sunny day, and a little later the bluebird was moving across the lake, the motor turning the propeller, which churned the blue water into foam. mr. bobbsey steered the boat to various places of interest on the lake. there were several little islands that were to be visited, and on one of the tiniest, they went ashore to eat their lunch. "let's play we're shipwrecked," suggested freddie, who was always anxious to "pretend" something or other. "all right," agreed flossie. "you'll be robinson crusoe, and i'll be your man thursday." "friday--not thursday," corrected freddie, for his father had read to him part of robinson's adventures. the little twins were allowed to take some of their lunch, and go off to one side of the island, there to play at being shipwrecked. mr. and mrs. bobbsey sat in the shade and talked, while nan, dorothy, bert and harry went off on a little "exploring expedition," as bert called it. bert was making a collection of stones and minerals that year, and he wanted to see what new specimens he could find. suddenly the peacefulness of the little island was broken by a cry of: "oh, mamma! papa! come quick! freddie's in the cave, and can't get out. oh, hurry!" "that's flossie's voice!" cried mrs. bobbsey, in alarm. mr. bobbsey did not say anything. he just ran, and soon he came to the place where flossie and freddie had gone to play shipwreck. he saw flossie jumping up and down in front of a little hill. "where's freddie?" asked mr. bobbsey. "in there," flossie answered, pointing to the pile of dirt that looked to have been freshly dug. "we made a cave in the side of the and freddie went in to hide, but he dirt slid down on him and he--he's there yet!" "gracious!" cried mr. bobbsey. "it's a good thing we're here!" with a piece of board he soon scattered the dirt until he came to freddie's head. fortunately the little fellow was covered with only a few inches of the soil, and as a piece of brush had fallen over his face, he had had no trouble in breathing. he was rather badly frightened, however, when he was dug out, little the worse, otherwise, for his adventure. "what did you do it for?" asked his father, when he and his mother had brushed the dirt from the little chap, while the other children gathered around to look on. "i--i was making a cave, same as robinson crusoe did," freddie explained. "i dug it with a board in the sand, and i went in--i mean, i went in the cave, and it--it came down--all of a sudden." "well, don't do it again," cautioned his mother. "you might have been badly hurt." they finished their visit on the island, and went back on board the bluebird again. snap, who always went with them on these little excursions, bounded on deck, and then made a rush for the kitchen, for he was hungry, and he knew dinah generally had a bone, or something nice for him. mr. bobbsey, who was following close behind snap, was surprised to see the dog come to a sudden stop in the passageway between the kitchen and dining-room. snap growled, and showed his teeth, as he did when some savage dog, or other enemy, was near at hand. "what's the matter, old fellow?" asked mr. bobbsey. "do you see something?" snap turned and looked at mr. bobbsey. then the dog looked at one of the locker doors, and, with a loud bark, sprang toward it, as though he would go through the panels. chapter xx at the waterfall "what's the matter?" asked mrs. bobbsey, who had followed her husband into the passageway. "snap and snoop aren't quarreling, are they?" "indeed, no," answered mr. bobbsey. "but snap is acting very strangely. i don't know what to make of him." by this time mrs. bobbsey had come up, where she could see the dog. snap was still standing in front of the door, growling, whining, and, now and then, uttering a low bark. "what's the matter with him?" asked mrs. bobbsey. "is he hungry?" "well, i guess he's always more or less hungry," her husband said, "but that isn't the matter with him now. i think perhaps he imagines he sees dinah's ghost!" and he laughed. "snap, come here!" called mrs. bobbsey, and, though the dog usually minded her, this time he did not obey. he only stood near the door, growling. "why don't you open it, and let him see what's in there," said bert. "maybe it's only some of those mice that made the noise," he went on. "perhaps it is," his father answered. "i'll let snap have a chance at them." as mr. bobbsey stepped up to turn the knob of the "locker," or closet door, there was a noise inside, as though something had been knocked down off a shelf. snap barked loudly and made a spring, to be ready to jump inside the closet as soon as it was opened. "what's that?" cried mrs. bobbsey, while flossie and freddie, a little alarmed, clung together and moved nearer to their mother. "there's something inside there, that's sure," declared mr. bobbsey. "it must be a big rat!" "mercy!" cried mrs. bobbsey. "a rat!" "i'll have to set a trap," mr. bobbsey went on. "that rat has probably been taking the things to eat that dinah missed--the corn-cakes and the sandwiches." "that's right!" cried bert. "that ends the mystery. go for him, snap!" "bow wow!" barked the dog, only too willing to get in the closet and shake the rat. but, when mr. bobbsey opened the door, no rat ran out, not even a little mouse. snap was ready for one, had there been any; but though he pawed around on the floor, and nosed behind the boxes and barrels, he caught nothing. "where is it?" asked flossie. "i want to see the rat!" cried freddie. neither of the smaller twins was afraid of animals. of course, they did not know that rats can sometimes bite very fiercely, or they might not have been nearly so anxious to see one. "i guess the rat got away," said mr. bobbsey, as he watched snap pawing around in the locker, even pushing aside boxes with his nose. "hab yo' cotched de ghost?" asked dinah, looking out from her kitchen. "not yet--but almost," said mr. bobbsey. "i must clean out this closet, and find the rat-hole. then i'll set the trap. come away snap. you missed him that time." the dog was not so sure of this. he stayed near the closet, while mr. bobbsey set out the boxes and barrels, but no rat was to be seen, nor even a mouse. and, the odd part of it was that, when everything was out of the locker, there was no hole to be seen, through which any of the gnawing animals might have slipped. "that's funny," said the twins' father, as he peered about. "i don't see how that rat got in here, or got out again." "perhaps it wasn't a rat," suggested mrs. bobbsey. "what was it, then, that made the noise?" asked her husband. "i don't know," she answered. "something might have bumped against the boat outside." "yes, that's so," admitted mr. bobbsey. "but snap wouldn't act that way just on account of a noise." the boxes and barrels were put back into the closet, but even that did not seem to satisfy snap. he remained near the locker for some time, now and then growling and showing his teeth. mr. bobbsey looked in some of the other, and smaller, lockers, but all he found was a tiny hole, hardly big enough for a mouse. "perhaps it was a mouse," he said. "anyhow, i'll set a trap there. dinah, toast me a bit of cheese." "cheese, massa bobbsey!" exclaimed the colored cook. "yo' knows yo' cain't eat cheese. ebery time yo' does, yo' gits de insispepsia suffin terrible--specially toasted cheese." "i don't intend to eat it!" answered the twins' father, with a laugh. "i'm going to bait a trap with cheese to catch the mice. i don't care whether they get the indigestion or not." "oh! dat's diffunt," said dinah. "i'll toast yo' some." the trap was set, but for two or three days, though it was often looked at, no mice were caught. meanwhile, several times, dinah said she missed food from her kitchen. it was only little things, though, and the bobbseys paid small attention to her, for dinah was often forgetful, and might have been mistaken. "i really think we have some rats aboard," said mr. bobbsey. "there are some on nearly every boat. i have heard noises in the night that could be made only by rats." "and snap still acts queerly, whenever he passes that locker," said mrs. bobbsey. "i'm not so sure it is a rat that made that noise, richard." "no?" her husband asked. "what was it, then?" but mrs. bobbsey either could not, or would not, say. "i say, harry," said bert to his country cousin one day, when the bluebird had come to anchor some distance down the lake, "let's try to get to the bottom of this mystery." "what mystery?" "why, the one about the noise, and the sandwiches and cakes being taken, and snap acting so funny. i'm sure there's a mystery on this boat, and we ought to find out what it is." "i'm with you!" exclaimed harry. "what shall we do?" "let's sit up some night and watch that closet," said bert. "we can easily do it." "will your folks let us?" "we won't ask them. oh, i wouldn't do anything i knew they didn't want me to do without asking," bert said quickly, as he saw his cousin's startled glance. "but there's no harm in this," bert went on. "we'll go to bed early some night, and, when all the rest of them are asleep, we'll get up and stand watch all night. you can watch part of the time, and when you get sleepy i'll take my turn. then we can see whether anything is hiding in that closet." "do you think there is?" asked harry. "i'm sure i don't know what to think," bert answered. "only it's a mystery, and we ought to find out what it is." "i'm with you," said harry again. "are you talking secrets?" asked nan, suddenly coming up just then. "sort of," admitted her brother, laughing. "oh, tell me--do!" she begged. "no, nan. not now," said bert. "this is only for us boys." nan tried to find out the secret, but they would not tell her. two days later, during which the bluebird cruised about on the lake, bert said to harry, after supper: "we'll watch to-night, and find out what's, in that closet. snap barked and growled every time to-day, that he passed it. i'm sure something's there." "it does seem so," admitted harry. mr. bobbsey was steering the boat toward shore, intending to come to anchor for the night, when flossie, who was standing up in front cried: "oh, look! here's the waterfall! oh, isn't it beautiful!" just before them, as they turned around a bend in the bank, was a cataract of white water, tumbling down into the lake over a precipice of black rocks--a most beautiful sight. chapter xxi what bert saw the waterfall of lake romano was still some little distance off, and, as the wind was blowing toward it, only a faint roar of the falling water came to the ears of the bobbsey twins, and the others on the houseboat. "oh, papa!" exclaimed nan. "may we go close up and see the cataract?" "yes," said mr. bobbsey. "i intended to give you a good view of the waterfall. we shall spend a day or so here, as it is a great curiosity. there is one place where you can walk right behind the falls." "behind it!" cried harry. "i don't understand how that can be, uncle." "you'll see to-morrow, when we visit them," said the twins' father. "and there are some oddly-marked stones to be picked up, too, bert. they will do for your collection." "fine!" bert exclaimed. "say, this has been a dandy trip all right!" "it isn't ended yet, is it, dorothy?" asked nan. "no, indeed," replied the seashore cousin, with a smile. "and we haven't solved the mystery," said bert in a low voice to harry. "but we will to-night, all right." "we sure will," agreed the boy from the country. the bobbsey twins stayed up rather later that night than usual. mr. bobbsey did not find a good anchorage for the boat for some time, as he wanted to get in a safe place. it looked as though there might be a storm before morning, and he did not want to drift away again. then, too, he wanted to get nearer to the waterfall, so they could reach it early the next morning and look at it more closely. so the motor was kept in action by captain white until after supper, and finally the bluebird came to rest not far from the waterfall. then bert and nan, with dorothy and harry were so interested in listening to mr. bobbsey tell stories about waterfalls, and what caused them, that the older twins and their cousins did not get to bed until nearly ten o'clock, whereas nine was the usual hour. of course flossie and freddie "turned in," as sailors say, about eight o'clock, for their little eyes would not stay open any longer. "we'll wake up as soon as my father and mother are asleep," said bert to harry, as they went to their rooms, which were adjoining ones. "then we'll take turns watching that closet." "sure," agreed harry. "whoever wakes up first, will call the other." to this bert agreed, but the truth of it was that neither of them awakened until morning. whether it was that they were too tired, or slept later than usual, they could not tell. but it was broad daylight, when they sat up in their beds, or "bunks," as beds are called on ships. "i thought you were going to call me," said bert to his cousin. "and i thought you were going to call me," laughed the boy from the country. then they both laughed, for it was a good joke on each of them. "never mind," spoke bert, as he got up and dressed. "we'll try it again to-night." "try what?" asked nan from the next room, for she could hear her brother speak. "if you boys try to play any tricks on us girls---" "don't worry," broke in harry. "the secret isn't about you." "i think you're real mean not to tell us!" called dorothy, from her room. "nan and i are going to have a marshmallow roast, when we go on shore near the waterfall, and we won't give you boys a single one, will we, nan?" "not a one!" cried bert's sister. "will you give me one--whatever it is?" asked freddie from the room where his mother was dressing him. "and me, too?" added flossie, for she always wanted to share in her little twin brother's fun. "yes, you may have some, but not bert and harry," went on nan, though she knew when the time came, that she would share her treat with her brother and cousin. "well, i didn't hear any noises last night," said mr. bobbsey to his wife at the breakfast table. "nor i," said she. but when dinah came in with a platter of ham and eggs, there was such a funny look on the cook's face that mrs. bobbsey asked: "aren't you well, dinah?" "oh, yes'm, i'se well enough," the fat cook answered. "but dey shuah is suffin strange gwine on abo'd dish yeah boat." "what's the matter now?" asked mr. bobbsey. "a whole loaf of bread was tooken last night," said dinah. "it was tooken right out ob de bread box," she went on, "and i'se shuah it wasn't no rat, fo' he couldn't open my box." "i don't know," said mrs. bobbsey. "rats are pretty smart sometimes." "they are smart enough to keep out of my trap," said papa bobbsey. "i must set some new ones, i think." "well, i don't think it was any rat," said dinah, as she went on serving breakfast. there was so much to do that day, and so much to see, that the bobbsey twins, at least, and their cousins, paid little attention to the story of the missing loaf of bread. bert did say to harry: "it's too bad we didn't watch last night. we might have caught whoever it was that took the bread." "who do you think it was?" asked harry. "oh, some tramps," said bert. "it couldn't be anybody else." they went ashore after breakfast, close to the waterfall. "papa, you said you would show us where we could walk under the water without getting wet," nan reminded him. "oh, yes," said mr. bobbsey. "i have never been to these falls, but i have read about them." then he showed the children a place, near the shore of the lake, where they could slip in right behind the thin veil of water that fell over the black rocks, high above their heads. back of the falling water there was a space which the waves had worn in the stone. it was damp, but not enough to wet their feet. there they stood, behind the sheet of water, and looked out through it to the lake, into which it fell with a great splashing and foaming. "oh, isn't this wonderful!" cried nan. "it surely is," said dorothy, with a sigh. "i never saw anything so pretty." "and what queer stones!" cried bert, as he picked up some that had been worn into odd shapes by the action of the water. the bobbseys spent some little time at the waterfall, and then, as there was a pretty little island near it, where picnic parties often went for the day, they went there in the bluebird, going ashore for their dinner. "but i'm not going to play robinson crusoe again," said freddie, as he remembered the time he had been caught in the cave. at the end of a pleasant day on the island, the bobbseys again went on board the houseboat for supper. "we'll watch sure to-night," said bert to harry, as they got ready for bed. "we won't go to sleep at all." "all right," agreed the country cousin. it was hard work, but they managed to stay awake. when the boat was quiet, and every one else asleep, harry and bert stole softly out of their room and went to the passageway between the dining-room and kitchen. "you watch from the kitchen, and i'll watch from the dining-room," bert told his cousin. "then, no matter which way that rat goes, we'll see him." "do you think it was a rat?" asked harry. "well, i'm not sure," his cousin answered. "but maybe we'll find out to-night." "we ought to have something to hit him with, if we see a rat," suggested harry. "that's right," bert agreed. "i'll take the stove poker, and you can have the fire shovel. now keep very still." the two cousins took their places, bert in the dining-room, and harry in the kitchen. it was very still and quiet on the bluebird. up on deck snap, the dog, could be heard moving about now and then, for he slept up there. bert, who had sat down in a dining-room chair, began to feel sleepy. he tried to keep open his eyes, but it was hard work. suddenly he dozed off, and he was just on the point of falling asleep, when he heard a noise. it was a squeaking sound, as though a door had been opened. "or," thought bert, "it might be the squeak of a mouse. i wonder if harry heard it?" he wanted to call out, in a whisper, and ask his cousin in the dining-room, just beyond the passage. bert could not see harry. but bert thought if he called, even in a whisper, he might scare the rat, or whoever, or whatever, it was, that had caused the mystery. so bert kept quiet and watched. the squeaking noise of the loose boards in the floor went on, and then bert heard a sound, as though soft footsteps were coming toward him. he wanted to jump up and yell, but he kept still. then, suddenly, bert saw something. standing in the dining-room door, looking at him, was a boy, about his own age--a boy dressed in ragged clothes, and in bare feet, and in his hand this boy held a piece of bread, and a slice of cake. "you--you!" began bert, wondering where he had seen that boy before. and then, before bert could say any more, the boy turned to run away, and bert jumped up to catch him. chapter xxii the stowaway "come back here!" cried bert, as he rushed on. there was the sound of a fall in the passageway, and some one groaned. "what is it?" cried harry, running from the kitchen. "what's the matter, bert? did you catch the rat?" "no, but i caught something else," bert answered. by this time he had run into the passageway, and there, in front of the locker, or closet, where the strange noises had been heard, lay the ragged boy. he had fallen and hurt his head. the cake and bread had been knocked from his hands. the door of the locker or closet was open. "why--why---" began harry, in surprise. "it's a--a boy." "yes, and now i know who he is," said bert, as the stowaway sat up, not having been badly hurt by his fall. he had tripped in his bare feet. "who--who is it?" asked harry. "it's that boy who gave us the fish--will watson, who worked for the man that made the wire fence--mr. hardee." "yes, i'm that boy," said the other, slowly. "oh, i hope your folks won't be very mad at me. i--i didn't know what to do, so when i ran away, i hid on your boat." "and have you been here ever since?" asked bert. "yes," answered will. "i've been hiding here ever since." "and was it you who took the things?" harry wanted to know. "yes, i took them. i was half starved. but i'll pay you back as soon as i get out west, where my uncle lives. he's a gold miner, and i guess he's got lots of money. oh, i hope your father and mother will forgive me." "of course they will," said bert, seeing tears in the eyes of the ragged boy. "what's the matter there?" called mr. bobbsey. "has anything happened, bert?" "yes," answered bert. "we've solved the mystery--harry and i." "solved the mystery!" cried mr. bobbsey. "i'll be right there." "oh, what can it be?" his wife asked. meanwhile, captain white, dinah and the little bobbsey twins had been awakened by the loud voices. up on deck snap, the dog, feeling that something was wrong, was barking loudly. "i--i hope the dog doesn't get me!" said will, looking about. "i won't let him hurt you," promised bert. "so it was you, hiding in the closet that made snap act so funny?" he asked. "he knew you were there." "yes, only i wasn't in the closet all the while. there was a loose board at the back. i could slip out of the closet through that hole. i hid down in the lower part of the boat. i'll show you." "you poor boy!" exclaimed mrs. bobbsey when, with her husband, she had come to see the "mystery," as bert laughingly called him. "indeed we'll forgive you. you must have had a terrible time, hiding away as you did. now tell us all about it. but first i want you to drink this warm milk dinah has made for you," for mrs. bobbsey had told the cook to heat some. "you look half starved," she said to the boy. "i am," answered will. "i--i didn't take any more of your food than i could help, though." "yo' am welcome to all yo' want, honey lamb!" exclaimed dinah. "mah land, but i shuah am glad yo' ain't no ghostest! i shuah am!" and she sighed in relief, as she saw that will was a real, flesh-and-blood boy. he was, however, very thin and starved-looking. "now tell us all about it," said mr. bobbsey. "how did you come on our boat?" will told them. after mr. bobbsey had stopped the cruel farmer from beating him, will crawled up to his room to sob himself to sleep. then he began to think that after the houseboat had gone, mr. hardee would probably treat him all the more meanly, on account of having been interfered with. "so i just ran away," said will. "i packed up what few things i had, and when i saw your boat near shore, i crept aboard and hid myself away. i easily found a place down--down cellar," he said with a smile. "i suppose you mean in the hold, or the place below the lower deck," spoke mr. bobbsey. "cellars on a boat are called 'holds.' well, what happened?" "i--i just stayed there. i found some old bags, and made a bed on them," will said. "then when my food gave out, i used to crawl out during the nights and take some from your kitchen. "i had some bread when i ran away," will went on. "i took it from mrs. hardee's kitchen, but they owed me money for working, and i didn't take more bread than i ought." "i'm sure you didn't," said mrs. bobbsey, kindly. "i didn't want you to know i was on board the boat," will resumed, "for i was afraid you'd send me off, and i didn't want mr. hardee to find me again. i was afraid he'd whip me." "but what did you intend to do?" asked mr. bobbsey. "well, i heard you say you were going to lake romano," said the boy, "and i thought i would ride as far as you went. then i wouldn't have so far to walk to get to my uncle out west. i'm going to him. he'll look after me, i know. i can't stand mr. hardee any more." "you poor boy. we'll help you find your uncle," said mrs. bobbsey. "and you've been on board ever since?" asked mr. bobbsey. "yes, sir. i hid down in the 'hold,' as you call it. then when i got hungry, i found a loose board, so i could get into the closet. then at night i would come out and get things to eat and a little water or milk to drink. i didn't mean any harm." "no, i'm sure you did not," the twins' father said. "well, i'm glad bert found you," he went on, as bert and harry told how they had kept watch. "so it was you who took the things, and who made the noises that frightened dinah?" "yes, but i didn't mean, to scare her," will said. "that day i got my hand caught in the loose board, and it hurt so, and i felt so bad that i--i cried. that was what she heard, i guess." "you poor boy!" said mrs. bobbsey again. "and--and did you see any rats in the cellar?" asked freddie, who was moving about in his little night dress. "no," answered will, "i didn't see any rats. it was bad enough in the dark place, without any rats." "well, i guess your troubles are over, for a time," said mr. bobbsey. "we'll fix you up a bed, and then i'll have a talk with you about this miner uncle of yours." will finished his warm milk, and ate some bread and cake--the same he had taken from dinah's kitchen. he had gone in there and taken it, but harry had not heard him, for harry had fallen asleep. "and so it was a stowaway boy, and not rats or ghosts or anything else that was the mystery," said mrs. bobbsey, when everything once more quiet on the bluebird. "that's what it was," her husband said "bert was real smart to sit up and watch." "and he never told us a thing about it." "oh, he wanted to surprise us," laughed mr. bobbsey. "and didn't i see you, the time i fell overboard?" asked flossie, looking at will. "i think you did," he laughed. "i happened to put my head out of a ventilating hole just as you looked. i pulled it in again, soon enough, though. i hope i didn't scare you." "not very much," flossie said. "i was sure i saw you, but nobody else would believe me." snap soon made friends with the new boy. it was will, hiding behind the closet wall, that had made the dog act as though a rat were there. i must bring my story to a close, now that the mystery is explained. and, really, there is little else to tell. will had, in the little bundle of things he had brought away from mr. hardee's with him, the address of a man he thought knew where the miner uncle was. mr. bobbsey wrote several letters, and, in due time, word came back that will's uncle was well off now, and would look after him. his name was mr. jackson. he had lost track of will for some years and had just begun a search for him, when mr. bobbsey's letter came. enough money was sent on to enable will to make the trip out west, where he would be well cared for. he could not thank the bobbsey family enough for what they had done for him. mr. hardee heard where his runaway boy had been found, and tried to get him back, but mr. bobbsey would not permit this. so will's life began to be a pleasant one. the time he had spent on the houseboat, after coming from his hiding place, was the happiest he had ever known. "well, what shall we do now?" asked bert one day, after will had gone. "it seems queer not to have to be on the lookout for a mystery or something like that." "doesn't it," agreed harry. "and so that was your secret?" asked nan. "yes, that was it," her brother answered. "but i wish we had something to do now." "whatever you do, you want to do in the next two weeks," said mr. bobbsey, coming up on deck. "why?" asked bert. "because our houseboat trip will come to an end then." "oh!" cried the bobbsey twins in a chorus. "that's too bad!" "but i have other pleasures for you," went on mr. bobbsey. "the summer vacation is not yet over." and those of you who wish to read of what further pleasures the children had, may do so in the following volume, which will be called "the bobbsey twins at meadow brook." "let's have one more picnic on an island!" proposed nan, a few days before the trip on lake romano was to end. "and a marshmallow roast!" added dorothy. "fine!" cried bert. "i'll eat all the candies you toast!" "and i'll help!" added harry. "you boys will have to make the fire," nan said. "i'll gather wood!" offered freddie. "and i'll have my little fire engine all ready to put out the blaze, if it gets too big." "a pail of water will be better," laughed bert. "your engine might get going so fast, like it did once, we couldn't stop it." "i'll sharpen the sticks to put the marshmallows on," offered harry. "i wish will watson was here to help us eat these," said nan a little later that afternoon, when the children were having their marshmallow roast on a little island in the lake. "he was a nice boy." "yes, and he will be well looked after now," said mrs. bobbsey. "your father had a letter from the miner uncle to-day, saying he was going to make a miner of will. he gave up the idea of going to sea." "and will he dig gold?" asked flossie. "i suppose so, dear!" "oh, i'm going to dig gold when i grow to be a man," said freddie. "may i have another marshmallow, nan?" "yes, little fat fireman," she laughed. a few days later, after making a trip around the lower end of the lake, the bobbsey twins started for home, reaching there safely, and having no more trouble with mr. hardee and his wire fence. and so, as they are now safe at home, we shall say good-bye to the bobbsey twins and their friends. the end the flying stingaree by john blaine a rick brant science-adventure story grosset & dunlap publishers new york, n. y. by grosset & dunlap, inc., 1963 all rights reserved _printed in the united states of america_ [transcriber's note: extensive research found no evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] to my sons, chris and derek, who have watched the stingarees from the sun deck of the cruising houseboat spindrift the flying stingaree what's shaped like a sting ray and flies over chesapeake bay? this is the eerie riddle which confronts rick brant and his friend don scott when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat _spindrift_ in a lonely cove along the maryland shore and spot the flying stingaree. the "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind--one is actually suspected of having kidnaped a man! the residents of the eastern shore of maryland believe the strange objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased reporting the sightings. rick and scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin a comprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend steve ames, a young government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near the cove. as the clues mount up, the trail leads to calvert's favor, a historic plantation house--and to the very bottom of chesapeake bay. how rick and scotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forever makes a tale of high-voltage suspense. [illustration: _little choptank river_] contents i chesapeake bay ii the flying stingaree iii orvil harris, crabber iv steve's place v the face is familiar vi the saucer sighters vii sighting data viii calvert's favor ix the duck blind x ken holt comes through xi on the bottom xii night recovery xiii the night watchers xiv daybreak xv the empty boat xvi steve waits it out xvii crowd at martins creek xviii the stingaree's tail xix lucky lefty xx hunt the wide waters list of illustrations little choptank river scotty fitted the camera to the telescope now to find out what he had the flying stingaree lifted him chapter i chesapeake bay the stingaree swam slowly through the warm waters of chesapeake bay. geography meant nothing to the ray, whose sole interest in life was food, but his position--had he known it--was in the channel that runs between poplar island and the town of wittman on the eastern shore of maryland. the ray was also directly in the path of an odd-looking cruising houseboat, the _spindrift_, that had just rounded the north point of poplar island and entered the channel. the sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he looked like wet black leather. he was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, with rounded sides. he had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs along the base of its upper side. it was from the barbs, which served as defensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. the ray was harmless to men--unless one chanced to step on him as he lay resting on the bottom ooze. at such rare times, his tail would lash up, inflicting a serious and painful wound. a tiny crab, hatched only a week before, swam upward toward the gleaming surface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. the ray sensed the small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through the water like a fantastic spaceship of the future. intent on the crab, the ray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motors and a long, flat-bottomed hull. not until the crab was within reach did the ray sense imminent danger. with a single flashing movement, he snatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surface and into the air. rick brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray break water and he let out a yell. "scotty! look!" don scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which was also its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calm water. "stingaree!" he exclaimed. rick had never seen an area more teeming with life than chesapeake bay, unless it was the jungles of the south pacific. books, guides to eastern land and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabin top before him, along with a pair of binoculars. he had used them all repeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck and geese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a horde of lesser creatures. trailing lines over the houseboat stern had captured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species of drumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pink croakers that the marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs for which the bay is famous. he had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels of soft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and he had seen the famous maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"--sailing craft used for dredging oysters. the boats were not operated during the oyster breeding season from the end of march until september. rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. as son of the director of the world-famous spindrift scientific foundation, located on spindrift island off the coast of new jersey, he had been brought up among scientists. the habit of observation had developed along with his natural--and insatiable--curiosity. the tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. he enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the _spindrift_ couldn't have been more casual. he was dressed in a tattered pair of shorts and a wristwatch. once, in the cool of the evening, he had slipped on a sweat shirt. otherwise, the shorts had been his sole attire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before. scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came down the ladder from the cabin top and stood beside rick in the cockpit. "now that you woke me up to look at a fish, suppose you tell me where we are? last thing i remember, we were passing under the bay bridge off annapolis." "that's bloody point lighthouse behind us," rick said. "poplar island is on the starboard and the eastern shore to port. that black thing sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. when we reach it, we should be able to see the range markers into knapps narrows." scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed by the rear cabin wall. "what time is it?" rick glanced at his watch. "five after six. time for chow. want to rustle up something? or shall we eat at knapps narrows? the cruising guide says there's a restaurant there." "let's eat out," scotty replied promptly. "i'm sick of my cooking--and yours. i'd like some maryland crab cakes like those we had in chesapeake city." rick remembered with pleasure. "suits me." "think we'll get to steve's tonight?" scotty asked. "i doubt it. we probably could reach the mouth of the river about dark, but then we'd have to navigate up the river and into a creek before reaching steve's. i don't want to tackle these chesapeake backwaters at night." the destination of the houseboat was the summer cottage of rick's old friend, steve ames, who was also a chief agent of janig, the top-secret federal security organization. the boys, and the spindrift scientists, had worked on several cases for janig, starting with the adventure of _the whispering box mystery_. steve was responsible for rick's ownership of the houseboat, which had been named for rick's home island on the grounds that it was now his "home away from home." rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. at the request of steve ames, he, scotty, his sister barby, and jan miller, daughter of one of the spindrift physicists, had been searching the coast of new jersey for signs of strangers in the area. barby had spotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange. later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of _the electronic mind reader_, and rick had fought for his life and the safety of the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. the houseboat had been impounded by federal authorities, and recently steve had mentioned to rick that it was to be auctioned. after consulting with his family, rick had entered a bid for the boat. his bid had been the only one, and he became owner at what was close to a salvage price. it was rick's pride that his chief possessions had been bought with his own money, and the houseboat was no exception. like his first plane, the cub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. rick had recovered his investment in the cub by using it to operate spindrift island's ferry service to the mainland. rick flew the scientists to newark airport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to whiteside for groceries, or into new york to pick up parts and supplies. the houseboat could not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get its price back by renting it to summer visitors to the new jersey area. he had repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made a few other improvements. before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extended houseboat vacation. he and scotty had left spindrift island, headed south into manasquan inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. by easy stages--the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour--they had moved down the waterway into delaware bay, up the delaware river, through the chesapeake and delaware canal, and into chesapeake bay. now, some twenty miles south of annapolis, the boys were nearing steve's summer cottage. rick's parents, with barby and jan, were now on their way to wallops island rocket range operated by the national aeronautics and space administration. hartson brant had business there in connection with instruments the spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuring solar x rays. the instruments would be launched in rockets. wallops island was near chincoteague, virginia, just across the maryland-virginia border on the long peninsula called "the eastern shore" that runs between chesapeake bay and the atlantic ocean. by car, wallops was less than two hours from steve's summer cottage. as soon as his business was concluded, hartson brant planned to drive to steve's, where the brants and the two girls would join rick and scotty for a vacation on the houseboat. there was plenty of room. the _spindrift_ was thirty feet long and ten feet wide, and had two cabins. four could sleep in the forward cabin, and two amidships where the galley, dinette, and bath were located. steve had agreed to drive the brant car to spindrift on his next trip to new york. the houseboat, with the full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island. rick was delighted with the arrangements. the brants--and that included scotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the united states marine corps--were a close-knit family whose members enjoyed doing things together. rick considered jan miller, barby's dearest friend, a welcome addition to the party. "range light ahead," scotty said. rick nodded. the light was set atop a black piling. the color meant he would have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at the entrance to the narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. this was in accordance with the old sailors' rule: _red right returning_, which means keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, when returning from seaward. it was fun navigating in strange waters. he had never heard of knapps narrows a few days before, or of tilghman island, where the narrows were located. nor had he heard of the choptank river, which lay just below the island. the houseboat plowed ahead, its twin outboards purring. its bow, rounded like the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. rick passed the range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening of the narrows. in a few moments they were in the narrows, passing lines of docked crab, oyster, and clam boats. there was a bridge ahead, with a gasoline dock in its shadow. rick gauged wind and current and decided how he would maneuver into place. the current was heavy in the channel, running in the direction in which he was headed. "i'll nose in, and you jump off with a bowline," he directed scotty. "we'll let the stern swing around with the current. that will leave us facing the way we came, so we won't have to turn when we leave." in a short time the maneuver was completed. rick edged the rounded nose of the houseboat against the seawall as scotty stepped ashore carrying the bowline. he snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast while the ungainly boat swung with the current. rick stepped to the seawall with the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boys made the boat fast. "now," scotty said, "let's gas up and eat." after filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, and topping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, and shoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. over delicious, spicy maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with the proprietor, a friendly, heavy-set eastern shore man who spoke with the typical slurred accents of the region. "quite a boat you got there," the man said. rick grinned. "it does look sort of odd, but it's comfortable." "expect so. thought it was a seagoin' flyin' saucer when i saw it comin' through the narrows." scotty munched crab cake appreciatively. "seen many flying saucers around here?" he asked whimsically. "a few." the boys stared. the man smiled at the reaction. "didn't expect that? it's true. we see one now and again." "really?" rick asked. "sure as geese fly. don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like we read about in the washington and baltimore papers--we get both--but they're somethin' strange. not natural, anyway." the boys looked at each other. there was no doubt that the proprietor believed what he was saying. he was as casual as though reporting a catch of fish. "seen any recently?" scotty inquired. "two nights ago. always see 'em about dusk. real plain, against the sky. sun hits 'em when they get high enough. they shine, sometimes silver, sometimes red." "funny we haven't seen anything about it in the papers," rick commented. "oh, i don't know. used to be we'd report 'em, and the papers carried a few lines. but the way the stories got written, you'd think us eastern shore folks were short a few marbles. we got tired of being laughed at, so no one says much about the saucers any more." "but lots of people see them?" scotty asked. "sure. anyone that happens to be outdoors." "ever report these sightings to the authorities?" rick wanted to know. "did at first. called the state police myself. the coast guard boys are located right here at the narrows, and they reported to baltimore. nothin' happened. the authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you might say. i guess the last report was when link harris was kidnaped by one." rick's scalp prickled. "you honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a flying saucer?" "it's the only thing we can think of. link went out to set his crab lines, like always, and never came home. we set out to find him, and we found his boat all right, but no link. one of the saucers was seen by several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was workin' at about the time he was there." the boys digested this startling information. "maybe he was drowned," rick ventured. "in a creek? not likely! link's been crabbin' for thirty years in these waters. water was smooth. not a ripple, even out on the bay. even if he fell over, he could almost walk ashore. tide was out and he was settin' lines in about six feet, and he's better than two yards high. shore wasn't more than twenty yards away." "maybe he hit his head when he fell," scotty suggested. "possible, but even if he drowned we'd have found his body." rick shook his head. "it's hard to believe a man could be kidnaped by a flying saucer. couldn't he have gone ashore and walked out of the area? maybe he _wanted_ to disappear." "you're mighty hard to convince," the proprietor said good-humoredly. it was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or not. he was making conversation just to be sociable. "where link was settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. no man with any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now would he? besides, there's no reason link would want to disappear. he lived all alone and did about what he pleased. crabs netted him enough money for his needs." "how long ago did this happen?" rick asked. "two, three weeks. not long." "where?" scotty queried. "few miles south. in a creek off the little choptank." "that's where we're going!" rick exclaimed. "so? well, watch for swamp creek. it's on the chart. that's where they got link. where you headed?" "a place called martins creek," rick replied. "uh-huh. well, martins is on the south shore, and swamp creek is on the north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. you'll pass it on the way. better keep an eye open. that boat of yours might attract flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks." rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "we'll set a bear trap on the upper deck," he said. "any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the pilot will catch one of his six legs in it." "likely," the man agreed. "you catch one, bring it to the narrows, will you? always wanted to see one at close range." "we'll do that," rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how close he and scotty would come to carrying out the promise. chapter ii the flying stingaree someone once said that the chesapeake bay "looks like the deck plan of an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a fraction of the story. rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. even some of the tributaries have tributaries. the result is thousands of miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore. the cruising houseboat _spindrift_ moved steadily across the mouth of one of the principal waterways of the eastern shore, the choptank river. it was a good three miles across the river's mouth, and rick occupied the time by reading aloud to scotty, who was piloting. "'the choptank river is navigable for large ships to the city of cambridge, a principal eastern shore port. yachts will find the river navigable for twenty miles beyond cambridge, depending on their draft, while boats of shallow draft can cruise all the way into the state of delaware.'" rick paused in his reading and looked up. "be fun to go up one of these rivers to the source, wouldn't it?" "maybe we can," scotty replied. "read on." "'the name choptank comes from the choptank indians who lived in the area until the middle of the nineteenth century. these indians were first discovered by captain john smith when he sailed into chesapeake bay in search of a location for what later became the jamestown colony.'" "we're sailing through history," scotty commented. "and we'd better step on it." he pushed the throttles forward. the houseboat accelerated to its top speed of about twelve miles an hour. "what's up?" rick demanded. "look to the southwest. that must be one of those chesapeake bay squalls the book warns about." there was a black line of clouds some distance away, but rick could see that the squall line was moving fast, crossing the bay in their direction. he swung the chart table up and studied the situation. they were close to the south shore of the choptank river now, and the chart showed no easily accessible place of shelter in the vicinity. they would have to run for the little choptank, the next river to the south. the chart showed several creeks off the little choptank. they could duck into the one nearest the river mouth. "can we ride it out if we have to?" rick asked. scotty grinned. "we'll find out, if we have to. but i'd rather not be in open water when a squall hits this barge. it's not built for storms. keep your fingers crossed and hope we get to cover before it hits." "i hear you talking. i'm going to do a little research." rick ducked into the cabin and took the tide tables from the bookshelf. back on deck, he leafed through the official publication and found that the nearest point for tidal data was the choptank river light, only a few miles away and clearly visible. high and low tides at the light were about three hours and fifteen minutes earlier than baltimore, the data station for the area. rick checked baltimore data for the date, subtracted quickly, and glanced at his watch. "high tide in about a half hour. the chart shows three feet near shore at mean low water. high tide will bring it up to four and a half at the very least. that's plenty for this barge. get inshore and cut corners. we won't have to stick to the channel." scotty swung the wheel instantly, and the houseboat took a new course, leading them closer to shore. "better keep an eye out for logs or pilings," scotty warned. "no rocks in the area, so we don't have to worry about shoals." the wooded shore slid by, the trees gradually giving way to low scrub and marsh grass as they neared the mouth of the little choptank. rick alternately kept an eye out ahead and checked their position on the chart. they were in about five feet of water, more than enough for the shallow-draft houseboat. his principal worry was the outboard propellers. he didn't want to break one on a log that might be sticking up underwater. the squall was closer now, and the sky was growing dark. rick estimated that they had no more than ten minutes before the storm would hit. he had to look up at a sharp angle to see the storm front. visibility was down to zero directly under it. whitecaps and a roiling sea told him there was plenty of wind in the squall. he doubted that the houseboat could head into it successfully. the wind would catch the high cabin sides and force the houseboat onto the shore. scotty swung around the northern tip of land that marked the mouth of the little choptank. "we won't make it," he said, glancing at the chart. rick nodded. "but the wind will be behind us. we can drive right into the mouth of the nearest creek. according to the chart, there's a cove just inside the mouth where we ought to be out of the wind." he put his finger on the place, and suddenly a chill ran through him. the nearest safe harbor was swamp creek, where link harris had vanished! there wasn't time to talk about it. he would have to be prepared to drop the anchor quickly. "i'm going up on the bow," he said. "once into the creek, turn as hard as you can into the wind, then cut the power. i'll heave the anchor over and the wind pressure on the boat can set it. but keep the motors turning over in case it doesn't hold." "got it," scotty agreed. rick stepped out of the cockpit onto the catwalk. the cabin top was just chest-high, and he could hold on by grabbing the safety rails that ran along the sides of the large sun deck. he moved swiftly along the walk to the foredeck, a small semicircular deck used primarily for docking and anchoring. the anchor line was coiled on a hook on the curving front of the cabin, and the patent anchor was stowed on the deck itself. rick took the coil and faked down the line in smooth figure eights so it would run out without fouling, then made sure the anchor was free and ready to go. when rick stood up and looked down the length of the cabin top at scotty, he saw that the squall was almost on them. the turbulent cloud front was directly overhead. he saw the wind line, marked by turbulent water, move swiftly toward the houseboat. the _spindrift_ rocked as though shaken by a giant hand, and its speed picked up appreciably. the houseboat began to pitch as the chop built up around it. visibility dropped suddenly; it was almost dark. rick winced as large, hard-driven raindrops lashed into his face, then he turned his back to the storm and stared ahead. the creek mouth was in sight. he pointed to it for scotty's benefit, but when he turned to look at his pal, the driving rain slashed into his eyes and made him look away. scotty had seen the creek mouth. staying as close to shore as he dared, scotty drove the houseboat to within fifty yards of the narrow mouth, then swung the helm hard. the wind, which had been astern, was now abeam and its force was acting on the high side of the boat. the houseboat slewed sideways, and for a moment rick thought they would be driven on to the upstream bank of the creek. but scotty had judged his distance and wind pressure well. the boat shot into the creek mouth with feet to spare. the cove opened up ahead. scotty reversed one motor and the houseboat turned almost in its own length. rick watched the shore through squinting eyes, and the moment he saw the boat's forward motion cease, he dropped the big anchor over. the wind caught the houseboat again and drove it backward into the cove while the anchor line ran out. when he had enough line out for safety, rick snubbed it tight around a cleat, held the taut line between thumb and forefinger until he was sure it had none of the vibrations caused by a dragging anchor, and then hurried back along the catwalk to the cockpit. he and scotty ran from the rainswept deck down the two steps into the cabin. for a moment the two stood grinning at each other and listening to the heavy drumming of the rain on the cabin top, then rick spoke. "we'd better get out of these wet clothes so we can sit down. this may last for an hour or so." scotty agreed. "first one into dry shorts makes the coffee." "that's me," rick said. he stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled quickly, and put on dry shorts. the rain had chilled the air, so he reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat shirt, and pulled it over his head. it felt good. scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought from the deck before he changed his own clothes. by the time he was dressed in dry shorts and sweater, rick had the alcohol stove going and water heating for coffee. "know where we are?" rick asked casually. "sure. we're--" scotty stopped. "for pete's sake! i didn't make the connection at first. we're in swamp creek, where that man got snatched by a flying saucer!" "right. worried?" scotty grinned. "any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is welcome to what it gets. how's the anchor?" "holding," rick said. "i hope." he looked out the galley window and watched the shore. it changed position as the boat moved, but that was only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "seems all right," he added. ten minutes later coffee was ready. the boys sat at the dinette table and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. it seemed to be increasing in intensity. "picking up," scotty said. "the guidebook wasn't kidding when it said 'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'" "wonder how long they last?" rick asked. "hard to say. perhaps an hour." the houseboat jerked suddenly. rick jumped to his feet. "did you feel that?" the boat heeled under the lash of wind. rick peeled off his sweat shirt. "feels as though the anchor dragged a little. i'm going out and let out more scope. we can't take a chance of drifting in this wind." "i'll go," scotty offered. "no. i put the anchor down. it's my fault if it slips. stand by." rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops, like heavy buckshot on his face and body. for a moment he hesitated, then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. he hurried to the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. he could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat too near shore. the more anchor line out, the better the anchor could hold. he made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind direction had changed and that the blast was now coming down the creek, swinging the houseboat around. that probably was why the anchor had shifted. he knelt and took the line in his fingers. it no longer seemed to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. he unloosed the half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. when he estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line. once more he reached out and held the taut line. it didn't seem to be slipping. he pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. the anchor was in solidly this time. rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back. sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and black rushing at him out of the storm. rain blurred his vision. he had a swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at him. he threw himself flat on the foredeck. there was a rustling sound overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. rick was on his feet again. heart pounding, he looked around. there was nothing but rain and wind. he stood upright and looked across the cabin top. for an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain. shaken, rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door, and leaned against it. scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an instant. [illustration (2 page 29 and 30)] "rick! what happened? you're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed. "saw one," rick managed. he was still shaking. "it went right over the boat. i think it hit the upper rail. we'll check later. but it wasn't a flying saucer. i'm sure of that." "what was it?" scotty demanded. "a flying stingaree!" chapter iii orvil harris, crabber rick brant awoke to the sound of a motor. for a moment he lay quietly in his bunk, listening. the sun through the cabin windows told him it was early in the morning. the sunlight still had the red quality of early sunrise. he watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its anchor. by the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the swamp creek cove for the night. in spite of his unsettling experience, rick and scotty had not been deeply disturbed. neither he nor scotty believed in flying saucers--at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and the object rick had seen had not been saucer-like. it had been shaped like a stingaree. stingarees don't fly. rick smiled to himself. during another vacation, skin diving in the virgin islands, he and scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. but if stingarees don't fly, he asked himself, what looks like a stingaree and _does_ fly? he realized suddenly that the sound of the motor was louder once again. someone investigating the houseboat? he swung out of bed. the cool air of morning was in sharp contrast to the warmth of his sleeping bag. quickly he slipped into shorts and sweat shirt. as he opened the cabin door, he heard the slap of bare feet on the deck behind him and turned to see scotty regain his balance after dropping from the upper bunk. "go ahead," scotty called. "be right with you." "okay." rick stepped out into the cockpit and glanced around. it was a lovely morning. the ever-present birds of the chesapeake area were already active. a huge blue heron stepped daintily in the shallows like a stilt walker afraid of falling over. the heron was looking for small fish or anything that moved and was edible. an osprey, the great fish hawk of the bay region, swooped overhead on lazy wings, sharp eyes alert for small fish near the water's surface. in the pine woods behind the shore marsh, a bluejay called, its voice like a squeaky hinge. the motor sound was distant now, and the shore upstream blocked rick's view. then, as he watched, a long, low, white motorboat came into sight. its bow was vertical, its sides low. there was no cabin. amidships was a single man, clad in overalls and a denim shirt. the man was surrounded by bushel baskets, and he held a long-handled crab net made of chicken wire. rick watched with interest. on one side of the boat was a roller that extended out over the water. a heavy cord came out of the water, crossed the roller, and dipped back into the water again. every few feet there was a chunk of something on the cord, apparently bait. as rick watched, a piece of bait came up with a crab clinging to it. the net swooped and the crab was caught, pulled inboard, and dumped into a bushel basket with one fluid motion. the crabber never took his eyes from the cord. the boat continued in a straight line. scotty came out on deck and joined rick. the boys watched in silence while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and flipped it into the water. "too small, i guess," rick commented. "must be. where does the line go?" rick pointed. a gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in the creek. "that's where he's heading." the crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller. using a lever next to him, he turned the boat and headed toward another can some distance away. a quick pull with a boat hook and the line attached to the can was placed over the roller. crabs appeared, holding onto the bait as the boat moved along the new line. rick counted. the crabber was getting about one crab for every three baits. scotty leaned over the cockpit rail. "there's the end of his line, over near shore. he'll pass close to us." "that's why the motor sounded loud," rick guessed. "he moves from one line to another. last time he came by the boat he woke me up." "same here." scotty nodded. the crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace toward the houseboat. as he came abreast, he called, "mornin'." the boys returned the greeting. "looks like a good catch," scotty called. "fair. only fair." the crabber scooped up a huge blue crab from almost under their noses and went on his way. "if it's only fair now, what must it be like when it's good?" rick asked with a grin. "two crabs on every hunk of bait," scotty said. "you count crabs and i'll make coffee." "that's my boy," rick said approvingly. scotty went into the cabin and left rick watching the crabber. rick tried to figure out all the details. after a short time he concluded that the floats were attached to anchors of some kind. the anchors kept the crab line on the bottom, except when it was running over the roller. he also saw that there were no hooks or other gadgets. the crabs were caught simply because they refused to let go of the bait. the aroma of coffee drifted through the cabin door, and rick wondered why it is that coffee, bacon, and other breakfast scents are so much more tantalizing on the water. the crabber approached on the leg of his journey closest to the boat. on impulse, rick called, "come aboard and have some coffee?" the man grinned. without missing his smooth swing at a rising crab, he called back, "don't mind. that coffee smell was drivin' me nigh crazy. be back when i finish this line." rick leaned into the cabin. "company for coffee, scotty." "heard you. got another cup all ready. in here or out there?" "out here. it's too nice to be inside." in a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the houseboat, came alongside. rick took the line thrown by the crabber and made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. he looked into the boat with interest. covers on four baskets showed that the crabber had collected four bushels of crabs. a fifth and sixth basket were half full, one with very large crabs, the other with smaller ones. the crabber swung aboard. he was of medium height, with light-blue eyes set in a tanned and weather-beaten face. rick guessed his age to be somewhere in the mid-forties. he smiled, showing even teeth that were glaringly white in his tanned face. "name's orvil harris," he announced. "rick brant." rick shook hands. "that's don scott coming out with the coffee." scotty put down the coffeepot and mugs he was carrying and shook hands. "call me scotty, mr. harris. how do you like your coffee?" "strong and often," harris replied. "plain black. call me orvil." like all visitors, harris was interested in the houseboat. "been hopin' for a look inside," he said in his slurred eastern shore accent. "almost gave up hope. you get up late, seems like." rick glanced at the sun. "must be all of seven o'clock. you call that late?" "been here since four. it's late for me." rick showed orvil harris through the boat, then sat with him and scotty in the cockpit, sipping steaming coffee. the crabber talked willingly about his business. "not much profit," he reported, "but it beats workin'." after hearing about a crabber's life, rising in the middle of the night, rain or shine, working crab lines and hauling baskets around until noon, rick wondered what harris would consider hard work. having spent a dollar for six steamed crabs a few nights before, he was also amazed to hear the crabber report that he received only six dollars a bushel for "jumbo" crabs and three dollars a bushel for "culls," or medium ones. all under four and a half inches from tip to tip were thrown back. rick waited a courteous length of time before asking the question that had been on his mind since hearing the crabber's name. "are you any relation to link harris?" "second cousin." the blue eyes examined him with new interest. "where'd you hear about link?" "at the narrows," scotty replied. "we were talking about flying saucers." "flyin' catfish," harris said scornfully. "you swallow that yarn?" "didn't you?" rick asked quickly. "not any. that why you picked this creek to anchor in when there's so many nicer ones upstream?" scotty explained. "we ducked in here to get out of that squall last night. we didn't exactly pick it. afterward, we realized where we were." "why don't you believe the story about link harris?" rick wanted to know. "oh, i believe some of it." the crabber took out a blackened, much-used pipe and stoked it. "link disappeared, all right. we found his boat yonder." he pointed to a spot on the marshy shore. "he didn't drown?" rick pressed. harris shrugged. "not very likely. we'd have found his body. way the tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body out into deep water. the creek was clear. we'd have seen him." "then where did he go?" scotty demanded. "can't say. when he disappeared, i went to baltimore and bought every book on flyin' saucers i could lay hands on. all i know for sure is that what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. shape's wrong, color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say." "would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?" rick asked carefully. harris stopped with a match halfway to his pipe. "i would. for sure. when'd you see one?" "last night. right here." "mmmmm." harris got the pipe going well and threw the match into the water. "i've never seen one close. hoped to. that's why i crab this creek. would you say it was big enough to catch a man?" rick shook his head. "i didn't get a very long look, but i'd say definitely not. unless it had some kind of powerful motor i couldn't see or hear." harris puffed silently. "any theories?" scotty asked. "not one. i'm barren as the flats in winter." rick finished his coffee and put the mug down on the cabin top. "would link have gone away of his own accord?" "i wouldn't think so." harris accepted more coffee from scotty. "but let's keep one foot anchored. who knows what's in a man's mind? any man? sometimes there's a deep channel full of black water, and nothin' to make you suspect it. maybe link did walk off. it would be the easiest explanation--if you hadn't seen somethin' last night. i was about to give up. now i'm not so sure. what you saw came from somewhere, and it was goin' somewhere. if we could find out whence and whither, so to speak, we might have an idea of what happened to link." harris drew erect. "speakin' of whence and whither, what's your destination?" "we're visiting a friend," rick answered. "he lives on martins creek on the south side of the river. name is ames." harris nodded. "i know who he is. washington man. has a summer place." "you've met him?" scotty inquired. "so to speak. we've howdy'd, but we haven't shook." rick smothered a grin at the picturesque phrase. "i'd better get back to crabs," harris said. "i'm mighty grateful for the hospitality. you get to town, look me up, and give me a chance to return it." he shook hands with both boys, pulled his boat alongside, and stepped aboard. in a short time, he was running the crab lines again. "interesting," rick said noncommittally. scotty chuckled. "here we go again. sherlock brant's got his teeth into a nice fat mystery. good-by vacation." rick had to grin. "it's not that bad," he said defensively. "i just thought we might sniff around a little." "that's what i thought you thought. come on, hawkshaw. let's get some bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor." "okay." rick checked the chart. "we're only about twenty minutes' run from steve's place. if we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us breakfast." "considerate," scotty agreed, grinning. "i can see you now. you walk up the dock, shake hands, and say, 'glad to see you, steve. don't bother about breakfast. we've eaten. by the way, have you had any trouble with flying stingarees?'" rick grinned back. "not bad predicting. actually, i was going to wait for the right opportunity, then say, 'wonderful hunting and fishing country, steve. by the way, when does the hunting season open for flying stingarees?'" scotty laughed. "okay. only let's get going. i want to see how he answers!" chapter iv steve's place a red buoy marked the entrance to martins creek. rick, at the helm, passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, obviously tended, and more woods. "steve's place should be the second on the left," scotty said. "the first house with a dock." "use the binoculars," rick suggested. "we should be able to see it when we round the next bend." the houseboat passed the first house, a small, modern dwelling set close to the water. a rowboat was hauled up on the shore. the creek rounded a wooded promontory and the next house came into view. steve's! rick's eager eyes saw an attractive farmhouse, set well back from the water in a frame of willows and white oaks. there was an acre of green lawn in front of the house, the lawn running down to the water's edge. a small dock jutted out into the creek. tied to one side of it was a sturdy runabout with an outboard motor. "pretty," scotty approved. rick nodded. the farmhouse was half frame, half white brick, with a slate roof. it was apparently only one story high. on impulse, rick gave a long blast on the boat horn. the front door opened and a man looked out, then walked swiftly down to the dock, waving. the boys waved back. "get the lines ready," rick requested. "i'll back in." he throttled down and let the houseboat move slowly past the dock while he yelled a greeting to steve ames. there were no obstacles, and just enough room for the boat. he reversed his motors and threw his helm hard over, backing slowly into position. scotty stood ready with a line, which he heaved to steve. then scotty ran lightly to the foredeck and got the bowline ready. the houseboat nestled against the dock smoothly and rick killed the motors. then the three old friends were shaking hands and grinning from ear to ear. "i've been watching since yesterday afternoon," steve told them. "that storm last night worried me some. i didn't know whether you could ride it out or not." "no trouble," rick said. "we ran into swamp creek on the north side of the river and spent the night there." he watched the agent's face closely, but steve didn't react. "come on in," steve invited. "coffee's on. had your breakfast?" "we ate before hauling anchor," scotty said, grinning. steve ames knew the boys well. "something's up," he stated. "rick is watching me like a suspicious sand crab and your tone of voice is wrong, scotty. coffee first, then talk. come on." rick shook his head in admiration. it was impossible to catch steve off guard. the agent had a deceptive appearance, athletic and good looking, with the forthright friendliness of a college undergraduate. but his trained eyes and ears missed nothing. steve's living room was attractive and comfortable, with bookshelves between the windows, a stone fireplace, a striped rug, and deep, restful chairs. there were lamps in exactly the right positions for reading. the agent brought in a tray of coffee cups, with a pot of coffee and platter of doughnuts. "even if you've eaten breakfast, you can manage a couple of these." he poured coffee and made sure the boys were comfortable, then sank into an armchair and looked at them quizzically. "all right. out with it." rick chuckled. "you're too sharp," he accused. "we had a plan all cooked up. i was going to comment on the fishing and hunting, and then ask--very innocently--when the season for flying stingarees opened." the agent's eyebrows went up. "flying stingarees? swimming ones, yes. open season any time. flying ones, no. what is all this?" "rick saw one last night in the storm," scotty explained. "that's not all," rick added. he told of their conversation at the narrows and of the talk with orvil harris that morning. "so there's something fishy around here besides crabs and rockfish. we thought you might know," he concluded. steve shook his head with obvious admiration. "leave it to the spindrift twins! if there's a mystery afoot, you'll unearth it. nope, lads. never heard of your flying stingarees, or flying saucers, either. but that's not surprising. i'm down here mostly on weekends, sometimes with a friend or two, and the only local folks we see are at the store or gas station. usually i'm in too much of a rush for small talk. i don't get the local papers, and when i listen to the radio or watch tv, it's either a washington or baltimore station. so i'm not in touch with local events." "anyway," rick said, "stingarees don't fly." steve had been in the virgin islands, too, and had been involved in the adventure of _the wailing octopus_. "you found out that the octopus didn't wail," he reminded them, "but for a while it looked as though you'd found a new species. maybe this is the same thing. what makes the stingaree fly?" "it would be fun to find out," scotty admitted. "you'll have time to make a start, and i won't be in the way with plans for fishing or crabbing. i'm sorry, boys, but i'll be in and out of washington for a few days. got a hot case working that i can't leave for long." the boys protested. "you deserve some vacation," rick said hotly. steve held up his hand. "whoa! i'm getting a vacation. this case should be settled in three or four days, and i'll be with you. meanwhile, you move in here. you can drive me to the airport at cambridge and pick me up when i come back. that will leave you a car, and you can use the motorboat for exploring or for fishing. if you feel like skin diving, you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of taylors island, right at the mouth of the river. did you bring gear?" "the whole set," rick replied. "lungs, compressors, guns, and even suits." "you won't need suits. the bay is shallow and warm. at night you can relax right here. plenty of books, tv, radio, or a chessboard. if it gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace." "sounds good," scotty agreed. "but we wanted you with us." "i will be. before the weekend." "when do you have to leave?" rick asked. "three this afternoon. i have an evening meeting at headquarters. i'll be back on the four-o'clock flight tomorrow afternoon, and, with luck, i won't have to go again. if i do, it will be only for a day." "okay," rick said reluctantly. "we'll settle in, but we won't move in. we'll sleep on the boat. no need to use up your linens and stuff when we have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's warm. besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat." steve grinned. "i'll bet it is. if i know you two, you eat out of cans and never use a dish if you can help it. your idea of washing a coffee cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. wait until your mother and the girls join you. life will undergo a drastic change." "don't rub it in," scotty said ruefully. "now, how about showing us over this estate of yours?" steve was pleased by the request. he obviously was proud of his creekside home, and with reason. there were fifty acres of land, mostly oak forest, with a private access road. electric power came in from the public power lines, but he had a gasoline generator in case of failure, and his own artesian well. he explained: "the house has been completely remodeled, but it's really quite old. when it was built, there was only a wagon track. in those days, the rivers and creeks were the highways, and the people traveled by boat. you'll see old mansions fronting on the rivers here. the back doors face the roads. water transport was the reason. the landed gentry had barges rowed by slaves. the poor folks rowed their own. of course, there were plenty of sailing craft, too. there still are." the creek in front of the house proved deep enough for swimming, and the three went for a dip. rick tasted the water. it was salty, but not like the ocean. the backwaters of the bay were brackish, with low-salt content. in the afternoon, the boys--somewhat reluctantly--got into what they referred to as "shore-going clothes." these consisted of slacks, sport shirts, light casual jackets, and loafers. steve had a bag packed. they got into his car, a late-model convertible, and headed for cambridge. the plane, a small twin-engine craft, was late coming from norfolk. by the time steve was en route to washington, it was nearly the dinner hour. "eat out?" rick suggested. "absolutely. more crab cakes?" rick shook his head. "crab imperial. maybe some steamed clams." "you're making me hungry," scotty protested. "i'll say one thing for the bay area. the folks eat well. how about some terrapin stew?" "crab imperial," rick said again. "baked in a crab shell. lots of mayonnaise, paprika, and butter. i'll have a hearts of romaine salad on the side, with oil-and-vinegar dressing. maybe tarragon vinegar. a few french fries, too. but first, a couple of dozen steamed clams. what do they call 'em here? manos, pronounced man! oh!" "just tell me where," scotty begged. "say no more." "how about that place we passed just before we got to cambridge? the one built like a colonial mansion." "the bay gourmet," scotty remembered. "okay. you're driving." rick put the convertible in gear and moved out of the airport driveway onto the highway. "we're on our own," he said. "it's up to us to entertain ourselves. but food isn't enough. man cannot live by bread alone, the scriptures say." "i knew it." scotty slumped down in the seat and sighed. "since man cannot live by bread alone, his life must be filled with other things. and guess what things!" rick smiled in anticipation. "uh-huh. flying stingarees." chapter v the face is familiar the bay gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. a waiter, elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the eastern shore accent, led them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of early american history, maryland style. the maryland colony had not been poor, and many of its settlers had been of the english nobility. they had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from england and france, and their homes were gracious and livable. the restaurant followed the pattern. rick wouldn't have been surprised to see the ghost of lord baltimore walk through one of the arches. the boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam fritters, and crab imperial. while they waited, rick opened the subject that was on his mind. "how does a stingaree fly?" scotty shrugged. "easy. he climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his wings, and takes off. he flaps his wings to gain altitude. he steers with his tail." "i'm serious," rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling. "so am i. alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a passing airplane. or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. take your choice." "i've got a better way. the stingaree poses for his picture. the picture is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. the kite gets flown in the wind." scotty stared. "maybe--just maybe--you've got something there. the stingaree shape would make a good kite. could what you saw have been a kite?" "it's possible." rick nodded. "the wind was funneling down the creek pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. there's only one small difficulty. why launch a kite that has no string?" "you certain it didn't have a string?" "in that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. i'd have seen it, and maybe felt it. the kite--stingaree, that is--just missed. of course, the string might have broken." "there's another small difficulty," scotty said thoughtfully. "if it was a kite, where was it launched and why?" "up the creek somewhere. we don't know what's up there." "true. from the looks, i'd say not much. maybe some opossums and muskrats, which don't launch kites." rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "we can always take a look." "we can. in steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away." rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "i could eat a ton of these. what else would make a stingaree fly?" scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "how about some kind of experimental aircraft?" rick shook his head. "the stingaree was vertical. an experimental plane in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. besides, i heard no motor or any kind of power plant." "you're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. you explain everything--except what made that stingaree fly." rick grinned wryly. "i'll never get a swelled head with you sticking pins in it." "only carrying out my proper function," scotty said virtuously. the first course had arrived. crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, and very, very good. "i may decide to live here," rick said as he spooned up the last mouthful. "i'm a native already," scotty stated. "the chesapeake bay is my home, if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup." the clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "meet a brand-new marylander," scotty announced. rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the dining room and were shown to a table nearby. he knew one of the men, but he couldn't remember where they had met. "scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. who's the man in the plaid jacket? i know him, but i can't remember." scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. he had to turn to pick it up. when he straightened, he shook his head. "the face is familiar, but i can't place it." rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude by staring openly. the familiar face was lean, and lined. it was not a pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a "distinguished-looking man of middle age." the lips were not especially thin, but they were tightly held. the chin was firm, with a shadow of beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. his hair was crisp, wavy, and pure white. "could be of french or italian ancestry," rick said. "or, maybe, spanish or portuguese. anyway, i'd vote for southern european." "on the button," scotty agreed. rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. the eyes were dark brown, he saw, with heavy lids. the eyebrows, in startling contrast to the white hair, were dark. the boy looked up again, his glance guarded. the man was smartly, but conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those affected by some ivy leaguers. the other two men were not familiar. one was almost bald, with a wisp of sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the baldness. he wore glasses with clear plastic frames. they sat on a nose that could have served as a golf-ball model. his lips were almost nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that rick wondered why he didn't conceal it with a beard. he seemed like a complete non-entity. in contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt, and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for christmas two decades past. [illustration (2 page 51 and 52)] the third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face and eyes that never stopped moving. he sat motionless in his chair, apparently completely relaxed. rick knew that the relaxation was deceptive. steve ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet been released. the man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy tan. he spoke only twice while rick watched, and then only to give orders to the waiter. the other two men talked steadily, but in such low tones that the boys could not hear words. the crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was forgotten in a new taste treat. after one luscious bite, rick said, "i'm going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal. they'll go crazy." excellent food was a tradition in the brant household. mrs. brant was a superb cook, and both she and hartson brant had taught the spindrift young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish. "i'll order the same thing just to keep them company," scotty offered. "generous, always generous," rick replied. "you'll eat the same thing even if you have to force it down." "i'll do just that," scotty agreed. "remember where you've seen yonder diner?" rick shook his head. "not yet. it's an odd trio. he's the dominant one in the group. the bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a police dog on guard." "bodyguard?" scotty asked quickly. "maybe. or, perhaps, a chauffeur. it's hard to say." "do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've never seen him before?" "no. it isn't that. i know i've seen him before, but i can't tell you where or when." the boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose reluctantly. "we'll be back," rick promised. "that we will," scotty echoed. the old waiter bowed them to the door. as they were leaving, rick paused. "do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?" "why, sir, that's mr. merlin. summer folks, you might say. he bought one of the old mansions. this is his second summer with us." "which one of the old mansions?" scotty asked. "calvert's favor. it's in the guidebooks, sir. we have copies for sale if you'd like one." "we have one," rick replied. "thank you." "not at all, gentlemen. hurry back." the boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, near fullness, floating just above the horizon. by unspoken agreement, they put the top down on steve's convertible. rick was just snapping it in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. he turned, to face the big man of the trio. the man got to the point without preliminaries. "you were asking the waiter about mr. merlin." "we thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," rick replied. "we meant no discourtesy." "i'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. he didn't smile, even though his voice was pleasant enough. "mr. merlin is a very prominent man. he comes down here to get away from people. naturally, he doesn't welcome inquiries. i'm sure you understand." "we have no intention of intruding," rick stated coolly. "as i said, he looked familiar. we merely asked out of curiosity." "you're not local boys." it was a statement. "no. we're visitors." "the local people have learned not to ask questions about mr. merlin. i suggest you follow their example." the man turned and walked back into the restaurant. the boys stared after him, openmouthed. "if that poor soul only knew," scotty said, "he picked the best possible way to arouse our curiosity." "i haven't been warned so politely in a long time," rick agreed. "come on, son. let's head for martins creek." he slid behind the wheel while scotty got into the passenger side. rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "i noticed that steve has quite a few books about the eastern shore on his bookshelves," he said casually. "so did i. including one called _tidewater maryland_. lots of pictures of the old estates in that one." "be interesting if there was a picture of calvert's favor, wouldn't it?" "interesting and maybe informative. well, are we going to sit here all night?" "nope. we're going to steve's. looks as if we have a small research project." "to be followed by a second project," scotty added. "first we read up on calvert's favor, and then we find it and look it over." rick grinned. "nobody warns scotty with impunity." "but nobody!" scotty said cheerfully. chapter vi the saucer sighters "we shoot a line straight north," rick explained, "for a distance of about twenty miles. then we start asking questions. if we get affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and repeat the process. we do this until we come to an area where saucers have not been sighted. okay?" scotty nodded. "okay. there is only one tiny flaw in this plan. if we head straight north, we drop steve's car into the little choptank. if we cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main choptank." rick sighed. "if there is anything i detest, loathe, and despise, it is people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. we will go to cambridge, missing the little choptank, and cross the choptank on the bridge. route 50 goes almost straight north. is that more precise and acceptable, donald?" "it is indeed, richard. i'm a stickler for accuracy." "you're a stickler in the mud. let's get a notebook and start traveling." a conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of action. the boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the various sightings had in common. the way to obtain the statistics was through interviews. the problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still remained. steve's books had disclosed that calvert's favor was famous, that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been granted the land by lord calvert, that it had changed hands only twice in more than a century. what the books didn't give was its location. the place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the original land grant." there was no mention of a calvert creek in the vicinity. they decided to put the question of its location aside until steve's return. it was a lovely morning. the convertible hummed smoothly over the blacktop roads to cambridge, onto route 50, across the choptank river and north. rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to easton. "think we're far enough north?" scotty had been consulting a road map. he shook his head. "not yet. easton is almost due east of knapps narrows, and we know the saucers have been sighted there. better go on to wye mills." "okay." the road was dual-lane cement, now, and rick relaxed while the car sped northward. "odd name, wye mills. lots of wyes around here. three wye rivers on the chart, a wye landing, and a famous old wye oak." "sounds like a song," scotty said. "wye, tell me wye, are there saucers in the sky--" "please," rick protested, "i'm in pain." route 50 turned at wye mills, leading to the chesapeake bay bridge that crossed the bay to annapolis. there was a gas station and lunch stand at the intersection. rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "fill it up, please. any bottles of coke around?" "in the machine." the attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor. the boys equipped themselves with cokes and walked back to watch the attendant fill the tank. "we must be somewhere near where all those flying saucers were sighted," rick remarked. the attendant looked up. "farther south. never heard of anyone this far north seein' one. they see plenty down toward cambridge. ask me, they're seein' spots in front of their eyes." the boys exchanged glances. when the car was ready, rick turned and started south again. "see any stores on the way where we could ask again?" "there's a restaurant. i saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to cambridge." scotty was making a note in their notebook. five miles back toward home, rick stopped at another gas station and asked the attendant to look at the oil. none was needed, so the boys bought another pair of cokes and engaged the man in conversation. "ever see any flying saucers in this area?" rick asked. "nope. my brother did though, late one afternoon when he was on duty." scotty took out the notebook. "we're trying to get some information about them for a story we're writing. do you remember when it was?" "let's see. i was workin' in the evenin' that day, so it must have been a saturday. last month, it was. oh, i recall it now. next day i took the kids to my mother's. it was her birthday. that would make it the tenth." "where was your brother when he saw it?" rick queried. "pumpin' gas. right here. he said it sort of came up over the trees, glittering like fire." the attendant pointed to a patch of trees down the road. the direction was almost directly southwest. scotty scribbled in the notebook. "any other details you remember? what time in the afternoon was it?" "between four and five. can't say exactly. he was still buzzin' when i came on duty at six. wanted to call the newspapers, but i talked him out of it. people would think he was a fool." "did you?" rick asked quietly. "nope. i know chick. he's got a straight head on him. it may not have been a flyin' saucer, but you can bet it wasn't anythin' common, or anythin' he'd seen before." "score one," scotty said triumphantly as they drove off. "one flying saucer doesn't make a martian invasion," rick reminded him. "let's keep it up." by lunchtime they had interviewed a dozen people who claimed to have seen flying saucers. all details of the sightings had been noted in scotty's book. during lunch, at a small restaurant in the old town of oxford, they scored three more times after interviews with fishermen. after lunch, they crossed the choptank and headed south to the little town of vienna. from there the route led to the shore town of elliott, back to vienna, and past the corner of delaware to salisbury, a good-sized town on the maryland eastern shore. there was a newspaper office in salisbury. a chat with the editor and a quick skim through the back files added more data to the growing list. rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be sure until the information was all laid out for examination. by the time the boys met steve at the small airport, both rick and scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. they had recorded over half a hundred sightings. steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. "nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told them. "want to eat out? or cook a steak in the yard?" "eat out," scotty said promptly. "we can get steak at home," rick added. "but not chesapeake bay clam fritters or maryland crab cakes." steve had a favorite place of his own, a small, nondescript joint called "louie's crab house" up the choptank river, near the town of denton. there, on wooden trestle tables covered with brown wrapping paper, he introduced them to a favorite chesapeake bay pastime known as a "crab feast." the waiter set wooden blocks in front of them, with a round piece of hardwood, a fork, and a sharp paring knife. a stack of paper napkins was supplied, and individual pots of melted butter completed the setting. the boys waited impatiently, hungry, but trusting steve's word that the result was worth the wait. the waiter reappeared carrying a huge tray, stacked with a towering pyramid of whole crabs, steaming and red, coated with the spices in which they had been cooked. placing the tray on the table, the waiter asked, "anything else?" scotty said, dazed, "i don't believe there's anything else left in the kitchen. we have all the crabs in the world right here." "only three dozen," the waiter said. "jumbos, of course. you want anything, you yell." unidentified flying objects were forgotten as steve initiated them into the proper method of eating fresh crab. it turned out to be quite an art, but one that they mastered quickly. soon all three of them were munching succulent back-fin crab meat drenched in fresh butter. the wooden block served as an anvil, and the round hardwood piece as a hammer for cracking claws. the paring knife was used for trimming and for scooping out delicious bits of meat. the fork was utilized to persuade small tidbits to leave their shell cages. three or four napkins were used between each tidbit to mop buttery hands, and even chins, down which the butter sometimes dripped. it was a feast, indeed. "if i hadn't been a heavy eater before, i'd be one after this," scotty observed happily. "beats hunting flying stingarees," rick agreed. "pass another crab, please." not until the table had been cleared by the waiter, who simply removed the utensils and tray, then wrapped up all the shells in the brown paper and carried it off, did the conversation return to the mystery. rick hadn't told steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man or of the thinly veiled warning. he described them now in detail. "odd," steve said. "this familiar face needs identifying. no normal person worries about anyone asking casual questions. that's a sure mark of insecurity. in other words, the man is afraid. people who are afraid often have something to hide. do you have any reason to think he may be tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?" "none at all," rick answered. "do you know where calvert's favor is?" scotty asked. "the location wasn't given in your books. there was quite a lot about the plantation house." "no, never heard of the place. but we'll find out when we pass through cambridge. i know a man there who knows everything about this area." steve held out his hand. "let's see your notebook." scotty handed it over. the young agent leafed through it rapidly. "that's some list. if i had any doubt that people were seeing things, it's gone now. how are you going to arrange the data?" "in tables, and on a map," rick explained. "fine. we can do it tonight. want anything else?" scotty groaned. "i couldn't even drink a glass of water." "same here," rick agreed. "then let's leave the crabs behind and take a ride." on the way back to cambridge, steve ames mused aloud. "you know, it's an odd world. a few years ago there were flying saucer reports by the dozen. each one was given lots of newspaper space. the air force conducted investigations. then flying saucers got unpopular, the air force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every time a report came in. now we have a rash of sightings in one small area. people talk about it, but no one gets excited. the authorities brush it off as just hokum. yet, your investigation today shows that people are seeing _something_, even if we don't know what." rick nodded thoughtfully. "what's even odder is that a well-known man disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do nothing but talk about it. the police aren't even interested, so far as we can tell." steve laughed. "you're right. but look at it in another way. assume you're the local policeman. someone rushes in and tells you that joe doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. you don't believe in flying saucers, but you know doakes. you investigate. his boat has been found, but his body is missing. what do you assume? that he was really toted off by some mysterious object? nope. you assume he was hurt or killed falling out of the boat. you know that sharks come into the bay and sometimes swim up creeks. you figure that the currents sometimes act in odd ways, depending on the winds. you figure a dozen natural kinds of things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. you call a coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record that he believes in flying saucers. what happens?" "case closed," scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. no proof of death, or even of accident. pending proof of death--meaning the body--the jury finds that joe doakes is missing under mysterious circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing." "that's about it," steve agreed. "it isn't really odd when you look at it that way. but you can bet the case isn't closed. it's just inactive, until something turns up. remember there's no detective squad in a small town." there was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of cambridge. steve drove in and honked the horn. a young boy looked out of the store and called, "howdy, steve. want gas?" "not tonight, jimmy. ask your grandfather where calvert's favor is located, will you?" the boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. he was a freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the choptank river. "heck, steve, i don't have to ask gran'pop that. everybody knows where calvert's favor is located." "not everybody," steve returned. "i don't. how about letting us in on the secret, jimmy?" "it's no secret. everybody around here knows it's located across the river from you. it's at the head of swamp creek." chapter vii sighting data steve's living room was an excellent place to work. in fact, it was a shade too comfortable. rick and scotty spent a half hour arguing over who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew perfectly well that they were just stalling. finally rick said, "let's admit it. we're both stuffed with crab, a little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs." scotty waved a hand languidly. "all right. i concede the point." steve ames chuckled. "suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. those dining-room chairs should keep you upright. get to work and i will too." the boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. rick walked to the door and looked out through the screen. he could see the creek glistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runabout were tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. the air was still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs. "this is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "i'm surprised anyone on the eastern shore ever gets a lick of work done." "you certainly don't," scotty retorted. "come on over here and stop admiring the scenery." steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils. rick sat down. "i'll act as recorder." "volunteering for the hardest job?" scotty inquired. "the air must be affecting you." "nope." rick shook his head. "i have just enough energy left to be realistic. i can't read your writing. suppose i put down the headings. location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting, number of persons who saw object. what else?" "description," scotty suggested. "maybe that ought to be in two parts. one for shape and one for color." rick nodded. "good idea. i'll rule lines as we go." he drew lines for the columns, printed his headings, and put in the first several horizontal lines. "ready," he announced. "we'll start with the first one. location: five miles south of wye mills on route 50." rick printed: "5m s wye mls rte 50." "date of sighting, july 10. time of sighting, between five and six in the evening." rick printed industriously. scotty read from his notes until over twenty lines of information had been printed on the chart. then steve interrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale. the young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boys helped themselves. in a moment steve nodded. "there's a pattern taking shape, at least in the descriptions. but i can't make much out of the dates and locations, yet." "we'll keep plugging," rick said. "maybe we'll need to rearrange the columns before they make sense." "you have a point," steve agreed. "use the chart for the source, then we can fill out sheets on the individual items, or i have some four-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal." "but we'll be at it all night," scotty objected. "i don't think so. once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast. keep at it. yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. i need to finish my own homework." the boys returned to logging the data while steve settled down with a bulky report. in another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and the big sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recording data. "we're done," rick announced. steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. the boys waited expectantly while the agent scanned the sheet. "you've done a good job of collecting information," steve said. "now it needs breaking down some more. the mixture in the 'color' column bothers me. i have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of the sun. look." rick watched as steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the color as "dark." the finger moved across the line to the time of day, eleven a.m. steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as "orange." the time of day was seven fifteen p.m., with an additional note of "twilight." "got it," scotty agreed. "you think the objects may actually be dark, but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun and the position of the viewer." "it makes sense," rick agreed. "all of the colors listed--red, orange, silvery, bright--could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object." steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of _the world almanac_. "sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. you can figure out quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. it will take another sheet of paper and some more columns." "you gave us an extra sheet," rick replied. "how should i head the columns?" steve thought for a moment. "three columns for the position of the sun. rising, high, setting. four columns for the position of the observer in relation to the flying object--north, south, east, or west. one column for color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' and, of course, you want a column for the time." rick recorded the data as scotty read it off, checking _the world almanac_ for the sun's approximate positions. steve was obviously interested. he started to read his report again, then abandoned it and came back to the table where the boys were working. when the data had been transferred, the three studied it. rick ran his eye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went over the data slowly. "you're right, steve," he said finally. "it all tallies, even at a quick look. in every case where the object looked colored, the observer saw the sun striking it. where it looked dark, the object was between the observer and the sun. or, at least, the observer wasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object." scotty added, "in every case where the object looked red or orange, the sun was setting or had already set. in every case marked 'bright,' 'silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see the sun reflecting from the object." "it seems pretty clear," steve agreed. "now, we have only one really close-range sighting, and that was rick's. how sure are you that the object was black?" rick shrugged. "i know enough not to trust my eyes completely in wind and rain. but there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off the object, and i'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown." "that would fit all the sightings," steve pointed out. "i'm assuming that the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even though the material may be dark colored. didn't you suggest a kite made of dark plastic? that would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act like kites." "what do they act like?" scotty demanded. neither steve nor rick had an answer. "let's try for another piece of information," steve suggested. "put the dates down on cards. if you have sightings by different people on the same dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. if there's a big time discrepancy--say one sighting in the morning and another in the afternoon--put them on different cards." rick looked up. "what are you trying to find?" "periodicity," steve said promptly. "is there any regularity in the sightings? do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a week on mondays? which reminds me. you might put down the day of the week, too. there's a calendar on the wall behind you." "you read and i'll copy," rick told scotty. "go ahead." he waited with pencil poised over a card. in a moment he looked at his pal. "what are you waiting for?" scotty was poring over the notebook again. his eyebrows knit. "you know, there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't put down because we didn't have a column for it." "what is it?" steve asked. "i know!" rick exclaimed. "there were a few times when people said they saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. isn't that it?" scotty nodded. "i've been counting. there were five instances. two people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from wallops island." "why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" steve demanded. "it doesn't fit," scotty replied. "in every single case, the glow was to the southeast." "maybe it does fit," steve said emphatically. "boys, never leave out a bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. this particular chunk could very well be the clue." "why?" rick asked quickly. steve shook his head. "i'm not sure, so i don't want to say. but include every sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. i'm going to borrow that set for a closer look." scotty began reading, while rick recorded. when the cards were complete, they ran through them. there was no periodicity. the dates seemed completely random. sometimes two sightings had been made at different times on the same date. there would be two days, three, four, five, or even six between sightings. "not a trace of pattern," rick said. "who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" steve asked with a grin. "they're not supposed to be like planes. what's the next step?" scotty produced the map they had used. "one more job to do, and that's to plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directions of the sightings. that will show us if there's any regularity in the place where the flying objects appear." "very good," steve approved. scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "you read location and direction, rick, and i'll plot the data." "okay." rick began with the first. "five miles south of wye mills on route 50. direction, southwest." scotty measured the distance from wye mills, using the map scale in inches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "next." rick read on. by the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all three of them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted. finally the job was complete. steve had hurried off a moment before and returned with a pair of compasses in his hand. as the boys watched, he put the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjusted the radius, and drew a perfect circle. he adjusted the radius again, and drew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third. "bull's-eye!" rick said excitedly. the direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radii of an orb spider's web. in the center of the web was the smallest circle. within the circle was the focal point of all flying object observations. rick said the name aloud. "swamp creek!" chapter viii calvert's favor there was a faint hint of coming daylight in the eastern sky when rick, steve, and scotty walked down the pier to the tied-up boats. the boys had spent the night--or most of it--aboard the houseboat, until the alarm pulled them from their sleeping bags at four o'clock. steve had breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission. "daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," steve said as they climbed into the runabout. he took the pilot's seat, while rick and scotty prepared to cast off. "you might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," steve continued. "it's the time when battles start, when planes take off for dawn bombing runs. i've read that it's the time when most deaths occur in hospitals, although i don't know for certain that it's true. what's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most sleepy and least alert." the young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping pressure into it. now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor caught at once. rick and scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled themselves in the seat next to steve. "unless this mysterious mr. merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's deep in slumber. the sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. we'll hope there is no guard on the place. if there is, we'll be fishing. better have the rods ready. one of you can sit in back and troll from there." the outboard runabout moved away from the pier and into the creek. steve knew his way perfectly, and he opened the throttle to half speed, steering through the curve at the mouth of the creek, rounding the buoy, and heading directly toward swamp creek. it had taken the houseboat over twenty minutes to make the run. steve covered the distance in ten. as he throttled down and swung the runabout into swamp creek, rick's eye picked up a glimmer of light, then the shape of something white cruising toward them. for a moment he stared into the lessening gloom, then said, "it's orvil harris. anyway, it looks like his boat." steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the crabber. as the two boats closed, harris paused in his crabbing and watched the three in the runabout approach. steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. "howdy," he called. orvil harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took the line rick passed to him. he made it fast around a cleat. "up early," he greeted them. "come to watch me crab?" "not exactly," rick returned. "mr. harris, this is mr. ames." the crabber reached out a muscular hand and steve stretched to meet it. "mighty pretty place you have on martins creek," harris said. "admired it many's the time." "thanks," steve returned. "be glad to have you drop in any time." "i may do that. thanks." "the boys tell me your cousin was the one taken by a flying saucer." harris grinned. "he was taken. i'm not sayin' how until i know." "what do you know about calvert's favor?" harris rubbed his chin, and made a slight correction in the crab boat's course. "present owner is a man named merlin. no one knows anythin' about him, and no one asks. has a big thug with him all the time, and takes exception to people gettin' nosy. most folks got snubbed and drew back, so to speak. jim hardin--he's a fisherman hereabouts--took exception and got beaten up. hardin's not easy to lick. after that, folks stopped speakin' to merlin and company." "how big's the company?" steve asked. "merlin, bodyguard, a little squirt with no chin, and three others. cooks and bottle washers, likely. would it be polite to ask why you're interested?" steve had been studying harris since the two boats joined up, rick knew, so he wasn't surprised when steve gave a direct reply. "you'll keep this to yourself, please. the boys have been doing a little research, and it's clear these unidentified flying objects people have been seeing come from swamp creek. that points to the old mansion, especially since mr. merlin is so secretive about himself. we decided to get up before the people at the mansion were likely to be about, and look the place over. if it looks promising, we'll try keeping an eye on it." harris nodded. "i'll keep it to myself, you can be sure. if the mystery of those flyin' stingarees gets solved, we may find out what happened to cousin link. i'll help if i can." "you know these waters pretty well," steve returned. "is there any way of getting to calvert's favor, or within watching distance, without going up this creek?" the crabber reached over and turned a switch, cutting his engine. "there is, for that boat you're in. about thirty yards downstream from the entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass along the shore. it's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and from two to three feet deep. it runs into the swamp. right at the place where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind right across from the mansion. a pair of good glasses would give him a right good view of the whole thing." "we couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" rick asked. "the brush is too thick. tell you what, if you got ground tackle aboard, drop a hook and come over with me. i'll run you up the creek and you can take a good look. if anyone's out watchin', they'll only see a crab boat lookin' for a place to set lines." "scotty," steve directed, "there's a grapnel on a line up on the bow, under that small hatch. toss it in, please." scotty stood up on the seat, stepped to the bow, and found the small, four-pronged anchor. he dropped it into the water, let out line, and tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "okay, steve." the three got aboard the crab boat as harris started his engine. "make yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "there's a pair of glasses on the engine box." with the binoculars rick and steve had brought, that made three pairs each. the crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. the sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing pink, a warning of coming sunrise. rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. the creek narrowed for a few hundred yards, then widened again. the left bank, going upstream, was lined with scrub and swamp grass. the right bank began to change, the swampy area giving way to good ground that rose slightly from the water's edge. soon the right bank was nearly three feet above the water, and the scrub had given way to an occasional tree, and some grassland that hadn't been mowed this year. then calvert's favor came into view and rick caught his breath. it was a stunning plantation house. the tall columns made rick think of pictures of the old south, but as the boat turned slightly and more of the house came into view, he saw that it had a strictly maryland character. attached to the largest portion of the house, the one with the columns, was a slightly smaller section, with a still smaller section completing the picture. it was a "telescope house"--the kind that the eastern shore natives referred to as "big house, little house, and one in the middle." a broad sweep of lawn, broken only by flagstone walks and trees, extended from the creek's edge to the house. the trees were ancient dogwoods, with a single huge willow for extra shade. there was a small pier extending into the creek, and from the rotted pilings next to it, rick saw that the original pier had been much larger. a white barn stood at a short distance from the house. a barn of that size, rick thought, meant a pretty substantial farm. he searched for signs of life and saw none. there was a boat, he noticed, an outboard skiff perhaps fifteen feet long, pulled up on the bank under an oak tree at the edge where the lawn met uncut field. a lawn table and chairs under the big willow looked inviting, and he speculated that merlin and friends must spend considerable time there. some of the chairs were of the padded variety, covered with plastic wet from the morning dew. scotty pointed to the roof of the mansion. "must be a ham radio operator there. look at that hay rake." both rick and steve had the same thoughts as they stared at the tall antenna, with its cluster of small rods joining a single main bar at right angles on top of the pole. the antenna might be needed for fringe-area television--or, on the other hand, it might be a communications antenna, as scotty had said. "looks interesting," steve said. the creek flowed only a little distance past the mansion before it became so narrow that orvil harris had to turn for the trip downstream. as the crab boat came abreast of the mansion again, rick looked to the other side of the creek and saw the duck blind. it wasn't exactly opposite the house, being designed so that gunners in the blind would shoot diagonally across the creek and downstream, rather than near the house itself. the blind was on stilts, made of board, with a big "picture window" without glass through which duck hunters could fire freely. it was designed for entry by boat, and there was a line of poles sticking up from the water that marked the boat's docking place. in season, the entire blind including the poles would be covered with a screen of fresh foliage, so that hunters, blind, and boat would seem like a natural object to any duck that flew by. rick saw that the entrance, at the point where the boat would nose in, was downstream from the mansion, at the back corner of the blind. anyone approaching from the swamp behind the blind could enter unseen from calvert's favor. not until they were back at the cove did any of them speak. "that antenna was odd," steve said. "did you ever see anything like it, rick?" "not exactly," rick admitted. "it could be for tv, although it's an unusual design, or it could be some kind of ham rig, as scotty said." "or it could be something else," steve concluded. "no sign of a flyin'-saucer launcher," orvil harris said. he was stoking his battered brier. rick grinned. "i wouldn't know one if i saw it." "well, that wraps it up," steve said. "let's get aboard the runabout and head home. i've got to make a plane." he shook hands with orvil harris. "glad to have met you after waving at you for so long." "likewise. now, you let me in on this if you can. i'm link's only kin hereabouts, so i feel responsible, so to speak. call me up. i'm in the phone book. i'll keep crabbin' in this creek until further notice, so you can find me here until midmornin' any day." "we'll let you know if anything comes up," rick agreed. scotty borrowed a boat hook and pulled the runabout closer, then he stepped to the forward deck while steve and rick got into the seat. scotty pulled up the grapnel while steve started the motor. in a moment they were waving to harris as the runabout headed for home. it was full daylight now, and the rim of the sun was just above the trees on the horizon. "two items from the morning's work," scotty summed up. "we know how the mansion can be watched, and we have an odd kind of antenna. anything else?" "we have an ally," rick reminded. "orvil harris." "we bought him on pure faith," steve pointed out. "it isn't often i stake the game on a man's face, but if orvil harris isn't a sound individual, i'll lose my faith in human nature." back at the farmhouse, steve made fresh coffee and toast. while the boys relaxed sleepily, he went to a closet and brought out a case and a leather gadget bag. the boys sat up and watched while he opened the case. rick gasped. it was a telescope, a marvelously compact reflector type, precision made and very expensive. rick had often studied the ads of this particular model, and he looked at it with some envy. he could hardly keep from picking it up. steve opened the gadget bag and brought out a polaroid camera and set of rings. then he returned to the closet and brought back a sturdy tripod with a geared head. "here's the equipment," he said. he took the telescope from its padded case, and screwed its base to the tripod, then he adjusted the tripod until it was standing securely. "watch this," he commanded. "you'll have to do it, because you can't carry the whole thing assembled." using the rings, which were adapters, he fitted the camera to the eyepiece of the telescope. "that's all there is to it. you focus the 'scope eyepiece by turning this knurled knob. then you set the camera to infinity, adjust the iris for the proper light, and put the camera in place. any questions?" "what aperture?" rick asked. "normal exposure?" "make it one f-stop less than you'd use if you were taking the picture through a regular camera with a long lens. anything else?" scotty grinned. "it's pointless to ask what you want us to do with this. we're to get pictures of that antenna--from the duck blind." "plus anything else that looks interesting, including the occupants," rick added. steve spread his hands in an expressive gesture. "what more could an instructor want than students who know the answers before the questions are asked? i won't even tell you to be careful, because i know you will." "we will," rick assured him. "all right. listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we do have some facts." steve ticked them off on his fingers. "one, flying objects originate at the mansion. there's no other place on the creek that seems likely. two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like questions. three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. four, one man already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. enough said?" the boys nodded soberly. "then go to it, whenever you feel like it--after you've dropped me at the airport, that is. be here by four this afternoon. if i don't call, meet the five-o'clock flight. if i do, it will mean i've gotten tied up." steve hesitated. "just one more thing. be _really_ careful. all i have is a hunch, but that hunch tells me we're up against something dangerous. if link harris is dead, as he probably is, there's a fair chance he was murdered." the agent's keen eyes met theirs in turn. "don't get into a spot you can't get out of," he concluded. chapter ix the duck blind orvil harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of it. "he said thirty yards downstream," scotty remembered. rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "climb out on the bow," he suggested. "take the boat hook with you. i'll just keep nosing in until we find it." "okay." scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield to the bow. for a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher vantage point. "there's a place that looks promising." he held the boat hook out like a spear, pointing. rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. they were in only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the stern. "no good," scotty called. "that one doesn't go anywhere. try upstream another six feet." rick turned the boat, watching for the opening scotty had spotted. he saw it a moment later. "looks too small," he called back. "i think it opens up. go ahead slow." the runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and scotty leaned forward. "i think this is it. take it easy." the heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded its progress. the runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it was almost enclosed by the grass. then they were through, into a narrow channel with high grass on both sides. it was hard for rick to see ahead because of the turns, and scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one side to the other as the channel shifted. rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the mansion, and decided it probably could not. the heavy marsh grass was a good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. he leaned out, trying to see ahead. there were many birds in the swamp, and next to the boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into the mud for cover. the channel was narrowing now. scotty looked back and drew his hand across his throat in the old signal to "cut." rick instantly killed the motor. "i'll pole us," scotty said softly. he began using the boat hook as a pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. finally he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "this is about as far as we can go." rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "okay. let's collect the gear and get started." scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while rick took the equipment from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward deck, then jumped ashore. his feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept right on going down into a foot of ooze. he lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. he leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod. scotty picked up the polaroid camera and their binoculars and came ashore, sinking into the swamp as rick had done. he grinned wryly. "we're up to our knees in this mystery already." rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "if we get in it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. how far do you think it is to the duck blind?" "maybe twenty-five yards. not much more than that, maybe less. come on." slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys started through the swale. the marsh grass was over their heads, forming a thick screen. the grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies. within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using the other to fight off the swarms. an occasional mosquito added to their discomfort. the muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. the marsh grass was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. rick studied the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage among the brown tips of swamp grass. in a few more feet he made out the tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the antenna they had come to photograph. scotty had seen it, too. he stopped and the boys consulted. "we're about twenty yards too far upstream," scotty guessed. rick estimated as best he could. "i think you're right. let's stay on high ground and head downstream a little. we must be almost there." scotty turned and rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of insects. he was grateful for the advice steve had given them to wear long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. if they had been wearing shorts, the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare hide. both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces downstream, scotty turned toward the mansion once more. they pushed through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy bottom. a few more steps and the grass thinned. scotty stopped and motioned rick back. they moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged with the duck blind between them and calvert's favor. rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation, considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their heads. apparently scotty thought so, too. he turned and gave rick a big grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind. the water deepened, washing off some of the mud. rick reached down and splashed a handful on his face. it was warm. he saw a wet black head emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. it was a startled water rat. alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent decided to take better cover. then they were at the corner of the blind where the entrance was located. the floor of the blind was level with their chests. rick looked in. there wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or sitting positions. both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. then rick swung himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for scotty. for a moment they sat on the floor, resting. coming through the swamp had been exhausting work. after a few moments' rest, rick moved to the side of the duck blind and found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction. the opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on calvert's favor. merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. as rick watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a silver pitcher rested. the boy could see the trickles of water cascading down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on the cold metal of the pitcher. he moistened his lips. a fine pair of dunderheads, he and scotty were. they had come without even a canteen of water. "easy shot," he whispered to scotty. "let's set up and take the pictures, then get out of here. i'm getting thirsty just watching them." scotty adjusted the tripod, while rick took the telescope out of its case with reverent hands. it was a beautiful and delicate piece of equipment, steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the agent had placed in them by allowing its use. he fitted the instrument to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch window. when he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the willow. [illustration: _scotty fitted the camera to the telescope_] the telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars. consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short distance across the water, and rick could only manage to get merlin and his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. what's more, they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. the boy knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. anyway, it wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over. he studied the faces in the upside-down position. the telescope gave him an even better close-up than at the restaurant. again he groped for the identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him. scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was ready. rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the telescope and tightened the mounting rings. rick nodded to indicate that the telescope was on target, and scotty tripped the camera. the advantage of the polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen within seconds. scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. it was an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. scotty opened the iris on the camera another stop and rick rechecked the alignment. scotty snapped the picture and processed it. this time it was perfect, only slightly hazy because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance. rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. his picture was added to the others. scotty wiped both with fixative and put them on the floor to dry. the antenna was next. rick focused on it without difficulty, but the field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. they would have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together. five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper rick had brought. they cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky, and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. they stowed the equipment wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. it was too narrow to turn, so rick started the motor and backed out with great caution. once in the clear, they headed at top speed for steve's, tied up at the pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their clothes. their only precaution was to empty their pockets. rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. only when he was sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself up to the houseboat cockpit, scotty following. they toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back to the farmhouse. two bottles of coke apiece from the refrigerator had them feeling normal again. over the last one, they studied the photos. "i don't think we've ever known merlin," rick said thoughtfully. "we've seen him, but we don't know him." scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "think he might be some kind of public figure?" rick looked up sharply. "i think you hit it! if that's true, we should be able to get him identified easily." "steve could do it through janig," scotty suggested. "it would take too long. he won't be home until tonight, and the picture wouldn't reach janig until tomorrow. then it would take a day to check it out." "are we in a hurry?" scotty asked. rick chuckled. "i am. but don't ask me why. look, i'll bet duke or jerry could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." their newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the whiteside paper back home. "they're on vacation," scotty reminded him. once each year, the paper was turned over to a friend of duke's, a former newspaperman turned professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his students practical experience. that was true, rick remembered. neither duke nor jerry would be available. who else did they know who could help? suddenly he snapped his fingers. "i've got it! ken holt would help, if we could get the picture to him." ken holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for rick and scotty, had once asked spindrift for help, and rick had given him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "the megabuck network." "sandy allen is a photographer," scotty pointed out. "he might know these people." rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "a person-to-person call," he stated, "to mr. ken holt, at the _brentwood advance_, brentwood, new jersey." he put his hand over the mouthpiece. "let's hope he and sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere." luck was on their side. ken holt was in, and he was delighted to be of help. "put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "if you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the morning. with luck, we might even get it tonight. we'll phone you as soon as we have an identification. incidentally, the megabuck units worked like a charm, as i told you when i wrote. thanks a lot." "glad they were helpful," rick replied. "we'll hurry to town and get the picture in the mail right away." he hung up and nodded at scotty. "we'll get the picture ready, and take it to town when we go to pick steve up. if we're a little early, the letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to washington." scotty nodded. "what time is it?" rick glanced at his watch. "nearly three. we'll be ready to take off as soon as steve calls, or doesn't." "if he calls, that means he won't be back," scotty reminded. "no matter. we'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner." rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. he wrote a brief note to ken, addressed the envelope, and printed airmail special delivery on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of merlin and sealed it. scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. by the time he was finished, it was nearly four. the boys went into the house to wait. steve called on the dot of four. "rick? ... steve. i'm sorry, fellow. i have a little more to do on this case, and i'll have to stay over. everything going all right?" rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and steve replied, "it takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane. allow enough time." "we will," rick assured him. "anything new on the sighting data?" "not yet. i sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. make yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees. get in some fishing and swimming." rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to get in some fishing. he hung up and turned to scotty. "he'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. he wants us to get in some fishing." scotty chuckled. "i thought he knew you better than that. give you a mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick brantish skull." "we'll solve this one," rick said confidently. "then we'll fish." scotty just grinned. chapter x ken holt comes through somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely evening song. an osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. a muskrat appeared briefly, his sleek head making a v of ripples in the calm water. rick and scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in front of steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. both boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced tea. a brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had provided the necessities. rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. it was characteristic of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution, or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. he was a long way from defeat at the moment. the case of the flying stingaree was just getting interesting. "what are the flying stingarees?" he asked quietly. scotty shifted position in his chair and looked at rick quizzically. "you don't expect an answer. but i can tell you a few things they are not." "tell away," rick urged. "they are not flying saucers, aircraft, kites, sting rays, birds, fish, or good red herrings. beyond that, deponent sayeth not, as the legal boys say." "uh-huh. and why are they not flying saucers?" "for the same reason they're not aircraft. if you recall all the talks with people who've seen them, they don't maneuver, and they don't travel very fast. they appear--or they're noticed, let's say--and they just get smaller and smaller until they vanish. they move, but not much." rick nodded. "the circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover a very large territory. all the sightings have been within that circle. people had to look toward swamp creek to see the objects. yet, they did something interesting. they grew smaller. what makes things seem to grow smaller?" "apparent size decreases with distance," scotty replied promptly. "sure. and how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a circle only a few miles in diameter?" "only one way. with altitude. the things had to be going up." rick agreed. "that's how i figure it, too. it also explains why the circle of sightings is so small. above a certain altitude, the objects are no longer visible. or they're not so visible that they attract attention. i suppose we could work out some calculations. how large an object can be seen readily at what distance? then we could apply a little trigonometry and figure their size." "we could," scotty agreed, "but do we need to? let's assume the object you saw was typical. how big was it?" rick thought it over. he had had only a quick glimpse, and the background had been the gray of the storm. his vision had been obscured because of the rain. "maximum of ten feet across and maybe eight tall. it was probably less." "okay. so the reason sightings are confined to this area is because the objects are fairly small. when people see them, they're relatively close, and fairly low. even the small planes that fly from the airfield are much bigger than the flying stingarees, but when the planes go over at about five thousand feet, they seem tiny. at that altitude the flying stingarees must be at the limit of really good visibility." "i read you loud and clear. so the objects are sent from calvert's favor, and they climb. they don't climb straight up, though. the wind carries them. the reason i think so is that the one i saw must have been driven by the wind, right down the creek toward me. it didn't climb until it got away from the funneling effect of the creek and into the river, then it went up pretty fast. at least it seemed to have risen fast when i looked over the top of the boat at it." scotty crunched an ice cube. "we're getting somewhere. there's only one kind of unpowered, vertical rising thing i know of. are you with me?" rick finished his drink. "balloon," he said crisply. "on the beam," scotty approved. "the only thing that doesn't fit is the shape." rick asked, "what's a balloon? it's just a gas-tight container. we're used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient shape for internal pressure. but a balloon can be any shape. another thing--balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them." "an odd shape could be used as camouflage, too, if you didn't want people to recognize the balloon. but why would a strange assortment of characters like merlin and company send up balloons?" scotty wondered. rick smiled. "i've been wondering that myself. would they send up a balloon that didn't carry something?" "i don't know. was the one you saw carrying anything?" rick sat upright. "maybe it was! you know, i haven't even thought of it since then, but i think there was a splash when it went by. something sort of clanged off the rail over me, even if it didn't dent the rail. do you suppose the thing dropped its payload right next to us?" "you'll have to decide that," scotty said. "if you heard something bounce off the rail, then a splash, i'd say there might be a pretty good chance that's what happened. i couldn't see any marks on the rail when we looked." they had checked the rail during the first day at steve's. rick closed his eyes and made himself remember what it had been like when he went down the catwalk to the bow. his mind drew a picture, and he saw himself bent forward into the wind. in his memory he felt the slashing rain, the slipperiness of the wet anchor line. he could visualize the water whipped into dimpled wavelets by wind and rain. he saw the flying stingaree loom, and saw himself dropping flat. there had been a clang as something hard hit the rail! there _had_ been a splash! he went over it again, searching his memory for details he had forgotten or which had only registered vaguely at the time. he studied the shape and texture of the object he had seen so briefly. he saw its red eyes open and glare at him, saw the extended claws reaching.... he came out of his chair with a yell, arms extended to defend himself. scotty stood next to him in the darkness. "hey, take it easy, rick! i didn't think i'd startle you so when i shook you." rick stared. "did i fall asleep? i must have. i was trying to remember, and suddenly i was dreaming about red eyes and claws--" scotty laughed softly. "if you've got to have nightmares, at least do it in comfort. let's go to the boat and go to bed." rick dreamed no more of the flying stingarees. in the morning he couldn't have said what his dreams had been about, except that they had been pleasant. in the bright glare of morning, the whole thing seemed dreamlike. it was preposterous to imagine that flying objects, probably balloons shaped like stingarees, were launched from a famous mansion that dated back to the days of the early maryland colony. but the sighting data couldn't be ignored. dreamlike or not, something strange was going on at calvert's favor. the boys breakfasted in the farmhouse, reducing steve's supply of eggs substantially and wiping out the bacon reserve. "we'll have to shop sometime today," rick observed. "steve has plenty of food here, but we don't want to use it when there's a store so close." "sure," scotty agreed. "but when? it may have to wait until we go after steve. we can't very well leave the house, or at least both of us can't. ken holt might call." rick nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. he had thought of that. they had to give ken time to get the picture and check it out. by the latest, they should hear before noon--unless the job turned out to be very difficult. that would leave four hours before they would have to leave the house to pick up steve. four hours was time enough for the investigation rick had in mind. after breakfast they settled down with the data sheets and notebook to review them once more. but only one additional fact emerged. two people thought, but weren't absolutely sure, that they had seen a spurt of fire from the flying stingarees. rick wondered if they had seen a sudden flare of sunlight from some highly reflective part of the object. it was two minutes before nine when the phone rang. both boys jumped, but rick got there first. "hello?" "rick? ... this is ken. why don't you give us something hard to do? the envelope arrived three minutes ago, and i was just taking the picture out when sandy walked in. he took one look and asked what i was doing with a snapshot of lefty camillion. the hair is white and the mustache is gone, but it's lefty." rick gasped. "my sainted aunt! of course! i should have known it myself." "there's more. sandy recognized lefty's small friend too. this is an odd one, rick. the man is dr. elbert k. drews. he was fired six months ago by space electronics industries. it was a big story for us, because the plant is located in the next town. the reason he was fired came out during the monopoly investigations. turned out he had been selling the firm's industrial secrets to its competitors. it was a shock, because he had such a big reputation as an electronics wizard. he got some kind of national prize a year ago for developing a new high-speed system for something. let's see--here's my note. it says, 'dr. drews was the originator of a new and unusual system for the rapid telemetry of data from space. the system is considered remarkable for its compactness and speed of operation. the ground installation is scarcely larger than a console-model television set.' hope that means something to you, rick." "thanks a million, ken. it seems to fit, but i'm not sure how." "let us know if you find out. and if we can do anything else, you know the phone number." "we'll call if anything comes up. thanks again, ken." rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this new information into the scheme of things. scotty had been sitting on the edge of his chair since the conversation started. he said, with some exasperation, "well? out with it!" "mr. merlin is lefty camillion. his pal is an electronics wizard who was fired by space electronics industries for selling industrial secrets to the firm's competitors." rick rapidly sketched in the rest of the conversation. scotty sank back into his chair. "his hair was black, and now it's white. he must have been keeping it dyed, and decided to go natural. and he shaved off that mustache. probably that was dyed black, too." "you're right." rick shook his head in dismay. lefty camillion, whose first name was thomas, was a notorious crime syndicate leader who had come into prominence about two years ago during senate investigations of racketeering. in three days camillion had become a television personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, although he himself had not done the actual killings. there was insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. he dropped out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation proceedings. now he had shown up again, on the eastern shore. "a crime syndicate chief, a crooked scientist, flying stingarees, an old mansion, a peculiar antenna, and a missing crabber. what does it add up to?" rick demanded. scotty shrugged. he didn't answer. there was no answer--yet. chapter xi on the bottom there were three wooden cases stored in the full-length closet in the houseboat cabin. rick and scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. the boys had made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. each held a single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife. the third case contained spears and spear guns, but they wouldn't need those in searching for the object that had splashed near the houseboat. while rick checked the equipment, made sure there was sufficient air in the tanks, and put on the regulators, scotty searched for a heavy stake and something with which to drive it. he found a sledge hammer in steve's workshop. at the edge of the woods was a pile of saplings that had been cut to make a fence. he chose a sapling that would serve as a stake and took it back to the boat. one of the spare lines that the houseboat carried was quarter-inch nylon. scotty fastened one end of the small rope to the sapling, about halfway up, and secured it with a timber hitch. then he wound the rope on the sapling as smoothly as possible. rick finished checking the equipment and announced that he was ready. "same here," scotty replied. "let's get into swim trunks." as the two changed, rick asked, "suppose we find something, but can't get it up without help? how do we mark the place?" scotty paused. normally they would simply attach a line to a float and secure the float to the object. but a float would attract attention. "take bearings?" rick shook his head. "the boat will be swinging at anchor. it might be hard to get good bearings. would a piece of fish line work? we could tie it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something underwater. the line would sink. later, we could just drag until we caught the line." "it would work," scotty agreed. "there's a new spool of heavy line on the shelf in the closet. fifty yards. that should do." "especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," rick agreed. "i'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case." back on deck, rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened critically. they were operating smoothly. scotty walked up the pier and untied the bowline. at rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, bringing the line with him. rick cast off the stern line, pushed the houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear. the trip to swamp creek was a familiar one now. rick cut corners, knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the creek entrance. scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him. "do you suppose orvil harris will be around?" rick shrugged. "it's pretty late for a crabber. he's probably gone by now." "i wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the creek." rick shook his head. "most of the sightings are in the late morning or late afternoon. only a couple were around dawn." while the houseboat moved across the little choptank, scotty checked the tide tables. he reported that the tide was coming in. it was about one hour from high tide. rick had been studying the chart. "no problem," he said. "mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in the middle. think your stake will be long enough?" scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top. he estimated its length again. "depends on how deep the mud is. if it's more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water." "three feet is a lot of mud," rick said. "it's likely a lot less than that." he turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. it would be hard to anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night, but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. scotty went up on the bow and got the anchor ready. "use about thirty feet of line," rick called. he took the houseboat to the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put the motors in reverse to kill the speed. when it fell to zero, he yelled to scotty. scotty lowered the anchor and made it fast, then hurried back to join rick, who backed off until he felt the anchor dig in. it was silent in the cove with the motors off. "i'll start," rick offered, and at scotty's nod he picked up his scuba and slipped into the harness. his weight belt was next, then his fins. finally he slipped the mask strap over his head, and put the mouthpiece in place. he took a couple of breaths to make sure he was getting air, then walked to the edge of the cockpit and fell backward into the water, letting his tank take the shock of landing. he slipped the mask off, took the mouthpiece out, and spat into the mask to prevent fogging, then he rinsed it, put it on, and replaced the mouthpiece. scotty had taken the sapling from the cabin top. he handed it to rick, who dove with it, thrusting the sharpened end into the mud far enough so that the sapling stayed in place. rick surfaced again and swam to the boat, which had drifted a few feet. catching the leg of one motor, he pulled the boat back to where the sapling projected above the surface. he held the boat in position while scotty took the sledge and drove the sapling down until its top was only a few inches above the water. rick tested the pole. it was firm. he removed the mouthpiece, treading water. "looks okay. i'm going to start." "good luck," scotty called. rick submerged and swam down, using the pole as a guide. the rope, attached to the pole, was perhaps two feet above the bottom. he freed the end of the rope, unwound a few feet, slipped the end through his belt, and secured it with a slip knot. then, hands extended, he began the slow work of covering the cove bottom inch by inch, searching for the thing that had splashed. the boy swam in an ever-widening circle, the rope unwinding from the sapling as he moved. the unwinding of the line, which he kept taut, ensured that he would cover new ground each time he rounded the pole, but without missing any. he couldn't see, because his hands stirred up mud as he traveled. only his sense of touch told him what was on the bottom. he wasn't afraid of grabbing a crab or an eel. all underwater creatures with any mobility at all get out of the way as fast as possible. he knew the compression wave caused by his movement would warn all living creatures. his groping hands identified various pieces of wood, all natural, and assorted other objects including an old tire. there were cans, some of them food tins that had been opened, and some beverage cans, recognizable because of their triangular openings. once he found a section of fishing pole. it was a long, tedious job. the world closed in on rick and there was only the murk outside his mask and the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. only his hands, constantly probing the mud, were in touch with reality. he lost all sense of time. once, to see how much ground he had covered, he pulled himself to the pole by the line, estimating his distance. he was about fifteen feet from his starting point. he returned to the full extent of the line and started the round again, after looking at his watch. he had to hold it close to see the dial through the murk. he had been down only twenty minutes, although the time seemed much longer. ten minutes later his hand swept over something smooth. instantly he turned in toward the pole, and swam back around the circle for perhaps ten feet. then, covering the ground again by crawling along the bottom, he felt for the object. his fingers touched it. his first impression was of something cylindrical, but he made no attempt to pick it up. he needed to explore it thoroughly, first. his breathing was faster, and he knew his pulse had accelerated at the moment of discovery. if this continued, he would use air too fast. he willed himself to slow his breathing, and for a few seconds he stopped altogether. in that instant, rick heard a slap on the water, then another. he waited, holding his breath. there was a pause, then more gentle slaps. he counted them. one, two, three, four--the signal for danger! he and scotty had long ago agreed that four sounds underwater would be the danger signal. he reacted instantly. the fishing line was in a pocket on his equipment belt. he took it out and pulled line from the spool. then, probing deeply with one hand, he pushed the line under the smooth object, reached across and down with the other hand. when his hands met, he passed the line from one to the other and pulled the line through. now it was around the object. he tied the line quickly, then rolled over on his back and looked upward at the surface. he could gauge the position of the sun, even though he could see no details. using the rays filtering through the murk as a guide, he oriented himself. "which bank?" he thought quickly. danger could only come from the mansion, and that was on the south bank. he turned and swam north, going slowly, paying out line from the spool. now that he was traveling in a straight line, he covered the bottom quickly, and in less than a minute he was in shallow water. he stopped, afraid that his tank would show above the surface. it was clearer in the shallows. he made out the line of a branch, or root of some kind that thrust its way through the surface. it would serve. quickly he passed the spool around it and made a knot, then he pushed the spool itself into the mud and turned. now to find the boat again. cruising slowly, he headed in the general direction, rising slightly as he swam. finally, he found the boat by its shadow and swam under it to the stern. again orienting himself by the sun, he made sure that the boat would be between him and the south bank. he surfaced and pulled off his mask. scotty was swabbing the deck of the cockpit as casually as though trouble was the last thing on his mind. rick wondered briefly if he had imagined the danger signal, or had mistaken some other sound for a signal. then scotty hailed him. "where are all the clams?" rick's mind raced. obviously someone was listening. was the someone on the boat, or ashore? "i only found one," he called back. "i don't believe there are enough in this cove to bother about, no matter what those fishermen said." "did you dig deep enough?" scotty asked. "as deep as i could without a shovel. the mud is two feet thick down there." "well, you might as well come aboard. i guess if we're going to have clam chowder, we'll have to buy clams from a commercial boat." scotty wouldn't invite him aboard if there was any danger, rick knew. he accepted the hand scotty held down and got aboard. he surveyed the situation quickly. there was no sign of any danger. "pretty murky down there?" scotty asked. "like swimming in ink." "we'll try again out in deep water. it should be clear near the river mouth." "suits me," rick said. "i never did think we'd find clams in this cove. the mano boats dredge in deeper water than this." "maybe the fishermen didn't want us stirring things up where they clam. come on in and i'll fix you some coffee. i made it while you were down below." "okay." once inside the cabin, scotty said softly, "two men. on the shore. one is the bodyguard. i've never seen the other one before. both of them have rifles." rick considered. "they couldn't possibly know the thing--whatever it is--dropped in the water here. or could they?" "i don't know. anyway, they're suspicious. did you find anything?" "just as you signaled. how did you signal, by the way?" "with the mop pail. four taps with the bottom on the water surface. then i filled the pail and began swabbing down." rick nodded. "i don't know what i found. a cylinder, maybe two inches in diameter, maybe less. smooth. i got the fish line around it and carried the line to the shore. we'll have to come back later." "we certainly will." scotty's eyes sparkled. "but for now, let's up anchor and get out of here." "how about the stake with the rope on it?" "the tide's still coming in. it will be completely under the water at high tide. we'll have to avoid it, and warn harris if we don't get back tonight." an idea was beginning to form in rick's mind. "okay," he said. "let's get going." within minutes the houseboat was on its way out of the cove, the two boys acting normally, as though no one was observing their departure. rick saw no one on shore, and not until they were sunward from the cove entrance did he see the sparkle of sunlight on binocular lenses. scotty had been right, as usual. chapter xii night recovery on the way back from the airport, steve ames listened intently to the report of the day's activities, but delayed comment until supplies had been purchased, and a dozen eggs turned into an omelet that a french chef might have praised. rick was eager to discuss the whole affair with steve, but the young agent was adroit at fending off questions without being rude, and finally the boy gave up. over after-dinner coffee, steve smiled at both of them. "end of today's lesson in patience, which is one virtue neither of you has developed sufficiently. okay, where are those two pictures?" scotty whipped them from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed them over without comment. steve studied them for long minutes, then went to a table and took a magnifying glass from the table drawer. he placed the pictures directly under a lamp and studied them with the aid of the magnifier. "it _is_ thomas camillion," he said finally. "your friend sandy allen has a sharp eye. i wouldn't have known him, either." that surprised rick. steve had never met the owner of calvert's favor, but because of camillion's notorious reputation, rick had been certain that steve would recognize him on sight. steve saw the expression on rick's face. he grinned. "you disappointed? first of all, my knowledge of camillion is not greater than yours. i've never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. crime isn't janig's business. second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a squirrel near a tree. criminals are generally found near centers of crime. they're not common in historic mansions, far from large population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. my reasons for not recognizing camillion, without allen's identification, are exactly the same as yours." "it's just that we expect you to know everything," scotty said half-seriously. "then i'm glad you're learning better. joking aside, it's interesting that camillion should be here. it's even more interesting that his sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. when you add flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel in criminal ideas. but what?" "we thought you might have an idea," rick prodded. "yes and no," steve said ambiguously. "what ideas do you have?" rick stared at him accusingly. "are you holding out on us? do you know something we don't?" "not yet," steve said, and grinned at their expressions. "i mean that literally. i think i may possibly know something, but the evidence isn't in yet. it's that computer run i mentioned. we should have the results tomorrow." "all right," rick said. he knew better than to push steve for more information. the agent went in for speculation only when it served a purpose. with only a hint of evidence, he avoided guessing until the evidence had been checked out. "we figured out that the flying stingarees probably are balloons," rick reported, recapitulating their conclusions of the previous evening. steve nodded approvingly. "very good reasoning. now connect up an electronics crook, camillion, and that peculiar antenna." "the balloons carry radio equipment," scotty said promptly. "the antenna picks up their signals." steve nodded again. "that's reasonable. now, why do the balloons carry radio equipment? and why are they launched?" "we're like a dog chasing his tail," rick said with a grin. "we're not getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground." "maybe we are getting somewhere," steve corrected. "you found something today that may be the balloon payload. you also found out that people from the mansion were interested in your activities, but didn't want to be seen. it's obvious that the object you found must be recovered. you've got a plan. i'm sure of it." "we do," rick agreed. scotty added, "first of all, we have to warn orvil harris. if he goes crabbing in the middle of the night, he might foul a prop on the stake we left there." "the people in the mansion can't be suspicious of orvil," rick went on. "he goes crabbing there every day. they must be used to him by now. suppose we call him, to warn him about the stake, and to see if he'll help out." "he'll be glad to help," scotty said. "help how?" steve asked. "by providing cover?" rick nodded. "exactly. scotty and i will suit up, so our skins won't show at night, and have our scuba equipment on. harris could come by and take the runabout in tow with us in it. we would drop off near the creek entrance and push the runabout into the channel where it would be hidden. then we would swim into the cove and recover the object. with two of us, it would be a cinch to find the fish line." "if the thing is too heavy to swim with," scotty went on, "we'll hand it into orvil's boat. of course we'll pull up the sapling and hand that to orvil. if the gadget is light, we'll swim back to the runabout with it, push the runabout away from the cove into the river, and then get aboard and come home." rick concluded, "with orvil's motor going, no one would hear our bubbles." steve had followed the plan carefully. "fair enough," he agreed. "it's a good plan. no one will see you enter the cove, and no one will see you leave. there will be only orvil harris catching crabs as usual." scotty spoke up. "we could make one change, steve. you could be with us, either in the water or in the runabout." steve shook his head. "no thanks, scotty. i have some business of my own later tonight. you carry out your plan and i'll carry out mine." "is your business connected with ours?" rick asked. "yes, but i'm going to follow a different line of investigation. if it brings results, we'll compare notes at breakfast." "we could postpone recovery and help you tonight," scotty suggested. steve smiled warmly. "thanks, but no thanks. what i have to do is for a lone hand. rick, you phone orvil harris and make arrangements." rick consulted the telephone directory and turned to steve. "any chance the line may be bugged?" "i doubt it. you might ask orvil if he's on a party line, though. if he is, be careful. if not, go ahead and talk." orvil harris had a private line, so rick described their adventure in the cove and asked for the crabber's help. harris responded at once, as the boys had known he would. "i'll come by at half past three. you hook on and i'll tow you to the mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. we'll fix up the details when i see you." rick thanked him and hung up. "all set," he reported. "but we'll get little sleep tonight." "it's only about eight," steve pointed out. "you could go to bed right away." he managed to say it with a straight face. "we could," scotty agreed. "but we won't. how about a little television tonight?" steve waved a hand. "take your pick. medical drama, crime drama, western drama." "the purpose of television drama," rick declared, "is to provide an escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. so no crime drama for us because that's the real world. we will watch a medical-type show." "western," scotty said. "trot-trot, bang-bang." "medical." rick held out a hand dramatically. "scalpel! sponge! quick, nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! the patient is going into nurbeling aspoxium!" "western." scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "make your play, brant!" "medical." rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "i regret that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, mr. scott." steve held up both hands. "whoa, mr. scott. you too, dr. brant. as the only impartial participant, i will select. we will improve your minds by finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in basutoland." the boys groaned. it turned out to be an entertaining tv evening, with one good show following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from other late-night movies. the three had no intention of staying up to watch it, but lingered for the first reel--and were lost. it was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done that it served as a new type of comedy. by this time, all were too tired to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee. by the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets and socks, orvil harris was coming down the creek. scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would start easily and that there was plenty of gas, while rick put their tanks and regulators aboard. then, with a final farewell to steve, the boys got aboard orvil's boat, secured the runabout to the stern, and started off. on the way to swamp creek, rick and scotty described their plan to the crabber. harris slapped his thigh. "now we're gettin' somewhere. you just lay the pole and rope up on the gunwale as i go by, and leave the rest to me. if the thing on the bottom is too heavy, i can pull it in. got a line to put on it?" rick admitted they had forgotten that detail. "we can cut a length off the pole line." "no need. plenty of short lengths in that rope locker behind you. take what you need." the boys each selected a ten-foot length of half-inch nylon rope, sufficiently long for hauling the object up, if need be. harris asked, "sure you can find your way underwater in the dark?" "we have wrist compasses with luminous dials," scotty explained. "good. any danger of you comin' up under me?" "no. we'll see the white bubbles from your prop. they'll be phosphorescent." rick pointed to the crab boat's wake. thousands of tiny bay creatures, most of them almost invisible bits of jelly, flashed blue white as the prop disturbed them, so that the wake twinkled as though studded with stars. they fell silent as harris crossed the little choptank, the steady beat of his motor nearly lost in the darkness. rick could not make out details or landmarks, but harris knew the way as well as he knew the inside of his own boat. rick enjoyed the coolness of the night, and even the heavy scent of the salted eel the crabber used as bait. harris tapped each boy on the shoulder in turn, and pointed. they could barely make out the entrance to the creek. they nodded, and shook hands, then rick pulled the runabout towline and brought the smaller boat to the crabber's stern. scotty stepped aboard and held out a hand. rick joined him, casting off as he embarked. in a moment they were adrift. it took only five minutes to get their tanks in place, put on fins, and go through their routine of checking weight belt releases, making certain that the emergency valves were in the "up" position on the tanks, and ensuring that regulators were operating smoothly. rick slipped into the water with only a small splash, and scotty followed. they took the runabout's bow rope and swam easily and quietly. there was no hurry. orvil harris would need a little time to put out his lines. he would avoid the pole they had placed; its top would be above water at this stage of the tide. scotty led the way to the opening into the small waterway through which they had gone to the duck blind. he found it without difficulty, and for the thousandth time rick marveled at his pal's sure sense of position and direction, even in darkness. the boat was pushed backward into the opening and tied to a root. rick rinsed his mask, put it on, and slid noiselessly under the water. scotty followed in a direct line, letting rick pick the course, and following by the feeling of rick's flipper wash on his cheeks. it was like swimming in ink. rick kept his hands out in case of unexpected underwater objects, but forged ahead at a good speed. he kept track of his own rate of progress through the water by timing the number of flutter kicks per minute. at the count of fifty he turned to the left, heading directly into the creek's mouth. he could hear the steady beat of orvil's motor. when he estimated he had covered the proper distance, he stopped and let scotty catch up with him. he put a hand on his pal's shoulder and pressed down, a signal to hold position. then, very carefully, he swam to the top of the water and lifted his head above the surface. he could see the sapling a dozen yards away, slightly to his right. orvil was putting out lines upstream, near the point where swamp creek widened into the cove. rick went under again and tapped scotty. he headed for the pole, hands outstretched to intercept it. his left hand hit it and held. scotty came alongside and they swam to the bottom. both gripped the pole, put fins flat against the muddy bottom, and heaved. the pole came up without difficulty. while scotty held it, rick wrapped rope around it until the line was fully wound again. orvil's motor was nearer now. rick took one end of the pole while scotty took the other. they operated entirely by touch; nothing was visible except the luminous dials of their compasses. the motor sound was muted in the burbling exhaust of their bubbles. it was almost possible to stand on flipper tips with head above water. the boys thrust their heads out with care, and saw orvil bearing down on them, peering forward anxiously. he waved when he saw the two helmeted heads. there was a slight gleam from the masks even in the darkness. as he came alongside, the boys held the pole overhead, water churning under their flippers. orvil bent and took it, lifted it on board, and continued on his path. the boys went under again, operating on a prearranged plan. this time they swam side by side, hands searching for the fish line. since rick knew the approximate position where he had tied it to the projecting stump, he led the way toward shallow water, hoping to intercept it. the water shoaled rapidly as the boys approached the shore. scotty's hand suddenly gripped rick's, and rick felt the line. at the same instant, rick was aware of bubbles in the water, a trail of faint phosphorescence shooting downward past his mask. then something glanced from his tank and he heard a sharp clang like a brazen bell in his ears. the impact rolled him partly over, and as he turned, another line of phosphorescence streaked past his eyes. the skin on his back crawled in the blazing moment of recognition. they were being shot at! chapter xiii the night watchers scotty, who had realized they were being shot at, was pulling at rick's arm in frantic jerks, trying to lead him back into deeper water. rick needed no urging. his fins thrashed in the shallows as he drove desperately for the safety of the deepest part of the cove, his hands keeping contact with the bottom. the increased pressure on his eardrums told him they had reached the sanctuary of deeper water where the velocity of bullets would be absorbed before they could strike. he was bewildered. what had happened? who was shooting? for a moment it crossed his mind that orvil might be doing the shooting, but he dismissed it. he had no proof that the crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it. yesterday scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from calvert's favor. apparently the watchers were there now. the boys had gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, drawing fire. it was the only reasonable explanation. probably the night watchers had seen the pole handed up to orvil, or had seen the faint light reflecting from their masks. what had happened to orvil? one thing was certain. they couldn't stay on the bottom indefinitely. rick consulted his wrist compass and closed his fingers on scotty's shoulder. he led the way toward the mouth of the cove. somewhere on the shore, he thought, the night gunmen were watching the line of bubbles. the boys' only hope of escaping detection had been to avoid drawing attention to themselves. rick knew that was impossible with watchers on the shore. watchers at four in the morning was one thing he hadn't expected. what had drawn them? suddenly he knew. while he, steve, and scotty had examined the mansion through glasses from orvil's boat, merlin and company, or a single guard, had been watching them. they had drawn attention not only to orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be especially alert. bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of phosphorescence. how far would bubbles and glow be visible? he had a mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. they couldn't cross the creek or its mouth to where steve's runabout was stowed, but they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles. the only way for scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble track. that meant not breathing. not breathing was possible for a short time. during the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use it for cover. rick's thoughts raced. he tried to recall the shoreline. there must be some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could hide. perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two black-covered heads. there was a problem, though. scotty's air tank hadn't been used until now. rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. he estimated quickly. less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. the water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was essentially the same as swimming on the surface. he had had at least forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to fifty minutes. he probably had used no more than forty minutes of air, total. but the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. there was not enough air to take them to steve's place. he had to make up his mind. scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast thinking along the same lines. their thoughts usually followed the same track in such situations. rick touched scotty's side and forged ahead, heading straight out. he counted his kicks, estimating distance covered. when he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the north shore of the little choptank. they were well out of the creek now. when the water shoaled, he found scotty again and pressed him down; then, very gingerly, he put his head above water, half expecting to feel the shock of a bullet. there was a fallen tree nearby. he submerged again, touched scotty, and led the way to its shelter. a cautious survey told him they were some distance from the creek mouth, and certainly invisible behind the waterlogged trunk and its load of leaves and other debris. he put his lips to scotty's ear. "wonder what happened to orvil?" "we've got to find out," scotty whispered back. "yes, but how?" "we go overland." of course! they were on the same side as the boat, and not far away. there was the stretch of marsh between the channel and the creek. they could cross that, and overlook the creek. "let's go," rick whispered. they inched their way along the fallen tree to the bank, then crawled slowly into the shelter of the marsh grass. the grass grew in a narrow swath at this point, with a tangle of scrub and trees deeper inland. they kept going until the scrub concealed them, listening for sounds from the creek. there was the beat of a motor. it sounded like orvil's boat, and rick thought it probably was. but would orvil continue crabbing? again the doubt came. had the crabber tried to kill them? he couldn't believe it. the boys stopped and slipped off their fins. "lead on," rick said softly. "okay. when we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. we'd better be as quiet as possible." "i'm with you." carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, scotty in the lead. it was hard going. mosquitoes whined in a steady swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only their faces and hands were exposed. each traveled with one hand outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to chase the insects from their faces. the outstretched hands were wiped frequently across the suits to get rid of the pests. rick was careful to step where scotty stepped. when it came to silent tracking at night, the ex-marine had few peers. the two skirted the shore, keeping within the tree belt, until more marsh grass warned them that the water was near. the ground gave way to mud, and the mud to water. they stepped into the narrow channel up which they had gone to the blind. they now were less than two yards from the runabout. scotty turned at once, and keeping to the water, moved upstream. rick followed, careful not to splash. the darkness was less dense than under the trees, but he could not make out any details. the channel ran roughly parallel to the creek, with a strip of land about thirty yards wide between the two. when scotty estimated they were even with the cove, he left the channel and moved into the marsh grass again. rick followed closely, careful to make no noise. in spite of their best efforts there was an occasional sucking sound as his foot or scotty's pulled out of the muck, and there was a steady rustle of marsh grass. he hoped that the sounds were drowned out by the steady chugging of orvil's motor. scotty slowed to a cautious pace and rick knew they were approaching the creek bank. the marsh grass did not thin appreciably. rick wondered if the night watchers could see the tassels of the grass waving as they approached, and decided that the small motion probably was invisible against the high bank of trees farther inland. rick stopped as scotty turned. soundlessly, scotty lowered himself to the mud, then inched ahead, moving each strand of marsh grass with care. rick followed suit, and crawled in scotty's track until he saw the glimmer of water. then, moving with great caution, he drew alongside his pal. they looked out into the cove through a thin screen of grass stalks. orvil harris was crabbing, as unconcerned as though nothing had happened. as rick stared, disbelieving, the crabber's net swooped. the crab boat moved on, exposing a glow on the opposite bank. rick sucked in his breath. he could make out the forms of two men. one was smoking a cigarette. both carried rifles. chapter xiv daybreak rick tugged at scotty's suit, then crawfished backward through the marsh grass until he was sure the night watchers could not see him. he stood up, and scotty joined him. rick motioned toward their own boat. the boys made their way back through the swamp to the runabout in almost total silence, each busy with his own thoughts. orvil harris was crabbing as though nothing had happened, while the night watchers stood in plain sight on the opposite shore. orvil must have seen the shots fired, rick was certain. even if he had been looking the other way, the first shot would have caught his attention. or, rick wondered, had orvil tipped off the two guards that divers were below? if so, the game was up. once merlin and company knew the payload had fallen into the cove, they would be diving for it themselves, under cover of guns. merlin undoubtedly knew that the launching the evening of the squall had gone wrong, but he couldn't know how, or where. but somehow, rick didn't think orvil had been a party to the shooting. maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved just because they liked him. or maybe it was because the crabber had no reason for helping merlin and his gang; at least harris had no reason known to rick and scotty. they reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six feet away. "could orvil have put the finger on us?" scotty questioned. rick shrugged. "i don't want to think so, and i don't. but i have to admit it's possible." "if he's in with them, they'll be diving for the 'what's-it' at first light." rick glanced at the eastern sky. it was beginning to glow with the first hint of daylight. "that's not long from now." "how are we going to recover it first?" again rick shrugged. "there's only one way. go in and get it." "under those guns?" "a diver on the bottom isn't in danger from the guns. i could find the thing again without going into the shallows. that's what made us targets before, because we took the easy way to locate the fish line by going into the shallows near where i tied the line." "let's see your tank," scotty whispered. rick unsnapped his harness release and swung the tank around. their probing fingers soon identified where the bullet had glanced off. there was a dent, coated with silvery metal. "lead," rick said. "part of the slug." "good thing it didn't rupture the tank." rick shuddered. "if it had, i'd have been out of air suddenly and would've had to come up. listen, scotty. my plan is a simple one. i'll take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. if it's too heavy to tow far, i can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the mud. meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to pick me up." "they'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with rifles," scotty pointed out. "one thing they can do, though, is jump in after you. the cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't tackle you. the lung wouldn't improve your chances by much." "too true," rick observed. "but what else can we try?" scotty thought it over. "listen, we'll take the boat out right now. you'll have to do the diving, because you know about where the thing is, and i don't. when we get out, you go over the side. i'll run around to the river, opposite where the guards are standing, and raise a little fuss. that might draw their attention away from the cove." "okay." it made sense to rick. "they'll see both of us in the boat, but they won't see me get out. only you'd better plan our course. i have no aching desire to collect a rifle slug where it hurts." "they may not shoot if they see we're leaving," scotty pointed out. "uh-huh. and they might shoot, anyway." "they might. but we'll be moving fast, and i'll swing that boat from side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. let's get going. we don't want too much daylight." scotty unsnapped his harness and rick took his pal's tank and regulator. they put rick's unit in the bottom of the runabout cockpit, along with scotty's fins and mask. rick put on his own fins and made sure he was ready to hit the water at a moment's notice. rick went to the stern of the runabout and felt down the motor leg to the prop to make sure it had not picked up any grass that might slow them down. it was clear. scotty, meanwhile, untied the boat and slid into the driver's seat. rick reached over the transom and pumped up the gasoline tank to ensure plenty of pressure, then he waded to the side of the boat and got into the seat next to scotty. "pull us out to where the nose is almost projecting beyond the grass," scotty whispered. rick did so, by grasping clumps of marsh grass and pulling the boat along. as the bow cleared the grass, scotty punched the starter button, threw the runabout into gear, and shoved the throttle all the way forward. the runabout jumped forward, slamming rick back against his tank. the boat hit the shoal at the entrance and slowed for a long, breathtaking moment, then the driving prop pushed it over into deeper water. the stern went down and the bow lifted, and they were clear. scotty swung the boat to the right, putting its stern to the cove. rick tensed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a rifle bullet, either in the boat or in his own body. there was no sound other than the racing motor, and he knew it would drown out the crack of a distant rifle. the distance from the cove entrance widened. "get ready!" scotty yelled. "lay flat and be ready to roll. i'll turn so the motor is moving away from you. when i tap you, we'll be directly in line with the cove entrance." rick moved out of the seat, keeping low, and lay on his side along the gunwale, facing scotty. he put the mouthpiece in place and made sure he was getting air, then pulled his mask down. he was ready. the impact with the water would be hard, at this speed, but his tank would cushion the shock. he tensed for the signal. scotty swung the boat to the left, held it on course for a moment, then began a shallow turn to the right. that way, the motor would be steering itself away from rick when he went over. the boat came abreast of the cove entrance and scotty slapped rick on the shoulder. instantly rick rolled, one hand reaching for the back of his head, the other grabbing his mask. he hit the water on his back, his hand and the tank breaking the shock of the stunning impact. he threw his legs upward, and his momentum took him under the water instantly. the racing motor receded, leaving him in silent darkness. he rolled over into normal swimming position and consulted his wrist compass. the creek entrance ran on a course of 80 degrees. if scotty had gauged things correctly, that course would take him into the cove. if scotty hadn't, rick brant would end up on the beach like a stranded whale. rick considered. the boat was gone, and it was extremely unlikely anyone had seen him leave it. the turn had caused the boat to tilt, lifting the side away from him. he was certain that the guards had not seen the maneuver. that being so, and taking into account his distance from the creek entrance, he thought it would be safe to look and check his course. he held the compass in front of his eyes, and rose to the surface. he broke through slowly and without a splash. one look was enough. he should have trusted scotty. he was dead on course. rick went to the bottom and began the long swim, counting his leg strokes. he and scotty had practiced estimating underwater distance by the number and timing of their leg strokes. it wasn't an exact method, of course, but it was practical. there were no underwater obstacles, and the depth was great enough. rick remembered from the chart that the entrance into the creek varied from eight to eleven feet, dropping inside the creek mouth to about seven. no bullet could harm him if he stayed on the bottom. if the night watchers fired, the bullet would be slowed by the water. he heard the sound of a motor and recognized it as the runabout. the sound faded again. scotty was going through some kind of maneuvers. then, in a short time, another motor made itself felt, more than heard. the slower beat identified it as orvil harris's crab boat. he was nearing the cove! like all divers, rick's ears were sensitive to pressure changes. sensing when the depth lessened, he knew he had reached the cove itself. now to find the payload--if it was a payload. his groping hands began the search. the first foreign object he touched was a cord. it was the wrong thickness for his own line, and he felt along it until he came to a soft, round mass, and knew he was touching one of orvil's crab baits. he grinned in spite of the mouthpiece. wouldn't orvil be surprised if a diver came up hanging to his bait! he let the crab line drop and continued his search. once, orvil passed within a few feet of him, and rick wondered if the crabber had noticed the air bubbles from his regulator. rising ground told rick he had reached the end of the cove. he turned left and held his course for about twenty feet, then turned left again, heading back toward the cove entrance. his hands never stopped moving, probing the mud for a trace of fish line. he crossed another of orvil's crab lines, and kept going until pressure change told him he was back in the deeper water at the creek entrance. he turned right again. a check of his compass told him he was on course. his groping hands trailed over a thin line. he grabbed it, and stopped his flutter kick. then, moving with care, he turned and followed the line. his pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush. a hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was attached. orvil passed very close, and rick looked upward. he could see the white circle of water around the single propeller. now to find out what he had. his hands stroked it from one end to the other. one end was rounded. the other was a circle with an odd-shaped hole running into it. rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the end of the depression. the only protuberance on the thing was a band near the rounded end. the band felt like metal, and had two rings projecting from it. the rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. the texture was that of a smooth plastic. rick lifted the object gingerly. it was hard to estimate weight under water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. the total length was less than three feet. it would be easy to carry. this time he needed a reciprocal compass course. it would be 260 degrees going out. he oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and began the long swim back. he wondered if merlin's guards were watching his bubbles. he had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking for them. with orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have heard the slap of a bullet on the water. pressure told him he was out of the cove. he breathed a little easier. now to count leg strokes again. he looked up, and saw that the surface of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. scotty would have no trouble finding him. because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where scotty had dropped him. no use giving the guards too good a shot. finally, exhausted, he surfaced. he lifted his mask and surveyed the scene. orvil harris was still crabbing. rick could see the boat, but the angle was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. he turned slowly in the water, and saw scotty. the runabout was floating, motor off, about a mile away. he lifted an arm. the glint of first sunrise turned the lenses of scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and scotty waved back. in a few seconds rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing toward him. he kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting. [illustration: _now to find out what he had_] scotty came alongside and reached down. rick handed him the cylinder. scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. he gave rick a hand and pulled him over the side. he asked anxiously, "are you all right?" "done in," rick said wearily. "but otherwise okay." "let's get out of here." scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back toward martins creek. rick sat down and picked up the cylinder. there was a gob of mud still on it. he wiped it off with his hand and examined the thing. the material was fiber glass set in resin, and it was designed so the rounded nose could be removed. he didn't remove it, however. instead he looked at the other end, down into the hole with the puzzling shape. it was like a cutout star of david in shape, the hole gradually narrowing until its apex was almost at the other end. the light dawned. rick's lips formed the word. "grain." scotty was watching. "what?" "grain," rick said again. "this thing is a small solid-propellant rocket!" chapter xv the empty boat the swiss torsion clock on steve ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. rick and scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried to stay awake. the small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a newspaper on steve's table. "rockoon," rick said. "that explains the funny antenna, the presence of the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched." "not to me, it doesn't," scotty retorted. he sipped steaming coffee. "what was that word you used? grain?" rick nodded sleepily. "that's what solid rocket fuel is called. it's poured into the casing around a form. the form is withdrawn after the fuel hardens. the shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain." "logical," scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "all perfectly logical. i also understand that a rockoon is a combination of a rocket and a balloon. the balloon carries the rocket up to where the air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. how does the rocket know when to fire?" "two ways. a barometric switch can be installed that will act at a certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground." "the antenna," scotty said. "it can send a signal." "sure." "i'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees fly. why send up rockoons? what's the reason?" rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. he recovered in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on steve's rug. "scientific research is usually the reason for rockoons. they carry experiments." scotty snorted. "are you telling me lefty camillion has turned scientist?" "nope." rick yawned. "i take it back. we still don't know why the stingarees fly. we only know what they are. where do you suppose steve is?" "that's the eighth time you've asked. he'll be here when that business of his is over." the telephone rang. rick jumped to his feet and beat scotty to the phone only because he was four steps nearer. "hello?" an unfamiliar voice spoke. "stay away from the creek, and stay away from the house. if you don't, your crab-catching buddy is going to be turned into crab food." the line went dead. rick turned, eyes wide. suddenly he was no longer sleepy. "did you hear that? he said to stay away from the creek and the house, or our crab-catching buddy would be turned into crab food!" "he must have meant orvil harris!" scotty exclaimed. "rick, let's get going!" the boys started for the door at a run, but rick stopped as his eye caught the rocket. "check the gas," he told scotty. "steve has a spare can in the workshop. the runabout tank must be getting low. i'm going to hide the rocket." scotty left at a run. rick picked up the rocket and surveyed the scene. where could he hide it? he hurried into the kitchen and examined the cabinets, then shook his head. too obvious. the refrigerator caught his eye. an apron at the bottom concealed the motor unit. he knelt and pulled the apron free from its fastenings. there was room next to the motor--unless the heat of the motor caused the rocket fuel to burn. he opened the refrigerator and examined the control, then turned it to "defrost." it wouldn't go on until they got back. hurriedly he put the small rocket in at a slight angle. it just fit. he snapped the cover back in place and ran to join scotty, who was already in the boat. "gas okay," scotty called. "let's go." rick cast off and jumped aboard. scotty started the motor and backed into the stream, then turned sharply and headed toward the river. neither boy spoke. their sleepiness was gone now, forgotten in their fear for orvil. scotty held the runabout wide open, at its top speed of nearly twenty miles an hour. they sped across the little choptank river straight for swamp creek, with no effort at concealment. rick saw a low, white boat some distance down the river and grabbed scotty's arm. "isn't that orvil's boat?" scotty looked for a long moment. "it looks like it. let's go see." they swung onto a new course, in pursuit of the white boat. it might not be orvil's, but it was like it. both boys could now recognize the design characteristic of boats built on the chesapeake bay. the boats were known as "bay builts," and distinguished by their straight bows--almost vertical to the water line--square sterns, and flaring sides. the design was ideal for the shallow, choppy waters of the bay, and the boats could take a heavy bay storm with greater comfort and safety than most deep-water models. as they came closer both boys looked for the boat's occupant, but there was no one in sight. worried, scotty held top speed until they were nearly alongside, then he throttled down and put his gunwale next to that of the crab boat. "it's orvil's," rick said. "but where is he?" "get aboard," scotty suggested. "okay." rick stood up and timed his motion with the slight roll of both boats, then stepped into the crabber. orvil's crab lines were coiled neatly in their barrels, the stone crab-line anchors and floats were stacked along the side of the boat. there were three covered bushel baskets of crabs, and extra baskets stacked in place. one open basket held a dozen jumbo crabs. orvil's net was in its rack on the engine box, but there was no sign of orvil himself. wait--there was a sign. rick knelt by a small brown patch on the deck. he touched it, and a chill lanced through him. blood, and only recently dried. orvil's? rick straightened. someone had turned the boat loose, idled down to its lowest speed. the stable crab boat had continued on course, heading out the mouth of the little choptank into the wide bay. only a bloodstain showed that there had been violence aboard. the flying stingaree had claimed another victim! chapter xvi steve waits it out the two-boat procession moved down martins creek at slow speed, scotty leading in the runabout and rick following in orvil's boat. the boys had decided to take the crab boat back to steve's, because it could not be left adrift, and they did not know where orvil berthed it. both agreed it was senseless to return to swamp creek. that wouldn't help orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by the riflemen. as they neared the pier, scotty moved out of the way while rick backed the big crab boat into the runabout's place. before he had finished, steve was coming down the walk at a run. the agent took the line rick tossed and made it fast, then caught another line and secured the bow. scotty backed in with the runabout and rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber. "bumpers on the houseboat," rick called. "under the cockpit deck." steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat and the runabout to prevent rubbing. the boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend. "we found the boat headed into the bay," rick said grimly. "bloodstain on the deck, but no other sign of violence. we had a phone call telling us to keep away from the creek and the house, or orvil would be fed to the crabs. there's no doubt about it. they have orvil." strangely, steve replied, "yes, i know. come on in the house." the three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with rick and scotty staring incredulously at the agent. how had he known? "did you get a phone call after we left?" rick asked. steve shook his head. "then how did you know?" scotty demanded. steve held up a hand. "easy, kids. i'm trying to get my thoughts straightened out a little and make some plans. we'll talk it over shortly." inside the house, rick went at once to the refrigerator. as the others watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, and replaced the panel. then he turned the refrigerator control back to normal and handed the rocket to steve. the agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. then he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the coffeepot while rick and scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, and fumed quietly. steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. not until the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen table. he joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert. "testing our patience again?" rick asked acidly. steve's warm grin flashed. "sorry, kids. i was working over a few facts in my head, trying to make them add up. okay, let's talk. start by telling me about last night." the boys reported, taking turns. "at first we thought orvil might have told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," rick said finally, "but that's out. he's a victim, not a member of the gang. i saw his boat just before scotty picked me up, but i couldn't see him." scotty picked up the tale. "after rick dropped off, i made a high-speed run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north bank opposite where i thought the guards were. i got in close to shore and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they wanted to take it. there weren't any shots, but i saw one of the guards. the visibility wasn't very good, so i propped the extra tank up in the seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would think there were two of us. i don't know whether they were fooled or not." "pretty smart," steve approved. "thanks. i ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker under the seat. you had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. well, i owe you a wrench. it was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very often on an outboard, anyway." "just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," steve said with a grin. "go on." "it wasn't. i wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, then searched for matches. i finally found a paper folder in the glove compartment. i had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. what i really needed was a coke bottle. i could have made a molotov cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. well, i made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. they didn't show up. i got as close as i could without grounding, touched a match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. my eyebrows took a beating." scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas. "i wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. i figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run upstream to safety. but the stuff only charred in a circle. anyway, it scared them. they came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a shot at me. but i was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he didn't even come close." "let's hope i never have you two for enemies," steve said fervently. scotty concluded, "i decided rick probably had been in and out of the cove by that time, so i moved to where i could watch with binoculars, putting the sunrise behind where i thought he would appear. i knew i could see him better against the light. finally up he popped, and away i went, and here we are." rick ended their recital. "we got back and took off our diving suits, then went for a swim with a bar of soap. when we were clean, except for my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the house. we were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake when the phone rang. how did those hoods get the number, anyway?" "that's not hard," steve said. "it's probable that camillion's boys started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. my car is known at the local gas stations. it would be just a matter of asking who owns a convertible of that description. name and telephone directory add up to the right number. watching you enter martins creek would cap the information. you could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore opposite the cove." the agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to percolate. "my tale is pretty short." "wag it, anyway," rick suggested. steve put a hand to his forehead. "gags like that at this time of day cause shooting pains. please be attentive, and not waggish." "ouch!" scotty exclaimed. steve sat down again. "after you were safely on your way i changed to dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for calvert's favor. i drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the woods, then hiked. the first thing i came to was a chain-link fence. it took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm--and it was. so i had to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. i'd taken the precaution of carrying a rope. i found the tree, fixed the rope to an overhanging limb, and down i went." "we could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," scotty said reproachfully. "sure you could. but i'm used to operating alone, and i was interested in what you might find in the cove. anyway, i approached from behind the barn and had to take cover when two men went by. they had rifles. they headed down the peninsula toward the cove. i scouted around, but no other guards were in sight, so i started with the barn." steve paused. "that is quite a barn. no hay, no oats, no horses. but it has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen." "a microwave dish?" rick gasped. "exactly. it's mounted on a truck, and i suspect the electronic gear is inside. i couldn't get a good look. there are also little cubicles inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and i could hear a man snoring in one of them. there wasn't much light, and i couldn't use my little flashlight beam too freely, but i did get a look at several gas bottles racked along one wall. they were big ones, of the kind used for commercial gases like propane or oxygen." "or hydrogen?" scotty asked quickly. "or hydrogen," steve agreed. "and that's probably what they contain, for inflating the balloons." he got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "along about that time, i heard rifleshots. you can imagine what i thought. i had a vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. if i'd had a weapon, i think i'd have run down to see what was going on. but common sense got the better of me, and i figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. i was sure you had sense enough to stay down. so i left the barn and went to the house." "you actually went in?" rick asked, his eyes wide. "sure. it was safe enough. the gang was sleeping upstairs and the two guards were interested in you and orvil. no papers were left where i could get them. there's a built-in safe, but i'm no jimmy valentine who sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. i couldn't do anything with it. finally, i figured all had been seen that could be seen, and left the house. i could hear a motor racing, and i recognized the runabout, so i knew you were still alive. i retired to the woods behind the barn and headed for the riverbank. i saw scotty hurl his homemade bomb." scotty shook his head. "i didn't see you." "you weren't supposed to. i decided scotty must be creating a diversion, and that meant you, rick, were still diving in the cove. i took off for the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. there was plenty of cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. i got a good view of the festivities. after the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to the bank of the cove and waited until orvil got close, then they pointed their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. he didn't have much choice." rick thought that was an understatement. "they questioned him for a while. who were the divers and what were they after? orvil played dumb. he said he knew nothing about divers and of course he had seen bubbles. he always saw bubbles. marsh gas was rising all the time. he couldn't understand what all the shooting was about." "good for orvil," scotty muttered. "he put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. they finally made him pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything shipshape. then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. orvil balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the head. he dropped to the deck. that must be how the stain got there. they slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. one guard held a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. he took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. the boat headed out and the guards walked orvil back." "so he's alive," rick said with relief. "probably. i waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. they took orvil into the barn, and i managed to get a look through a window. they tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. i decided it was time to leave." steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "you can imagine how i felt. if one had gone away, i could have jumped the other. but two with guns, and me with not even a rock--i was dead certain to end up with orvil. besides, i couldn't take the chance." rick stared. if steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing orvil, there had to be a good reason. the only reason rick could think of was that steve had decided there was more at stake than orvil himself. "we know where orvil is," scotty pointed out. "we can go after him. this time we'll be armed." steve shook his head. "sorry. i wish it could be like that, but we're not engaged in a personal vendetta. orvil may be out of there by tonight, or he may not. he'll have to take his chances." one thing had been bothering rick, aside from steve's untypical attitude about rescuing orvil. "you haven't accounted for all your time. you could have reached here before we did if you had started back right away." steve shook his head. "i didn't. i went to the airport and used a public phone booth by the side of the road to call patuxent naval air station. in twenty minutes i had a navy jet fighter on the cambridge field. i handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with them, then i made another call to my office in washington to tell them the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action accordingly. we'll be seeing the results pretty soon." the young agent stopped smiling. "your little mystery has turned into a case for janig, kids. i'm pretty sure of my facts, but i'll know definitely before noon. right now, you'd better finish your coffee and get into bed. you'll need sleep if things start to pop. that rockoon idea of yours about cinches things." rick blurted, "if it's a case for janig, there must be security involved somewhere. is wallops island involved somehow?" "go to bed," steve said sternly. "by the time you wake up, i'll have a lot more than guesses, and i'll give you the details then." chapter xvii crowd at martins creek rick and scotty awoke to find four newcomers at steve's house. steve introduced them to dave cobb, electronics specialist; joe vitalli and chuck howard, janig agents; and roy mcdevitt from wallops island. mcdevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned with tropical flowers. he shook hands cordially. "you're hartson brant's boys. we've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. when barby and jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning." rick grinned. "somebody loses, somebody wins. we're anxious to have them back with us again." vitalli and howard greeted the boys as old comrades. although they had had no chance to become well acquainted, the two agents had been part of the janig team during the case of _the whispering box mystery_. dave cobb, who was scarcely older than the boys, had been hastily borrowed from the naval research laboratory in washington. he spared no time for greetings other than a cordial wave, and immediately got to work on the rocket rick had found in the cove. the group pulled chairs up to the kitchen table on which cobb was working, and watched. cobb studied the rocket for a few minutes, then took a pointed tool and pressed it into a spot five inches below the rounded nose. he rotated the cylinder and pressed a similar spot on the other side. rick saw a thin line appear around the rocket below where cobb had pressed. the electronics specialist gripped the cylinder above and below the thin line and twisted. the nose of the rocket came off. cobb pointed to a pair of metal prongs that extended out of the nose into the rocket casing. "contacts," he said. "they press against strips inside the rocket casing. the whole assembly acts as a dipole antenna." no one commented. cobb took a tiny screwdriver and removed two screws from a metal plate in the bottom of the nose cone. the screws were long ones, holding the entire nose assembly in place. with the screws laid carefully aside, cobb tapped the cone and the assembly dropped into his hand. "a terrific job of miniaturization," he commented. "first-rate design." he pointed with a screwdriver to a segment about the size of two silver dollars stacked together. "tape recorder. it accumulates data, then plays it back in a single high-speed burst." rick watched, fascinated, as the electronics expert identified components and circuits. the whole unit, scarcely larger than a common soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. it was a highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, storing it, then retransmitting it. "but why?" rick demanded. "why send up a rockoon at all? what data does it receive and transmit, and what do the people at the mansion do with it?" "what rick is asking," scotty observed, "is the question that has puzzled us since we got here. why do the stingarees fly?" steve waved a hand. "patience for just a few more minutes. anything else, cobb?" the electronics expert shook his head. "not unless you have specific questions. in summary, this is a very elegant little assembly of receiver, data recorder, transmitter, and command circuits." "fine. mcdevitt, what about the rocket?" the man from wallops island shrugged. "nothing very complex about it. it's a simple solid-fuel rocket with star grain, fired by a squib that is commanded from the ground. a squib is simply an igniter to start the fuel burning. battery power makes it glow red hot when turned on." "how high an altitude would the rocket reach?" steve asked. "it's difficult to be precise, but i'd estimate the balloon carries it to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the proper time. the rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, plus or minus twenty thousand. in other words, i'd guess its maximum altitude at nearly twenty-three miles." "did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" rick asked quickly. he wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure mcdevitt had said "time." "the altitude isn't important. i'd say time was the principal factor." "but if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon? why not use a rocket launched directly from the ground?" scotty demanded. he looked puzzled. rick looked at steve expectantly. the young agent smiled. "got the answer, rick?" "maybe. it's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? the folks around here were puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled by rocket firing. they'd have been curious enough to want to know why the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation would have resulted. by using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look like balloons, camillion confused the issue. people who reported seeing things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying object a flying saucer. the rockets fired only when high in the air, where people wouldn't notice." "two did," scotty reminded him. "remember? we had two interviews where the people saw spurts of flame." "sure," rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off from a balloon. and only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame at all." steve nodded. "you've hit it, rick. it's the only answer that makes sense." "not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," rick said stubbornly. "that's the whole key. nothing will really make sense until we know that." "we ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot of other dates and times for various things," steve explained. "i had a hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data." "what data?" scotty demanded. "every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a research rocket from wallops island!" the boys sat back, openmouthed. rick said, "so that's why the glow from wallops island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. that's what put you on the trail!" "right," steve agreed. "the yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets fired from wallops. the rockets allow visual measurement of meteorological data. people around here are used to seeing them to the southeast, over wallops. when i saw that sightings had been made over swamp creek at the time of sodium shots, i got an idea. it wasn't much to go on, but it was at least a good clue. the computer did the rest." "then lefty camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from our rocket launchings at wallops," scotty said unbelievingly. "but why? how could lefty use data like that? it's all straight, unclassified scientific and meteorological stuff. he's no scientist." steve grinned. "i doubt that he even knows what the data are. he and his friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. but about what he does with the data--joe vitalli has been doing some investigating along that line." vitalli nodded. "with the fbi. they put agents on the case and found out lefty had been in touch with the soviet embassy in washington, through a third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of scientific intelligence. we're not absolutely certain, but it looks very much as though lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the soviets." "so that's why janig has moved into the case," scotty concluded. "on the nose," steve agreed. "now it's time to move in on our foolish friends at calvert's favor. do you boys want to take a hand?" "try and leave us out," rick said with a grin. "janig is welcome to assist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. scotty's and mine, that is." "be glad to have you help," scotty echoed. the janig men laughed. "you've got a point," chuck howard conceded. "want to plan the operation?" steve asked with a twinkle. rick held up his hand. "whoa! we didn't say that. you've got information we don't have." "only one piece of information," steve replied. "the time of the next launching from wallops island." "when?" rick asked eagerly. "at dusk tonight." chapter xviii the stingaree's tail "this is the plan," steve ames said. "joe and chuck will approach from upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. they'll stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they hear my signal on the radio to close in--or until they see the balloon launched. i'll go in the way i did before." the two janig agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the houseboat. "cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," steve continued, "and try to intercept all signals from the mansion. mcdevitt will set up here too, and track the balloon through my telescope--if it rises--watching until the rocket fires. mcdevitt also will keep in touch with wallops island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown reaches thirty minutes." steve turned to rick and scotty. "before i go to my post, i'll take you two to the creek mouth in the runabout. then you will swim up the creek, underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the house." rick's pulse stopped. "they'll see our bubbles," he protested. "it would give the whole show away!" steve motioned to joe vitalli. "show 'em." joe walked to the car in which he and chuck had driven from washington, and opened the trunk. he brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic shotguns, which he handed to chuck, then he reached into the trunk and brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached. "rebreathers!" rick exclaimed. he grinned at steve. "you planned this before you ever told us what was on your mind!" "i thought it was best to be prepared," steve said. "you know how these work?" rick nodded. "we both do." the rebreathers, unlike scubas, which were filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. they were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted. cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing electronic gear. he had also brought a portable antenna, which he began setting up. mcdevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to wallops, and steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network. another unit went to chuck, and steve retained one. steve glanced at his watch. "let's get going. time your travel so you will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." he looked at the boys. "get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. when we move into action, i want you to bring that balloon down if you can." the boys ran to the houseboat. rick was excited, and he knew scotty was feeling the same way. it was the first time they had been in on a janig operation as full partners. their previous adventures had either been as accidental participants or as observers. they got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and footgear. then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to the others. joe and chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and walkie-talkie out of sight. mcdevitt had the telescope set up next to his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey. cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. his antenna was in place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compass direction to calvert's favor. steve shook hands with joe and chuck. "on your way. see you when the balloon goes up." he motioned to the boys. "got spear guns?" "we left that till last," rick said. "ready to go?" "ready." the three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys took guns from their spear box. each chose a high-powered gas gun, operated by a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cut the biggest holes. there would be time for only one shot. "get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," steve directed. "if there are any watchers, i want them to see only one man." the boys cast off, then climbed in as steve backed into the creek. they crouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks until the fit was tight. there was no conversation. rick was so excited it was hard to sit still. as they began the crossing of the little choptank river, steve gave them instructions. "when we get opposite the creek mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. the boat will drift into the smoke and out again. you'll have a few seconds to go over. i'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it started, but running rough. then i'll take off and pretend i'm heading home. okay?" "how are you going to make smoke?" rick asked. steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "these are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. got your plans all made?" rick looked at scotty. "we'll have to stick our heads up once in a while. i'll lead, since i know the creek as far as the cove. when i think i'm lost, i'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. that will be your signal to stay put, while i look. what i'd like to do is bring us out in back of the duck blind. we can pick our spots then and cross the creek when we're ready." "got it," scotty agreed. steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "good luck, kids. and no unnecessary chances. if shooting starts, get underwater again. we'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns." "good luck," the boys said in unison. they put on the masks and turned the valves that started the oxygen cycles. rick grinned at scotty through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. scotty grinned back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal for "okay." "be ready," steve said. rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. weight belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting tightly, and the pack in place. he got ready to jump on steve's command. the outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. steve's hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. the boat turned, and rick saw the smoke cloud rising. the boat went into it, and the motor cut out. "go," steve said. rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward the bottom. he felt the pressure wave as scotty followed and reached a hand upward to meet his pal. his hand touched scotty's arm, found the hand, and gave it a squeeze. then, with a glance at his compass to orient him, rick started the long swim. it was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. the sound of bubbles from the customary compressed-air scubas was missing, and the silence was strange. then steve started the motor of the runabout and rick heard the broken rhythm as the motor skipped. he knew that steve probably had turned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. either would cause the motor to run rough. he kept moving, his fins keeping a steady stroke. the motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely. rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creek was too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. he kept going until the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows, then steered out into the middle of the stream again. he thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. he gave a pair of swift kicks to alert scotty, then turned sharp left, rolling over on his back. he could see the water surface clearly. rising a little, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then went back under. now was the time to get behind the duck blind. rick swam back to where scotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. this time he started off close to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. his course was straight. in a few moments he found himself among the pilings and turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on the opposite shore. scotty followed. rick lifted his head cautiously. he saw only the marsh grass and the back of the blind. he tapped scotty, who rose until his head was level with rick's, his face only a few inches away. they pulled off their masks. "we can swim under the blind and look out the front," rick whispered. "there's enough brush to give us cover. we'll each pick our own spot and go to it. sound all right?" "okay. better fix our guns right here, though." it was good advice. rick removed the safety cap from his spear, making sure the barbed shaft was properly seated. now he needed only to flick off the safety catch and fire. scotty did the same. "you go right and i'll go left," scotty suggested softly. "be better if there's a little spread between us. we'll also want to find places where we can look out. there's some weed along the shore, and i think i remember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of the lawn. one piling is there. there's a bunch of old pilings off to the left where the original pier was. i can see if there's cover there. if not, i'll find something." scotty had worn his waterproof watch. it was just four minutes to eight. time to get going. the boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks back on. they ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of the structure where brush from last year's cover remained. cautiously rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. a truck had been wheeled out of the barn. it had a dish antenna on top. and next to the truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. a flying stingaree! rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. near the edge of the cut lawn was the piling scotty had mentioned. it was tall, with a light on it for night navigation. rick realized he had seen it on earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention had been on the house and its occupants. slightly upstream from the tall piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. around three of the pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. the middle pile was highest. rick decided to head for it. scotty was also searching for a hiding place. apparently he found one that was satisfactory, because he gripped rick's shoulder for a moment, then submerged. rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom. now was the time. rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. it was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. he reached it and glanced upward. the mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright surface of the water. moving with infinite caution and using the sapling as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position. the debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs back again and knelt. the kneeling position brought his head to just the right level. he lifted his face and looked at the debris. working cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. his fingers enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently. the flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! the shape was almost perfect, rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed to look like a sting ray. more likely it had been picked to look as little like a conventional balloon as possible. well, it had served its purpose. merlin, alias lefty camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon. rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one he had recovered. there was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. rick pulled his mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker, rebroadcasting something. "... reports no aircraft within range limits. we are now at thirty-one minutes and counting. on my mark the time will be zero minus thirty exactly." there was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. the set was tuned in on the wallops island command frequency, rick realized. that was how camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to trigger the rocket! camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. it was attached to a ring on the truck. as rick watched, the bodyguard let out more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving toward rick. the tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hanging at an angle at its end. the loudspeaker voice said, "stand by. mark! zero minus thirty." the bodyguard reached up and cut the rope! rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, rising slowly, caught by the ground wind. he brought his spear gun into position and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch. oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. with a sharp hiss, the spear flashed through the air--into the balloon and right through it! the balloon didn't even falter. it would take time to lose sufficient gas to bring it down. the wind swept it right toward rick, still rising. as it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach. rick didn't hesitate. he saw the track of the balloon curving, as the wind shifted direction downstream over the water. he threw himself to one side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. the rocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. the jerk pulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, and grabbed again. this time he caught the rocket, and both hands gripped tight. the flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. rick spun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of the bodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! then the scene whirled and he saw scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire. [illustration: _the flying stingaree lifted him!_] rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in time to see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protruding from his side. the boy didn't see the piling. his last quick impression was of the bodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the side of his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in. chapter xix lucky lefty rick awoke to fiery agony. his face was burning, the flames searing his flesh. he tried to reach a hand up to ease the pain and found the hand gripped firmly. he struggled, and steve's voice said, "take it easy, rick. we'll be through in a minute." the boy subsided and gritted his teeth. if steve was there, it was okay. but why didn't steve put out the fire? "don't move," steve said sharply. "i don't want to hurt you any more than i can help." rick closed his eyes and fought the pain. he heard steve say, "give me the spray can." then something cool and soothing spread over his face. an arm circled his shoulder and raised him to a sitting position. he opened his eyes and looked into scotty's worried face. rick managed a grin. "it's okay," he said hoarsely. "if being alive is okay, then it's okay," scotty said with relief. "but you're a mess, boy." rick looked up dazedly. steve was smiling at him, and next to steve, orvil harris! "glad you're all right," the boy murmured. "thanks, rick. i'm glad you finally came around. you had us worried for a bit. and, rick, meet my cousin link." a tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "howdy, rick? how do you feel?" "woozy," rick said honestly. "help me up, somebody." scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "sit down. you're too weak to stand." rick subsided gratefully. he could see better now, although it was nearly dark. there were other people seated in chairs on the calvert's favor lawn. camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. at full length, covered by a blanket, was the guard. he looked up at rick, his eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing. "what happened?" rick asked. joe vitalli stood behind camillion and company, his riot gun ready. the janig agent was wet up to his armpits. chuck howard came into sight from behind rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit. "you jumped for the balloon," steve reminded him. he motioned to the bodyguard. "this one tried a pot-shot at you and scotty nailed him with a spear. then you smashed into the piling and got knocked out. the piling was rough. your mask was ripped off and your face dragged along the wood just enough to take the skin off and leave you full of splinters. we were taking the biggest splinters out when you came to. how does your face feel?" "awful," rick said. the soothing effect of the antiseptic spray was wearing off and the pain was returning. "where's the balloon?" "on the ground behind you. scotty got to you first, and with his weight on it, the thing finally came down." the young agent grinned admiringly. "we had to pry your hands off the rocket. never saw such a stubborn cuss in my life. out cold, and still holding on." "persistent," rick said weakly. "not stubborn. did you round up the whole gang?" "the whole lot." lefty camillion glared at rick from a chair on the other side of the small circle. "why did you do it?" rick asked. "what did you hope to gain?" the syndicate chief shrugged, but kept his silence. "i can shed a little light," steve said. "some of it is speculation, but it stands up. lefty knew his appeal against the deportation order was almost certain to be turned down. within a few weeks he'd be on his way out of the country. the fbi has been trying to get the full dope on lefty, and one thing they found was that expensive living had taken most of his money. he needed cash, in other words. this was the way he chose to get it, collecting the data transmitted by the research rockets from wallops and selling it." rick shook his head, then winced. "it's a crazy idea," he said. "i don't know why. i just know it is. i could tell you, but i can't seem to think." there were sirens far away, but getting closer. scotty put a hand on rick's shoulder. "don't try to think now, old buddy. the ambulance is coming. plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better." rick nodded weakly. it was getting very dark. he closed his eyes and leaned back. scotty kept a hand on his shoulder. the ambulance, led by a state trooper, pulled into the grounds. an attendant and an intern jumped out. "who's hurt?" the intern asked. "this one first," steve said. "then the one on the ground." rick felt a hand grip his chin and opened his eyes. the intern was examining his face with a strong flashlight beam. "messy but superficial," the intern said calmly. "i'll bet it hurts." "you win," rick muttered. "how did it happen?" steve described rick's accident briefly. the intern nodded. he shined the light into rick's eyes and watched the pupils contract. "possible concussion. we'll check at the hospital." he knelt and took a roll of cloth from his bag and unwrapped it to disclose hypodermic needles in a sterile inner wrapper. he fitted a needle to a syringe and found a bottle of alcohol and a vial of sedative. working swiftly, he wiped the vial top and rick's arm with alcohol, then drew fluid into the syringe. "this will help the pain," he said, and pressed the needle into rick's arm. "now," the doctor said briskly, "let's look at the next one. what happened to him?" "fish spear in the side," steve replied. scotty and the attendant helped rick to the ambulance. he lay down on the stretcher gratefully and closed his eyes. scotty stayed with him while the attendant went to help with the bodyguard. "quite a party," rick said faintly. scotty covered him with a blanket. "you missed most of it, but i'll give you the details tomorrow. how are you feeling?" "groggy." rick's eyes were closed. he was never sure at what point he drifted off into deep slumber. he knew only that he had no recollection of the bodyguard being placed next to him or of the ambulance leaving calvert's favor. rick awoke to bright daylight. the pain in his face had subsided to a faintly aching stiffness and he felt fine. he knew from the surroundings that he must be in a hospital, probably at cambridge. he groped for the call bell and found it wound around the bedpost. he pushed it. in a few moments a nurse came in. "well," she greeted him, "how are you this morning?" "hungry," rick replied promptly. the nurse, a pleasant-faced woman of middle age, smiled. "that's a good sign. let's see what we can do. ready for visitors?" "send them in," rick said cheerfully. "or is it just one?" "two." the nurse went to the door and beckoned. "i'll send in some breakfast," she said, and left. rick's hand touched his head gingerly. the right side of his face was bandaged, the pad held in place by tape that crossed his forehead and circled down under his chin. he probed gently and discovered that the sorest places were his temple and an area just in front of his ear. steve ames and scotty came in and greeted him with wide smiles. "the nurse says you're hungry," steve said. "sounds like the old rick." scotty asked, "how about crab cakes for breakfast?" "bring 'em on, followed by a dozen steamed clams and an order of fritters," rick replied. "how's the bodyguard?" "well enough so his disposition is pretty nasty," steve reported. "he'll be here for at least a week before the jail cell opens wide. seriously, rick, are you all right? apparently there was no concussion." "i'm fine," rick assured him. "but i'll bet this bandage makes me look like a survivor of custer's last stand." steve and scotty drew chairs up to the bed. "one last look by the doctor and we'll take you home," steve told him. "if you feel up to it." "what'll i do for clothes?" rick asked. "they're in your closet," scotty replied. "we brought them with us. last night we took your gear home after the hospital folks peeled you out of it." "good." rick looked at his two friends. "now suppose you tell me what happened last night? i must have been out like a light while the excitement was running high." scotty nodded. "i'll start. i was behind one of the pier piles when the bodyguard cut the balloon loose. i jumped out for a clear shot, but by then you had put your spear through the thing. i was going to add mine for good luck when i saw the bodyguard reach for the old equalizer and draw a bead on you, so i shifted targets. i looked back at you just in time to see you dangling from the stingaree like an extra tail. and right then you went boom into the piling. but would brant ever let go of evidence? not you, ol' buddy. there you dangled, limp as a wilted banana while the balloon drifted along with you. i started toward you as fast as i could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist." "wish i could have seen it," rick said with a grin. "so do i," scotty assured him. "camillion and his friends were also somewhat interested in you. they started down the lawn, and i was sure they'd get to you before i could. only then joe and chuck stepped out of the bushes not ten yards from where i'd been hiding, and yelled to the lads to hold fast and get their hands high. steve stepped around the corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes locked. i put on more speed, and steve joined the chase." "i didn't see you hit the piling." steve picked up the story. "but i heard it. when i saw that the boys had things under control with their shotguns, i stepped on it and got to you a few seconds after scotty had grabbed you by the waist. when i saw your face, i had a few bad moments until i could take a closer look. you were a bloody mess, to put it mildly, with more than a few splinters adding color. but i could see your manly beauty wasn't gone forever. we pried you loose from the rocket and stretched you out on the lawn. your pulse was pretty good and you were breathing steadily, so we gave you a few whiffs of oxygen from scotty's tank for good luck." rick could appreciate how worried his friends must have been in spite of their half-humorous report. "lefty spoke up," steve continued. "it was the only time he spoke. he's said nothing since. he said, 'there's a first-aid kit in the kitchen.' we got it, and went to work on you. of course we put in a call to the police, and asked for an ambulance. joe vitalli kept a watch on the crowd and chuck went into the barn while we pulled splinters out of you. he found orvil, and he also found lincoln harris." "i remember meeting him," rick nodded. "i was too groggy to be surprised." "he was okay. they hadn't mistreated him. link said he had gone up the creek just in time to see them launch a balloon with a rocket on it, and they got the drop on him with rifles, then grabbed him. his curiosity got the better of him. he'd heard about the people at calvert's favor and decided to take a look, the waterways being free to all navigators. orvil had a bump on his head, but otherwise was all right. lefty hasn't talked, but i suspect he had plans for their release, once he was safely out of the country." "where is lefty?" rick asked. "he and his friends are in the local jail. you know, lefty is a chump. but he's also an excellent example of what happens to people when they start operating in unfamiliar fields." "why is he a chump?" rick demanded. "because every bit of data he went to so much trouble to collect was his for the asking, if he'd only waited until it was processed." the light dawned. rick knew at once what steve meant. "that's what was trying to get to the surface in this addled brain of mine last night. of course! wallops island is an unclassified launch site. everything about the launchings is reported in scientific publications! but, steve, the soviet embassy was interested in buying the stuff!" steve chuckled. "sure, but not for a very high price, i suspect. the reds are so suspicious they can't believe that a country like the united states can afford to give away data. they'd buy the tapes just to make sure we weren't holding back information they could use." "even a casual investigation would have told lefty the data from wallops firings is published by scientific publications," scotty pointed out. "how could he have been so stupid?" "he fell into a natural trap," steve answered. "most people think there is military secrecy connected with rocket firings. they don't make a distinction between the civilian space agency and the military services. but the law does. it says the national aeronautics and space administration is required to report on its scientific findings." "and it does," rick concluded. "dad has already written a report on the instruments for measuring solar x rays. the scientists who actually use the instruments will also write a report on the data they obtained." "that's it," steve agreed. "what's a little more puzzling is why the electronics expert didn't know. i suspect he has been concerned only with the design of telemetry equipment and not with any actual launchings or space experiments." "maybe he did know," scotty offered. "he might have kept quiet just to get money from lefty for doing the work on intercepting the data. you know we had the clues, but it never occurred to us there might be a connection between wallops island and the stingarees, because who could imagine going to all that trouble to intercept open, unclassified data you can get by asking for it?" rick had to laugh. "whether he knew or not, it's still a joke on lefty, and on us for not suspecting the connection. and poor lefty won't have a nest egg to take back to europe with him." "he won't need a nest egg," steve corrected. "lefty violated the law by kidnaping link and orvil. i don't know whether we can make a federal espionage rap stick or not, since the data he was collecting was unclassified. but we'll try. anyway, he won't be going back to europe. he'll end up in a maryland prison, or a federal one. either way, it'll be some years before he has to worry about money." "lucky lefty," rick said. "a cell of his own, plenty of food, and no worries about money. we did him a favor." steve grinned. "just don't expect any gratitude for a favor like that!" chapter xx hunt the wide waters the cruising houseboat _spindrift_ moved sedately across eastern bay, off the main chesapeake bay, toward the town of claiborne. it was a lovely day with a blue sky dotted with occasional fair-weather clouds. the temperature was in the low eighties, the wind gentle, and the water warm. rick brant sat on the bow of the houseboat, with his feet dangling over. next to him sat jan miller. his sister barby, with their mother and father, were relaxing in deck chairs on the sun deck, while scotty piloted the boat. now and then the bow dipped, and the spray splashed up in a cooling shower. rick enjoyed the feeling of the cool spray, and the taste of salt on his tongue. jan did, too. rick thought she made quite a picture with her white bathing suit and golden tan contrasting with her dark hair. his one regret was that he couldn't swim with jan, scotty, and the family. both jan and barby were expert scuba divers, and he had looked forward to spearfishing with them in the bay. the girls had brought their own scuba equipment in the luggage compartment of hartson brant's car. rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely healed. he knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long. jan had put on a fresh bandage for him after breakfast that morning, and remarked in her soft voice, "it will be completely healed in another day or two, rick. you can go swimming then." meanwhile, he had found an acceptable substitute. steve ames was a subscriber to _bowhunting magazine_, and in a back issue rick had found an article on fishing for sting rays with bow and arrow. steve had loaned a bow, and rick had invested in fishing arrows and a reel for the bow. so far, he had found only one sting ray, and in his excitement he had failed to take into account the refraction of the water. he aimed where the ray seemed to be--but wasn't. rick's pretty, blond sister called down to him. "rick! there's a sand bar at the tip of that point." he looked to where barby was pointing and saw a good-sized sand bar extending out under the water. "i see it, sis. thanks. it will be a while before we get there." jan smiled at him. "going to try again?" "you bet i am. got to catch up with you somehow." jan had bagged a ten-pound rockfish underwater on the day before, and they had baked it in a driftwood fire on a beach at poplar island. rick was as proud as though the catch had been his own. he had been jan's diving instructor and had taught her how to stalk a fish. "you can catch up day after tomorrow when the folks will let you dive," jan assured him. "can't wait that long," rick replied. "i'm going to find a fifty-pound ray right now." "go get your bow," jan said. "i'll join the others and we'll all spot for you." rick got to his feet and gave jan a hand up. he went down the catwalk to the cabin while she went up the ladder to the top deck. the bow was in the closet. rick checked the string, then strung the bow and selected two arrows. he went out on deck and stopped at scotty's side. "looks like a good place. cruise slow and easy and be ready to maneuver. if there's a ray there, i want it." "okay. go for broke, robin hood. what i can't understand is why you don't shoot for something edible." "can't," rick said cheerfully. "edible-type fish don't hang around waiting for boats to bring bowmen close." he climbed the rear ladder to the upper deck and joined his family. hartson brant smiled at his son. "next time we let you go off by yourself don't get involved in mysteries. then you won't have to bowhunt inedible sea animals." "it's fun," rick returned. "i'd want to do it even if i could spear fish. want to take a shot?" "i'll take a shot after you've boated your first ray." "fair enough," rick agreed. mrs. brant asked, "where are we going, rick?" he pointed to the peninsula. "around that land. there's a creek on the other side called tilghman creek. the cruising guide says there's a good anchorage just inside. if it looks all right, well spend the night there. if not, we'll go across to the wye river. tomorrow we'll go down the miles river to the town of st. michaels and put in supplies." the scientist smiled at his wife. "it's nice to relax and have our children do the work and the thinking, isn't it?" "it's too good to last," mrs. brant returned. barby and jan were standing far forward, close to where the cabin top curved downward to the forward deck. rick joined them. "this is fun!" barby exclaimed. "rick this houseboat was the best idea you ever had!" "we all should have traveled down together," jan said. "then the whole family could have been in on the case of the flying stingaree." "that will be the day," barby replied. "when rick brant lets us in on any real adventures, i'll know the world is coming to an end." her tone changed suddenly. "look, we're getting into shallow water. keep a sharp lookout!" rick went down the ladder to the foredeck and tied his arrowhead to the fish line wound in the reel on his bow. he nocked the arrow and got ready to shoot. he looked up at the two pretty girls standing above him. "let out a yell if you see a dark blot." barby gave him a scornful look. "of course we'll yell. did you think we were standing here waiting for flying saucers to land?" the houseboat plowed through a patch of sea grass and emerged over sandy bottom. rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage point. steve would enjoy this, he thought. the janig agent was back in washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that remained on the case of lefty camillion. lefty was in jail, too, along with his friends. rick shook his head. he was still amazed at the mobster's stupidity in creating such an elaborate setup to get data that was his for the asking. apparently it just hadn't occurred to lefty that a rocket range could be without secrets. if there _had_ been secrets, though, the system was a good one. by using the combination of a balloon and a rocket, lefty got his equipment high enough to intercept wallops island telemetry, and he did it without anyone suspecting he was launching rockets. the rockets and balloons dropped into the ocean, unseen--or, if seen, the first thought would be that they had come from wallops. the shape of the balloons also kept anyone from suspecting that the theft of data was the real purpose. it was a fine scheme, even though it had all been unnecessary. the girls let out a yell that startled rick from his reverie. scotty immediately throttled back, and the boat's momentum carried it forward. rick watched the water, and finally saw a dark blur on the sandy bottom ahead and to the left. he drew, then waited until he saw the dark patch move. this time he allowed for the water's refraction. he loosed the arrow. the stingaree felt the impact and reacted violently. its tail lashed up to strike with sharp barbs at the intruder. the tail lashed the arrow shaft without effect. the ray's wings moved in a rippling motion like that of some weird flying carpet. it flashed upward, and into the air, then crashed back on the surface of the water again. it dived, heading for the bottom. rick kept the drag on his reel, letting the ray fight against the braking action. the fish didn't give up easily. it had the primitive nervous system and great vitality of its relatives, the sharks, and it fought long after an edible fish, like a rockfish, would have given up. when the ray moved toward the now stationary boat, rick reeled in line. when the ray showed a new burst of energy and started away, rick let it fight against the drag, pulling out line. the girls were down on the foredeck with him now, and scotty had joined the brants on the upper deck in order to get a better view of the fight. finally, the ray tired. rick drew it in close to the hull and waited while the vicious tail lashed futilely. jan took the gaff that scotty handed down to her and gave it to rick. he hooked the sea beast and lifted it from the water. "stand clear!" he warned. "i don't want either of you getting hit with that tail!" the girls hurried up the ladder to safety, and rick lifted the stingaree to the deck. it was a small one, weighing about fifteen pounds. the wet, leathery body glistened, and the kite-shaped wings flapped like those of some fantastic bird. scotty looked down at the ray. "you caught a cripple," he said. "there's something wrong with it." rick looked up. he knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway, grinning. "yes? what's wrong with it?" "it can't fly," scotty said. * * * * * rick brant science stories [illustration: rick brant] rick brant is the boy who with his pal scotty lives on an island called spindrift and takes part in so many thrilling adventures and baffling mysteries involving science and electronics. you can share every one of these adventures in the pages of rick's books. they are available at your book store in handsome, low-priced editions. the rocket's shadow the lost city sea gold 100 fathoms under the whispering box mystery the phantom shark smugglers' reef the caves of fear stairway to danger the golden skull the wailing octopus the electronic mind reader the scarlet lake mystery the pirates of shan the blue ghost mystery the egyptian cat mystery the flaming mountain the flying stingaree the ruby ray mystery the veiled raiders rick brant's science projects ---------------------------------------------------------------------[illustration: before the hand organ danced a little figure. frontispiece.] ---------------------------------------------------------------------madge morton's victory by amy d. v. chalmers author of madge morton, captain of the merry maid; madge morton's secret, madge morton's trust. the saalfield publishing company akron, ohio--new york made in u. s. a. ---------------------------------------------------------------------copyright mcmxiv by the saalfield publishing company ---------------------------------------------------------------------contents chapter page i. commencement day at miss tolliver's 7 ii. how it was all arranged 16 iii. tania, a princess 24 iv. the uninvited guest 37 v. tania, a problem 51 vi. a mischievous mermaid 58 vii. captain jules, deep sea diver 65 viii. the wreck of the "water witch" 80 ix. the owner of the disagreeable voice 90 x. the goody-goody young man 100 xi. the beginning of trouble 112 xii. "the anchorage" 124 xiii. tania's nemesis 131 xiv. captain jules makes a promise 141 xv. the great adventure 150 xvi. a strange pearl 161 xvii. the fairy godmother's wish comes true 172 xviii. missing, a fairy godmother 180 xix. the wicked genii 198 xx. a bow of scarlet ribbon 206 xxi. the race for life 215 xxii. captain jules listens to a story 224 xxiii. the victory over fate 232 xxiv. the little captain starts on a journey 243 ---------------------------------------------------------------------madge morton's victory chapter i commencement day at miss tolliver's "o phil, dear! it is anything but fair. if you only knew how i hate to have to do it!" exclaimed madge morton impulsively, throwing her arms about her chum's neck and burying her red-brown head in the soft, white folds of phyllis alden's graduation gown. "no one in our class wishes me to be the valedictorian. you know you are the most popular girl in our school. yet here i am the one chosen to stand up before everyone and read my stupid essay when your average was just exactly as high as mine." madge morton and phyllis alden were alone in their own room at the end of the dormitory of miss matilda tolliver's select school for girls, at harborpoint, one morning late in may. through the halls one could hear occasional bursts of girlish laughter, and the murmur of voices betokened unusual excitement. it was the morning of the annual spring commencement. phyllis slowly unclasped madge's arms from about her neck and gazed at her companion steadfastly, a flush on her usually pale cheeks. "if you say another word about that old valedictory, i shall never forgive you!" she declared vehemently. "you know that miss tolliver is going to announce to the audience that our averages were the same. you were chosen to deliver the valedictory because you can make a speech so much better than i. what is the use of bringing up this subject now, just a few minutes before our commencement begins? you know how often we have talked this over before, and that i told miss matilda that i wished you to be the valedictorian instead of me, even before she selected you." phil's earnest black eyes looked sternly into madge's troubled blue ones. "if you begin worrying about that now, you won't be able to read your essay half as well," declared phil impatiently. "please sit still for a minute and wait until miss jenny ann calls us." phil pushed madge gently toward the big armchair. then she walked over to stand by the window, in order to watch the carriages drive up to miss tolliver's door and to keep her back turned directly upon her friend madge. the little captain sat very still for a few minutes. she had on an exquisite white organdie gown, a white sash, white slippers and white silk stockings. in the knot of sunny curled hair drawn high upon her head she wore a single white rose. a bunch of roses lay in her lap, also a manuscript in madge's slightly vertical handwriting, which she fingered restlessly. the silence grew monotonous to madge. "are you angry with me, phil?" she asked forlornly. madge and phyllis alden had been best friends for four years, and had never had a real disagreement until this morning. phyllis was too honest to be deceitful. "i am a little cross," she admitted without turning around. "i wish lillian and eleanor would come upstairs to tell us how many people have arrived for the commencement." madge started across the room toward phil. but phyllis's back was uncompromising. she pretended not to hear her friend's light step. suddenly madge's expression changed. the color rose to her face and her eyes flashed. "i won't apologize to you, phil," she said. "i had intended to, but i see no reason why i should not say it is unfair for me to be the valedictorian when you have the same claim to it that i have. it is hateful in you not to understand how i feel about it. i am going to find miss jenny ann." madge's voice broke. a knock on the door interrupted the two girls. madge opened the door to a boy, who handed her a small parcel addressed in a curious handwriting to "miss madge morton." the letters were printed, but the writing did not look like a child's. it was the fiftieth graduating gift that she had received. phil's number had already reached the half-hundred mark. madge dropped her newest package on the bed without opening it. she was half-way out in the hall when phyllis pulled her back. "look me straight in the face," ordered phil. madge obeyed, the flash in her eyes fading swiftly. "now, see here, dear," argued phyllis, "suppose that miss matilda had chosen me to deliver the valedictory instead of you, wouldn't you have been glad?" madge nodded happily. "i should say i would," she murmured fervently. phyllis laughed, then leaned over and kissed her friend triumphantly. "there, you have said just what i wanted to make you say," went on phil. "you say you would be glad if miss tolliver had chosen me for the valedictorian instead of you. why can't you let me have the same feeling about you? please, please understand, madge, dear"--the tears started to phil's eyes--"that no one has been unfair to me because you were miss matilda's choice." madge glanced nervously at the little gold clock on their mantel shelf. "it is nearly time for the entertainment to begin, isn't it?" she inquired. "i suppose miss jenny ann will call us in time. what a lot of noise the girls are making in the hall!" she idly untied her latest graduating gift. it was a small box, made after a fashion of long years ago, and its tops and sides were encrusted with tiny shells. on one side of the box the word "madge" was worked out in tiny shells as clear and beautiful as jewels. inside the box, on a piece of cotton, was a single, wonderful pearl. it was unset, but the two girls realized that it was rarely beautiful. there was no name in the box, no card to show from whom it came. madge turned the box upside down and peered inside of it. "i don't know who could have sent this to me," she declared, in a puzzled fashion. "mrs. curtis is the only rich person i know in the whole world, and she has already given us her presents. i must show this to uncle and aunt. i am afraid they won't wish me to keep it. but i don't know how we are ever going to return it to the giver when he or she is anonymous." "isn't that miss jenny ann calling?" madge turned pale with the excitement of the coming hour and thrust the gift under her pillow. phyllis picked up a great bunch of red roses. the eventful moment had arrived. the graduating exercises at miss matilda tolliver's were about to begin! neither of the two girls knew how they walked up on the stage. before them swam "a sea of upturned faces." it was impossible to tell one person from another. when madge and phil overcame their fright they discovered that they were among the twelve girl graduates, who formed a white semi-circle about the stage, and that miss matilda tolliver was making an address of welcome to the audience. phyllis had no dreaded speech ahead of her. she looked out over the audience and saw her father and mother, dr. and mrs. alden; and madge's uncle and aunt, mr. and mrs. butler; but madge could think of nothing save the terrifying fact that she must soon deliver her valedictory. "madge," whispered phil softly, "don't look so frightened. you know you have made speeches before and have acted before people. i am not a bit afraid you will fail. see if you can find mrs. curtis and tom. there they are, smiling at us from behind eleanor and lillian." readers of "madge morton, captain of the 'merry maid'," will remember the delightful fashion in which madge morton, eleanor butler, lillian seldon and phyllis alden spent a summer on a houseboat, which they evolved from an old canal boat and named the "merry maid." how they anchored at quiet spots along chesapeake bay, made the acquaintance of mrs. curtis, a wealthy widow, and what came of the friendship that sprang up between her and madge morton made a story well worth the telling. in "madge morton's secret" the scene of their second houseboat adventure found them at old point comfort, where, as mrs. curtis's guests, they partook of the social side of the army and navy life to be found there. the origin of captain madge's secret, and of how she kept it in spite of the humiliation and sorrow it entailed, the mysterious way in which the "merry maid" slipped her cable and drifted through heavy seas to a deserted island, where her crew lived the lives of girl crusoes for many weeks, form a narrative of lively interest. in "madge morton's trust" the further adventures of the "merry maid" were fully related. for the sake of the trip the happy houseboat girls saddled themselves with miss betsey taylor, a crotchety spinster, who was troubled with nerves, and who offered to pay liberally for her passage on their cosy "ship of dreams." madge's faith and unshakable trust in david brewster, a poor young man who did the work on tom curtis's yacht, which made the trip with the "merry maid," her championing of david when suspicion pointed darkly toward him as a thief, and her unswerving loyalty to the unhappy youth until his innocence was established, revealed the little captain in the light of a staunch true comrade and doubly endeared her to all her companions. madge heard miss matilda tolliver announce that the valedictory would be delivered by miss madge morton. phyllis gave her companion a little nudge, and somehow madge arrived at the front of the stage and stood under a huge arch of flowers. just above her head swung a great bell. everyone was smiling at her. madge was seized with a dreadful case of stage fright. her tongue felt dry and parched. she tried to speak, but no sound came forth. mrs. curtis's lovely face, with its crown of soft, white hair, smiled encouragingly at her. tom was crimson with embarrassment. lillian and eleanor held each other's hands. would madge never begin her valedictory? she tried again. no one heard her except her friends and teachers on the stage. her voice was no louder than a faint whisper. miss tolliver leaned over. "madge, speak more distinctly," she ordered. then the little captain realized that the most humiliating moment of her whole life had arrived. she had been selected as the valedictorian of her class, she had been chosen above her beloved phil because of her gift as a speaker, yet she would be obliged to return to her seat without having delivered a line of her address. she would be disgraced forever! madge's knees shook. her lips trembled. tears swam mistily in her eyes. she was a lovely picture despite her fright. at eighteen she was in the first glory of her youth, a tall, slender girl, with a curious warmth and glow of life. her lips were deeply crimson, her hair a soft brown, with red and gold lights in it, and her eyes were full of the eagerness that foreshadows both happiness and pain. phil and miss jenny ann were exchanging glances of despair--madge had broken down, there was no hope for her. suddenly her face broke into one of its sunniest smiles. she lifted her head. without glancing at the paper she held in her hand she began her address in a clear, penetrating voice. chapter ii how it was all arranged madge's valedictory address was almost over. she had spoken of "friendship," what it meant to a girl at school and what it must mean to a woman when the larger and more important difficulties come into her life. "schoolgirl friendships are of no small consequence," declaimed madge; "the friendships made in youth are the truest, after all!" phil listened to her chum's voice, her eyes misty with tears. only a half-hour before she and her beloved madge had come very near to having the first real quarrel of their lives. phil turned her gaze from madge to glance idly at the arch of flowers above her friend's head. phil supposed that she must be dizzy from the heat of the room, or else that she could not see distinctly because of her tears; the arch seemed to be swaying lightly from side to side, as though it were blown by the wind. yet the room was perfectly still. phil looked again. she must be wrong. the arch was built of a framework of wood. it was heavy and she did not believe it would easily topple down. madge was happily unconscious of the wobbling arch. a few more lines and her speech would be ended! there was unbroken silence in the roomy chapel of the girls' school, where the commencement exercises were being held. suddenly some one in the back part of the room jumped to his feet. a hoarse voice shouted, "madge!" madge started in amazement. her manuscript dropped to the ground. every face but hers blanched with terror. the swaying arch was now visible to other people besides phil. tom leaped to his feet, but he was tightly wedged in between rows of women. phil alden made a forward spring just as the arch tumbled. she was not in time to save madge, but some one else had saved her; for, before phil could reach the front of the stage, madge's name had been called again. although the voice was an unknown one, madge instinctively obeyed it. she made a little movement, leaning out to see who had summoned her, and the arch crashed down just at her back. the quick cry from the audience frightened madge, whose face was turned away from the wreck. she swung around without discovering her rescuer. some one had fallen on the stage. phyllis alden had reached her friend's side, not in time to save her, but to receive, herself, a heavy blow from the great bell that was suspended from the arch. madge dropped on the stage at phil's side, forgetting her speech and the presence of strangers. miss tolliver and miss jenny ann lifted phyllis before dr. alden had had time to reach the stage. there was a dark bruise over phil's forehead. in a moment she opened her eyes and smiled. "i am not a bit hurt, miss matilda; _do_ let the exercises go on," she begged faintly. "let madge and me go up to the front of the stage and bow, miss matilda. then i can show people that i am all right. we must not spoil our commencement in this way." miss matilda agreed to this, and madge and phyllis went forward to the center of the stage. a storm of applause greeted them. madge and phil were a little overcome at the ovation. madge supposed that they were being applauded because of phil's heroism, and phil presumed that the demonstration was meant for madge's valedictory, therefore neither girl knew just what to do. it was then that miss matilda tolliver came forward. she was usually a very severe and imposing looking person. most of her pupils were dreadfully afraid of her. but the accident that had so nearly injured her two favorite graduates had completely upset her nerves. instead of making a formal speech, as she had planned to do, she stepped between the two girls, taking a hand of each. "i had meant to introduce miss alden a little later on to our friends at the commencement exercises," announced miss tolliver, "but i believe i would rather do it now. i wish to state that, although miss morton has delivered the valedictory, miss phyllis alden's average during the four years she has spent at my preparatory school has been equally high. it was her wish that miss morton should be chosen to deliver the valedictory. but miss alden's friends have another honor which they wish to bestow upon her. she has been voted, without her knowledge, the most popular girl in my school. her fellow students have asked me to present her with this pin as a mark of their affection." miss matilda leaned over, and before phil could grasp what was happening had pinned in the soft folds of her organdie gown the class pin, which was usually an enameled shield with a crown of laurel above it; but the center of phil's shield was formed of small rubies and the crown of tiny diamonds. phyllis turned scarlet with embarrassment, but madge's eyes sparkled with delight. she was no longer ashamed of having been chosen as valedictorian. in spite of herself, phyllis alden was the star of their commencement. it was not until the four girls were seated with their dear ones about a round luncheon table in the largest hotel in harborpoint that madge suddenly recalled the stranger whose warning cry had probably saved her from a serious hurt. mrs. curtis and tom were entertaining in honor of madge and phyllis. there were no other guests except the two houseboat girls, eleanor and lillian, dr. and mrs. alden, and mr. and mrs. butler. madge sat next to tom curtis, and during the progress of the luncheon managed to say softly: "did you see who it was that called my name so strangely this morning, tom? i was so frightened at having to deliver my valedictory that when i heard that sudden shout, 'madge!' i was too much confused to recognize the voice." tom shook his head. "i don't know who it was. i heard the voice but couldn't discover its owner. it must have been some one at the very back of the room, for no one in the audience seems to know who called out to you." "i suppose i'll never know," sighed madge. "it is a real commencement day mystery, isn't it?" tom nodded smilingly. "by the way, madge, where are the houseboat girls going to spend the summer after you come to madeleine's wedding?" he asked. "you must be tired after your winter's work." madge shook her head soberly. "we are not going to be on the houseboat this year," she whispered. "going to new york to be bridesmaids is about as much as four girls can arrange. we haven't even dared to think of the houseboat." "i have," interposed phyllis, who had heard the remark and the reply, "but we don't wish our families to know. you see, madge and i are hoping and planning to go to college next winter, so, of course, we can't afford another summer holiday," she ended under her breath. "what's that, phil?" inquired dr. alden from the other end of the table. phil blushed. "nothing important, father," she answered. "oh, then i must have been mistaken," replied dr. alden, "for i thought i caught the magic word, 'houseboat.' no one of you girls has ever spoken of the 'merry maid' as unimportant." a cloud instantaneously overspread five faces about the luncheon table. neither mrs. curtis nor dr. alden realized that in mentioning the houseboat they had forced the houseboat passengers to break a vow of silence. only the day before the five of them had met in miss jenny ann jones's room. there they had solemnly pledged themselves that, since it was impossible for them to have this year's vacation aboard the "merry maid," they would bear the sorrow in silence. this time there was no "miss betsey" to pay the expenses of the trip. the girls and miss jenny ann hadn't a dollar to spare. the cost of going to madeleine curtis's new york wedding was appalling to all of the girls except lillian, whose parents were in affluent circumstances. but, of course, madeleine was almost a houseboat girl herself. readers of the first houseboat story will recall how madeleine's fiancã©, judge hilliard, rescued madge and phyllis from a serious situation and saved madeleine from a far worse plight than that in which he found the two girls. "mrs. curtis," remarked dr. alden in the midst of the mournful silence, "mr. and mrs. butler, my wife and i have just been talking things over. we have decided that it would be a good thing for our girls to spend several weeks on board their houseboat. but, of course, if they have decided differently----" it was a good thing that mrs. curtis was not giving a formal luncheon. a united shriek of delight suddenly arose from four throats. madge sprang from the table to hug her uncle, eleanor blew kisses to her mother from across the room, lillian clapped both hands, and miss jenny ann smiled rapturously. phil's face was the only serious one. "are you sure we can afford it, father?" she queried. dr. alden nodded convincingly. "for a few weeks, certainly," he returned. "then we don't need to worry about afterward," rejoined madge. "and don't you think, girls, it will be perfectly great, so long as we are going to madeleine's wedding in new york, for us to spend this holiday at the seashore?" "where, madge?" asked lillian. "i'll tell you," answered mrs. curtis, "only, not to-day. it is a secret. here is our pineapple lemonade. let's hope for the happiest of holidays for the little captain and her crew aboard the good ship 'merry maid'." chapter iii tania, a princess "madge, do you think there is any chance that tom won't meet us?" inquired eleanor butler nervously. "i do wish we could have come on to new york with lillian, phil, and miss jenny ann instead of making that visit to baltimore. it seems so funny that they have been in new york two whole days before us. i suppose they have seen madeleine's presents, and our bridesmaids' dresses--and everything!" eleanor sighed as she leaned back luxuriously in the chair of the pullman coach, gazing down the aisle at her fellow passengers. madge was occupied in staring very hard at her reflection in the small mirror between her seat and eleanor's. she had wrinkled her small nose and was surreptitiously applying powder to the tip end of it. "of course tom and the girls will meet us, eleanor," she replied emphatically. "tom would expect us to be lost forever if we were to be turned loose in new york by ourselves. oh, dear me, isn't it too splendid that we are going to be madeleine's bridesmaids? i wonder if we shall look very 'country' before so many society people?" "of course we shall," returned eleanor calmly. "you need not look at yourself again in that mirror. you are very well satisfied with yourself, aren't you?" teased eleanor. madge blushed and laughed. "i _do_ like our clothes, nellie," she admitted candidly. "you know perfectly well that we have never had tailored suits before in our lives. you do look too sweet in that pale gray, like a little nun. that pink rose in your hat gives just the touch of color you need. i am sure i don't see why you are so sure we shall seem countrified," ended madge. she had liked her reflection in the glass. she wore a light-weight blue serge traveling suit without a wrinkle in it, a spotless white linen waist, and her new hat was particularly attractive. her cheeks were becomingly flushed and her eyes glowed with the excitement of arriving for the first time in new york city. "we are almost in jersey city now, aren't we, madge?" exclaimed eleanor, making a leap for her bag, which promptly tumbled out of the rack above and fell directly on the head of a young man who was walking down the aisle of the car. madge giggled. eleanor, however, was crimson with mortification. the young man did not appear to be pleased. the girls had a brief glimpse of him. he had blue eyes and sandy hair and was exceedingly tall. eleanor's bag had knocked his glasses off and he was obliged to stoop in search of them in the aisle. "oh, i am so sorry," apologized eleanor in her soft, southern voice, as she picked up the glasses and restored them to their owner. "i am glad they were not broken." the young man paid not the slightest attention to her apology. "hurry, nellie," advised madge, "it is nearly time for us to get off the train and your hat is on crooked. don't be such a timid little goose! you are actually trembling. of course tom or some one will meet us, and if they don't i shall not be in the least frightened." madge announced this grandly. "that whistle means we are entering jersey city. we will find tom waiting for us at the gate." eleanor obediently followed madge out of their coach. the little captain seemed older and more self-confident since she had been graduated at miss tolliver's, but nellie hoped devoutly that her cousin would not become imbued with the impression that she was really grown-up. it would spoil their good times. the two girls had never seen such a headlong rush of people in their lives. they clung desperately to their bags when a porter attempted to carry them. a man bumped violently against madge, but he made no effort to apologize as he rushed on through the crowd. "i never saw so many people in such a hurry in my life," declared nellie pettishly. "they behave as though they thought new york city were on fire and they were all rushing to put the fire out. i shall be glad when tom takes charge of us." once through the great iron gates the girls looked anxiously about for tom, but saw no trace of him. "i suppose tom must have missed the ferry," declared madge with pretended cheerfulness. "we shall have to wait here for only about ten minutes until the next ferry boat comes across from new york." when fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of tom, madge began to feel worried. "madge, i am sure you have made some kind of mistake," argued eleanor plaintively. "i know mrs. curtis would not fail to have some one here on time to meet us for anything in the world. perhaps tom wrote for us to come across the ferry, and that he would meet us on the new york side. where is his letter?" "it is in my trunk, nellie," replied madge in a crestfallen manner. she was not nearly so grown-up or so sure of herself as she had been half an hour before. "i know it was silly in me not to have brought tom's letter with me, but i was so sure that i knew just what it said. perhaps we had better go on over to new york. let's hurry. perhaps that boat is just about to start." the two young women hurried aboard the boat, which left the dock a moment later, just as a tall, fair-haired young man, accompanied by two girls, hurried upon the scene. the young man was tom curtis and the young women were phyllis alden and lillian seldon. in the meantime madge and her cousin had crossed the river and had landed on the new york side. what was the dreadful roar and rumble that met their ears? it sounded like an earthquake, with the noise of frightened people shrieking above it. after a horrified moment it dawned on the two little strangers that this was only the usual roar of new york, which tom curtis had so often described to them. "there isn't any use of our staying here very long, eleanor," declared madge, feeling a great wave of loneliness and fear sweep over her. "an accident must have happened to tom's automobile on his way to the train to meet us. i am afraid we were foolish not to have stayed at the jersey city station. i am sure tom wrote he would meet us there. i have behaved like a perfect goose. it is because i boasted so much about not being frightened and knowing what to do. but i _do_ know mrs. curtis's address. we can take a cab and drive up there." eleanor would fall in with madge's plans to a certain point; then she would strike. now she positively refused to get into a cab. her mother and father and miss jenny ann had warned her never to trust herself in a cab in a strange city. new york was too terrifying! eleanor would search for mrs. curtis's home on foot, in a car, or a bus, but in a cab she would not ride. madge was obliged to give in gracefully. a policeman showed the girls to a twenty-third street car. he explained that when they came to the third avenue l they must get out of the car and take the elevated train uptown, since madge had explained to him that mrs. curtis lived on seventieth street between madison and fifth avenues. there was only one point that the policeman failed to make clear to eleanor and madge. he neglected to tell them that elevated trains, as well as other cars, travel both up and down new york city, and the way to discover which way the "l" train is moving is to consult the signs on the steps that lead up to the elevated road. the policeman supposed that the two young women would make this observation for themselves. of course, under ordinary circumstances, madge and nellie would have been more sensible, but they were frightened and confused at the bare idea of being alone in new york and consequently lost their heads, and they dashed up the third avenue elevated steps without looking for signs, settled themselves in the train and were off, as they supposed, for seventieth street. they were too much interested in gazing into upstairs windows, where hundreds of people were at work in tiny, dark rooms, to pay much attention to the first stops at stations that their train made. they knew they were still some distance from mrs. curtis's. madge was completely fascinated at the spectacle of a fat, frowsy woman holding a baby by its skirt on the sill of a six-story tenement house. just as the car went by the baby made a leap toward the train. madge smothered her scream as the woman jerked the child out of danger just in time. then it suddenly occurred to her that this was hardly the kind of neighborhood in which to find mrs. curtis's house. the sign at the next stop was a name and not a street number. it could not be possible that she and eleanor had made another mistake! madge hurried back to the end of the car to find the conductor. "we wish to get out at the nearest station to seventieth street and lexington avenue," she declared timidly. the man paid not the slightest attention to her. madge repeated her question in a somewhat bolder tone. "you ain't going to get off near seventieth street for some time if you keep a-traveling away from it," retorted the conductor crossly. "you've got on a downtown 'l' 'stead of an up. better change at the next station. you'll find an uptown train across the street," the man ended more kindly, seeing the look of consternation on madge's white face. the girls walked sadly down the elevated steps, dragging their bags, which seemed to grow heavier with every moment. they found themselves in one of the downtown foreign slums of new york city. it was a bright, early summer afternoon. the streets were swarming with grown people and children. pushcarts lined the sidewalks. on an opposite corner a hand organ played an italian song. in front of it was a small open space, encircled by a group of idle men and women. before the organ danced a little figure that madge and eleanor stopped to watch. they forgot their own bewilderment in gazing at the strange sight. the dancer was a little girl about twelve years old, as thin as a wraith. her hair was black and hung in straight, short locks to her shoulders. her eyes were so big and burned so brightly that it was difficult to notice any other feature of her face. the child looked like a tropical flower. her face was white, but her cheeks glowed with two scarlet patches. she flung her little arms over her head, pirouetted and stood on her tip toes. she did not seem to see the curious crowd about her, but kept her eyes turned toward the sky. her dancing was as much a part of nature as the summer sunshine, and madge and eleanor were bewitched. a rough woman came out of a nearby doorway. she stood with her hands on her hips looking in the direction of the music. "tania!" she called angrily. elbowing her way through the crowd, she jostled madge as she passed by her. "tania!" she cried again. the men and women spectators let the woman make her way through them as though they knew her and were afraid of her heavy fist. only the child appeared to be unconscious of the woman's approach. suddenly a big, red arm was thrust out. it caught the little girl by the skirt. with the other hand she rained down blows on the child's upturned face. one blow followed the other in swift succession. the little dancer made no outcry. she simply put one thin arm over her head for protection. the music went on gayly. no one of the watching men and women tried to stop the woman's brutality. but madge was not used to the indifference of the new york crowd. like a flash of lightning she darted away from eleanor and rushed over to the woman, who was dragging the child along and cuffing her at each step. "stop striking that child!" she ordered sharply. "how can you be so cruel? you are a wicked, heartless woman!" the woman paid no attention to madge. she did not seem even to have heard her, but lifted her big, coarse arm for another blow. madge's breath came in swift gasps. "don't strike that child again," she repeated. "i don't know who she is, nor what she has done, but she is too little for you to beat her like that. i won't endure it," the little captain ended in sudden passion. the woman turned her cruel, bloodshot eyes slowly toward madge. she was one of the strongest and most brutal characters in the slums of new york, and few dared to oppose her. she was even a terror to the policemen in the neighborhood. "git out!" she said briefly. her arm descended. it did not strike the child. quick as a flash, madge morton had flung herself between the woman and the child. for a moment the blow almost stunned the girl. the east side crowd closed in on the girl and the woman. if there was going to be a fight, the spectators did not intend to miss it. eleanor was numb with fear and sympathy. she did not know whether to be more frightened for madge than sorry for the child. the woman's face was mottled and crimson with anger. madge's face was very white. she held her head high and looked her enemy full in the face. "git out of this and stop your interferin'!" shouted the virago. "this here child belongs to me and i'll do what i like with her. if you are one of them social settlers coming around into poor people's places and meddlin' with their business, you'd better git back where you belong or i'll social-settle you." at this moment a thin, hot hand caught hold of madge's and pulled it gently. madge gazed down into a little face, whose expression she never forgot. it was whiter than it had been before. the scarlet color had gone out of the cheeks and the big, black eyes burned brighter. but there was not the slightest trace of fear in the look. instead, the child's lips were curved into an elf-like smile. "don't stay here, lady, please," she begged. "the ogress will be horrid to you. she can't hurt me. you see, i am an enchanted princess." an instant later the child received a savage blow from the woman's hard hand full in the face without shrinking. it was madge who winced. tears rose to her eyes. she put her arms about the child and tried to shelter her. "don't be calling me no names, tania," the woman cried, dragging at the child's thin skirts. "jest you come along home with me and you'll git what is comin' to you, you good-for-nothin' little imp." "is she your mother?" asked madge doubtfully, gazing at the brutal woman and the strange child. tania shook her black head scornfully. "oh, dear, no," she answered. "it is only that i have to live with her now, while i am under the enchantment. some day, when the wicked spell is broken, i shall go away, perhaps to a wonderful castle. my name is titania. i think it means that i am the queen of the fairies." the woman laughed brutishly. "queen of gutter, you are, miss tania. i'll tan you," she jeered, as she dragged the little girl from madge's arms. the little captain looked despairingly about her. there, a calm witness of the entire scene, was a big new york policeman. "officer," commanded madge indignantly, "make that woman leave that child alone." the big policeman looked sheepish. "i can't do nothing with sal," he protested. "if i make her stop beating tania now, she'll only be meaner to her when she gets her indoors. best leave 'em alone, i think. i have interfered, but the child says she don't mind. i don't think she does, somehow; she's such a queer young 'un'." sal was now engaged in shaking tania as she pushed her along in front of her. madge and eleanor were in despair. suddenly a well-dressed young man appeared in the crowd. there was something oddly familiar in his appearance to eleanor, but she failed to remember where she had seen him before. "sal!" he called out sharply, "leave tania alone!" instantly the woman obeyed him. she slunk back into her open doorway. the crowd melted as though by magic; they also recognized the young man's authority. a moment later he was gone. madge, eleanor, and the strange little girl stood on the street corner almost alone. chapter iv the uninvited guest "are you good fairies who have strayed away from home?" inquired tania, calmly gazing first at madge and then at eleanor. she was perfectly self-possessed and asked her question as though it were the most natural one in the world. the two girls stared hard at the child. was her mind affected, or was she playing a game with them? tania seemed not in the least disturbed. "do go away now," she urged. "i am all right, but something may happen to you." "you odd little thing!" laughed madge. "we are not fairies. we are girls and we are lost. we are on our way to visit a friend, mrs. curtis, who lives on seventieth street near fifth avenue. she will be dreadfully worried about us if we don't hurry on. but what can we do for you? we can't take you with us, yet you must not go back to that wicked woman." "oh, yes, i must," returned tania cheerfully. "i am not afraid of her. when the time comes i shall go away." "but who will take care of you, baby?" asked eleanor. "fairies don't live in big cities like new york. they live only in beautiful green woods and fields." the black head nodded wisely. "good fairies are everywhere," she declared. "but i can make handfuls of pennies when i like," she continued boastfully. "let me show you how you must go on your way." "you can't possibly know, little girl," replied madge gently. "it is so far from here." however, it was tania who finally saw the two lost houseboat girls on board the elevated train that would take them to within a few blocks of their destination. tania explained that she knew almost all of new york, and particularly she liked to wander up and down fifth avenue to gaze at the beautiful palaces. she was not young, she was really dreadfully old--almost thirteen! the last look madge and eleanor had of tania the child had apparently forgotten all about them. she was gazing up in the air, above all the traffic and roar of new york, with a happy smile on her elfish face. * * * * * "my dear children, i wouldn't have had it happen for worlds!" was mrs. curtis's first greeting as she came out from behind the rose-colored curtains of her drawing room. "tom has been telephoning me frantically for the past hour. how did he and the girls miss you? you poor dears, you must be nearly tired to death after your unpleasant experience." while mrs. curtis was talking she was leading her visitors up a beautiful carved oak staircase to the floor above. her house was so handsomely furnished that madge and eleanor were startled at its luxurious appointments. mrs. curtis brought her guests into a large sleeping room which opened into another bedroom which was for the use of phil and lillian. madeleine was to be married the next afternoon at four o 'clock. the girls had not brought their bridesmaids' dresses along with them, as mrs. curtis had asked to be allowed to present them with their gowns. it was all that madge could do not to beg mrs. curtis to show them their frocks. she hoped that their hostess would offer to do so, but during the rest of the day their time was occupied in seeing madeleine, her hundreds of beautiful wedding gifts, meeting judge hilliard all over again, and being introduced to mrs. curtis's other guests. the four girls went to bed at midnight, thinking of their bridesmaids' gowns, but without having had the chance even to inquire about them. mrs. curtis belonged to the old and infinitely more aristocratic portion of new york society. she did not belong to the new smart set, which numbers nearer four thousand, and does so much to make society ridiculous. madeleine had asked that she might be married very quietly. she had never become used to the gay world of fashion after her strange and unhappy youth. it made the girls and their teacher smile to see what mrs. curtis considered a quiet wedding. miss jenny ann and her four charges had their coffee and rolls in madge's room the next morning at about nine o'clock. madge peeped out of the doorway, there were so many odd noises in the hall. the upstairs hall was a mass of beautiful evergreens. men were hanging garlands of smilax on the balusters. the house was heavy with the scent of american beauty roses. but there was no sign of mrs. curtis or of madeleine or tom, and still no mention of the bridesmaids' costumes for the girls. lillian seldon was looking extremely forlorn. "suppose mrs. curtis has forgotten our frocks!" she suggested tragically, as madge came back with her report of the house's decorations. "she has had such an awful lot to attend to that she may not have remembered that she offered to give us our frocks. won't it be dreadful if madeleine has to be married without our being bridesmaids after all?" "o lillian! what a dreadful idea!" exclaimed eleanor. even phyllis looked sober and miss jenny ann looked exceedingly uncomfortable. "o, you geese! cheer up!" laughed madge. "i know mrs. curtis would not disappoint us for worlds. why, she has all our measures. she couldn't forget. oh, dear, does my breakfast gown look all right? there is some one knocking at our door. it may be that mrs. curtis has sent up our frocks." "then open the door, for goodness' sake," begged eleanor. "your breakfast gown is lovely; only at home we called it a wrapper, but then you were not visiting on fifth avenue." madge made a saucy little face at eleanor. then she saw a group of persons standing just outside their bedroom door. a man-servant held four enormous white boxes in his arms; a maid was almost obscured by four other boxes equally large. behind her servants stood mrs. curtis, smiling radiantly, while tom was peeping over his mother's shoulder. madge clasped her hands fervently, breathing a quick sigh of relief. "our bridesmaids' dresses! i'm too delighted for words." "were you thinking about them, dear?" apologized mrs. curtis. "i ought to have sent the frocks to you sooner, but i wanted to bring them myself, and this is the first moment i have had. you'll let tom come in to see them, too, won't you?" the man-servant departed, but mrs. curtis kept the maid to help her lift out the gowns from the billows of white tissue paper that enfolded them. she lifted out one dress, miss jenny ann another, and the maid the other two. the girls were speechless with pleasure. mrs. curtis, however, was disappointed. perhaps the girls did not like the costumes. she had used her own taste without consulting them. then she glanced at the little group and was reassured by their radiant faces. "o you wonderful fairy godmother!" exclaimed madge. "cinderella's dress at the ball couldn't have been half so lovely!" madeleine's wedding was to be in white and green. the bridesmaids' frocks were of the palest green silk, covered with clouds of white chiffon. about the bottom of the skirts were bands of pale green satin and the chiffon was caught here and there with embroidered wreaths of lilies of the valley. the hats were of white chip, ornamented with white and pale green plumes. it was small wonder that four young girls, three of them poor, should have been awestruck at the thought of appearing in such gowns. "i shall save mine for my own wedding dress!" exclaimed eleanor. "i shall make my dã©but in mine," insisted lillian. "we can't thank you enough," declared phyllis, a little overcome by so much grandeur. tom was standing in a far corner of the room. "i would like to suggest that i be allowed to come into this," he demanded firmly. "you, tom?" teased madge. "you're merely the audience." tom took four small square boxes out of his pocket. "don't you be too sure, miss madge morton. my future brother-in-law, judge robert hilliard, has commissioned me to present his gifts to his bridesmaids. madge shall be the last person to see in these boxes, just for her unkind treatment of me." "all right, tom," agreed madge; "i don't think i could stand anything more just at this instant." nevertheless madge peeped over phil's shoulder. judge hilliard had presented each one of the houseboat girls with an exquisite little pin, an enameled model of their houseboat, done in white and blue, the colors of the "merry maid." * * * * * the wedding was over. there were still a few guests in the dining room saying good-bye to mrs. curtis and tom; but madeleine and judge hilliard had gone. the four girls and miss jenny ann found a resting place in the beautiful french music room. madeleine's wedding presents were in the library, just behind the music room. "it was simply perfect, wasn't it, miss jenny ann?" breathed lillian, as they drew their chairs together for a talk. "madeleine must be perfectly happy," sighed eleanor sentimentally. "judge hilliard is so good-looking." "oh, dear me!" broke in madge, coming out of a brown study. she was sitting in a big carved french chair. "i don't see how madeleine curtis could have left her mother and this beautiful home for any man in the world. i am sure if i had such an own mother i should never leave her," finished the little captain. "until some one came along whom you loved better," interposed miss jenny ann. "that could never be, miss jenny ann," declared madge stoutly, her blue eyes wistful. "why, if my father is alive and i find him, i shall never leave him for anybody else." "what's that noise?" demanded phyllis sharply. it was after six o'clock and the curtis home was brilliantly lighted. the window blinds were all closed. but there was a curious rapping and scratching at one of the windows that opened into a small side yard. "it may be one of the servants," suggested miss jenny ann, listening intently. "it can't be," rejoined madge. "no one of them would make such a strange noise." "i think i had better call tom," breathed eleanor faintly. "it must be a burglar trying to steal madeleine's wedding gifts." madge shook her head. "wait, please," she whispered. she ran to the window. there was the faint scratching noise again! madge lifted the shade quickly. perched on the window sill was the oddest figure that ever stepped out of the pages of a fairy book. it was impossible to see just what it was, yet it looked like a little girl. one hand clung to the window facing, a small nose pressed against the pane. "why, it's a child!" exclaimed miss jenny ann in tones of relief. "open the window and let her come in." madge flung open the window. light as a thistledown, the unexpected little visitor landed in the center of the room. madge and eleanor had completely forgotten the elfin child they had met in the slums of new york city; but now she appeared among them just as mysteriously as though she were the fairy she pretended to be. she wore a small red coat that was half a dozen sizes too tiny for her. her skirt was patched with odds and ends of bright flowered materials. on her head perched a cap, a scarlet flower, cut from an odd scrap of old wall paper. in her hands tania clasped a ridiculous bundle, done up in a dirty handkerchief. "you strange little witch!" exclaimed madge. "however did you find your way here? be very still and good until the lovely lady who owns this house sees you, then i wouldn't be at all surprised if she gave you some cake and ice cream before she sends you away." tania sat down in the corner still as a mouse. her thin knees were hunched close together. she held her poor bundle tightly. her big black eyes grew larger and darker with wonder as she had her first glimpse of a fairyland, outside her own imagination, in the beautiful room and the group of lovely girls who occupied it. mrs. curtis came in a minute later, followed by a man who had been one of the guests at the wedding. madge, eleanor, and tania recognized him instantly. he was the young man who had protected tania from the blows of the brutal woman the afternoon before, but tania did not seem pleased to see him. her face flushed hotly, her lips quivered, though she made no sound. mrs. curtis smiled quizzically. madge could see that there were tears behind her smiles. "who is our latest guest, madge?" she asked, gazing kindly at the odd little person. tania rose gravely from her place on the floor. "i am a fairy who has been under the spell of a wicked witch," she asserted with solemnity, "but now the spell is broken and i've run away from her. i shan't go back ever any more." mrs. curtis's young man guest took the child firmly by the shoulders. "what do you mean by coming here to trouble these young ladies?" he demanded sternly. "i thought i recognized your friends, mrs. curtis. they saved this child yesterday from a punishment she probably well deserved. she is one of the children in our slum neighborhood that we have not been able to reach. i will take her back to her home with me at once." the child's head was high in the air. she caught her breath. her eyes had a queer, eerie look in them. "you can't take me back now," she insisted. "the spell is broken. i shall never see old sal again." madge put her arm about the small witch girl. "let her stay here just to-night, mrs. curtis, please," begged madge earnestly. "i wish to find out something about her. i will look after her and see that she does not do any harm." quite seriously and gently tania knelt on one knee and kissed mrs. curtis's hand. "let me stay. i shall be on my way again in the morning," she pleaded, "but i am a little afraid of the night." "my dear child," said mrs. curtis, gently drawing the waif to her side, "you are far too little to be running away from home. you may stay here to-night, then to-morrow we will see what we can do for you. i won't trouble you with her to-night, philip," she added, turning to her guest. "it will be no trouble," returned philip holt blandly. "she lives less than an hour's ride from here. her foster mother will be greatly worried at her absence." mrs. curtis looked hesitatingly at tania, who had been listening with alert ears. the child's black eyes took on a look of lively terror. "please, please let me stay," she begged, clasping her thin little hands in anxious appeal. "won't you let tania stay here to-night, mrs. curtis?" asked madge for the second time. "i am sorry to disagree with mr. holt, but i do not believe that poor little tania is either lawless or incorrigible. the woman who claims her is the most cruel, brutal-looking person i ever saw. i am sure she is not tania's mother. let me keep her here to-night, and to-morrow i will inquire into her case." "very well, madge," said mrs. curtis reluctantly. she glanced toward philip holt. his eyes, however, were fixed upon madge with an expression of disapproval and dislike. for the first time it occurred to mrs. curtis that philip holt might be very disagreeable if thwarted. she immediately dismissed the thought as unworthy when the young man said smoothly: "i shall be only too glad to have miss morton investigate the child's record. i am sorry that my word has not been sufficient to convince her." madge made no reply to this thrust. then an awkward silence ensued. mrs. curtis looked annoyed, tania triumphant, madge belligerent, and the other girls sympathetic. making a strong effort, philip holt controlled his anger and, extending his hand to mrs. curtis, said: "pray, pardon my interference. i was prompted to speak merely in your interest. i trust i shall see you again in the near future. good night." he bowed coldly to the young women and took his departure. "what a disagreeable----" madge stopped abruptly. her face flushed. "i beg your pardon, mrs. curtis," she said contritely. "i shouldn't have spoken my mind aloud." "i forgive you, my dear," there was a slight tone of constraint in mrs. curtis's voice, "but i am sure if you knew mr. holt as i do you would have an entirely different opinion of him." "perhaps i should," returned madge politely, but in her heart she knew that she and philip holt were destined not to be friends, but bitter enemies. chapter v tania, a problem "don't you think it would be a splendid plan for tania?" asked madge eagerly. "miss jenny ann and the girls are willing she should come to us. tania is such a fascinating little person, with her dreams and her pretences, that she is the best kind of company. besides, i am awfully sorry for her." mrs. curtis and madge were seated in the latter's bedroom indulging in one of their old-time confidential talks. "tania would be a great deal of care for you, madge," argued mrs. curtis. "she is worrying my maids almost distracted with her foolishness. last night she wrapped herself in a sheet and frightened poor norah almost to death by dancing in the moonlight. she explained to norah that she was pretending that she was a moonflower swaying in the wind. i wonder where the child got such odd fancies and bits of information? she has never seen a moonflower in her life." mrs. curtis laughed and frowned at the same time. "poor little daughter of the tenements! she is indeed a problem." "shall i tell you all i have been able to find out about tania?" asked madge. "her history is quite like a story-book tale. i think her father and mother were actors, but the father died when tania was only a little baby. that is why, i suppose, they called the child by such an absurd name as 'titania.' i looked it up and it comes from shakespeare's play of 'midsummer night's dream.' i think perhaps her mother was just a dancer, or had only a small part in the plays in which she appeared, for they never had any money. tania has lived in a tenement always. the mother used to take care of her baby when she could, and then leave her to the neighbors. but the mother must have been unusual, too, for she taught tania all sorts of poetry and music when tania was only a tiny child. indeed, tania knows a great deal more about literature than i do now," confessed madge honestly. "it isn't so strange, after all, that tania pretends. why, she and her mother used to play at pretending together. when they sat down to their dinner they used to rub their old lamp and play that it was aladdin's wonderful lamp, and that their poor table was spread with a wonderful feast, instead of just bread and cheese. they tried to make light of their poverty." mrs. curtis's eyes were full of tears. she could understand better than madge the scene the young girl pictured. "tania was eight years old when her mother died," finished madge pensively. "since then poor tania has had such a dreadful time, living with that wretched old sal, who has made a regular slavey of her, and she just had to go on with her pretending in order to be able to bear her life at all." madge and mrs. curtis were both silent for a moment. the bright june sunshine flooded the room, offering a sharp contrast to tania's sad little story. "you see why i wish to take her on the houseboat," pleaded madge. "it seems so wonderful that we are going to cape may and will be on the really seashore, near you and tom, that each one of us feels the desire to do something for somebody just to show how happy we are. miss jenny ann says we may take tania, if you think it wouldn't be unwise." "she ought to go to school, madge," argued mrs. curtis half-heartedly. "tania does not know any of the things she should. philip holt, who does so much good work among the poor in tania's tenement district, says that the child is most unreliable and does not tell the truth." madge wrinkled her nose with the familiar expression she wore when annoyed. her investigations had proved philip holt a liar, but she refrained from saying so. "you don't like philip, do you?" continued mrs. curtis. "it isn't fair to have prejudices without reason. mr. holt is a fine young man and does splendid work among the poor. madeleine and i have entrusted him with the most of the money we have given to charity. i am sorry that you girls don't like him, because he is coming to visit me at cape may this summer." madge dutifully stifled her vague feeling of regret. "of course, we will try to like him, if he is your friend," she replied loyally. "it was only that we thought mr. holt had a terribly superior manner for such a young man, and looked too 'goody-goody'! but you have not answered me yet about tania. do let us have tania. i'll teach her lots of things this summer, and it won't be so hard for her when she goes to school in the fall. she is pretty good with me." "very well," consented mrs. curtis reluctantly, "for this summer only. the child will get you into difficulties, but i suppose they won't be serious. what is madge morton going to do next fall? is she going to college with phil, or is she coming to be my daughter?" madge lowered her red-brown head. "i don't know, dear," she faltered. "you know i have said all along to uncle and aunt that, just as soon as i was grown up, i was going to start out to find my father. i shall be nineteen next winter. it surely is time for me to begin." "but, madge, dear, you can't find your father unless you know where to look for him. the world is a very large place! i am sorry"--mrs. curtis smoothed madge's soft hair tenderly--"but i agree with your uncle and aunt; your father must be dead. were he alive he would surely have tried to find his little daughter long before this. your uncle and aunt have never heard from or of him during all these years." "i don't feel sure that he is dead," returned madge thoughtfully. "you see, my father disappeared after his court-martial in the navy. he never dreamed that some day his superior officer would confess his own guilt and declare father innocent. i can't, i won't, believe he is dead. somewhere in this world he lives and some day i shall find him, i am sure of it. phil, lillian and eleanor have all pledged themselves to my cause, too," she added, smiling faintly. "i'll do all that i can to help you, madge. just have a good time this summer, and in the autumn, perhaps, there may be some information for you to work on. what is that dreadful noise? i never heard anything like it in my house before!" exclaimed mrs. curtis. madge sprang to her feet. there was the sound of a heavy fall in the next room, a scream, then a discreet knock on madge's door. "come!" commanded mrs. curtis. the door opened and the butler appeared in the doorway, his solemn, red face redder and more solemn than usual. "please, it's that child again," he said. "while the young ladies was out in the automobile with mr. tom, she went in their room, emptied out one of their trunks and shut herself inside. she said she was 'hope' and the trunk was 'pandory's box,' or some such crazy foolishness. she meant to jump out when the young ladies came back, but norah went into the room with some clean towels, and when the little one bobs her head out of that box, just like a black witch, poor norah is scared out of her wits and drops on the floor all of a heap. if that child doesn't go away from here soon, ma'am, i don't know how we can ever bear it." "that will do, richards," answered mrs. curtis coldly. but madge could see that she was dreadfully vexed at tania's latest naughtiness. the little captain gave mrs. curtis a penitent hug. "it is all my fault, dear. i should never have brought the little witch here," she murmured. "i'll go and make it all right with norah and see that tania does no more mischief--for a while, at least." mrs. curtis looked somewhat mollified, nevertheless, she was far from pleased, and madge's championship of little tania was to cause the little captain more than one unhappy hour. chapter vi a mischievous mermaid there was a splash over the side of a boat, then another, one more, and a fourth. the water rippled and broke away into smooth curves. down a long streak of moonlight four dark objects floated above the surface of the waves. for a few seconds there was not a sound, not even a shout, to show that the mermaids were at play. two dark heads kept in advance of the others. "madge," warned a voice, "we must not go too far out. remember, we promised jenny ann. my, but isn't this water glorious! i feel as though i could swim on forever." a graceful figure turned over and the moonlight shone full on a happy face. the two swimmers moved along more slowly. "nellie, lillian!" madge called back, "are you all right? do you wish to go on farther?" phil and madge floated quietly until their two friends caught up with them. "i feel as though i could go on all night at this rate," declared lillian seldon. eleanor put her hand out. "may i float along with you a little, madge?" she asked. "i am tired. how wide and empty the ocean looks to-night! we must not get out of sight of the lights of the 'merry maid'." "there is no danger!" scoffed madge. "look out!" cried phil alden sharply. she was swimming ahead. she saw first the sails of a small yacht making across the bay with all speed to the line of the shore that the girls had just quitted. "let's follow the boat back home," suggested madge. "we can keep far enough away for them not to see us. it will be rather good fun if they take us for porpoises or mermaids, or any other queer sea creature." "don't run into that noah's ark that we saw anchored in the creek this morning, roy," came a shrill voice from the deck of the yacht. "i saw half a dozen women going aboard her this afternoon laden with boxes and trunks--everything but the parrot and the monkey. it looked as though they meant to spend the summer aboard her." "perhaps they do, mabel," a man's voice answered. "the 'noah's ark' is a houseboat. it looked very tiny for so many people, but i thought it was rather pretty." "well, we have girls enough at cape may this summer--about six to every man," argued mabel crossly. "i vote that we give these new persons the cold shoulder. nobody knows who they are, nor where they come from. it is bad enough to have to associate with tiresome hotel visitors, but i shall draw the line at these water-rats, and i hope you will do the same." "she means us," gasped eleanor. "what a perfectly horrid girl!" the high, sharp voice on the yacht was distinctly audible over the water. the boat had slowed down as it drew nearer to the shore. "swim along with phil, nellie," proposed madge. "i am going to have some fun with those young persons. i don't care if i _am_ nearly grown-up; i am not going to miss a lark when there's a chance. i have that rubber ball that phil and i brought out to play with in the water. watch me throw it on their yacht. they'll think it's a bomb, or a meteor, if i can throw straight enough. i am going to settle with them this very minute for the disagreeable things they just said about us and our pretty 'merry maid.'" "don't do it, madge!" expostulated phil; but she was too late; madge had dived and was swimming along almost completely under the water. she swam in the darkness cast by the shadow of the boat as it passed within a few yards of them. like a flash she lifted her great rubber ball. she had better luck than she deserved. the ball came out of nowhere and landed in the center of the group of three young people on the yacht. it fell first on the deck, and then bounced into the lap of the offending mabel. it was hard work for the waiting girls not to laugh aloud as naughty madge came slowly back to them. a wild shriek went up from on board the yacht. "oh, dear, what was that?" one girl asked faintly, when the first cries of alarm had died away. "where is it? what was it?" growled a masculine voice. "are you really hurt, mabel? you are making so much fuss that i can't tell." mabel had dropped back in a chair. she was white with fear and trembling violently. "it is in my lap," she moaned. "it may explode any moment--do take it away!" the owner of the yacht, roy dennis, turned a small electric flashlight full on his two girl guests. there, in mabel's lap, was surely a round, globular-shaped object that had either dropped from the sky or had been thrown at them by an unknown hand. roy had really no desire to pick it up without seeing it more clearly. the other girl was less timid. she reached over and took hold of madge's ball. then she laughed aloud. oddly enough, her laugh was repeated out on the water. "why, it's only a rubber ball!" she asserted. ethel swann, who was one of the old-time cottagers at cape may, ran to the side of the boat. "see!" she exclaimed, "over there are some boys swimming. i suppose they threw the ball on board just to frighten us. they certainly were successful." she hurled madge's ball back over the water, but roy dennis's small yacht had gone some distance from the group of mischievous mermaids and he did not turn back. "if i find out who did that trick, i surely will get even with them," muttered roy. "i don't like to be made a fool of." "don't tell jenny ann, please, girls," begged madge, as the four girls clambered aboard the "merry maid." "it was a very silly trick that i played. i should hate to have the cottagers at the cape hear of it. i don't suppose i shall ever grow up." "girls, whatever made you stay in the water so long?" demanded miss jenny ann, coming into the girls' stateroom with a big pitcher of hot chocolate and a plate of cakes. "i have been uneasy about you. you have been in the water for half an hour. that's too long for a first swim. poor tania is fast asleep. the child is utterly worn out with so much excitement. think of never having been out of a crowded city in her life, and then seeing this wonderful cape may! tania wanted to stay up to wish you good night. i left her staring out of the cabin window at the stars when i went into our kitchen to make the chocolate. when i came back she was asleep." "dear jenny ann," said madge penitently, pulling their chaperon down on the berth beside her, while lillian poured the chocolate, "it was my fault we were late. the bad things are always my fault. but we are going to have a perfectly glorious time this summer, aren't we? just think, next year phil and i shall be nineteen and nearly old ladies." "i wonder if anything special is going to happen to us this holiday?" pondered phil, crunching away on her third cake. "something special always does happen to us," declared lillian. "let's go to bed now, because, if we are going to row up the bay in the morning to explore the shore, we shall have to get up early to put the 'merry maid' in order. we must be regular old cape may inhabitants by the time that mrs. curtis and tom arrive." next morning bad news came to the crew of the little houseboat. mrs. curtis had been called to chicago by the illness of her brother, and tom had gone with her. they did not know how soon they would be able to come on to cape may; but within a very few days philip holt, the goody-goody young man who was one of mrs. curtis's special favorites, would come on to cape may, and mrs. curtis hoped that the girls would see that he had a good time. neither madge, phil, lillian nor eleanor felt particularly pleased at this information. but tania, who was the only one of the party that knew the young man well, burst unexpectedly into a flood of tears, the cause of which she obstinately refused to explain. chapter vii captain jules, deep sea diver the "water witch" rocked lazily on the breast of the waves, awaiting the coming of the four girls, who had planned to row up the bay on a voyage of discovery. they were not much interested in staying about among the cape may cottagers, after the conversation which they had innocently overheard from the deck of the launch the night before. of course, if mrs. curtis and tom had come on to cape may at once to occupy their cottage, as they had expected to do, all would have been well. the four young women and their chaperon would have been immediately introduced to the society of the cape. however, the girls were not repining at their lack of society. they had each other; there was the old town of cape may to be explored with the great ocean on one side and delaware bay on the other. "do be careful, children," called miss jenny ann warningly as the girls arranged themselves for a row in their skiff. "in all our experience on the water i never saw so many yachts and pleasure boats as there are on these waters. if you don't keep a sharp lookout one of the larger boats may run into you. don't get into trouble." "we are going away from trouble, miss jenny ann," protested phil. "there is a yacht club on the sound, but we are going to row up the bay past the shoals and get as far from civilization as possible." madge stood up in the skiff and waved her hand to their chaperon. the girls looked like a small detachment of feminine naval cadets in their nautical uniforms. each one of them wore a dark blue serge skirt of ankle length and a middy blouse with a blue sailor collar. they were without hats, as they hoped to get a coating of seashore tan without wasting any time. "i shall expect you home by noon," were miss jenny ann's final words as the "water witch" danced away from the houseboat. "aye, aye, skipper!" the girls called back in chorus. "shall we bring back lobsters or clams for luncheon, if we can find them?" "_clams!_" hallooed miss jenny ann through her hands. "i am dreadfully afraid of live lobsters." then the houseboat chaperon retired to write a letter to an artist, a mr. theodore brown, whose acquaintance she had made during the first of the houseboat holidays. he had suggested that he would like to come to cape may some time later in the summer if any of his houseboat friends would be pleased to see him, and she was writing to tell him just how greatly pleased they would be. the "merry maid" had found a quiet anchorage in one of the smaller inlets of the delaware bay, not far from the town of cape may. the larger number of the summer cottages were farther away on the tiny islands near the sound and along the ocean front. the "water witch" sped gayly over the blue waters of the bay in the brilliant late june sunshine. madge and phil, as usual, were at the oars. tania crouched quietly at lillian's feet in the stern of the skiff. eleanor sat in the prow. "what do you think of it all, tania?" madge asked the little adopted houseboat daughter. tania had been very silent since their arrival at the seashore. if she were impressed at the wonderful and beautiful things she had seen since she left new york city, she had, so far, said nothing. her large black eyes blinked in the dazzling light. she was looking straight up toward the sky in a curious, absorbed fashion. "i was trying to make up my mind, madge, if this place was as beautiful as my kingdom in fairyland," answered tania seriously, "and i believe it is." "have you a kingdom in fairyland, little tania?" inquired phil gently. she did not understand the child's odd fancies, as madge did. tania nodded her head quietly. "of course i have," she returned simply. "hasn't every one a fairyland, where things are just as they should be, beautiful and good and kind? i am the queen of my kingdom." phil looked puzzled, but madge only laughed. "don't mind tania, phil. she is going to be a very sensible little houseboat girl before our holiday is over. besides, i understand her. she only says some of the things i used to think when i was a tiny child. but i do wish the people on the boats would not stare at us so; there is nothing very wonderful in our appearance." the girls were trying to guide their rowboat among the other larger craft that were afloat on the bay. they wished to get into the more remote waters. in the meantime it was embarrassing to have smartly dressed women and girls put up their lorgnettes and opera glasses to gaze at the girls as the latter rowed by. "can there be anything the matter with us?" asked phil solicitously. "i never saw anything like this fire of inquisitive stares." "of course not, phil," answered lillian sensibly. "it is only because we are strangers at cape may, and most of the people whom we see about come here each year. then we are the only persons who live in a noah's ark, as those pleasant people on the yacht called our pretty 'merry maid' last night. don't worry. have you thought how odd it is that we won't even know them if we should be introduced to them later? we did not see either them or their boat very plainly last night; we only overheard them talking." "but i'll know the voice of that woman who screamed," replied madge rather grimly. "i just dare her to shriek again without my recognizing her dulcet tones." the girls were now drawing away from the crowded end of the bay. they kept along fairly close to the shore. there was an occasional house near the water, but these dwellings were farther and farther apart. finally the girls rowed for half a mile without seeing any residence save an occasional fisherman's hut. they hoped to reach some place where they could catch at least a glimpse of the wonderful cedar woods that flourish farther up the coast of the bay. suddenly lillian sang out: "look, girls, there is the dearest little house! it is almost in the water. it rivals our houseboat, it is so like a ship. isn't it too cunning for anything!" madge and phyllis rested on their oars. the girls stared curiously. they saw a house built of shingles that had turned a soft gray which exactly resembled an old three-masted schooner. it had a tiny porch in front, but the first roof ended in a point, the second rose higher, like a larger sail, and the third, which must have covered the kitchen, was about the height of the first. "see, tania, i can make the funny house by putting my fingers together," laughed lillian. "my thumbs are the first roof, my three fingers the second, and my little fingers the last." the girls rowed nearer the odd cottage. the place was deserted; at least they saw no one about. over the front door of the house hung a trim little sign inscribed, "the anchorage." "dear me, here is a boathouse, and we've a houseboat!" exclaimed eleanor. "i wish we dared go ashore and knock at the door, to ask some one to show us over it." "i don't think we had better try it, eleanor," remonstrated phil. "the house probably belongs to some grouchy old sea captain who has built it to get away from people." at this moment a man at least six feet tall, wearing old yellow tarpaulins, came around the side of the house of the three sails with a large basket on each arm. he sat down on a rock in front of the house and began lifting mussel and oyster shells out of one of his baskets. he would peer at them earnestly before throwing them over to one side. he was a giant of a man, past middle age. his face was so weather-beaten that his skin was like leather. his eyes were blue as only a sailor's eyes can be. on one of the man's shoulders perched a wizened little monkey that every now and then tugged at its master's grizzled hair or chattered in his ear. [illustration: "good morning" shouted madge.] the man did not observe the girls in the rowboat, although they were only a few yards away. "good morning," sang out madge cheerfully, forgetting the vow of silence which the girls had made that morning against the cape mayites. but then, the girls had never dreamed of seeing such a fascinating seafaring old mariner. their vow had been taken against the society people. the sailor, however, did not return madge's friendly salutation; he went on examining his oyster and mussel shells. madge looked crestfallen. the old sailor had such a splendid, strong face. he did not seem to be the kind of man who would fail to return a friendly good morning greeting. "i don't think he heard you, madge. let's all halloo together," proposed lillian. "good morning!" shouted five young voices in a mischievous chorus. the seaman lifted his big head. his smile came slowly, wrinkling his face into heavy creases. "good morning, mates," he called heartily. "coming ashore?" "oh, may we?" cried madge in return. "we should _dearly_ love to!" the five girls needed no further invitation. they piled out of the "water witch" before their host could come near enough to assist them. the seaman did not invite them into the house. the girls took their seats on the big rock near the water. madge was farthest away, but promptly the monkey leaped from its master's shoulder and planted itself in madge's hair, pulling the strands violently while he chattered angrily. "you horrid little thing!" she cried; "you hurt. i wonder if you hate red hair. is that the reason you are trying to pull mine out? please, somebody, take this playful beast away." the old sea captain, as the girls guessed him to be, promptly came to madge's rescue and removed the angry monkey. "you must forgive my pet," he remarked kindly. "my little madge is jealous. she doesn't like strangers and we don't often have young lady visitors." "madge!" exclaimed the little captain, smiling as she tried to re-arrange her hair. "what a funny name for a monkey. why, that is my name!" after a few advances the monkey became very friendly with the other girls, but she would have nothing to do with madge. she would fly into a perfect tempest of rage whenever madge approached her or tried to talk to her. the monkey even deserted her master to perch in tania's arms. the animal put its little, scrawny arms about the queer child's neck, and there was almost the same elfish, wistful look in both pairs of dark eyes. "do you catch many fish in these waters?" inquired eleanor, whose housewifely soul was interested in the big basket of lobsters that she saw crawling about, writhing and twisting as though they were in agony. "almost every kind that lives in temperate waters," answered the sailor, "but there is nothing like the variety one finds in the tropics." "were you once a sea captain?" asked lillian curiously. the man shook his head. "i'm not a captain in the united states service," he returned. "i am called captain in these parts, 'captain jules,' but i have only commanded a freight schooner." "i know i have no right to be so curious," interposed madge, "but i dearly love everything about the sea. were you ever a deep sea diver? somehow you look like one." "i was a pearl-fisher for many years," the seaman answered as calmly as though diving for pearls was one of the most ordinary trades in the world. but his eyes twinkled as he heard madge's gasp of admiration and caught the expression on the faces of the other girls. "you were looking for pearls in those oysters and mussel shells when our boat came along, weren't you?" divined madge, regarding him with large eyes. the man nodded a smiling answer. "yes, but i didn't expect to find any pearls," he answered. "it is strange how a man's old occupation will cling to him, even after he has long ago given it up. there are very few pearls to be found now in the delaware bay or the waters around here." captain jules was gravely removing lobsters from his basket for tania's entertainment while he talked to madge. tania was watching him, breathless with admiration and terror. the captain would take hold of one of the great, crawling things, rub it softly on its horned head as one would rub a tabby cat to make it purr. he would then set the lobster up on its hind claws and the funny crustacean would fall quietly asleep, as though it were nodding in a chair. "i never saw anything so queer in my life," chuckled phil. "you hypnotize the lobsters, don't you?" captain jules shook his shaggy head. he was proud of the appreciation his accomplishment had excited. "no; i don't hypnotize them," he explained. "anybody can make old father lobster fall asleep if he only rubs him in the right place. you are not going, are you?" for the girls had risen to depart. "i am afraid we must," said madge; "we promised to get back to our houseboat by noon. if you come down to cape may, won't you please come to see us? our houseboat is a rival to your boathouse." "you are very kind," answered the old captain, shaking his head, "but i don't do much visiting. i thank you just the same. let me fix you up a basket of fish. afraid of the lobsters, aren't you, little girl?" he said, smiling at tania. the old sailor followed his visitors to help them aboard their rowboat. he walked beside madge, keeping a careful watch on his monkey, which still chattered and gesticulated, showing her hatred of the little captain. the girls realized that this man had the manners of a gentleman, although he looked as rough and uncouth as a common sailor. there was a kind of nobility about him, as of a man who has lived and fought with the big things of the earth. madge looked at him beseechingly just before they arrived at their skiff. now, when madge desired anything very greatly she was hard to resist. her blue eyes wore their most bewitching expression. "please," she faltered, "i want you to do me a favor. i know i have no right to ask it, but, but----" "what is it?" inquired captain jules, smiling. "have you your diving suit?" asked madge. "if you have, and you would show it to me some day, i would be too happy for words." madge blushed at her own temerity. the captain shook his head. there was little encouragement in his expression. "maybe, some day," he replied vaguely; "but i have had the suit put away for some time. who knows when i will go down into the sea again? be careful in that small skiff," he warned the girls. "there are so many launches about on these waters, run by men and women that don't know the very first principles of running a boat, that a small craft like yours may easily drift into danger. you must look lively." the girls waved their good-byes as madge and phil pulled away. madge noticed that the old sailor stared curiously at her, and every now and then he shook his head and frowned. madge supposed it was because she had been so bold as to ask a favor of a perfect stranger. yet, if she could only see captain jules again and he might be persuaded to show her his diving suit and to tell her something of the strange business of pearl-fishing, she couldn't be really sorry for her impudence. this accidental meeting with an old sailor inspired madge afresh with her love of the sea and the mystery of it. she could not get the man out of her mind, nor her own desire to see him soon again and to ask him more questions. as for captain jules, when the girls had fairly gone he lighted his pipe and strode along the line of the shore. "it's a funny thing, madge," he said, addressing the monkey, "but when a man gets an idea in his head, everything and everybody he sees seems to start the same old idea a-going. i wish i had asked her to tell me her surname. i wonder if she is the real madge?" chapter viii the wreck of the "water witch" the girls began their row to the "merry maid" with all speed. they had had such an interesting morning that they did not realize how the time had flown. they did not know the exact hour now, but they feared it would be after twelve before they could rejoin miss jenny ann. the sun was so nearly overhead and shining so brilliantly that the effect was almost dazzling. madge and phil did not try to see any distance ahead in their course. lillian, however, was on the lookout. there were several inlets opening into the larger water-way down which the girls were rowing. boats were likely to come unexpectedly out of these inlets, and the girls should have been far more watchful than they were. "it's too bad about mrs. curtis and tom not coming on to cape may as soon as we expected them, isn't it?" remarked phil, resting for half a moment from the strain of the steady pulling at her oars. "i hope they will arrive soon, before we have the responsibility of entertaining mrs. curtis's friend, philip holt. it won't be much fun to have a strange man following us about everywhere, even if he should turn out to be nicer than we think he is." phil was the stroke oar. she was talking over her shoulder to madge, who was paying more attention to her friend's conversation than to her rowing. "oh, i think mrs. curtis and tom will be along soon," she rejoined. "i felt dreadfully when we received the telegram this morning. but now i hope mrs. curtis's brother will get well in a hurry. perhaps they will be here almost as soon as this philip. i'll wager you a pound of chocolates, phil, that this goody-goody young man can't swim or row, or do anything like an ordinary person. he will just think every single thing we do is perfectly dreadful, and will frighten tania to death with his preaching. i know he thinks her fairy stories are lies. he told mrs. curtis that tania never spoke the truth." madge lowered her voice. "i am sure we have never caught her in a lie. i suppose this philip will think my exaggerations are as bad as tania's fairy stories. i hate too literal people." "dear me, whom are you and phil discussing, madge?" inquired lillian, leaning over from her seat in the stern with tania, to try to catch her friends' low-voiced conversation. "if it is that philip holt, you need not think that he will trouble us very much when he comes to cape may. he is just the kind of person who will trot after all the rich people he meets, and waste very little energy on those who have neither money nor social position." lillian was looking at madge and phil as she talked. for the moment she forgot to keep a sharp watch about on the water. but a moment since there had been no other boats in sight near them. eleanor was resting in the prow with her eyes closed. the sun blazed hotly in her face, she could only see a bright light dancing before her eyes. as lillian leaned back in her seat in the stern her face took on an expression of sudden alarm. at the same moment the four girls heard the distinct chug of a motor engine. cutting down upon them was a pleasure yacht run by a gasoline motor. the prow of the yacht was head-on with the "water witch" and running at full speed. the boat had blown no whistle, so the girls had not seen its approach. "look ahead!" shouted lillian. the young man who was steering the yacht paid no heed to her warning. he kept straight ahead, although he distinctly saw the rowboat and its passengers. madge and phyllis had no time to call out or to protest. they realized, almost instantly, that the motor launch meant to make no effort to slow down but to put the full responsibility of getting out of danger on the rowers. the girls had no particular desire to be thrown into the water, nor to have their boat cut in two, so they pulled for dear life, with white faces and straining throats and arms. they just missed making their escape by a hair's breadth. the young man running the yacht must have believed that the skiff would get safely by or else when he found out his mistake it was too late for him to slow down. the prow of his yacht ran with full force into the frail side of the "water witch" near her stern. the little skiff whirled in the water almost in a semi-circle. by a miracle it escaped being completely run down by the launch. yet a second later, before any one of the girls could stir, the water rushed into the hole in its side and it sank. madge and phyllis had had their oars wrenched from their hands. then they found themselves struggling in the water. a cry rose from the launch as the "water witch" and her passengers disappeared. but there was no sound from the little rowboat, save the gurgle of the water and a shrill scream from tania as the waves closed over her head. the yacht swept on past, borne perhaps by her own headway. as madge went down under the water two thoughts seemed to come to her mind in the same second: she must look after eleanor and tania. her cousin, nellie, was not able to swim as well as the other girls. she had always been more nervous and timid in the water and was liable to sudden cramp. madge knew that being hurled from a boat in such sudden fashion with her clothes on instead of a bathing suit would completely terrify eleanor. she might lose her presence of mind completely and fail to strike out when she rose to the surface of the water. as for tania, madge was aware that she, of course, could not swim a stroke. the little one had never been in deep water before in her life. madge struggled for breath for a second as she came to the surface of the bay again. she had swallowed some salt water as she went down. in the next desperate instant she counted three heads above the waves besides her own. phyllis was swimming quietly toward eleanor. evidently she had entertained madge's fear. "make for the 'water witch,' nellie," madge heard phil say in her calm, cool-headed fashion. "it has overturned and come up again and we can hang on to that. don't be frightened. i am coming after you. try to float if your clothes are too heavy to swim. i'll pull you to the boat." lillian's golden head reflected the light from the sun's rays as she swam along after phil. but nowhere could madge see a sign of a little, wild, black head with its straight, short locks and frightened black eyes. she waited for another breathless moment. why did tania not rise to the surface like the rest of them? madge was trying to tread water and to keep a sharp lookout about her, but her clothes were heavy and kept pulling her down; swimming in heavy shoes is an extremely difficult business, even for an experienced swimmer. all of a sudden it occurred to madge that tania might have risen under the overturned rowboat. then her head would have struck against its bottom and she would have gone down again without ever having been seen. there was nothing else to be done. madge must dive down to see what had become of her little friend, yet diving was difficult when she had no place from which to dive. madge knew she must get all the way down to the very bottom of the bay to see if by any chance tania's body could have been entangled among the sea weed, or her clothes caught on a rock or snag. once down, she looked in vain for the little body along the sandy bottom of the bay. she espied some rocks covered with shimmering shells and sea ferns, but there was no trace of tania. for the second time she rose to the surface of the water. she hoped to see tania's black head glistening among those of her older friends clustered about the overturned boat. she had grown very tired and was obliged to shake the water out of her eyes before she dared trust herself to look. then she saw that phil had hold of one of eleanor's hands and with the other was clinging to the slippery side of their overturned boat. eleanor was numb with cold and shock. although her free hand rested on the boat, phil dared not let go of her for fear she would sink. phyllis was beginning to feel uneasy about madge. she had given no thought to her during the early part of the accident, she knew madge to be a water witch herself, but when the little captain did not come to the skiff with the rest of them phil's heart grew heavy. what could she do? dare she let go her hold on eleanor? strangely enough, in their peril, phyllis had given no thought to the little stranger, tania. phyllis alden breathed a happy sigh of relief when she saw madge's curly, red-brown head moving along toward them. "have you seen tania?" she called faintly, trying to reserve both her breath and her strength. then phil remembered tania with a rush of remorse and terror. "no, i haven't, madge. what could have become of the child?" she faltered. lillian looked out over the water. surely the launch that had wrecked them would have been able by this time to come back to their assistance. the boat had stopped, but it had not moved near to them. so far, its crew showed no sign of giving them any aid. lillian could not believe her eyes. "i'd better dive for tania again," said madge quietly, without intimating to her chums that she was feeling a little tired and less sure of herself in the water than usual. she knew they would not allow her to dive. when she went down for tania the second time she chose a different place to make her descent. she must find the little girl at once. she was swimming along, not many inches from the bottom of the bay, when she caught sight of what seemed to her a large fish floating near some rocks. madge swam toward it slowly. it was tania's foot, swaying with the motion of the water. caught on a spar, which might have once been part of a mast of an old ship, was tania's dress. on the other side of her was a rock, and her body had become wedged between the two objects. it was a beautiful place and might have been a cave for a mermaid, but it held the little earth-princess in a death-like grasp. it is possible to be sick with fear and yet to be brave. madge knew her danger. she saw that tania's dress was caught fast. she would have to tug at it valiantly to get it away. first, she pulled desperately at tania's shoe, hoping she could free her body. a suffocating weight had begun to press down on her chest. she could hear a roaring and buzzing in her ears. she knew enough of the water to realize that she had been too long underneath; she should rise to the surface again to get her breath. but she dared not wait so long to release tania. nor did she know that she could find the child again when she returned. she must do her work now. so madge pulled more slowly and carefully at tania's frock, unwinding it from the spar that held it. with a few gentle tugs she released it and tania's slender body rose slowly. the child's eyes were closed, her face was as still and white as though she were dead. madge was glad of tania's unconsciousness. she knew that in this lay the one chance of safety for herself and the child. if tania came to consciousness and began to struggle the little captain knew that her strength was too far gone for her to save either the child or herself. she would not leave her. she would have to drown with her. she caught the little girl by her black hair, and swam out feebly with her one free arm. at this moment tania's black eyes opened wide. she realized their awful peril. she was only a child, and the fear of the drowning swept over her. she gave a despairing clutch upward, threw both her thin arms about madge's neck and held her in a grasp of steel. for a second madge tried to fight tania's hands away. then her strength gave out utterly. she realized that the end had come for them both. chapter ix the owner of the disagreeable voice it may be that madge had another second of consciousness. afterward she thought she could recall being caught up by a giant, who unloosed tania's hands from about her throat. quietly the three of them began to float upward with such steadiness, such quietness, that she had that blessed sense of security and release from responsibility that a child must feel who has fallen asleep in its father's arms. the first thing that she actually knew was, when she opened her eyes, to look into a pair of deep blue, kindly ones that were smiling bravely and encouragingly into hers. near her were her three friends, looking very wet and miserable, and one little, dark-eyed elf who was sobbing bitterly. farther away were two strange girls and one red-faced young man. then madge understood that she had been brought aboard the yacht that had run down their rowboat. the little captain sat up indignantly. "i am quite all right," she said haughtily, looking with an unfriendly countenance at their wreckers. then, feeling strangely dizzy, she sank back and with a little sigh closed her eyes. "don't do that," protested eleanor tragically. "you must not faint. captain jules, please don't let her." the old captain's strong hands took hold of madge's cold ones. "pull yourself together, my hearty," he whispered. "a girl who can dive down into the bottom of the bay as you can shows she has good sea-blood in her. she can see the old captain's diving suit any day she likes--own it if she has a mind to. fishing for pearls isn't half so good a trade as fishing for a human life. you'll be yourself in a minute. lucky i happened to walk down the beach in the same direction your boat went." one of the two strange girls came to madge's side at this moment with a cup of strong tea. "_do_ drink this," she pleaded. "it has taken some time to make the water boil. i wish to give some to the other girls, too. i am so sorry that we ran into you. you must know that it was an accident." madge drank the tea obediently, gazing a little less scornfully at the girl who was serving her, her face pale with fright and sympathy. the other girl stood apart at a little distance with a young man. they were both staring at the wet and shivering girls with poorly concealed amusement. "we are awfully sorry to give you so much trouble," said madge to the girl with the tea. she was trying to control her feelings when she caught sight of the owner of the small yacht and his friend and her temper got the better of her. "i am sorry," she repeated, "that we are giving _you_ trouble. but, really, your motor launch had no right to bear down on our boat without blowing its whistle or giving the faintest sign of its approach. it put the whole responsibility of getting out of the way on us." madge was sitting beside the old captain. her direct mode of attack showed that she was feeling more like herself. "what the young lady says is true," declared captain jules with emphasis. "i doubt if you have the faintest legal right to navigate a boat in these waters. if i hadn't happened to walk along down the shore of the bay after these young ladies left me two of them would have been drowned. i'll have to see to it that you keep off this bay if you do any more such mischief as you did this morning." the young man in a handsome yachting suit worthy of an admiral in the united states navy frowned angrily at madge and her champion. "i say it wasn't my fault that i ran into your little paper boat," he protested angrily. "i gave you plenty of time to get out of my way, but you girls pulled so slowly that we did slide into you. still, if you will admit that it was your fault and not mine, i will have your old skiff mended, if she isn't too much used up and you can get somebody to tow her back to land for you. i can't; i have enough to carry as it is." the girl standing beside the young man giggled hysterically. madge decided that she had heard her high, shrill notes before. phyllis, lillian and eleanor were furiously angry at the young man's retort to madge and captain jules, but they bit their lips and said nothing. they were on his yacht, although they were enforced passengers; it was better not to express their feelings. but madge was in a white heat of passion over the young man's boorish retort. "it was not our fault in the least that we were run down," she said in a low, evenly pitched voice. "we are not willing to take the least bit of the blame. you not only ran into our little boat and sunk her, but you did not take the least trouble to come to our aid when you had not the faintest knowledge whether any one of us could swim. _men_ in the part of the world where i come from don't do things of that kind. put your boat back and tow our rowboat to land," ordered madge imperiously. "we certainly will not allow you to have it mended. neither my friends nor i wish to accept any kind of recompense from a man who is a _coward_!" the word was out. madge had not meant to use it, but somehow it slipped off her tongue. "steady," she heard the old sailor whisper in her ear. he was gazing at her intently, and something in his face calmed the hot tide of her anger. "i am sorry i said you were a coward," she added, with one of her quick repentances. "i don't think you were very brave, but perhaps something may have happened that prevented your coming to our aid." "mr. dennis does not swim very well," the nicer of the two girls explained, sitting down beside madge. she was blushing and biting her lips. "mr. dennis meant to put back as soon as he could. i am ethel swann. i received a letter from mrs. curtis this morning, who is one of my mother's old friends. she wrote that she and her son would be down a little later to open their cottage, but she hoped that we would meet you girls before she came. i am so sorry that we have met first in such an unfortunate fashion." "oh, never mind," interrupted madge impatiently. "if you are ethel swann, mrs. curtis has talked to us about you. we are very glad to know you, i am sure." "these are my friends, roy dennis and mabel farrar," ethel went on, her face flushing. the four girls bowed coldly. mabel farrar acknowledged the introduction by a stiff nod. the young man took off his cap for the first time when madge introduced captain jules. "run your boat along the side of the overturned skiff and i'll tie her on for you," ordered captain jules quietly. "i think i had better go along back to land with you." roy dennis, who was a little more frightened at his deed than he cared to own, was glad to obey the captain's order. just as the girls were landing from the launch mabel farrar's foot slipped and she gave a shrill scream. instantly the girls recognized the voice which they had heard the night before condemning them to social oblivion. although captain jules had only a short time before positively refused the invitation of the girls to come aboard the "merry maid" to pay them a visit, it was he who handed each girl from the deck of roy dennis's boat into the arms of their frightened chaperon. finally he crossed over to the deck of the houseboat himself, bearing little tania in his arms and looking in his wet tarpaulins like old king neptune rising from the brine. captain jules was made to stay to luncheon on board the houseboat. there was no getting away from the determined young women. in his heart of hearts the old sailor had no desire to go. something inspired him with the desire to know more of these charming girls. when the girls had put on dry clothing they led captain jules all over the houseboat, showing him each detail of it. he insisted that the "merry maid" was as trim a little craft as he had ever seen afloat. after luncheon, at which the captain devoured six of miss jenny ann's best cornbread gems, he sat down in a chair on the houseboat deck, holding tania in his arms. he talked most to phyllis, but he seldom took his eyes off madge's face. sometimes he frowned at her; now and then he smiled. once or twice madge found herself blushing and wondering why her rescuer looked at her so hard, but she was too interested to care very much. she sat down in her favorite position on a pile of cushions on the deck, with her head resting against miss jenny ann's knee and her eyes on the water. "do tell us, captain jules," she pleaded, "something about your life as a pearl-fisher. you must have had wonderful experiences. we would dearly love to hear about them, wouldn't we, girls?" the girls chorused an enthusiastic "yes," which included miss jenny ann. captain jules laughed. "haven't you ever heard that it is dangerous to get an old sea dog started on his adventures? you never can tell when he will leave off," he teased, stroking tania's black hair. "but i wouldn't be surprised if tania would like to hear how once i was nearly swallowed whole, diving suit and all, by a giant shark. i was hunting for pearls in those days off the philippine islands. i had been tearing some shells from the side of a great rock when, of a sudden, i felt a strange presence before i saw anything. i might have known it was time to expect trouble, because the little fish that are usually floating about in the water had all disappeared. a creepy feeling came over me. i was cold as ice inside my diving suit. then i turned and looked up. just a few feet in front of me was a giant shark that seemed about twenty-five feet long. he was an evil monster. the upper part of his body was a dirty, dark green and his fins were black. you never saw a diving suit, did you? so you don't know that all the body is covered up but the hands. i tucked my hands under my breastplate in a hurry. it didn't seem to me that a pearl diver would be much good without any hands. well, the great fish made a sweep with its tail, and in a jiffy he and i were face to face. i stood still for about a second. i held my breath, my heart pounding like a hammer. nearer and nearer the monster came swimming toward me, with its shovel nose pointing directly at the glass that covered my face. i couldn't stand it. i threw up my hands. i yelled way down at the bottom of the sea with no one to hear me. there was a swirl of water, a cloud of mud, and my enemy vanished. he didn't like the noise any better than i liked him." the girls breathed sighs of relief. the captain chuckled. "oh, a diver is not in real danger from a shark," he went on, "his suit protects him. but there are plenty of other dangers. maybe i'll tell you some of them at another time. why, i declare, it is nearly sunset. you don't know it, children, but the bottom of the tropic sea has colors in it as beautiful as the lights in that sky. the sea-bottom, where the diver is apt to find pearl shells, is covered with all sorts of sea growths--sponges twelve feet high, coral cups like inverted mushrooms, sea-fans twenty feet broad." as the old diver talked, the girls could see the magic coral wreaths, glowing rose color and crimson, the tall ferns and sea flowers that waved with the movement of the water as the earth flowers move to the stirring of the wind. and there in the land of the mermaids, hidden between wonderful shells of mother-of-pearl, lie the jewels that are the purest and most beautiful in the world. madge's chin was in her hands. she did not hear the old captain get up and say good-bye. she was wishing, with all her heart, that she, too, might go down to the bottom of the sea to view its treasures. "madge," phil interrupted her reverie, "captain jules is going." madge put her soft, warm hands into the big man's hard, powerful ones. "good-bye," she said gratefully. "there is something i wish to tell you, but i won't until another time." miss jenny ann stared thoughtfully after the giant figure as captain jules left the houseboat and strode up the shore in search of a small skiff to take him home. "you girls have made an unusual friend," she said slowly to madge. "in many ways captain jules is rough. he may be uneducated in the wisdom of schools and books, but he is a great man with a great heart." before madge went to bed that night she wrote tom curtis. she told him how sorry they all were that he could not come at once to cape may. she also described the day's adventures. she made as light of their accident as possible, but she ended her letter by asking tom if he would not send her a book about pearl fishing. chapter x the goody-goody young man "philip holt has come, madge," announced phyllis alden a few days later. "he is staying at one of the hotels until mrs. curtis and tom arrive to open their cottage. he has already been calling on a number of mrs. curtis's friends here. now he has condescended to come to see us. miss jenny ann says we must invite him to luncheon; so close that book, if you please, and come help us to entertain him. i am sure you will be _so_ pleased to see him." madge frowned, but closed her book obediently. "what a bore, phil! i was just reading this fascinating book on pearl-fishing. a few valuable pearls have been found in these waters. there was one which was sold to a princess for twenty-five hundred dollars. who knows but the 'merry maid' may even now be reposing on a bank of pearls! dear me, here is that tiresome mr. holt! of course, we must be nice with him on mrs. curtis's account. i hope she and tom will soon come along. let us take mr. holt with us to the golf club this afternoon. we promised ethel swann to come and she won't mind our bringing him." the girls were not altogether surprised that the young people whom they had lately met at cape may were divided into two sets. the one had taken the girls under their protection and seemed to like them immensely. the other, headed by mabel farrar and roy dennis, treated them with cool contempt. but the girls felt able to take care of themselves. not one of them even inquired what story mr. dennis and miss farrar had told about their memorable meeting on the water. the cape may golf course stretches over miles of beautiful downs and the clubhouse is the gathering place for society at this summer resort. ethel swann bore off lillian and eleanor to introduce them to some of her friends, and the three girls followed the course of two of the players over the links. philip holt was plainly impressed by the smartly-dressed women and girls whom he saw about him. he was a tall, thin young man with sandy hair and he wore spectacles. he insisted that madge and phyllis should not forget to introduce him as the friend of mrs. curtis, who expected him to be her guest later on. indeed, philip holt talked so constantly and so intimately of mrs. curtis that madge had to stifle a little pang of jealousy. she had supposed, when she was in new york city, that mrs. curtis, who was very generous, only took a friendly interest in philip holt and his work among the new york poor, but to-day philip holt gave her to understand that mrs. curtis was as kind to him as though he were a member of her family. and madge wondered wickedly to herself whether tom curtis would be pleased to have him for a brother. she determined to interview tom on the subject as soon as he should return from chicago. later in the afternoon madge and phyllis were surprised to see roy dennis and mabel farrar come down the golf clubhouse steps and walk across the lawn toward them, smiling with apparent friendliness. madge's resentful expression softened. she did not bear malice, and she felt that she had said more to roy dennis about his treatment of them than she should have done. she, therefore, bowed pleasantly. phil followed suit. to their amazement they were greeted with a frozen stare by the newcomers, who walked to where the two girls were standing without paying the least attention to the latter. madge's color rose to the very roots of her hair. phil's black eyes flashed, but she kept them steadily fixed on the girl and man. "how do you do, mr. holt?" asked mabel in bland tones, addressing the girls' companion. "i believe i am right in calling you mr. holt. i have heard that you were a friend of mrs. curtis and her son. this is my friend, roy dennis. we are so pleased to meet any of dear mrs. curtis's _real_ friends. we should like to have you take tea with us." philip holt looked perplexed. he opened his mouth to introduce madge and phyllis to miss farrar, but the girls' expressions told the story. miss farrar and mr. dennis had purposely excluded the two girls from the conversation. for the fraction of a second philip holt wavered. mabel farrar was smartly dressed. roy dennis looked the rich, idle society man that he was. moneyed friends were always the most useful in mr. holt's opinion, he therefore turned to miss farrar with, "i shall be only too pleased to accompany you." "you'll excuse me," he turned condescendingly to madge and phil, "but mrs. curtis's friends wish me to have tea with them." madge smiled at the young man with such frank amusement that he was embarrassed. "oh, yes, we will excuse you," she said lightly. "please don't give another thought to us. miss alden and i wish you to consult your own pleasure. i am sure that you will find it in drinking tea!" she turned away, the picture of calm indifference, although she had a wicked twinkle in her eye. "well, if that wasn't the rudest behavior all around that i ever saw in my life!" burst out phil indignantly after the disagreeable trio had departed. "mrs. curtis or no mrs. curtis, i don't think we should be expected to speak to that ill-bred mr. holt again. the idea of his marching off with that girl and man after the way they treated us! i shall tell mrs. curtis just how he behaved as soon as i see her, then she won't think him so delightful." madge put her arm inside phil's. "you had better not mention it to mrs. curtis, phil. mrs. curtis is the dearest person in the world, but she is so lovely and so rich that she is used always to having her own way. she thinks that we girls are prejudiced against this mr. holt because he said the things he did about tania. by the way, i wonder what the little witch has against him? i mean to ask her some day. but let's not trouble about philip holt any more. he is just a toady. i don't care what he says or does. we have done our duty by him for this afternoon at least. he won't join us again. let's go over to that lovely hill and have a good, old-fashioned talk." phil's face cleared. after all, she and madge could get along much, better without troublesome outsiders. "isn't it a wonderful afternoon, phil?" asked the little captain after they had climbed the little hill and were seated on a grassy knoll. "we can see the ocean over there! wouldn't you like to be swimming down there under the water, where it is so cool and lovely and there would be nothing to trouble one?" "what a water-baby you are," smiled phil, giving her chum's arm a soft pressure. "i sometimes think that you must have come out of a sea-shell. i suppose you are thinking of the old pearl diver again." "phil," demanded madge abruptly, "have you ever thought of what profession you would have liked to follow if you had been born a boy instead of a girl?" "i do not have to think to answer that," replied phyllis, "i know. if i were a boy, i should study to become a physician, like my father; but even though i am a girl, i am going to study medicine just the same. as soon as we get through college i shall begin my course." "phil," madge's voice sounded unusually serious, "don't set your heart too much, dear, on my going to college with you in the fall. i don't know it positively, but i think that uncle is having some business trouble. he and aunt have been worried for the past year about some stocks they own. i shan't feel that i have any right to let them send me to college unless i can make up my mind that i shall be willing to teach to earn my living afterward. and i can't teach, phil, dear. i should never make a successful teacher," ended madge with a sigh. "i can't imagine you as a teacher," smiled phil, "but i am sure that you will marry before you are many years older." "marry!" protested madge indignantly. "why do you think i shall marry? why, i was wishing this very minute that i were a man so that i could set out on a voyage of discovery and sail around the world in a little ship of my own. or, think, one might be a pearl-diver, or lead some exciting life like that. now, phil alden, don't you go and arrange for me just to marry and keep house and never have a bit of fun or any excitement in my whole life!" phyllis laughed teasingly. "oh, you will have plenty of excitement, madge dear, wherever you are or whatever you do. don't you remember how miss betsey used to say that she knew something was going to happen whenever you were about? i suppose you would like to be a captain in the navy like your father, so that you could spend all your time on the sea." "no," returned madge, "i should want a ship of my own. i wouldn't like to be a captain in the navy. there, you always have to do just what you are told to do, and you know, phil, that obedience is not my strong point." the little captain laughed and shook her russet head. "you see, phil, i think that if i could go around the world, perhaps in some far-away land i would find my father waiting for me." for several minutes the two chums were silent. at last phil leaned forward and gave madge's arm a gentle pinch. "wake up, dear," she laughed, "perhaps some day you will own that little ship and go around the world in it. just now, however, we had better go on to the houseboat. i believe nellie and lillian are going to wait at the golf club until the last mail comes in, so they can bring our letters along home with them. we must say good-bye to that nice ethel swann. she is a dear, in spite of her ill-bred friends." phyllis and madge found miss jenny ann sitting in a steamer chair on the houseboat deck exchanging fairy stories with tania. the little girl knew almost as many as did her chaperon, but tania's stories were so full of her own odd fancies that it was hard to tell from what source they had come. "do you know the story of 'the little tin soldier,' tania?" miss jenny ann had just asked. "he was the bravest little soldier in the world, because he bore all kinds of misfortunes and never complained." with a whirl tania was out of miss jenny ann's lap and into madge's arms. the child was devoted to each member of the houseboat party, but she was madge's ardent adorer. she liked to play that she was the little captain's fairy godmother, and that she could grant any wish that madge might make. phil, madge and tania sat down at miss jenny ann's feet to hear more about "the brave little tin soldier." tania huddled close to madge, her black head resting against the older girl's curls, as she listened to the harrowing adventures that befell the tin soldier. the sun was sinking. away over the water the world seemed rose colored, but the shadows were deepening on the land. phil espied lillian and eleanor coming toward the houseboat. lillian waved a handful of white envelopes, but eleanor walked more slowly and did not glance up toward her friends. miss jenny ann rose hurriedly. "i must go in to see to our dinner," she announced. "phil, after you have spoken to the girls, will you come in to help me? madge may stay to look after tania." the little captain was absorbed in a quiet twilight dream, and as tania was in her lap she did not get up when phil went forward to meet lillian and eleanor. instantly phil realized that something was the matter with nellie. eleanor's face was white and drawn and there were tears in her gentle, brown eyes. lillian also looked worried and sympathetic, but was evidently trying to appear cheerful. "what is the matter, eleanor? has any one hurt your feelings?" asked phil immediately. eleanor was the youngest of the girls and always the one to be protected. phyllis guessed that perhaps some one of the unpleasant acquaintances of roy dennis and mabel farrar might have been unkind to her. but eleanor shook her head dumbly. "nellie has had some bad news from home," answered lillian, tenderly putting her arm about eleanor. "perhaps it isn't so bad as she thinks." madge overheard lillian's speech and, lifting tania from her lap, sprang to her feet. "nellie, darling, what is it? tell me at once!" she demanded. "if uncle and aunt are ill, we must go to them at once." "it isn't so bad as that, madge," answered eleanor, finding her voice; "only mother has written to tell us that father has lost a great deal of money. he has had to mortgage dear old 'forest house,' and if he doesn't get a lot more money by fall, 'forest house' will have to be sold." nellie broke down. the thought of having to give up her dear old virginia home, that had been in their family for five generations, was more than she could bear. madge kissed eleanor gently. in the face of great difficulties madge was not the harum-scarum person she seemed. "don't worry too much, nellie," she urged. "if uncle and aunt are well, then the loss of the money isn't so dreadful. somehow, i don't believe we shall have to give up 'forest house.' it would be too frightful! perhaps uncle will find the money in time to save it, or we shall get it in some way. i am nearly grown now. i ought to be able to help. anyhow, i don't mean to be an expense to uncle and aunt any more after this summer." madge's face clouded, although she tried to conceal her dismay. "do uncle and aunt want us to leave the houseboat and come home at once?" phil's and lillian's faces were as long and as gloomy as their other chums' at this suggestion. but eleanor shook her head firmly. "no; father says positively that he does not wish us to leave the houseboat until our holiday is over. it is not costing us very much and he wishes us to have a good time this summer, so that we can bear whatever happens next winter." no one had noticed little tania while the houseboat girls were talking. her eyes were bigger and blacker than ever, and as madge turned to go into the cabin she saw that there were tears in them. "what is it, tania?" putting her arms about the quaint child. "did you say that you didn't have all the money you wanted?" inquired tania anxiously. "i didn't know that people like you ever needed money. i thought that all poor people lived in slums and took in washing like old sal." madge laughed. "i don't suppose the people in the tenements are as poor as we are sometimes, tania, because they don't need so many things. but don't worry your head about me, little fairy godmother. i am sure that you will bring me good luck." chapter xi the beginning of trouble "madge, i am afraid that you and the girls are not having as good a time at cape may as i had hoped you would have," remarked mrs. curtis to the little captain about a week later as they strolled along the beautiful ocean boulevard that overlooked the sea. only the day before mrs. curtis and tom had returned from chicago. just behind them, lillian, miss jenny ann, phyllis, tom curtis and mrs. curtis's protã©gã©, philip holt, loitered along the beach. they were too far away to overhear the conversation of the two women. "on the contrary, we are having a perfectly beautiful time," answered madge, her face radiant with the pleasure of her surroundings. "i think cape may is one of the loveliest places in the whole world! and we girls have met the most splendid old sea captain. he has the dearest, snuggest little house up the bay! he was once a deep-sea diver and knows the most fascinating stories about the treasures of the sea." madge ceased speaking. she could tell from her friend's slightly bored expression that mrs. curtis was not interested in the story of a common sailor. "yes, madge, i know about all that," mrs. curtis returned a little coldly. "what i meant is that i fear you girls are not enjoying the social life of cape may, which is what i looked forward to for you. i do wish, dear, that you cared more for society and less for such people as this old sailor and a tenement child like tania. i doubt if this man is a fit associate for you." madge's blue eyes darkened. she thought of the splendid old sailor, with his great strength and gentle manners, his knowledge of the world and his fine simplicity, and of queer, loving little tania, but she wisely held her peace. "i am sorry, too, that i don't like society more if you wish it," she replied sweetly. "i do like the society of clever, agreeable people, but not--i like ethel swann and her friends immensely," she ended. "and, please, don't say anything against my old pearl diver, mrs. curtis, until you see him. i am sure that you and tom will think that he is splendid." mrs. curtis looked searchingly at madge, and madge returned her gaze without lowering her eyes. mrs. curtis's face softened. she found it hard to scold her favorite, but she had been very much vexed at the story that philip holt had repeated to her of madge's escapades at cape may, and how she accused roy dennis of cowardice when he had taken her and her friends on his boat after madge's and phil's own heedlessness had caused their skiff to be overturned. somehow, the tale of the throwing of the ball on board roy dennis's yacht and of frightening mabel farrar had also gone abroad in cape may. lillian had confided the anecdote to ethel swann under promise of the greatest secrecy. the story had seemed to ethel too ridiculous to keep to herself, so she had repeated it to another friend, after demanding the same promise that lillian had exacted from her. and so the story had traveled and grown until it was a very mischievous tale that philip holt had recounted to mrs. curtis, taking care that tom curtis was not about when he told it. mrs. curtis thought madge too old for such practical jokes. she also believed that madge should have more dignity and self-control. she loved her very dearly, and she wished her to come to live with her as her daughter after her own, daughter, madeleine, had married, but mrs. curtis was determined that the little captain should learn to be less impetuous and more conventional. "philip holt has told you something about me, hasn't he, mrs. curtis?" asked madge meekly, hiding the flash in her eyes by lowering her lids. "philip told me very little. he is the soul of honor," answered mrs. curtis quickly. "you are absurdly prejudiced against him. but with the little that he told me and what i have gathered from other sources, i feel that you have been most indiscreet. i can't help thinking that the various things that have happened may be laid at your door, and that the other girls have just stood by you, as they always do." madge bit her lips. "whatever has occurred that you don't like is my fault, mrs. curtis," she confessed, "and phil, lillian and nellie _have_ stood by me. i am sorry that you are angry." the other young people were coming closer. not for worlds would madge have had them overhear her conversation with mrs. curtis. she was too proud and too hurt to ask mrs. curtis just what philip holt had said against her. neither would she retaliate against him by telling her friend of his rudeness. mrs. curtis put one arm about madge. "it is all right, my dear," she said, softening a little, "but you must promise me that you will not do such harum-scarum things again, and that you will try to keep your temper." mrs. curtis was on the point of asking madge to give up her acquaintance with the sailor and not to see the man again, but she knew that her young friend was feeling a little hurt and no doubt resentful toward her, so she put off making her request until a later time. "tania has behaved very well, so far, hasn't she, madge?" mrs. curtis tactfully changed the subject. "i confess i am surprised. philip holt assured me that the child was continually in mischief in the tenement neighborhood where she lives. when he took her into the neighborhood house to try to help her she positively stole something. i am afraid tania's mother was not the woman you think she was; she was only a cheap little actress, a dancer." mrs. curtis glanced at her companion. madge was eyeing her seriously. "it isn't like you, mrs. curtis, dear, to say things against people. philip holt must have----" madge stopped abruptly. at the same time tom curtis came up from behind to join his mother and the girl. "come on, madge, and have a race with me across the sands," he urged. "mother will be trying to make you so grown-up that we can't have any sport at all. besides, you are looking pale. i am sure you need exercise. there is a crowd over there in front of the music pavilion. i will wager a five-pound box of candy that i can beat you to it. philip holt will entertain mother. she likes him better than she does the rest of us, anyhow, because he devotes his time to good works and to working good people," added tom teasingly, under his breath. while tom was talking madge darted off across the sands. she never would get over her love of running, she felt sure, until she was old and rheumatic. the color came back to her cheeks and the laughter to her eyes. tom was close behind her. "madge morton, you didn't give me a fair start," he protested, "you rushed away before i was ready. i thought you always played fair?" madge dropped into a walk. "i do try to, tom," she answered more earnestly than tom had expected. his remark had been made only in fun. "you believe in me, don't you, tom?" she added pleadingly. "now and forever, madge, through thick and thin," answered tom steadily. they had now come up nearer the crowd of people on the beach. up on a grand stand a band was playing an italian waltz, and an eager crowd had gathered, apparently to listen to the music. but the two young people soon saw that on the hard sand a child was dancing. tom stopped outside the circle of watchers, but madge went forward into it. she had at once recognized little tania! eleanor had been left on the houseboat to take care of the child, but eleanor was now nowhere to be seen, and her charge had wandered into mischief. tania was dancing in her most bewitching and wonderful fashion. madge could not help feeling a little embarrassed pride in her. the child was moving like a flower swayed by the wind. she poised first on one foot, then on the other, then flitted forward on both pointed toes, her thin, eager arms outstretched, curving and bending with the rhythm of the music. she wore her best white dress, the pride of her life, which eleanor had lately made for her. on her head she had placed a wreath of wild flowers, which she must have woven for herself. they were like a fairy crown on her dark head. with the love of bright colors, which she must have inherited from some italian ancestor, she had twisted a bright scarlet sash about her waist. again madge saw that tania was utterly unconscious of the audience about her. she looked neither to the right nor to the left, but straight upward to the turquoise-blue sky. how different tania's audience to-day from the crowd of people that had watched her on the street corner when eleanor and madge had first seen her! yet these gay society folk were even more fascinated by the child's wonderful art. they could better appreciate her remarkable dancing. tania did not even see her beloved madge, who was silently watching her. tania's usually pale cheeks glowed as scarlet as her sash. unconsciously the little girl's movements were like those of a butterfly, a-flutter with the joy of the sunshine and new life. the music stopped suddenly and with it tania's dance ceased as abruptly. she stood poised for a single instant on one dainty foot, with her graceful arms still swaying above her flower-crowned head. her audience watched her breathlessly, for the effect of the child's grace had been almost magical. "wasn't that a wonderful performance?" whispered tom in madge's ear. "the child is an artist! where do you suppose she learned to dance like that?" but tania had come back to earth in a brief second. to madge's mystification, tania started about among the people who had been watching her performance with her small hands clasped together like a cup. the child courtesied shyly to a fat old lady. her gesture was unmistakable. the woman rummaged in her chain pocket-book and dropped a silver quarter into tania's outstretched hands. the next onlooker was more generous. tania's eyes shone as she felt the size and weight of a big silver dollar. few people in the cape may crowd knew who tania was, or whence she had come. they probably thought that the object of the dance had been to earn money. for a few moments madge had been paralyzed by tania's peculiar actions. she did not realize what they meant. in this lapse of time the rest of their party joined them. it was the expression on mrs. curtis's face that made madge appreciate what tania was doing. "what on earth is tania about?" exclaimed lillian in puzzled tones. she saw the child standing before a young man who was evidently teasing her and refusing her request for money. "she has been dancing like a monkey with a hand organ," answered philip holt scornfully. "i am afraid cape may people will hardly understand it. it looks as though the young women on the 'merry maid' were in need of money." the young man laughed as though his last remark had been intended for a joke. "none of that talk, holt." madge caught tom's angry tone as she hurried forward to tania. the little captain could have cried with mortification and embarrassment. in the crowd of curious onlookers she caught sight of mabel farrar's and roy dennis's sneering faces. "tania!" she cried sharply. "what in the world are you doing? stop taking that money at once!" tania glanced around and discovered madge. instead of looking ashamed of herself, the child's face grew radiant. "madge," she cried, in a high voice that could be heard all about them, "it is all for you!" tania rushed forward with her outstretched hands overflowing with silver. madge could have sunk through the sands for shame. mrs. curtis's face flamed with anger and chagrin. she might have been able to explain to her friends that tania was only a street child and knew no better than to dance for money; but how could she ever explain the remark to madge? it looked as though madge had been a party to tania's dancing and begging. madge was overcome with embarrassment and humiliation. she knew that she must, for the minute, appear like a beggar to the crowd of cape may people. for just that instant she would have liked to repulse tania, to have thrust the child and her money away from her before every one. but a glance at tania's eager, happy face restrained her. she put her arm protectingly about the little girl, hiding her in the shelter of her body. "i don't want the money, tania," she whispered. "it wasn't right for you to have taken it from these people." "don't you want it?" faltered tania. "i thought you said last night that you and eleanor were very poor, and that you needed some money very much. all the time i was in bed last night i thought of what your fairy godmother could do to help you. i know how to do but one thing--to dance as my mother taught me. how can it be wrong to take the money from people? i have often done it in new york. they only gave it to me because they liked my dancing." madge could feel tania's hot tears on her hands. she clasped tania closer. "it isn't exactly wrong, tania; i was mistaken. it was just different. i will have to explain it to you afterward. now we must give the money back to the people again." holding tight to tania's hand, madge walked among the group of strangers, explaining tania's actions as best she could without hurting the little girl's feelings. it was one of the hardest things that the proud little captain had ever been called upon to do. but a part of the crowd had scattered. it was not possible to find them all and return their silver. tania was too puzzled and heart-broken to continue her errand long. she did not understand why madge had refused to take her gift, which she thought she had fairly earned. finally she could hold back her sobs no longer. dropping her few remaining nickels and dimes on the sand she broke away from madge's clasp and ran like a little wild creature away from everyone. madge stopped for just a second among her friends before following tania. "you see, madge," remarked mrs. curtis coldly, "tania is quite impossible. i knew the child would get you into difficulties, and it is just as i feared. she must be sent away at once." but madge shook her head with a decision that was unmistakable. "no," she answered quietly, "tania shall not be sent away. none of you understand, and i can't explain it to you now, but tania thought she was doing something for nellie and me. she was foolish, of course, and i will see that she never does it again." with her head held high, madge hurried away in pursuit of her fairy godmother. chapter xii "the anchorage" madge was alone in the "water witch," which had been mended and was as good as new. she had just come from an interview with mrs. curtis, in which she had tried to make her friend understand the reason for tania's behavior of the day before. mrs. curtis, however, would not take the little captain's view of the matter. she dwelt on the fact that tania had slipped away from the houseboat without letting eleanor know of it, and that she was a naughty and disobedient child. madge also believed that mrs. curtis no longer loved her so dearly as in the early days of their acquaintance. the young girl was sure that some influence was being brought to bear to prejudice her friend against her. but what could she do? philip holt was trying to destroy the affection mrs. curtis felt for madge in order to ingratiate himself. it looked as though he were going to succeed. madge was too proud to ask questions or to accuse philip holt with deliberately trying to influence her friend against her. although she was only a young girl, she realized that love does not amount to very much in this world unless it has faith and sympathy behind it. so long as she had done nothing she knew to be wrong, and for which she should make an apology, she could only wait to see if mrs. curtis's affection would be restored to her or cease altogether. as usual, when she was troubled, the impulse came to her to be alone on the water. she had explained to miss jenny ann that she might be gone for several hours, so there was no immediate reason why she should return to the houseboat. the other girls were yachting with some cape may friends. madge rowed her boat up the bay toward the home of the old sailor. she was not far from the very place where captain jules had rescued tania and her a short while before. she thought of the strange-looking beam sticking up out of the sandy bottom of the bay on which tania's dress had caught. it had certainly looked like the broken mast of an old ship. she determined to ask captain jules if any wrecks had recently occurred near that part of the bay, and concluded that she would row up to the sailor's house for the express purpose of asking him this question. of course, this was only an excuse. she was deeply anxious to call on the old sailor again and, if possible, persuade him to keep his promise to her to show her his diving suit, and to tell her more of his strange experiences at the bottom of the sea. captain jules was sitting in his favorite place on the big rock just by the water in front of his house. he was mending the sail of his fishing boat. madge's boat came round a slight curve in the bay, dancing toward him. this time captain jules spied his guest and saluted her as he would have greeted a superior officer. the little captain blushed prettily as she returned his salute in her best naval fashion. the old captain looked hurriedly toward his small house. there was no sight or sound of any one about. he seemed uncomfortable for a moment, then his face cleared. his deep blue eyes gleamed and his mouth set squarely. "coming ashore to make me a call, miss madge?" he asked invitingly. madge nodded. "if i shan't be in your way. you must let me just sit there on the rock by you. i have been reading a perfectly thrilling book about pearl-divers," she announced as soon as she was comfortably settled, "but none of the stories were as thrilling as the ones you told us. the book said that pearls had been found in new jersey. i wonder if you have ever thought of diving down to the bottom of this bay to see if it holds any treasures?" the sailor was studying the girl's face so earnestly that he forgot to answer her. "oh, yes, i have thought of it," he replied a little later, smiling at his guest. "a man never wholly forgets his trade. but what a taste you have for sea yarns, little lady! i half-way think, now, that if you had not been born a girl you might have followed the sea for your calling." "i should have loved it best of anything in the world," answered madge fervently, gazing at the beautiful expanse of sunny, blue water. "i never feel as much at home anywhere as i do on the sea. you see," she continued confidingly, "i have a reason for loving the water. my father was a sailor. he was a captain in the united states navy once." "'a captain in the united states navy,'" captain jules repeated huskily. "i thought so. i thought so." "why?" asked madge wonderingly. captain jules pulled his needle slowly through a heavy piece of sail cloth. it must have stuck, he was so long about it, and his big hands fumbled it so clumsily. "oh, because of your liking for the water, miss madge," he returned quietly. "you see, there are two great loves born in the hearts of men and women that you never can get away from. the one is the love of the soil and the other is the love of the sea. no matter what your life is, if you have those two passions in you, you've got to get back to the country or to the water when your chance comes. but why do you say that your father was once a captain in the united states navy? is he dead?" "i am afraid so," replied madge faintly. of late she was beginning to believe that her uncle and aunt, mrs. curtis and all her older friends were right. if her father were not dead in all these long years, surely he would have tried to find her. he would have sought to discover some news of the daughter whom he had left when she was only a baby. captain jules seemed about to say something, then, changed his mind. he shook his great, shaggy, gray head and looked at madge tenderly. "is your mother living?" he inquired. "no, she died soon after my father went away to join his ship on his last voyage," madge went on sadly, her eyes filling with tears. she was half tempted to tell the old sailor her father's story, then decided to reserve it until some future day when she felt that she knew him better. in spite of her liking for the old sea captain, she realized that she had hardly known him long enough to make him her confidant. captain jules continued to sew. he opened his mouth, to speak once or twice and then closed it again. finally he asked madge huskily, "what was your father's name, child?" "captain robert morton," replied madge slowly. "he was from virginia. if i knew him to be alive, i'd be the happiest girl in the world." captain jules cast a peculiar glance in her direction which madge did not see. "my dear little mate," he said slowly, "some day a young man will come along who will be far more to you than any old father could have been. but what made your father go away? if he was a captain in the navy, what made him resign his command?" "i can't tell you that to-day, captain jules. perhaps i'll tell you some day when i know you better; in fact, i am sure i shall tell you. perhaps when i do tell you i shall ask you to do me a great favor. perhaps i shall ask you to help me hunt for him. i'll tell you a secret. uncle and aunt have been good to me and i love them dearly, but i want my own father, and i can't, i won't, believe he is dead. that is, not until i have absolute proof." "little girl!" exclaimed captain jules in such a strange voice that madge was startled, "i promise you that i'll help you find him." then in a calmer tone of voice he said: "i told you that i would show you my diver's suit. if you will wait on my porch i will go around inside the house to see if i can find it." he rose hastily and disappeared into the house, leaving madge to wonder why the few words she had spoken concerning her father had affected the old sea captain so strangely. chapter xiii tania's nemesis captain jules was gone a long time, but madge did not mind waiting for him. she loved the odd house with its roof shaped like three sails and its restful name, "the anchorage." when captain jules came back with the great suit his face was pale, almost haggard, but he was smiling good-humoredly. "come, stand over here by this window while i show you my old togs. i haven't looked at this diving suit myself for several years." madge was too much interested in the diving dress to glance in at the captain's window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the inside of the snug little house that she had not yet been invited to enter. the diving suit was much lighter than she had expected to find it. it weighed only about twenty pounds. it was made of water-proof material and had a large helmet of copper with great circular glasses in front that looked like goggle eyes. captain jules explained that there were two lines with which the diver communicated with the outside world. the one was the air line, and it was used to pump air down to the man below in the water. the life line was usually hitched around the diver's waist. this line was let out to any depth the diver required, and by pulling on it the diver could signal to the men who followed his course: one jerk, pull up; two, more air; three, lower the bag. madge was utterly fascinated with the netted bag, made of rope, that captain jules showed her. he told her that the pearl-diver always carried a bag to hold the treasures that he finds at the bottom of the sea. to her vivid imagination, the empty bag was even now filled with shining pearls, the rarest treasures of the sea. the young girl persuaded captain jules to let her dress up in his diver's suit, when she stumbled about the veranda in it, her gay laughter mingling with the captain's deep chuckles of delight. "o captain jules!" she pleaded, "do take me down to the bottom of the sea with you. i have always wanted to be a mermaid, and this may be the only chance i shall ever have. 'only divers know of things below, of water's green and fishes' sheen,'" she chanted gayly. the old sea captain gazed at madge, breathing a deep sigh of satisfaction. "i believe you have the courage to do it if i were to let you try," he murmured. "it comes nearer to convincing me than anything else." "captain jules," continued the girl earnestly, "please, please let's go down to the bottom of this bay. you could take me with you and then there wouldn't be any danger. we have been down together without diving suits and here we are safe and sound on land again! you said you thought there might be pearls in the oyster beds of this bay. we could look, at any rate. i saw the most wonderful things when i was searching for tania. it seemed as though her dress was caught on the broken spar of an old ship, though, of course, i couldn't be sure. have there been many wrecks in this bay? do you suppose it was a ship's spar?" "there are always wrecks on the water, child. and you mustn't be talking nonsense about diving down in this bay along with me," answered captain jules severely. he kept his eyes fastened on his diving suit with an affectionate gleam in them. "maybe, though, i will make a diving party of one and go down in the bay alone. i'd give you the pearls i found down there." madge shook her head. "that wouldn't be fair," she said, setting her red lips together obstinately. captain jules, she felt sure, would be easy to manage. if he did any diving in the delaware bay within the next few weeks, he must take her with him. she wrote secretly to new york city to ask what a diver's suit would cost. she was discouraged by the answer, but she did not give up hope. she was also very careful not to let miss jenny ann or mrs. curtis know anything of the wild scheme that was evolving in her head. almost every day the girls saw captain jules. either they went up the bay to call on him, or he made a visit to the houseboat. the old captain never invited the girls inside his house, but they had great frolics in his tidy yard. the captain explained that his house was not neat enough to be seen by young ladies, as it had only a man housekeeper. even mrs. curtis became a little less prejudiced against captain jules. she could not but confess that he was a fine old man, though she still did not see why madge was so much attracted by him. but the girl bided her time. the four girls and their friends went off on long fishing trips with captain jules. sometimes mrs. curtis, tom, and their guest, philip holt, went with them. the enmity between madge and philip increased every day, nor did madge any longer make much effort to conceal her dislike for him. philip holt had a special reason for his dislike for madge morton. he had come to cape may with the idea of making mrs. curtis do an important favor for him upon which his whole future depended. he feared that madge, who looked upon him as a hypocrite, would find out his true character, tell her friend, and thus ruin his prospects. a singular misfortune had befallen him. who could have guessed that one of the few people who knew his real history, tania, the little street child, would be picked up by the houseboat girls and brought to cape may for the summer? tania must not be allowed to betray him. if she did, mrs. curtis must not believe either madge or tania. the young man had to lay his plans carefully, but he was a born hypocrite and he meant to accomplish his end. his first opportunity to further his cause came one morning when he and mrs. curtis were sitting on the veranda of her summer cottage. tom had gone out sailing and was not expected back for several hours, so that philip believed that the coast was clear. he began by telling mrs. curtis something of the charity work that he had recently done in new york city and so brought the subject about to tania. "dear mrs. curtis, you are so generous," the young man said admiringly. "i have just learned that after the summer holiday is over you intend to send miss morton's protã©gã©, tania, to a boarding school. it is so kind in you." mrs. curtis shook her head. "oh, no," she answered, "it is very little to do. really, i don't see what else could be done with the child. she is very queer and not attractive to me, but madge is fond of her and, as i am very fond of madge, i shall do what is best for the little girl." "ah," murmured philip holt vaguely, "but do you feel sure that a boarding school is the best place for the girl? she is so unruly, so untruthful! i fear that she would give you a great deal of trouble and responsibility unless she were placed under greater restraint. i have wondered for some time what should be done for the child. she has caused a lot of mischief among the children on the street in her tenement section. it seems to me that she ought to be sent to some kind of an institution where she would be more closely watched--an asylum or home for incorrigible children." mrs. curtis looked worried and bit her lips. "that is rather hard on the child, isn't it? still, i could not undertake to be responsible for tania's good behavior at school. she seems very hard to control. i will watch her more closely, and, if she shows more signs of untruthfulness, i shall have to consider your suggestion. however, i will talk the matter over with madge. i wish you would walk down to the houseboat for me and invite the girls to come up to the hotel for luncheon. i hope they are not off somewhere with captain jules. he seems to claim the greater share of their attention lately." philip holt walked off, very well pleased with his interview. he had conveyed to mrs. curtis precisely the impression he had intended to convey. ever since his arrival at cape may philip holt had wished to see little tania alone. he had warned the child that she was not to behave as though she had ever seen him before, yet he was still afraid that she might make a confidante of madge. he needed to make his threat to her more terrifying. he decided to find her and intimidate her so thoroughly that she would not dare betray her previous acquaintance with him. there was but one person in the world of whom the queer, elf-like tania was afraid. that person was philip holt! she had feared him since the day of her own mother's death, and the very thought of him was enough to fill her childish soul with terror. tania was playing alone on the sands near that houseboat at the time mrs. curtis and philip holt were discussing her future. madge and miss jenny ann were inside the houseboat, within calling distance of tania, but not where they could see her. the little girl had just built a house of shining pebbles and was gazing at it with a pleased smile when she heard a step near her on the sand. tania stared up at philip's thin, blonde face in terror-stricken silence. "tania," the young man asked harshly, "have you told any one down here that you have ever seen or known me before?" tania shook her head mutely. "remember, if you do, i am going to have you shut up in a big house with iron bars at the windows where you can never go out or see your friends any more," philip holt went on, keeping his voice lowered to a whisper. slowly tania's black eyes dropped. she tried to be brave and to pretend that she did not care, but the loss of her freedom was the one thing that tania feared with all her soul. if she were shut up somewhere, how could she ever talk to her fairies, or see the blue sky that she so loved? and now, to be parted from the girls forever was too dreadful! indeed, she would not dare to tell what she knew. philip holt was sure of it. it was at that moment that madge slipped out on the houseboat deck to see if tania were all right. to her surprise she saw that philip holt was talking to the little girl. she had not thought that philip holt cared enough for children to waste a minute's time with them. she therefore wondered at his sudden interest in tania. madge walked quietly off the houseboat. she was wearing tennis shoes and her softly-shod feet made no sound. she caught one glimpse of tania's mute, white face and stopped short in time to hear philip say: "even if you do tell that old sal is my mother, tania, no one will believe you. she herself will deny it and help me to have you shut up," declared philip holt menacingly. madge caught each word as though it had been addressed to her. for tania's sake, and because she knew that for many reasons it was wiser, she held her peace for the time being. "how do you do, mr. holt?" she asked innocently. "i just saw you from the deck of the houseboat." philip holt leaped to his feet. but madge's eyes were so clear and serene, her face so calm, that it was utterly impossible she could have overheard him. philip delivered mrs. curtis's message and then left the two girls together. madge dropped down on the sands by tania and put her arm about her. "you need never tell me who mr. holt is, nor why you are afraid of him, tania," she whispered; "i overheard what he said, and you need not be afraid. i will take care of you!" "he is the wicked genii," faltered tania, "who hated the princess and wanted to drive her away from her kingdom in fairyland." "but he can't harm you, tania, dear," comforted madge. "he dare not try to take you away from us. i am going to tell mrs. curtis all about this wicked genii and if i'm not mistaken it will be he, not you who is sent away." chapter xiv captain jules makes a promise little by little madge was able to put together the whole story of philip holt's life. he was old sal's son, and "holt" was not his own name, but he rarely came near his mother, never gave her any help, and denied his relationship with her whenever it was necessary. when philip murphy was a small boy, he had been taken into the home of a wealthy family named holt, but he had never been legally adopted as their child. he was raised in luxury and had made a great many wealthy friends, and he had learned to love money more than anything else in the world. but his rich patrons would not allow him entirely to desert his own mother. twice every month he was made to go to see old sal murphy in her tenement home on the east side. philip holt, who now went by the name of his foster parents, fairly loathed these visits. it was because of his hatred of them that he began to take his spite out on tania when he was a lad of about fifteen, and poor tania a baby of only six years old. tania's mother had died in the same tenement where old sal lived. there had been no one who wanted the little girl, so old sal had taken her, beaten and starved her, and made her useful in any way that she could. when philip holt had grown to manhood his foster parents lost most of their money. a little later they died, leaving their foster son nothing. the young man had been used to luxury and rich friends, and he could not give them up, therefore he told his wealthy friends that because he had once been a poor boy he meant to devote his life to charity. he proposed to work among the new york poor and asked their cooperation. large sums of money were given him to be used for charity, but philip holt believed too strongly in the theory that charity begins at home. whenever it was possible he used a part of this money for himself. to make more, he began speculating in wall street. he lost two thousand, then five thousand dollars of the money that had been entrusted to him. for almost a year he had been the treasurer of a new york charitable organization, and the time was near at hand when he must give a report of the money that he had misused. he knew that disgrace, imprisonment, stared him in the face unless he could persuade mrs. curtis to advance him five thousand dollars for some charitable purpose, or give it to him for himself. he, therefore, did not intend to be balked in his plan by either madge or tania, no matter what desperate measures he had to employ. so there were two persons at cape may who came to believe that they stood in dire need of money. yet they wished it for very different reasons: philip holt wanted money to save himself from disgrace; madge desired it to help her uncle and aunt save their old home, "forest house," to send eleanor back to graduate at miss tolliver's in the fall, to start on her search for her father, and, last of all, to take care of tania. for madge had managed the little waif's affairs most undiplomatically. when she discovered the threat that philip held over tania if she told his secret, the little captain went to mrs. curtis with the story. she did not wish her friend to be deceived by the young man, so she confided to mrs. curtis that philip holt, who was supposedly the son of some old friends, was really the child of old sal of the tenements. mrs. curtis thought that madge must be mistaken. she wrote to old sal to ask her if it were true. the irish woman was devoted to her son. she would have done anything in the world not to disgrace him. she answered mrs. curtis's letter by declaring that philip holt was no relative of hers, but a young man whom she knew because of his kindness to the poor. mrs. curtis was indignant. she insisted that tania had told madge a falsehood, and that philip holt was right in his opinion of tania. it would not be well to send the child to a school; she should be put in some kind of an institution. this, however, madge was determined should never happen. she had no money of her own, nor did she know where she was to obtain the means, but she made up her mind to find some way to provide for her quaint little fairy godmother. the morning after madge's disquieting talk with mrs. curtis the four girls and tania wandered up the bay to spend the morning in the woods near the water. phyllis carried a book that she meant to read aloud, madge a box of luncheon, and eleanor and lillian their sewing. tania skipped along with her hand in madge's. john had promised to join them later in the day if he returned in time from his trip on the water. the girls settled themselves under some trees whence they could command a view of the land and the bay. madge lay down in the soft grass and rested her head in her hands. she meant to listen to phil's reading, not to puzzle over her own worries. phil's book gave a thrilling account of the early days in the delaware bay, when it was the favorite cruising place for pirates. it was rather hard to believe, when the girls gazed out on the smooth, blue water, that it had once been the scene of so many fierce adventures with pirates. once a crew of seventy men, belonging to the famous captain kidd, had actually sailed up the delaware bay and frightened the people of philadelphia. madge had forgotten to listen. she could hear phil's voice, but not her words. the history of piracy, of course, was very thrilling, but madge did not see how any long-ago dead and buried pirates or their hidden treasures could help her out of her present difficulties. she stood in need of real riches. a sailboat dipped across the horizon and headed for the landing not far from where the girls were sitting, but no one of them noticed it. "look ahoy! look ahoy!" a friendly voice cried out from across the water. phyllis closed her book with a snap, lillian and eleanor dropped their sewing, tania ran to the water's edge, and madge sat up. it was captain jules who had hailed them. "well, my hearties, is this a summer camp?" demanded the old sailor as his boat came near the land. "i have been all the way to the houseboat to find you. i have something to show you." captain jules's broad face shone with good humor. he was clad in his weather-beaten tarpaulins, and on his shoulder perched the monkey. madge covered the sides of her curly head with her hands. "please don't let the monkey pull my hair this morning," she pleaded as the captain came up. he tossed the monkey over to tania, who cuddled it affectionately in her arms, and began talking softly to it. then captain jules seated himself on the grass and the houseboat girls gathered about him in a circle. he put one great hand in his pocket. "i've some presents for you," he announced, trying to look very serious, but smiling in spite of himself. "what are they?" asked lillian eagerly. "that's telling," returned the captain. "you must guess." "shells," said tania quickly. captain jules shook his head. "you're warm, little girl," he replied, "but you haven't guessed right yet." lillian sighed. "i never could guess anything," she remarked sadly. "please do tell us what it is." the captain relented and drew out of his pocket a handful of what seemed to be either oyster or mussel shells. "you've brought some oysters for our luncheon, haven't you?" guessed eleanor. "you must stay and eat them with us." captain jules chuckled. "oysters are out of season, child, and these are never good to eat." but madge had clapped her hands together suddenly, her eyes shining. "you have been down to the bottom of the bay, haven't you, captain jules? and you've found some pearls!" captain jules shook his head. "i wouldn't call them pearls, exactly. they're too little and too poor. but come, now; maybe they are seed pearls. i went down under the water with the men who were looking over the oyster beds yesterday. pearl oysters are not found in beds, like the edible oysters, so i wandered around on the bottom of the bay a bit and picked up these." the captain extended his great hand. five pairs of eager eyes peered into it. there lay four nearly round, thick shells, horny and rough with tiny little pearls embedded in them. "'pearls are angel's tears'," quoted phil softly. captain jules seemed worried. "i searched about everywhere in the bay, but i could only find these four tiny pearls, and pretty lucky i was to find them!" the sailor continued. "they aren't of much value, but i wanted to give them to five girls, and that's just the difficulty." the captain looked at the houseboat party, which now included tania, as though he did not know just what he should make up his mind to do. "let's draw straws for them," suggested eleanor sensibly. madge shook her head. "no; captain jules is to give them to you and to leave me out. remember, some stranger gave me a handsome pearl when i graduated. i have never had it mounted." madge slipped her arm confidingly through the old sea captain's and gazed into his face with her most earnest expression. "captain jules is going to do something else for me; he is going down to the bottom of the bay again in his diving suit, and he is going to take me with him." "what a ridiculous idea!" protested eleanor. "just as though captain jules would think of doing any such thing." lillian laughed unbelievingly, but phil's face was serious. "it would be awfully jolly, wouldn't it? there wouldn't be any danger if captain jules should take you. do please take madge down with you, and then take me," she insisted coaxingly. captain jules shook his head, but the little captain observed that he did not look half so shocked at the idea as he had the first time she proposed it. this was encouraging. phil took hold of one of the captain's hands, and madge the other. "please, please, _please_!" they pleaded in chorus. "miss jenny ann wouldn't let you," objected captain jules faintly. "but if we were to get her permission," argued madge triumphantly, "then you would take us down to the bottom of the bay. i just knew you would, you are so splendid! i shall send to new york to see if we can rent a diving suit." "never mind about that, i'll see about the suit," promised captain jules. "but it's all nonsense, and i have never said that i would take you. i wish i weren't a sailor. there is an old saying that a sailor can never refuse anything to a woman." "here comes tom," announced lillian hurriedly. "then don't say anything to him about the diving," warned madge. "he will think it is perfectly dreadful for girls to attempt it." chapter xv the great adventure the news that old captain jules fontaine, the retired pearl diver, whose history was a mystery to most of the inhabitants at cape may, was to take madge morton down to the bottom of delaware bay with him spread through the town and seaside resort like wildfire. it was in vain that the houseboat party and captain jules tried to keep the affair a secret. there were necessary arrangements to be made, men to be engaged to assist in the diving operations; it was impossible to deny everything. at first the plan seemed to outsiders like mere midsummer madness. then the story began to grow. cape may residents learned that captain jules had found pearls in the bottom of the bay. no one would believe the captain's statement that the pearls were of little value; gossip made the tiny pearls grow larger and larger, until they were fit for an empress. captain jules was besieged at his little house up the bay, although, as usual, he kept the door fastened against intruders. half the fishermen and oystermen in the vicinity begged to be permitted to accompany the old sea diver in his descent into the water. captain jules politely explained that he needed no companions; he was merely going on a diving expedition to amuse two of his friends, phyllis alden and madge morton, who had a taste for watery adventure. he did not expect to find anything of value in the bottom of the bay. they were going down merely for sport. there was one person at cape may who listened eagerly to any tale of the fabulous riches that the old pearl diver was evidently expecting to unearth. he was philip holt. the time of his visit at cape may was rapidly passing. mrs. curtis was exceedingly kind and interested in her guest, but philip did not feel that he dared approach her too abruptly with the request for so large a sum of money as five thousand dollars. besides, philip holt knew that tom curtis disliked him heartily. tom was not likely to approve a man whom madge mistrusted; nor would mrs. curtis give away or lend five thousand dollars without first consulting her son. so the marvelous tale of the pearls to be found in the delaware bay rooted itself in philip holt's imagination. here was another way to get out of his scrape. he was not fond of adventure, but he would do anything in the world for money. perhaps he could find pearls enough not only to pay his debt, but to make him rich forever afterward. quietly, and without a word to any one, philip holt made a secret visit to the house of the three sails. he implored captain jules to make him his diving companion. he attempted to bribe him with sums of money that he did not possess. he even threatened the old sailor that he would make investigations about his life and expose any secrets that the captain might wish to keep. captain jules only laughed at these threats. he was not going down in the bay for treasures, he declared. he expected to find absolutely nothing of any value. positively he would not allow any one to accompany him but the two girls. madge and phyllis had a hard fight to persuade miss jenny ann to give her consent to their plan for playing mermaid. but she was getting so accustomed to the exciting adventures of her girls that, when captain jules assured her there was really no special danger, so long as he kept a close watch on the diver with him, she finally agreed to the scheme. captain jules gave the two girls every kind of instruction in the art of diving that he thought necessary, and the day of the great watery adventure was set for the week ahead. on the morning of tuesday, july 12th, madge awoke at daybreak. she felt a delicious, shivery thrill pass over her that was one part fear and the other part rapture. "phil," she whispered a few seconds later, when she heard her chum stirring in the berth above her, "can you feel fins growing where your feet are? your flop in the bed sounded as though you were a real mermaid! just think, at ten o'clock sharp we are going down to explore a new world! i wonder if there were ever any girl divers before? you are awfully good to let me go down first." "no, i am not," answered phil soberly. "if there is any danger, i am letting you go down to it first. but i shall watch above the water, with all my eyes, to see that everything goes right. the captain has explained the whole business of diving to us so thoroughly that i believe i can tell if anything is wrong with you below the surface. you'll be careful, won't you, madge? you know you are usually rather reckless. don't stay down too long." "oh, captain jules won't let me be reckless this time. we are not going down into very deep water, anyway, and a professional diver can stay under several hours when the water is only about five fathoms deep." madge and phyllis ate a very light breakfast. captain jules had told them that a diver must never go down into the water on a full stomach, as it would make him too short-winded. while the two prospective divers were eating poor miss jenny ann was wondering what had ever induced her to give her consent to so mad an enterprise as this diving. every effort had been made to keep a crowd away from the pier from which captain jules meant to send out the boats with the tenders, who were the men to look after the safety of madge and himself. as the girls came up, with miss jenny ann, to join captain jules they saw twenty or thirty people about. mrs. curtis and tom, accompanied by philip holt, had come down to the pier. mrs. curtis would hardly speak to madge, she was so angry at the risk she believed the little captain was running. she and madge had not been very friendly since they had disagreed so utterly in madge's report of the real character and name of philip holt. madge and phyllis each wore a close fitting, warm woolen dress. madge had tucked up her red-brown curls into a tight knot. her eyes were glowing, but her face was white and her lips a little less red when captain jules came forward to fasten her into her diving suit. "don't attempt it, madge, if you are frightened," urged miss jenny ann, who was feeling dreadfully frightened herself. "i am sure captain jules will forgive you if you back out." captain jules looked at madge searchingly. her eyes smiled bravely into his, although her heart was going pit-a-pat. "miss madge is not afraid," answered captain jules curtly. "robert morton's daughter has no right to know fear." madge first slipped her feet into a pair of heavy leather boots. she gave a gay laugh as she slipped into her rubber cloth suit, which was made in one piece. "i feel just like a walrus," she confided to tom curtis, who was watching her with set lips. then madge and captain jules, who was in exactly the same costume, got into their boats and moved out a little distance from the shore. tom curtis had asked captain jules's consent to sit in one of the boats with phil. at the last moment philip holt stepped calmly into the other. no one stopped to argue with him, or to thrust him out; the whole party was too much excited. not for all the pearls in all the seas would captain jules fontaine have allowed one hair of madge's head to be injured. but he really did not believe that she would be in any danger under the water with him. he had arranged every detail of the diving perfectly. he would watch her every movement at the bottom of the bay. to tell the truth, captain jules was immensely proud of madge's and phil's bravery in desiring to accompany him. the final moment for the dive arrived. madge waved her hand to the crowd of her friends lining the shore. she flung back her head and looked gayly, triumphantly, up at the blue sky above her, with its sweep of white, sailing clouds. below her the water looked even more deeply blue. "remember, madge," whispered captain jules calmly, "the one quality a diver needs more than anything else is presence of mind. keep a clear head under the water and nothing shall harm you, i swear. but above all, don't forget your signals." with his own hands captain jules fastened the brass corselet about madge's slender neck and set a big copper helmet which he screwed over her head to her corselet. madge then surveyed the world only through the glass windows at each side of her head and in front. her air-tube entered her helmet at the back. two men in one of the boats were to keep the young girl diver supplied with oxygen by pumping fresh air down through this tube. a moment later captain jules stood rigged in the same costume as madge. "steady, my girl," captain jules warned her. "aye, aye, captain," returned madge quietly, "i'm ready. let us go down together to the bottom of the bay." "pump away," ordered the captain. there was a splash on the surface of the clear water, a long-drawn gasp from madge's friends; then a few bubbles rose. rapidly, skillfully, madge's tenders played out her life and pipe lines, and madge morton disappeared from the world of men. captain jules made his plunge a few seconds in advance of his companion. in the boat where tom curtis and phyllis alden sat there was a breathless, intense silence. the boy and girl happened to be in the boat with the men who were looking out for the welfare of captain jules. philip holt was with madge's tenders. phyllis knew that there was but one way in which she could follow her chum's course below the surface of the water. she could watch her life and air lines. captain jules had made it plain to phyllis that all the time the diver is under water small ripples will appear near his air line. these bubbles are caused by the air that the diver breathes out from the valve in the side of his diving helmet. phyllis watched the lines doggedly. captain jules was to keep madge under water only about fifteen or twenty minutes, but at that a minute may appear longer than an hour. suddenly phyllis alden discovered that the man who was tending madge's air pump seemed to be working less vigorously. he pumped unevenly. once he swayed, as though he were about to fall over in his seat. in a second it flashed over phyllis that the man was ill. he was a strong, red-faced individual, but his face turned to a kind of ghastly pallor. it was all so quick that phil had no time to speak from her boat. philip holt, who was in the same boat with the man, grasped the situation as quickly as phyllis did. with a single motion he took the tender's place at the air-pump. phil saw that he was pumping away with vigor. at this moment phil turned to speak to tom curtis. "tom, how long have they been under the water?" she whispered. "ten minutes," returned tom, glancing hastily at his watch. "it seems ten hours," murmured phil, as though she dared not speak aloud. tug, tug! phil thought she saw madge's air line give two desperate jerks. two pulls at the line was the diver's signal for more air. phil knew that without a doubt. yet philip holt seemed to be pumping vigorously. at least, he had been only the second before when phil last looked at him. again phil saw madge's air line jerk twice. tom curtis and the two men in captain jules's boat were vainly trying to interpret some signals that captain jules was making to them. the two boats were at no great distance apart. "i am afraid something is the matter below, phil," tom curtis turned to mutter hoarsely. but phyllis alden, who had been sitting near him a moment before, was no longer there. phyllis believed she saw that philip holt was only pretending to pump sufficient air down to madge. she may have been wrong. who could ever tell? but phil knew there was no time to discuss the matter. one minute, two minutes, five or ten--phil did not know how long a diver at the bottom of the water can be shut off from his supply of fresh air and live. she did not mean to wait, to ask questions, or to lose time. phil made a flying leap from the skiff that held her to the one in which philip holt sat by the air-pump. she landed in the water, just alongside the boat. quietly, though more quickly than she had ever moved before in her life, phil climbed into the boat and thrust philip holt away from the air pump. in the minute it had taken her to make her plunge she had seen madge's signal again, but this time the line jerked more feebly than it had before. phil set the pump to working again; the signal answered from below, "all is well!" the tender had recovered from his attack of faintness and resumed his work at madge's airline. but philip holt sat crouched in the bottom of the boat, his face white with anger. what would phyllis alden's action suggest but that he was trying to suffocate madge in the water below? whether or not philip holt meant to stifle madge morton he himself never really knew. the impulse came to him as he placed his hands on her air-pump. it flashed across his mind that it was madge who had tried to injure his prospects with mrs. curtis, and who had kept him from going down with captain jules to search for the pearls that he firmly believed would be found at the bottom of the bay. it was while these thoughts passed through philip holt's mind his pressure on madge's air-pump had wavered. but phyllis alden had discovered it. she gave him no opportunity either for action or regret. chapter xvi a strange pearl madge felt herself in a great fairy world peopled with giants. every thing below the water is magnified a thousandfold. slowly she went down and down! the fishes splashed and tumbled about her, hurrying to get away from this strange, new sea-monster that had come into their midst. the little captain felt no mental sensation except one of wonder and of awe; no physical impression save a pressure as of a great weight on her head and a roaring of mighty waters in her ears. she no longer had any idea of being afraid. at the first plunge into the water she had shut her eyes, but now, as she approached the bottom of the bay, she kept them wide open. the water was clear as crystal, like the reflection in a mammoth mirror. she could see nearly fifty feet ahead of her. captain jules walked just in front of her, swinging his great body from side to side, peering down into the sandy bottom of the bay. madge discovered that the only way in which she could get a view, except the one directly in front of her, was by turning her head inside her helmet, to look through her side window glasses. the goggles over her eyes gave her just the view that a horse has with blinkers. there were hundreds of things that madge would have liked to confide to captain jules. however, for once in her life, she was compelled to hold her tongue. her eyes, her hands, and her feet she could keep busy. now and then she gave a little ejaculation of wonder inside her copper helmet at the marvels she saw. no one heard her cry out. captain jules wasted no time. he was exceedingly business-like. he motioned to madge just where she should go and what she should do, and she obediently followed. there were long, level flats of sand in the bottom of delaware bay, like small prairies. then there were exquisite oases of waving green seaweed, gardens of sea flowers and ferns, and hillocks of rocks, with all sorts of queer sea animals, crabs, jelly-fish, and devil-fish, scurrying about them. caught in the moss, encrusted on the rocks, sunken in the yellow sands, were opalescent, shining shells and pebbles, each one more beautiful than the last. madge did not realize that if she carried these shells and pebbles above the water they would look like ordinary stones. every now and then the young diver would stoop and drop one of them in her netted bag with a thrill of excitement. again and again captain jules had assured madge that she must not expect to find any pearls of much value in delaware bay. there were few pearls in edible oysters. the beds about cape may were meant to supply the family table, not the family jewels. of course, it was true, the captain admitted, that a pearl did appear now and then in an ordinary oyster. yet this was an accident and most unlikely to occur. madge had really tried not to believe that she was going to find any kind of prize in the new world under the water. in spite of all her efforts she had been thinking and planning and hoping. perhaps--perhaps she would find a pearl of great price. then her troubles would be at an end. all this time madge had been breathing naturally and comfortably inside her helmet as she traveled along the bed of the bay. she was so unconscious of any difficulty that she was beginning to believe that she was, in truth, a mermaid, and that water, and not air, was her natural element. suddenly she felt a little uneasy, as though the windows of her room had been closed for too long a time. it was nothing, she was sure. the stifling sensation would pass in another second. at this moment captain jules gazed hard at madge. he had never forgotten his charge for a moment. but all seemed well with her, and the captain thought he saw ahead of him something that was well worth investigating. he dropped on his knees in the soft mud. with him he had a small hammer and a fork, not unlike a gardener's. shining through some green sea moss so soft and fine that it might have been the hair of a water-baby, captain jules had espied some glittering shells. to his experienced eye the glow was that of mother-of-pearl. it is the mother-of-pearl shell that usually covers the precious pearl. the old sailor set to work. madge was eagerly watching him, when once again the faint stifling sensation swept over her. surely it was not possible to faint in a diving suit. besides, madge's heart was beating so furiously with excitement that it was small wonder she could not get her breath. she believed that captain jules was about to discover a wonderful pearl. he had wrenched the shells free and was trying to open them. madge stood some feet away from him, quivering with excitement. "'and the sea shall give up its treasures'," she quoted softly to herself as she watched. the next moment her hands made an involuntary movement in the water. had she been on land her gesture would have meant that she was fighting for breath. to her horror she realized that she was slowly suffocating. something must have happened to her air-pump above the water. she was not faint from any other cause, but was getting an insufficient supply of fresh air. at this moment madge proved her mettle. she remembered captain jules's injunction, "keep a clear head under the water and there is nothing to fear." she knew the signal for more fresh air, and gave two hard, quick pulls on her life line. then she waited. relief would surely come in a moment. for the first and only time since their descent to the bottom of the bay captain jules had temporarily neglected madge. he certainly had not expected to find any pearls in so unlikely a place as delaware bay; yet the shells he held in his hand were most unusual. the thrill of his old occupation seized hold of the pearl fisher. his big hands fairly trembled with emotion. he felt, rather than saw, madge jerk her life line twice, but it never dawned on him that her signal for more air might fail to be answered. madge signaled again. a loud buzzing seemed to sound in her ears. her tongue felt thick and swollen. she could not see a foot ahead of her. all the dazzling, shimmering beauty of the world under the water had passed into blackness. the little captain's eyes were glazing behind the glass windows of her helmet. she felt that she must be dying. but she had strength to give one more signal. air! air! how could she ever have believed that there was anything in the world so precious as fresh air? madge had a vision of a field of new-mown hay in her old home at "forest house." the wind was blowing through it with a delicious fragrance. had she the strength to pull her life line once again? the water that she loved so dearly was to claim her at last. she made a motion to go toward captain jules, but she had no control of her limbs. then captain jules became aroused to action. he realized that madge had signaled for air, not once, but several times. this meant that her signal had not been answered. the captain had been for too many years a deep-sea diver not to guess instantly the girl's condition. the groan inside his helmet came from the bottom of his heart. captain jules's hands shook. he dropped the shells that he believed might contain priceless pearls down into the soft sand in the bed of the bay. it was at this moment that tom curtis and phyllis alden, as well as the captain's boat tenders, caught his confusing signals from below. more fresh air was pumped down the tube to captain jules, but not to madge. phil's leap and quick work at madge's air-pump must have taken place not more than three minutes afterward, but they were horrible, agonizing moments. madge hardly knew how they passed. captain jules suffered the regret of a lifetime. how could he have been so unwise as to entrust the safety of this girl, whose life was so dear to him, to the perils of a diver's experiences? in the few weeks of their acquaintance madge morton had become all in all to captain jules fontaine. there was but one thing for captain jules to do for his companion. he must signal to have her drawn up to the surface of the water again, trusting that she would not suffocate for lack of air in her ascent. madge was near enough to lay her hand on captain jules's arm. phil's relief had come just in time. the life-giving fresh air from the world above pressed into her copper helmet. it filled her nose and mouth, it poured into her aching lungs. she received new life, new energy. now she was no longer afraid. she did not wish to go above the surface of the water. surely all above was now well. she yearned to continue her adventures on the under side of the world. she it was, not captain jules, who dropped down on her hands and knees to grope for the captain's lost pearl shells. but the sand had covered them up forever, or else the water had carried them away! captain jules wished to take madge out of the water immediately, yet he yielded for a minute to her disappointment. what treasures had they lost when he threw the mother-of-pearl shells away? neither of them would ever know. the old diver looked about in the soft mud, while madge raked furiously near the spot where she thought the sailor had dropped the shells. captain jules walked on for a little distance. he had seen beyond them a tangled mass of other shells and seaweed and it occurred to him that the water might have carried his shells into some hidden crevice nearby. but madge never left her chosen spot. deeper and deeper she dug. what a swirl of mud arose and eddied about her, darkening the clear water in which she stood! the little captain's hammer struck against something hard. was it a rock embedded in the sand? yet a distinct sound rang out, as of one metal striking against another! madge did not know how she summoned captain jules back to her side. she was wild with curiosity and excitement. captain jules was smiling behind his copper mask. the young girl diver had probably found a piece of old iron cast off from some ship. still, she should unearth whatever she had discovered so near the dark kingdom of pluto. the captain worked with her. whatever her find might be, it was larger and heavier than captain jules had expected. they could afford to spend no more time with it. it was time for madge to leave the water. it is difficult to make an imploring gesture in a diver's suit. yet, somehow, madge must have managed to do so. for one moment longer the old pearl diver relented. the hole that they were digging in the bottom of the bay was widening before them. a chunk of what looked like solid iron was visible. then a triangular end came into view. it was rusted until it shone like beautiful green enamel. the top was absolutely flat and of some depth, as it was so hard to excavate. the time was growing short. madge had been under the water as long as was safe for any amateur diver. the captain was a man to be obeyed, as she knew instinctively. she gave one more dig into the mud about her iron treasure. it now became plain, both to her and to captain jules, that she had found an old iron chest. the captain tugged at it with both his great, strong hands. it was strangely heavy. but he managed to lift it in his arms. straightway he gave the signal to ascend; three sharp tugs at his life line. madge followed suit. but she cast one long backward glance at the watery world into which she might never again descend, as slowly, steadily, the boat tenders pulled up her long life line. her feet dangled above the sandy bottom of the bay. now she could see even farther off. about forty feet from the rapidly filling hole from which she and the captain had extracted the iron chest was a spar of a ship jutting above the sand. the little captain may have been wrong, but it looked like the very spar on which tania's dress had caught the day she was so nearly drowned. madge could not tell how far she and captain jules had traveled on the bottom of the bay, but she knew they had made their descent at a place no very great distance from the spot where roy dennis's yacht had run down their skiff, and captain jules had rescued tania and herself. thought travels swifter than anything else in the created world. so madge's thoughts had reached the upper world before she followed them. she wondered if the girls would be very sadly disappointed when she returned bearing, instead of a costly pearl, nothing but a rusted iron box! would phil have better luck when she descended to the depths of the bay? what had happened in the outside world since she had disappeared from it a long, long time ago? a flare of blinding sunlight smote across the glass goggles in madge's copper helmet. she felt herself picked up and lifted bodily into a boat. her helmet and corselet were unscrewed. she lay still, smiling faintly as the boat made for her friends who crowded, watching, on the pier. captain jules, bearing the small iron chest, landed a moment later. the little captain had been in a new world, into which few men and rarely any women have ever entered. she had been out of her human element, a creature of the water, not of the air, and it seemed to her that she must have lived a whole new lifetime as a deep-sea diver. tom curtis stared anxiously at his watch and smiled into her white face. he breathed a sigh of relief and of wonder. captain jules fontaine and madge morton had been down at the bottom of delaware bay exactly thirty minutes! chapter xvii the fairy godmother's wish comes true captain jules decided to wait until another day before taking phyllis alden on the journey from which he and madge had just returned. the old sailor was too deeply thankful to see his first charge safe on land. poor miss jenny ann could do nothing but lean over madge and cry; the nervous strain of waiting while the girl was under the water had been too great. indeed, even the people who, madge knew, were not in the least interested in her, appeared dreadfully upset. philip holt's face was very pale and his eyes shifted uneasily from phyllis's to madge's face. phyllis was the most self-possessed of the four girls. she was greatly disappointed at the captain's determination to put off the time for her diving expedition until a later date. but phyllis was always unselfish. she realized that her chaperon and her friends had had about as much anxiety as they could endure in one day. madge had been under the water, and she could not dream of what the others had suffered above, while awaiting her return. mrs. curtis put her arms about the little captain and embraced her with an affection she had not shown her during the summer. "my dear," she murmured, "will you ever stop being the most reckless girl in the world? what possible good could that wretched diving feat of yours do anybody on earth? if my hair weren't already white i am sure it would have turned so in the last half-hour. look at poor philip holt. he seems as nervous as though you were his own sister." madge and captain jules had both taken off their heavy diving suits and were soon shaking hands with every one on the pier. even roy dennis and mabel farrar, much as they disliked madge, could not conceal the fact that they thought her extremely plucky. captain jules had laid the iron chest on the ground and for the moment they had forgotten it. it was little tania who danced up to it and tried to lift it. "show us the pearls you found, madge," eleanor begged her cousin at this instant, her brown eyes twinkling. the little captain looked crestfallen. "i am afraid we didn't find anything of value," she said, trying to pretend that she was not disappointed. "i have only some pretty shells and stones that i gathered on the bottom of the bay for tania." she pulled her sea treasures out of her netted diving bag. sure enough, the water had dried on them and the shells and stones appeared quite dull and ugly. there were almost as pretty shells and pebbles to be picked up at any place along the cape may beach. "why, madge!" exclaimed lillian, before she realized what she was saying, "surely, you didn't waste your time in bringing up such silly trifles as these?" madge shook her head humbly. "we didn't find anything else but this old iron chest. captain jules, may i take it back to the houseboat with me as a souvenir, or do you wish it? tania, child, you can't lift it, it is too heavy." tom curtis brought the chest to captain jules. some of the crowd had moved away, now that the diving was over. but a dozen or more strangers pressed about the girls and their friends. "there is something in this little chest, captain," declared tom curtis quietly, as he set it down before the captain and madge. "i could feel something roll around in the box as i lifted it." captain jules shook the heavy safe. something certainly rattled on the inside. there were bits of moss and tiny shells and stones encrusted on the upper lid of the box. deliberately captain jules scraped them off with a stick. the houseboat party and tom were beginning to grow impatient. what made captain jules so slow? philip holt, who was standing by mrs. curtis's side, gazed sneeringly at the operations. he was glad, indeed, that he had not risked his life in descending to the bottom of the bay in search for pearls, only to bring up a rusty chest. "the box is fastened tightly; it will have to be broken open," remarked madge indifferently. she was feeling tired, now that the excitement of her diving trip was over. she wished to go home to the houseboat. she did not wish captain jules to guess for an instant how disappointed she was that they had found nothing of value on their diving adventure. if only the captain had not dropped the shells in which there might have been a chance of finding pearls! captain jules had hold of the iron hammer that he used when diving. click! click! click! he struck three times on the lock of the iron safe. like the magic tinder-box, the lid flew open. tania's long-drawn childish, "oh!" was the only sound that broke the tense and breathless stillness that pervaded the group. a single pearl! the scorned iron chest almost full of shining coins and precious stones! there were coins of gold and silver--strange coins that no one in the watching crowd had ever seen before. some of them bore dates and inscriptions of english mintings of the early part of the eighteenth century. of course, it was incredible! no one believed his eyes. a treasure-chest unearthed after more than two hundred years? it was impossible! yet instantly each one of the girls remembered that the pirates had sunk many vessels in delaware bay in the latter part of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth century. in those days many wealthy english families came over with their servants and their treasure to settle in the new country of america. phil's book on the history of piracy had recalled this information to the girls only ten days before. it was then, when madge lay with her head resting in her hands, looking dreamily out over the waters, that she had wondered how anything so remote from her as the story of the early american battles with pirate ships could help her to solve her present troubles? yet here, like a miracle before her eyes, lay the answer! the little captain was the last of the onlookers to know what had happened. she was too dazed, perhaps, from her stay under the water. it was only when tania flung her eager, thin arms about her beloved fairy godmother's neck that madge actually woke up. "the fairies who live under the water have given you these wonderful things," whispered tania. "i prayed that they would come to see you, bringing you all the good gifts that they had." captain jules reached over and set the priceless box before madge. she was encircled by miss jenny ann and her beloved houseboat chums. "it is all yours, madge," asserted captain jules solemnly. "you found it, child. i should never have discovered it but for you." madge shook her red-brown head. "captain jules, that chest is far more yours than it is mine. i should never have gone down under the water but for you. if phil had only dived first, instead of me, she would have found it, i won't have any of the money or the jewelry unless i can share it with the rest of you." then, to madge's own surprise, she began to cry. "there, there, little mate, it will be all right," captain jules assured her quietly. "you've had a bit too much for one day. we don't know the value of what we have found just yet, but the old jewelry will make pretty trinkets for you girls. we'll see about the rest later on." miss jenny ann put her arm about madge on one side. phil was on the other side of her chum. "we will go home now, dear," said miss jenny ann to madge. "you are worn out from all this excitement." "i'll look after the girls, captain," promised tom curtis quietly, "then i will come back to you." a flash of understanding passed between captain jules and tom curtis. they had both guessed that madge's iron box of old jewelry and coins represented more money than the girls could comprehend, and that it was better for the news of the discovery to be kept as quiet as possible for the time being. "you will walk home with me, won't you, philip?" mrs. curtis asked her guest. "i am rather tired from the excitement of this most unusual morning." but philip holt had forgotten that he wished to keep on the good side of his wealthy hostess. his eyes were staring eagerly and greedily at the closed iron box which old captain jules was guarding. he took a step forward, stopped and looked at the little crowd standing near. "no; i can't go back with you now, mrs. curtis," he answered abruptly, "i have some important business to transact." mrs. curtis walked away deeply offended. philip holt, however, was too fully occupied with his own disappointment to note this. a sudden daring idea had taken possession of him. perhaps madge morton was not so lucky after all. finding a treasure did not necessarily mean keeping it. chapter xviii missing, a fairy godmother several days after the finding of the treasure-chest experts came down from philadelphia to appraise its value. it was not easy to decide, immediately, what market price the old jewels, set in quaintly chased gold, would bring. but the least that the coins and stones would be worth was ten thousand dollars! it might be more. an extra thousand dollars or so was hardly worth considering, when ten thousand would make things turn out so beautifully even. madge and captain jules, miss jenny ann and the other houseboat girls had many discussions about madge's discovery of the iron safe. the little captain was entirely alone on one side of the argument. the others were all against her. yet she won her point. she continued to insist that her wonderful find was purely an accident. how could she ever have unearthed a box, lost from a sunken ship, that had probably been buried for centuries, if captain jules fontaine had not listened to her pleadings and taken her on the wonderful diving trip with him? though she had actually struck the first blow on the piece of iron embedded in the bay, she could never have dragged the safe out of the mud, or been able to carry it up to the surface, without captain jules's assistance. madge and the old sailor started their discussion alone. the captain had come over to the houseboat, bringing the iron safe with him so that the girls might have a better view of its wonders. he had firmly made up his mind that madge must be made to understand that the money the treasure would bring was to be all hers. he would not accept one cent of it. fate had been kinder to him than he had hoped in allowing him to guide madge to the discovery of her fortune. "ten thousand dollars!" exclaimed madge ecstatically, when the old sailor reported the news to her. "it's the most wonderful thing i ever heard of in my life. i didn't dream it was worth so much money. will you please lend me a piece of paper and a pencil, captain jules. i never have been clever at arithmetic." madge knitted her brows thoughtfully. "ten thousand dollars divided by two means five thousand dollars for you and the same sum for us." the captain cleared his throat. "what's the rest of the arithmetic?" he demanded gruffly. "i don't think much of that first division." but madge was hardly listening. she was biting the end of her pencil. "six doesn't go into five thousand just evenly," she replied thoughtfully, "but with fractions i suppose we can manage. you see that will be eight hundred and thirty-three dollars and something over for miss jenny ann to put in bank to take care of her if she ever gets sick, or has to stop teaching; and the same sum will pay for phil's first year at college and for eleanor's graduating at miss tolliver's, so uncle won't have to worry over that any more. then my little fairy godmother can go to some beautiful school in the country, and not be shut up in a horrid home with a capital 'h,' which is what philip holt has persuaded mrs. curtis ought to be done with her. and lillian can save her money to buy pretty clothes, because she is not as poor as the rest of us and dearly loves nice things, and----" madge's speech ended from lack of breath. the captain rubbed his rough chin reflectively. "oh! i see," he nodded, "i am to get half of the money and you are to get a sixth of a half. is that it?" [illustration: madge and captain jules started their discussion alone.] madge lowered her voice to a whisper. "dear captain jules," she said in a wheedling tone, "you'll help me, won't you? the girls and miss jenny ann declare positively that they won't accept a single dollar of the money. i shall be the most miserable girl in the world if they don't. why, we four girls and miss jenny ann have shared everything in common, our misfortunes and our good fortunes, since we started out together. if any one of the other girls had happened to discover the treasure instead of me, she would certainly have divided it with the others. phil, lillian, eleanor and miss jenny ann don't even dare to deny it. so they simply must give in to me about it." "well," continued the captain, "i am yet to be told what madge morton means to do with the one-sixth of one-half of her wealth when it finally gets round to her." the little captain's eyes shone, though her face sobered. "i am not going to college with phil, though i hate to be parted from her," she replied. "somehow, i think i am not exactly meant for a college girl. i believe i will just advertise in all the papers in the world for my father. then, if he is alive, i shall surely find him. with whatever money is left i shall go to him. if he is poor, i will manage to take care of him in some way," ended madge confidently. "you will, eh?" returned captain jules gruffly. "it seems to me, my girl, that this is a pretty position you have mapped out for me. i am to take half of our find--nice, selfish old codger that i am--while you divide yours with your friends. i am not going to take a cent of that money, so you can just do your sums over again." it was at this point that madge called miss jenny ann and the other houseboat girls into the discussion. it ended with the captain's agreeing to take one-seventh of the money, if all the others would follow suit. "because, if you don't," declared madge in her usual impetuous fashion, "i shall just throw this chest of money and jewelry right overboard and it can go down to the bottom of the bay and stay there, for all i care." captain jules remained to dinner on the houseboat that evening. after dinner the girls proceeded to adorn themselves with the old sets of jewelry found in the safe. madge wore the pearls because, she insisted, they were her special jewels, and she had gone down to the bottom of the bay to find them. phil was more fascinated with some old-fashioned garnets, lillian with a big, golden topaz pin, and eleanor with some turquoises that had turned a curious greenish color from old age. it was well after ten o'clock when the captain announced that he must set out for home. tom curtis had been spending the evening on the houseboat with the girls, but he had gone home an hour before to join his mother and her guest, philip holt. before going away the captain concluded that it would be best for him to leave the iron safe of coins and precious stones on the houseboat for the night. it was too late for him to carry it back to "the anchorage" alone. as no one but tom knew of its being on the houseboat, the valuables could be in no possible danger. the captain would call some time within the next day or so to take the iron box to a safety deposit vault in the town of cape may. together miss jenny ann and the captain hid the precious chest in a small drawer in the sideboard built into the wall of the little dining room cabin of the houseboat. they locked this drawer carefully and miss jenny ann hid the key under her pillow without speaking of it to any one. in spite of these precautions no one on the houseboat dreamed of any possible danger to the safety of their newly-found prize. remember, no one knew of its being on the houseboat save tom curtis and captain jules. up to to-night captain jules had been guarding the treasure at his house up the bay. no one had been allowed to see it since the famous day of its discovery, except the experts who had come down from philadelphia to give some idea of the value of madge's remarkable find. little tania was in the habit of sleeping in the dining room of the houseboat on a cot which miss jenny ann prepared for her each night. she went to bed earlier than the other girls, so in order not to disturb her, she was stowed away in there instead of occupying one of the berths in the two staterooms. soon after the captain's departure miss jenny ann tucked tania safely in bed. she closed the door of the dining room that led out on the cabin deck and also the door that connected with the stateroom occupied by madge and phil. the cabin of the "merry maid" was a square divided into four rooms, and miss jenny ann's bedroom did not open directly into the dining room. it was a dark night and a strangely still one. the weather was unusually warm and close for cape may. over the flat marshes and islands the heat was oppressive. the residents of the summer cottages left their doors and windows open, hoping that a stray breeze might spring up during the night to refresh them. no one seemed to have any fear of burglars. on the "merry maid" the night was so still and cloudy that the girls sat up for an hour after captain jules left them, talking over their wonderful good fortune. they were almost asleep before they tumbled into their berths. once there, they slept soundly all night long. nothing apparently happened to disturb them, but madge, who was the lightest sleeper in the party, did half-waken at one time during the night. she thought she heard tania cry out. it was a peculiar cry and was not repeated. she knew that tania was given to dreaming. almost every night the child made some kind of sound in her sleep. madge sat up in bed and listened, but hearing no further sound, she went fast asleep again without a thought of anxiety. miss jenny ann was the first to open her eyes the next morning. it must have been as late as seven o'clock, for the sun was shining brilliantly. she slipped on her wrapper and went into the kitchen to start the fire. a few moments later she went into the dining room to call tania and to help the child to dress. but the dining room door on to the cabin deck was open. tania's bedclothes were in a heap on the floor. the child had disappeared. miss jenny ann was not in the least uneasy or annoyed. she knew that tania had a way of creeping in madge's bed in the early mornings and of snuggling close to her. miss jenny ann tip-toed softly into madge's and phil's stateroom. there was no dark head with its straight, short black hair and quaint, elfish face pressed close against madge's lovely auburn one. madge was slumbering peacefully. miss jenny ann peered into the upper berth. phil was alone and had not stirred. tania was such a queer, wild little thing! miss jenny ann felt annoyed. perhaps tania had awakened and slipped off the boat without telling any of them. she had solemnly promised never to run away again, but she might have broken her word. miss jenny ann explored the houseboat decks. she called the child's name softly once or twice so as not to disturb the other girls. there was no answer. she went back into the cabin dining room. neatly folded on the chair, where miss jenny ann herself had placed them the night before, were tania's clothes. the child could hardly have run away in her little white nightgown. when the girls finally wakened madge was the only one of them who was alarmed at first. she recalled tania's strange cry in the night. she wondered if it could have been possible that she had heard a sound before the little girl cried out. but she could not decide. she would not believe, however, that tania had forgotten her promise and gone away again without permission. as soon as eleanor and lillian were dressed they went ashore and walked up and down near the houseboat, calling aloud for tania. phyllis was the most composed of the party. she had two small twin sisters of her own and knew that children were in the habit of creating just such unnecessary excitements. still, it was better to look for a lost child before she had had time to wander too far away. "madge," suggested phil quietly, "don't be so frightened about tania. i have an idea the child has walked off the houseboat in her sleep. she must have done so, for the dining room door is unlocked from the inside. our door on to the deck was not locked, but tania's was, because miss jenny ann recalls having locked it herself. she came through our room when she joined us outdoors after putting tania to bed. you and i had better go up at once to find tom curtis. dear old tom is such a comfort! he will help us search for tania. then, if it is necessary, he will ask the cape may authorities to have the police on the lookout for her. if tania has wandered off in her sleep, the poor little thing will be terrified when she wakes up and finds herself in a strange place. surely, some one will take her in and care for her until we find her." madge and phil were wonderfully glad to find tom curtis up and alone on his front veranda. he had just come in from a swim. he seemed so strong, clean, and fine after his morning's dip in the ocean that his two girl friends were immediately reassured. tom would tell them just what had better be done to find tania. "mrs. curtis's and philip holt's window blinds are still down, thank goodness!" whispered madge to phil, "so i suppose they are both asleep. let us not tell them anything about tania's disappearance. they would just put it down to naughtiness in her, and that would make me awfully cross." tom curtis felt perfectly sure that he would soon run across the lost tania. so he left word for his mother that he had gone to the houseboat and that she was not to expect him until she saw him again. for two hours tom and the houseboat party continued the hunt for the lost child without calling in assistance. then madge and tom went to the town authorities of cape may. the police investigated the city and the houses in the nearby seaside resort without finding the least clue to tania. toward the close of the long day tom curtis began to fear that tania had fallen into the water. cape may is only a strip of land between the great ocean and the bay, and the land is broken into many small islands nearly surrounded by salt water and marshes. tom managed to get the girls safely out of the way; then, with miss jenny ann's permission, he had the water near the houseboat thoroughly dredged. but tania's little body was not found for the second time down in the bottom of the bay. it was not possible to have all the water in the neighborhood dragged in a single day, so tom said nothing of his fears to his anxious friends. it was late in the evening. miss jenny ann had prepared dinner for the weary and disheartened girls. she had snowy biscuit, broiled ham, roasted potatoes, milk, and honey, the very things her charges usually loved. tom curtis felt impelled to go back home. all that day he had seen nothing of his mother or of their visitor, philip holt, and tom was afraid they would begin to wonder what had become of him. madge caught tom by the sleeve and looked at him with beseeching eyes. "please don't go, tom," she begged, with a catch in her voice, "i am sure your mother won't mind. she has mr. holt with her, and i can't bear to see you go." tom and madge were near the gangplank of the houseboat and tom was trying to make up his mind what he should do, when he and madge caught sight of a gray-clad figure walking toward them through the twilight mists. "it's mother," explained tom in a relieved tone. "now i can make it all right with her." "and that horrid philip holt isn't along," declared madge delightedly, "so i can tell her about poor little tania." mrs. curtis caught madge, who had run out to meet her, by the hand. "my dear child, what is the matter with you?" the older woman asked immediately. "even in this half-light i can see that your face is pale as death and you look utterly worn out. if one of you is ill, why have you not sent for me?" when madge faltered out her story of the lost tania mrs. curtis hugged her to her in the old sympathetic way that the little captain knew and loved. "i am so sorry, dear," soothed mrs. curtis, "but i am sure than tom and philip holt will find her. i suppose that is why they have both been away all day." "philip holt!" exclaimed tom in surprise. "he hasn't been with us. i thought he was at home with you." mrs. curtis shook her head indifferently. "no; he hasn't been at the cottage all day. have any of you thought to send word to captain jules to ask him about tania? it may be that the child is with him. in any event, i know captain jules would give us good advice." "bully for you, mother!" cried tom, glad to catch a straw as he saw the shadow on madge's face lighten. "as soon as i have had a bite of supper with the girls i'll get hold of a boat and go after the captain." tom did not have to make his journey up the bay to "the anchorage" that night. while he and his mother were at supper with the girls they heard the sound of captain jules's voice calling to them over the water. he had to come ashore lower down the bay, where the water was deeper than it was near the houseboat, but he always hallooed as he approached. "o jenny ann!" faltered madge, trembling like a leaf, "it is our captain. perhaps he has brought tania back with him. i--i--hope nothing dreadful has happened to her." without a word tom fled off the houseboat. a moment later he espied captain jules coming toward him, alone! "halloo, son!" called out captain jules cheerfully. "glad to know that you are down here with the girls. funny thing, but i've had these girls on my mind all day. it seemed to me that they needed me, and i couldn't go to bed without finding out that everything was well with them. what's wrong?" captain jules had caught a fleeting glimpse of tom's harassed face. "is it--is it madge?" he asked anxiously. "is anything the matter with my girl?" tom shook his head reassuringly. it took very few words to make the captain understand that the trouble was over tania and not madge. when, a moment later, the captain went aboard the "merry maid" he was able to smile bravely at the discouraged women. "here, here!" he cried gruffly, while madge clung to one of his horny hands for support and eleanor to the other, "what is all this nonsense i hear? tania is not really lost, of course. i'll bet you we find the little witch in no time. she has just gone off somewhere in these new jersey woods to join the fairies she talks so much about. they are sure to take good care of her. we can't do much more looking for her to-night, but i'll find her first thing in the morning." both captain jules and mrs. curtis insisted that the girls and miss jenny ann go early to bed. just as captain jules was saying good night it occurred to miss jenny ann that she would rather turn over to the old sailor the box of coins and jewelry. while tania was lost there would be so many persons in and out of the houseboat that miss jenny ann feared something might happen to the valuables. she went to the drawer in the sideboard in the saloon cabin without thinking of the key under her pillow, and took hold of the knob. to her surprise the drawer opened readily. there was no iron safe inside it. miss jenny ann ran to her bed and felt under her pillow. the key was still there as though it had never been disturbed. captain jules and tom decided that the simple lock to the houseboat sideboard had been easily broken open. when, or how, or by whom, nobody knew, but it was certain that the jewels and money were gone. fortune, the fickle jade, who had brought the houseboat girls such good luck only a short time before, had now cruelly stolen it away from them. chapter xix the wicked genii tania had been aroused in the night by seeing a dark figure standing with his back to her only a few feet from her bed. involuntarily the child stirred. in that instant a black-masked face turned toward her and tania gave the single, terrified scream that madge had heard. before tania could call out again, a handkerchief was tied so closely around her mouth that she could make no further sound. a moment later the mysterious, sinister visitor picked the child up in his arms and bore her swiftly and quietly away from the shelter of the houseboat and her beloved friends. the little girl was very slender, yet her abductor staggered as he walked. he had something besides tania that he was carrying. about a quarter of a mile from the houseboat tania was dumped into the rear end of an automobile and covered with a heavy steamer blanket. then the automobile started off through the night, going faster and faster, it seemed to her, with each hour of darkness that remained. at times the little prisoner slept. when she awakened she cried softly to herself, wondering who had stolen away with her and what was now to become of her. but tania was only a child of the streets and she had been reared in a harder school than other happier children, so she made no effort to cry out or escape. she knew there was no one near to hear her, and the motor car was moving so swiftly that she could not possibly escape from it. tania and her unknown companion must have ridden all night. evidently the driver of the car had not cared about the roads. he had pushed through heavy sand and ploughed over deep holes regardless of his machine. speed was the only thing he thought of. by and by the automobile stopped, after a particularly bad piece of traveling. the driver got down, lifted tania, still wrapped in her blanket, in his arms and carried her inside a house. the child first saw the light in an old room, up several flights of steps, which was drearier and more miserable than anything she had ever beheld in her life in the tenements. it was big and mouldy, and dark with cobwebs swinging like dusty curtains over the windows that had not been washed for years. the windows looked out over a swamp that was thick with old trees. but tania saw none of these things when the blanket was first lifted from her head. she gave a gasp of fright and horror. for the first time she now realized that her captor was her childhood's enemy and evil genius, philip holt. "oh!" she exclaimed, with a long-drawn sigh that was almost a sob, "it is _you_! why have you brought me here? what have i done?" then a look of unearthly wisdom came into tania's solemn, black eyes. she continued to stare at the young man so silently and gravely that philip holt's blonde face twitched with nervousness. "didn't you recognize me before?" he asked fiercely. "you were quite likely to shriek out in the night and spoil everything, so i had to carry you off with me, little nuisance that you are! you can just make up your mind, young woman, that you will stay right here in this room until i can take you to that nice institution for bad children that i have been telling you about for such a long time. you'll never see your houseboat friends again." tania made no answer, and philip holt left her sitting on the floor of the gloomy room wide-eyed and silent. for three days tania stayed alone in that cheerless room. she saw no one but an old, half-foolish man who came to her three times a day to bring her food. he gave tania a few rough garments to dress herself in and treated the little prisoner kindly, but tania found it was quite useless to ask the old man questions. she was a wise, silent child, with considerable knowledge of life, and she understood that there was nothing to be gained by talking to her jailer, who would now and then grin foolishly and tell her that she was to be good and everything would soon be all right. her nice, kind brother was going to take her away to school as soon as he could. the wicked people who had been trying to steal her away from her own brother should never find her if her brother could help it. so the long nights passed and the longer days, and little tania would have been very miserable indeed except for her fairies and her dreams. it is never possible to be unhappy all the time, if you own a dream world of your own. still, tania found it much harder to pretend things, now that she had tasted real happiness with her houseboat girls, than she had when she lived with old sal. it wasn't much fun to play at being an enchanted princess when you knew what it was to feel like a really happy little girl. and no one would care to be taken away to the most wonderful castle in fairyland if she had to leave the darling houseboat and madge and miss jenny ann and the other girls behind. so all through the daylight tania sat with her small, pale face pressed against the dirty window pane, waiting for madge to come and find her. she even hoped that a stranger might walk along close enough to the house for her to call for aid. but a dreary rain set in and all the countryside near tania's prison house looked desolate. more than anything tania feared the return of philip holt. once he got hold of her again, she knew he would fulfill his threats. during this dreadful time tania had no human companion, but she was not like other children. she was part little girl and the rest of her an elf or a fay. the trees, the birds, and flowers were almost as real to her as human beings. for, until madge and eleanor had found her dancing on the new york city street corner, she had never had anybody to be kind to her, or whom she could love. just outside tania's window there was a tall old cedar tree. its long arms reached quite up to her window sill, and when the wind blew it used to wave her its greetings. inside the comfortable branches of the tree there was a regular apartment house of birds, the nests rising one above the other to the topmost limbs. tania held long conversations with these birds in the mornings and in the late afternoons. she told them all her troubles, and how very much she would like to get away from the place where she was now staying. however, the birds were great gad-abouts during the day, and tania could hardly blame them. there was one fat, fatherly robin that became tania's particular friend. he used to hop about near her window and nod and chirp to her as though to reassure her. "your friends will come for you to-day, i am quite sure of it," he used to say, until one day tania really spoke aloud to him and was startled at the sound of her own voice. "i don't believe you are a robin at all," she announced. "i just believe you are a nice, fat father of a whole lot of funny little boys and girls. i believe you are enchanted, like me. oh, dear! i was just beginning to believe that i wasn't a fairy after all but a real little girl with pretty clothes and friends to kiss me good night." tania sighed. "i suppose i must be a fairy princess after all, for if i was a real little girl no one would have cast another wicked spell over me and shut me up in this dungeon in the woods, which is a whole lot worse than living with old sal." yet playing and pretending, and, worse than anything, waiting, grew very tiresome to tania. on the morning of the fourth day of her imprisonment tania awoke with a start. something had knocked on her window pane. it was only the old cedar tree, and tania turned over in bed with a sob. but the tapping went on. she got up and went to her window. quick as a flash tania made up her mind to run away. why had she never thought of it before? it was true, her bedroom door was always locked, but here were the branches of the cedar tree reaching close up to her window. really, this morning they seemed to speak quite distinctly to tania: "why in the world don't you come to me? i shall hold you quite safe! you can climb down through all my arms to the warm earth and then run away to your friends." it was just after dawn. the pink sky was showing against the earlier grayness when tania slipped into her coarse clothes and, like a small elf, crept out of her window into the friendly branches of the old tree. she was silent and swift as a squirrel as she clambered down. but she need not have feared. no one in the lonely country place was awake but the child. once on the ground, tania ran on and on, without thinking where she was going. she only wished to get far away from the dreary house where philip holt had hidden her. there was a thick woods about a mile or so from tania's starting place. no one would find her there. once she was through it tania hoped to find a town, or at least a farm, where she could ask for help. in spite of her queer, unchildlike ways, tania knew enough to understand that if she could only find some one to telegraph to her friends they would soon come to her. but the forest through which tania hoped to pass was a dreadful cedar swamp, and in trying to cross it tania wandered far into it and found herself hopelessly lost. chapter xx a bow of scarlet ribbon in the three days that had passed since the disappearance of tania from the houseboat everything that was possible had been done to discover her whereabouts. it never occurred to tom or to mrs. curtis to connect philip holt's odd behavior with the lost tania or the vanished treasure box. true, he had not been seen for the past three days, but mrs. curtis had received a note from him the day after his disappearance from her house, saying that he had been unexpectedly called away on very important business so early in the morning that he had not wished to awaken her, but he had left word with the servants and he hoped that they had explained matters to her. mrs. curtis's maids and butler insisted that mr. holt had given them no message. they had not seen or heard him go. so, as mrs. curtis did not regard philip holt's withdrawal as of any importance, she gave very little thought to it. madge morton, however, had a different idea. she laid tania's disappearance at philip holt's door. she, therefore, determined to take tom curtis into her confidence, but to ask him not to betray their suspicions of philip holt to mrs. curtis until they had better proof of the young man's guilt. madge had never told even tom that she had once overheard philip holt reveal his real identity, nor how much she had guessed of the young man's true character from tania's unconscious and frightened reports of him. tom at first was indignant with madge, not because she and the other girls believed that philip holt had stolen both their little friend and their new-found wealth, but because she had not sooner shared her suspicion of his mother's guest with him. tom had never liked philip, so it was easy for him to think the worst of the goody-goody young man. without a word to mrs. curtis, tom and the houseboat girls set to work to trace philip holt, believing that once he was overtaken tania and the stolen treasure would be accounted for. it was not easy work. philip holt had not been a hypocrite all his life without knowing how to play the game of deception. a detective sent to new york city to talk to old sal had nothing worth while to report. the woman declared positively that philip was no connection of hers; that she had neither seen nor heard of the young man lately. as for tania, sal had truly not set eyes on her from the day that madge had taken the little one under her protection. philip holt knew well enough that his mother would be questioned about his disappearance. he believed that tania had told madge his true history. so old sal was prepared with her story when the detective interviewed her. yet it was curious that the cape may police were unable to find out in what manner the young man had left the town. inquiries at the railroad stations, livery stables, and garages gave no clue to him. the houseboat girls were in despair. madge neither ate nor slept. she felt particularly responsible for tania, as the child had been her special charge and protã©gã©. madge had been deeply grieved when her friend, david brewster, had been falsely accused of a crime in their previous houseboat holiday, when they had spent a part of their time with mr. and mrs. preston in virginia; but that sorrow was as nothing to this, for david was almost a grown boy and able to look after himself, while tania was little more than a baby. when no news came of either philip holt or tania, madge began to believe that philip holt had accomplished his design. he had managed to shut tania up in some kind of dreadful institution. the little captain did not believe that they would ever find the child, and was so unhappy over the loss of her fairy godmother that she lost her usual power to act. phyllis alden, however, was wide awake and on the alert. she knew that it was not possible for philip holt to leave cape may without some one's assistance. some one must know how and when he had disappeared. the whole point was to find that person. phil thought over the matter for some time. then she quietly telephoned to ethel swann and asked her to arrange something for her. she made an appointment to call on ethel the same afternoon, and she and lillian walked over to the swann cottage together. it seemed strange to madge that her two friends could have the heart for making calls, but, as there was absolutely nothing for them to do save to wait for news of tania that did not come, she said nothing save that she did not feel well enough to accompany them. as lillian and phyllis alden approached the swann summer cottage they saw that ethel had with her on the veranda the two young people who had been most unfriendly to them during their stay at cape may, roy dennis and mabel farrar. roy dennis got up hurriedly. his face flushed a dull red, and he began backing down the veranda steps, explaining to ethel that he must be off at once. phyllis alden was always direct. before roy dennis could get away from her she walked directly up to him, and looking him squarely in the eyes said quietly: "mr. dennis, please don't go away before i have a chance to speak to you. it seems absurd to me for us to be such enemies, simply because something happened between us in the beginning of the summer that wasn't very agreeable. i wished to ask you a question, so i asked ethel to arrange this meeting between us this afternoon." "what do you wish to ask me?" he returned awkwardly. phil plunged directly into her subject. "weren't you and philip holt great friends while he was mrs. curtis's guest?" she asked. roy dennis looked uncomfortable. "we were fairly good friends, but not pals," he assured phil. "but you, perhaps, know him well enough to have him tell you where he was going when he left mrs. curtis's," continued phil in a calmly assured tone. "mrs. curtis has not received a letter from him since he left here, so she does not know just where he is. we girls on the houseboat would also like very much to know what has become of mr. holt." "why?" demanded roy dennis sharply. phyllis determined to be perfectly frank. "i will tell you my reason for asking you that question," she began. "you may not know it, but our little friend, tania, disappeared from cape may the very same day that philip holt left the cape. we all knew that mr. holt had known tania for a number of years before we met her. he thought that the child ought to be shut up in some kind of an institution, but miss morton wished to put the little girl in a school. so it may just be barely possible that mr. holt took tania away without asking leave of any one." phil made absolutely no reference to the stolen money and jewels in her talk with roy dennis. if they could run down philip holt and tania the treasure-box would be disclosed as a matter of course. roy dennis hesitated for barely a second. then he remarked to phil, half-admiringly: "you have been frank with me, miss alden, and, to tell you the truth, i think it is about time that i be equally frank with you. i have no idea where philip holt now is, but i do know something about how he got away from cape may, and i am beginning to have my suspicions that there might have been something 'shady' in his behavior that i did not think of at the time. three nights ago, it must have been about eleven o'clock, i was just about ready for bed when mr. holt rang me up and asked to speak to me alone. he said that he had just had bad news and wished to get out of cape may as soon as possible. he asked me if i would lend him my car so that he could drive to a nearby railroad station where he could get a train that would take him sooner to the place he wished to go. i thought it was rather a strange request and asked him why he didn't borrow tom curtis's car? he said that mrs. curtis had gone to bed and that he did not like to disturb her. he and tom had never been friendly, so he did not wish to ask him a favor. well, i can't say i felt very cheerful at letting philip holt have the use of my car, but he said that he would send it back in a few hours and it would be all right. i got it out for him myself and he drove away in it. it didn't come back until this morning, and you never saw such a sight in your life, covered with mud and the tires almost used up." phil nodded sympathetically. "who brought the car back to you?" she asked. "was it mr. holt?" roy dennis shrugged his heavy shoulders. "no, indeed! he sent it back by a chap who wouldn't say a word about himself, holt, or from which direction he had come." "is the man still in town?" asked phil, her voice trembling, "and would you mind tom curtis's asking him some questions? we are so awfully anxious." roy dennis rose quickly. "i believe the fellow is around yet, and i'll get hold of him and take him to tom at once. i don't think that philip holt has had anything to do with the kidnapping of the little girl, but his whole behavior looks pretty funny. we will make the chauffeur chap tell us where philip holt was when he turned over my car to him." roy was off like a flash. phyllis and lillian were making their apologies to ethel for being obliged to hurry off at once to the houseboat when mabel farrar took hold of phil's hand. her usually haughty expression had changed to one of the deepest interest. "i am _so_ sorry about the little lost girl," she said. "i hope you will soon find her. she is a queer, fascinating little thing. i have watched her all summer, and she certainly can dance. i can't believe that philip holt has actually stolen her, yet i don't know. roy dennis just told ethel swann and me something awfully queer. he says he found a bright scarlet ribbon, like a bow that a child would wear in her hair, in the bottom of his motor car when the chauffeur brought it back to him to-day." phil's black eyes flashed. "if i ever needed anything to convince me that philip holt stole tania away from us that would do it," she returned indignantly. "little tania slept every night with her hair tied up with a scarlet ribbon so as to keep it out of her eyes. when we find where philip holt is we shall find tania, and if i have any say in the matter he shall answer to the law for what he has done." chapter xxi the race for life it took the united efforts of the cape may police, tom curtis, and roy dennis to make the chauffeur who had come back with roy's car say where he had met philip holt, and when philip had turned over the automobile to him to be brought back to roy. the chauffeur was frightened; he finally broke down and told the whole story. philip holt had driven from the farmhouse where he left tania to the nearest village. there he had hired the chauffeur and the man had taken philip within a few miles of new york. in the course of the ride, philip had told the automobile driver the same story about tania that he had told the old man in the tumbled-down farmhouse: tania was philip's sister. he was hiding her from enemies, who wished to steal the child away from him. if anybody inquired about the child or about him the chauffeur was to say nothing. philip would pay him handsomely for bringing the car back to cape may. the reason that philip holt had sent back roy dennis's automobile was because he knew that roy would put detectives on his track if he failed to return it. besides, it would be far easier for philip holt to get away with his precious iron safe if he were free of all other entanglements. it was nearly midnight before the story that the chauffeur told was clear to tom curtis. the man believed that he knew the very house in which tania was probably concealed. there was no other place like it near the town where the chauffeur lived. tom got out his own automobile. the chauffeur would ride with him. they would go directly to the old farmhouse. tania would be there and all would soon be well. it was about nine o'clock the next morning when tom's thundering knock at the rickety farmhouse door brought the foolish old man to open it. as soon as tom mentioned tania, the old fellow was alarmed. he was stupid and poor, but philip holt's behavior had begun to look strange even to him. the old farmer was glad to tell tom curtis everything he knew. it was all right. tania was safe upstairs. he would take tom up at once to see her. he was just on his way up to take tania her breakfast. indeed, the old man explained with tears in his eyes, he had not meant to assist in the kidnapping of a child. he was only a poor, lonely old fellow and he hadn't meant any harm. he had never seen philip until the moment that the young man appeared at his door in his automobile and asked him to look after his sister for a few days. the farmer's story was true. philip holt had no idea how he could safely dispose of tania. quite by accident, as he hurried through the country, he had espied the old house. if tania could be kept hidden there for a few days he would then be able to decide what he could do with her. tom would have liked to bound up the old stairs three steps at a time to tania's bedroom door. poor little girl, what she must have suffered in the last three days! but tom's thought was always for madge. before he followed the farmer to tania's chamber he wrote a telegram which he made the chauffeur take over to the village to send immediately. it read: "all is well with tania. come at once." and it was addressed to madge morton. tom was trembling like a girl with sympathy and compassion when he finally reached little tania's bedroom door. he wished madge or his mother were with him. how could he comfort poor tania for all she had suffered? tania's jailer unlocked the door and knocked at it softly. the child did not answer. he knocked at it again and tried to make his voice friendly. "come to the door, little one," he entreated. "i know you will be glad to see who it is that has come to take you back to your home." still no answer. tom could endure the waiting no longer, but flung the door wide open. no tania was to be seen. there was no place to look for her in the empty room, which held only a bed and a single chair. but a window was open and the arm of the old cedar tree still pressed close against the sill. tom could see that small twigs had been broken off of some of the branches. he guessed at once what had happened. tania had climbed down this tree and run away. but tom felt perfectly sure that he would be able to find her before the houseboat party and his mother could arrive. the houseboat girls and miss jenny ann were overjoyed at tom's telegram. mrs. curtis was with them when the message came. she was perhaps the happiest of them all, although she had never been an especial friend of little tania's. in the last few days her conscience had pricked her a little and her warm heart had sorrowed over the missing child. yet, up to this very moment, mrs. curtis did not know the truth about philip holt. just before they started for the train that was to bear them to tom and tania madge told mrs. curtis that philip had stolen the child from them and that they also believed he had run off with their treasure-chest. mrs. curtis listened very quietly to madge's story. when the little captain had finished she asked humbly, "can you ever forgive me, dear? i am an obstinate and spoiled woman. if only i had listened to what you told me about philip this sorrow would never have come to you. tom also warned me that i was being deceived in philip holt. but i believed you were both prejudiced against him. when we recover tania i shall try to make up to her the wrong i have done her, if it is ever possible." during the journey madge and mrs. curtis sat hand in hand. captain jules looked after miss jenny ann, lillian, phil and eleanor, although he was almost as excited by tom's news as they were. at the country station the chauffeur was waiting to drive tania's friends to the lonely old farmhouse that the child had thought a dungeon. tom and tania would probably be standing in the front yard when the automobile arrived. they were not there. the old farmer explained that tom and tania had gone out together. they would be back in a few minutes. to tell the truth, the man did expect them to appear at any time. he could not believe that tania was really lost, although tom had been searching for her since early morning and it was now about four o'clock in the afternoon. for two hours the houseboat party waited. the girls walked up and down the rickety farmhouse porch, clinging to captain jules. mrs. curtis and miss jenny ann remained indoors. at dusk tom returned. he was alone and could hardly drag one foot after the other, he was so weary and heartsick. to think that after wiring her he had found tania he must face madge with the dreadful news that the child was lost again! two long, weary days passed without news of the lost tania. the houseboat party made the old farmhouse their headquarters while conducting the search. at first no one thought to penetrate the cedar swamp where tania had hidden herself, but the idea finally occurred to tom curtis, and on the third morning he and captain jules started out. all that third anxious day the girls searched the immediate neighborhood for tania. when evening came they gathered sadly in the wretched farmhouse, to await the return of tom curtis and the old sea captain. madge was lying on a rickety lounge, with her face buried in her hands. phyllis was sitting near the door. mrs. curtis stood at the window, watching for the return of her son. in a further corner of the room, miss jenny ann, lillian and eleanor were talking softly together. suddenly each one of the sad women became aware of the captain's presence as his big form darkened the doorway. a ray of light from their single oil lamp shone across his weather-beaten face. phil saw him most distinctly and read disaster in his glance. with the unselfish thought of others that invariably marks a great nature, she went swiftly across the room and dropped on her knees beside madge. madge sprang from her lounge and stumbled across the room toward the old sailor. phil kept close beside her. "tania!" whispered madge faintly, for she too had seen the captain's face. "where is my little fairy godmother?" "we have found tania, madge," said captain jules gently, "but she is very ill. we found her lying under a tree in the swamp, delirious with fever. she is almost starved, and she is so frail--that----" the old man's voice broke. "don't say she is going to die, captain jules," implored mrs. curtis. "if she does, i shall feel that i am responsible. surely, something can be done for her." the proud woman buried her face in her hands. at that moment tom entered, bearing in his arms a frail little figure, whose thin hands moved incessantly and whose black eyes were bright with fever. with a cry of "tania, dear little fairy godmother, you mustn't, you shan't die!" madge sprang to tom's side and caught the little, restless hands in hers. for an instant the black eyes looked recognition. "madge," tania said clearly, "he took me away--the wicked genii." her voice trailed off into indistinct muttering. "she must be rushed to a hospital at once." captain jules's calm voice roused the sorrowing friends of little tania to action. "i'll have my car at the door in ten minutes," declared tom huskily. "make her as comfortable as you can for the journey." it was in captain jules's strong arms that little tania made the journey to a private sanatorium at cape may. madge sat beside the captain, her eyes fixed upon the little, dark head that lay against the captain's broad shoulder. the strong, magnetic touch of the old sailor seemed to quiet the fever-stricken child, and, for the first time since they had found her, tania lay absolutely still in his arms. mrs. curtis occupied the front seat with her son, who drove his car at a rate of speed that would have caused a traffic officer to hold up his hands in horror. it had been arranged that tom should return to the farmhouse as soon as possible for the rest of the party. no one of the occupants of the car ever forgot that ride. once at the hospital, no time was lost in caring for tania. the physician in attendance, however, would give them no satisfaction as to tania's condition beyond the admission that it was very serious. mrs. curtis engaged the most expensive room in the hospital for the child, as well as a day and night nurse, and, surrounded by every comfort and the prayers of anxious and loving friends, tania began her fight for life. chapter xxii captain jules listens to a story tania did not die. after a few days the fever left her, but she was so weak and frail that the physician in charge of her case advised mrs. curtis to allow her to remain in the sanatorium for at least a month. when she should have sufficiently recovered mrs. curtis had decided to take upon herself the responsibility of the child's future. she had been a constant visitor in the sickroom and during the long hours she had spent with the imaginative little one had grown to love her, while tania in turn adored the stately, white-haired woman and clung to her even as she did to madge, a fact which pleased mrs. curtis more than she would admit. philip holt was discovered hiding in new york city. the treasure-box was in the keeping of old sal, for philip had not dared to dispose of the coins or the jewelry while the detectives were on the lookout for him. tom curtis saw that the case against philip holt was conducted very quietly. the houseboat girls had had enough trouble and excitement. their treasure was restored to them and they had no desire ever to hear philip holt's name mentioned again. tom curtis was more curious. in questioning philip, tom learned that he himself was innocently to blame for philip's crime. holt recalled to tom the fact that, on returning from the houseboat after spending the evening with captain jules and his friends, tom had mentioned to his mother that the precious iron safe was on the houseboat, and that if she cared to look at the old jewelry again miss jenny ann would unlock the sideboard drawer and show it to her the next day. in that moment philip holt decided on his theft, but he did not expect tania to thwart him. he had slipped through one of the open staterooms into the dining room of the houseboat, broken the lock of the sideboard and opened the dining room door from the inside to make his escape. philip holt believed that in taking tania with him he had accomplished his own downfall. if he had not stopped to leave the child at the deserted farmhouse, his movements would never have been traced. madge morton was a good deal changed by the events of the last few weeks. she was so unlike her usual happy, light-hearted and impetuous self that miss jenny ann and the houseboat girls were worried about her. they ardently wished that madge would fly into a temper again just to show she possessed her old spirit. but she was very gentle and quiet and liked to spend a good deal of the time alone. miss jenny ann consulted with lillian, phil and eleanor. they decided to write to david brewster to ask him to come to spend a few days with them on the houseboat. madge was fond of david and the young man had done such fine things for himself in the past year that her friends hoped a sight of him would stir her out of her depression. david was visiting mrs. randolph--"miss betsey"--in hartford. he replied that he would try to come to cape may in another week or ten days, but please not to mention the fact to madge until he was more sure of coming. one bright summer afternoon madge returned alone from a long motor ride with mrs. curtis and tom. she found the houseboat entirely deserted and remembered that the girls and miss jenny ann had had an engagement to go sailing. she curled up on the big steamer chair and gave herself over to dreams. a small boat, pulled by a pair of strong arms, came along close to the deck of the "merry maid." madge looked up to see captain jules's faithful face beaming at her. "all alone?" he called out cheerfully. "come for a row with me. i'll get you back before tea." madge wanted to refuse, but she hardly knew how, so she slipped into the prow of the skiff and sat there idly facing him. captain jules frowned at the girl's pale face, which looked even paler under the loose twists of her soft auburn hair. madge looked older and more womanly than she had the day the captain first saw her. there was a deeper meaning to the upper curves of her full, red lips and a gentler sweep to the downward droop of her heavy, black lashes. she was fulfilling the promise of the great beauty that was to be hers. it was easy to see that she had the charm that would make her life full of interest. still captain jules frowned as though the picture of madge and her future did not please him. "how much longer are you going to stay at cape may, miss morton?" he inquired. madge smiled at him. "i don't know anything about 'miss morton's' plans, but madge expects to be here for about two weeks more." recently the captain had been calling the houseboat girls by their first names, as he was with them so constantly in their trouble. but he had now decided that he must return to the formality of the beginning of their acquaintance. it was best to do so. "and afterward?" the old sailor questioned, pretending that he was really not greatly interested in madge's reply. the girl's expression changed. "i don't know," she returned. "of course, eleanor and i will go back to 'forest house' for a while. aren't you glad that uncle has been able to pay off the mortgage? when nellie and lillian go to miss tolliver's and phil to college i don't know exactly what i shall do. mrs. curtis and tom have asked me to make them a visit in new york next winter." the captain frowned again. it was well that madge was looking over the water and not at him, for she never could have told why he looked so displeased. "you and tom curtis are very good friends, aren't you, madge?" said captain jules abruptly. madge smiled to herself. she felt as though she were in the witness box. was her dear old captain trying to cross-examine her? "of course, i like tom better than almost any one else. he is awfully good to me. you know you like tom yourself, so why shouldn't i?" she ended wickedly. "i like him. certainly i do. he is a fine, upright fellow and his money hasn't hurt him a mite, which you can't say of the most of us. but it's a different matter with you, young lady, and i want you to go slowly." "but i am not going at all, captain," laughed madge. "it seems to me that i want only one thing in the world, and that's to find my father. sometimes i am afraid that perhaps i shall never find my father after all!" captain jules coughed and his voice sounded rather husky. it had a different note in it from any that madge had ever heard him use to her. "don't play the coward, child," he said sternly; "just because you have had one defeat don't go about the world saying you must give up. it may be that your father did that once and is sorry for it now. keep up the fight. no matter how many times we may be knocked down in this world, if we have the right sort of courage we'll always get up again." madge sat up very straight. her blue eyes flashed back at captain jules with an expression that he liked to see. "i am not going to give up my search," she answered defiantly. "one hears that it is fate which separates two persons. if i find father, i shall feel that i have won a victory over fate. but i can't help longing to tell my father that i know that he is innocent of the fault for which he was disgraced and dismissed from the navy, and that i have the proof in my possession that would make it clear to all the world as well as to me." the old captain gave vent to a sudden exclamation that sounded like a groan. his face looked strangely drawn under his coat of tan. "are you sick, captain jules?" asked madge hastily. "do take my place and let me have the oars. i am sure i can row you." captain jules smiled back at her. "what made you think i was sick?" he asked. "what was that you were telling me? how do you know that your father was guiltless of his fault? why, captain robert morton was one of the kindest men that ever trod a deck, and yet he was convicted of cruelty to one of his own sailors." "captain jules," continued madge earnestly, "i would like to tell you the whole story if you have time to listen to it. you know i promised long ago to tell you. two years ago, when we were on the second of our houseboat excursions, we spent part of our holiday near old point comfort. there i met the man who had been my father's superior officer. some unpleasant things happened between his granddaughter and me, and she told my father's story at a dinner in order to humiliate me. long afterward her grandfather heard of what his granddaughter had done and he made a statement before my friends which cleared my father's name. he confessed to having allowed my father to suffer for something he had commanded him to do. my father was too great a man to clear himself at the expense of his superior officer, so he left the navy in disgrace and has never been heard of since that dreadful time. "there isn't much more to tell. only the old admiral has died since i met him. however, he left a paper that was sent to me, in which he acquits my father of all blame and takes the whole responsibility for my father's act on himself. must we go back home, captain jules?" for, at the end of her speech, madge observed that the captain had turned his skiff and was rowing directly toward the houseboat. he handed madge aboard a few moments later with the air of one whose mind is elsewhere. it was impossible for miss jenny ann to persuade the old pearl diver to remain to supper. with very few words to any of the party he turned madge over to her friends and rowed hurriedly away toward his home. chapter xxiii the victory over fate early the next morning word was brought by a small boy that captain jules fontaine wished miss madge morton to come out to "the anchorage" alone, as he had some important business that he wished to talk over with her. it was a wonderful morning, all fresh sea breezes and sparkling sunshine. madge had not felt so gay in a long time as when the other houseboat girls fell to guessing as to why captain jules desired her presence at his house. "he intends to make you his heiress, madge," insisted lillian. "then, when you are an old lady, you can come down here to live in the house with the roof like three sails, and ride around in the captain's rowboat and sailboat and be as happy as a clam." madge shook her head. "no such thing, lillian. i don't believe the captain wants me for anything important. he may be going to lecture me, as he did yesterday afternoon. at any rate, i'll be back before long. please save some luncheon for me." madge was surprised when her boat landed near "the anchorage" not to see captain jules in his front yard, with his funny pet monkey on his shoulder, waiting to receive her. she began to feel afraid that the captain was ill. she had never been inside his house in all their acquaintance. but captain jules had sent for her, so there was nothing for her to do but to march up boldly to his front door and knock. she lifted the heavy brass knocker, which looked like the head of a dolphin, and gave three brisk blows on the closed door. at first no one answered. the little captain was beginning to think that the boy who came to her had made some mistake in his message and that captain jules had gone out in his fishing boat for the day, when she heard some one coming down the passage to open the door for her. she gave a little start of surprise. a tall, middle-aged man, with a single streak of white hair through the brown, was gazing at her curiously. "i would like to see captain jules," murmured madge stupidly, unable to at once recover from the surprise of finding that captain jules did not live alone. the strange man invited madge into a tiny parlor which rather surprised her. the room was filled with bookshelves, reaching almost up to the top of the wall. the young girl had never dreamed that her captain was much of a student. the only things that reminded her of captain jules were the fishnets that were hung at the windows for curtains and the great sprays of coral and sponge which decorated the mantelpiece. the man sat down with his back to the light, so that he could look straight into madge's face. "captain jules will be here after a little, miss morton," he said gravely, "but he wished me to have a talk with you first." madge looked curiously at the unknown man. she could not obtain a very distinct view of his face, but she saw that he was very distinguished looking, that his eyes seemed quite dark, and that he wore a pointed beard. he did not look like an american. at least, there was something in his appearance that madge did not quite understand. it struck her that perhaps the man was a lawyer. it could not be that lillian was right in her guess. the treasure in the iron safe had not yet been sold, so it might be that this man wished to make some offer for it. whoever he might be the silence was becoming uncomfortable. the little captain decided to break it. "i wonder if you wish to talk to me about the treasure that we found?" she inquired, smiling. "i would rather that captain jules should be in here when we speak of that." the stranger shook his head. he had a very beautiful voice that in some way fascinated the girl. "no, i don't wish to talk about your treasure, but i do wish to speak of something else that was lost and is found again. i don't know that you will value it, child, or that it is worth having, but captain jules thinks you might." madge's heart began to beat faster. this strange man had something of great importance to tell her. she wondered if she had ever seen him anywhere before. there was something in his look that was oddly familiar. but why did he look at her so strangely and why did not her old friend come to her to end this foolish suspense? "i have been down here on a visit to captain jules a number of times this summer and he has always talked of you," went on the fascinating voice. "i have longed to see you, but----miss morton, captain jules fontaine and i knew your father once, long years ago. the news that you had proof of his innocence made us very happy last night." madge would have liked to bounce up and down in her chair, like an impatient child. only her age restrained her. why didn't this man tell her the thing he was trying to say? what made him hesitate so long? "yes, yes," she returned impatiently, "but do you know whether my father is alive now? that is the only thing i care about." madge gripped both arms of her chair to control herself. she was trembling so that she felt that she must be having a chill, though it was a warm summer day, for the stranger had risen and was coming toward her, his face white and haggard. then, as he advanced into the brighter light of the room, madge saw that his eyes were very blue. "your father isn't dead," the man replied quietly. "he is here in this very house, and he cares for you more than all the world in spite of his long silence!" the little captain sprang to her feet, her face flaming. "captain jules! _he_ is my father? he seemed so old that i didn't realize it. yet he has said so many things to me that might have made me guess he knew everything in the world about me. oh, where is he? my own, own captain jules?" the stranger, whose arms had been outstretched toward madge, let them fall at his sides, but madge had no eyes for him. captain jules had entered the room and she had flung herself straight into his kindly arms. so, after all, it was captain jules fontaine who had to make it clear to madge that he was not her father, but her father's lifelong and devoted friend. the captain told madge the story while he held both her cold hands in his big, rough ones, and the man who was her own father sat watching and waiting for her verdict. jules fontaine had never been captain of anything but a sailing schooner, but he had been a gunner's mate on captain robert morton's ship. he alone knew that captain morton had been forced into the fault that he had committed by order of his admiral. when captain morton was dismissed from the united states naval service jules fontaine, gunner's mate, had procured his discharge and followed the fortunes of his captain. the two men drifted south to the tropics. every american vessel is equipped with a diving outfit, and some of the men are taught to go down under the water to examine the bottoms of the boats. jules fontaine liked the business of diving. when the two men found themselves in a strange land, without any occupations, captain jules joined his fortunes with the pearl divers and for many years followed their perilous trade. captain morton had a harder time to get along, but after a while he studied foreign languages and began to translate books. five years before the two men had come back to the united states. since that time captain morton had tried to follow every movement of his daughter. captain jules wanted his friend to make himself known to his own people, but robert morton feared that they would never forgive his long silence or his early disgrace. he believed that madge would be happier without knowledge of him. it was her own longing for her father, reported by captain jules, that had impelled robert morton at last to reveal himself to her. madge could not comprehend all of this at once. she did not even try to do so. she realized only that, after being without any parents, she had suddenly come into two fathers at the same time, her own father and captain jules, who was her more than foster father. with a low, glad cry she went swiftly across the room. she did not try to think or to ask questions at that moment about the past, she only flung her young arms about her father's neck in a long embrace, feeling that at last she had some one in the world who was her very own. while madge, her father, and captain jules were trying to see how they could bear the miracle and shock of their great happiness, a small, dark object darted into the room and planted its claws in madge's hair. it pulled and chattered with all its might. [illustration: "i am going to keep house for you at 'the anchorage.'"] the little captain laughed with the tears in her eyes. "it's that good-for-nothing monkey!" she exclaimed as she disentangled the creature's tiny hands. then she kissed her father and afterwards captain jules. "now i know why this monkey is called madge, and i am sorry to have such a jealous, bad-tempered namesake." the captain scolded the monkey gently. "don't you fret about this particular namesake. if you only knew all the others you have had! every single pet that two lonely old men could get to stay around the house with them we have named for you." captain morton did not go back to the houseboat with his daughter. madge thought she would rather tell her friends of her great happiness alone. she wouldn't even let captain jules escort her. "you'll both have plenty of my society after a while," she argued, "for i am going to come to keep house for you at 'the anchorage' some day." madge rowed slowly back to the "merry maid." she was thinking over what she would say to miss jennie ann and the girls. how should she announce to them that her quest was ended, her victory over fate won? as she neared the houseboat she saw that her companions were gathered on deck, evidently watching for her. madge rested on her oars and waved one hand to them. four hands waved promptly back to her. a moment more and she had come alongside the "merry maid." as she clambered on deck she cast a swift upward glance at her friends, who, with one accord, were looking down on her, their faces full of loving concern. with a little cry of rapture madge threw herself into miss jenny ann's arms. "o, my dear!" she cried, "i've found him! i've found my father!" and it was with her faithful mates' arms around her that madge told the strange story of how her quest had ended in the little sitting room of "the anchorage." chapter xxiv the little captain starts on a journey six weeks had passed since madge morton's discovery of her father, and many things had happened since then. it was now toward the latter part of september, and on a beautiful fall morning one of the busy steamship docks in the lower end of new york city was crowded with a gay company of people. there were four young girls and three young men, a beautiful older woman, with soft, white hair and a look of wonderful distinction; a woman of about twenty-six or seven, with a man by her side, who in some way suggested the calling of the artist; a white-haired old man and an elderly lady, who, in spite of the fact that she answered to the name of mrs. john randolph, would have been mistaken anywhere for a new england spinster. two men were the only other important members of the group. one of them was a distinguished-looking man of about fifty-three with a rather sad expression, and the last a bluff old sea captain, whose laugh rang out clear and hearty above the sound of the many voices. in front of the wharf lay a beautiful steam yacht, painted pure white and flying a united states flag. the boat was of good size and capable of making many knots an hour, but she looked like a little toy ship alongside the immense ocean-going steamers that were entering and leaving the new york harbor, or waiting their sailing day at their docks. one of the girls, dressed in a white serge frock and wearing a white felt hat, was walking up and down at the back of the crowd, talking to a young man. "david, more than almost anything, i believe i appreciate your coming to new york to see me off. it would have been dreadful to go away for a whole year, or maybe longer, without having had a glimpse of you. who knows what may happen before i am back again?" the girl's eyes looked wistfully about among her friends, although her lips smiled happily. for a few seconds the young man made no answer. he had never been able to talk very readily, now he seemed to wish to think before he spoke. "i shall be a man, madge, before you are back again," he replied slowly. "i am twenty now, so i shall be ready to vote. but, best of all, i shall be through college and ready to go to work." the young man threw back his square shoulders. his black eyes looked serious and steadfast. "i am going to make you proud of me, madge. you remember i told you so, that day in the virginia field, when you helped me out of a scrape and started me on the right road." the little captain nodded emphatically. "i am proud of you already, david," she declared warmly. "i think it is perfectly wonderful that you have been able to take two years' work in college instead of one, beside helping mr. preston on the farm. you are going to make me dreadfully ashamed when i come back, by knowing so much more than i. phil enters vassar this fall and tom will graduate at columbia in another year. i am going to try to study on the yacht, but i shall be so busy seeing things that i know i won't accomplish very much. just think, david, i am going around the world in our own boat with my father and captain jules! isn't it wonderful how one's dreams come true and things turn out even better than you expect them to? i believe, if it weren't for leaving my beloved houseboat chums and mrs. curtis and tom, and miss jenny ann and you, i should be the happiest girl in the world." "i don't suppose i count for much, madge," answered david honestly, "but i am more grateful to you than you can know for putting me on that list. some day----" the young man hesitated, then his sober face relaxed and a brilliant smile lighted it. "it's pretty early for a fellow like me to be talking about some day, isn't it, madge?" madge laughed, though she blushed a little and answered nothing. just then phyllis alden and a young man in a lieutenant's uniform joined madge and david brewster. "lieutenant jimmy is saying dreadful things, madge," announced phil mournfully. "he says he is sure you won't come back home in a year. you'll stay over in europe until you are grown up or married, or something else, and you'll never be a houseboat girl again!" phil's voice broke. lieutenant jimmy looked uncomfortable. "see here, miss alden," he protested, "i never said anything as bad as all that. i only said that perhaps captain morton and captain jules would stay longer than a year. almost any one would, if they owned that jolly little yacht." "i'll wager you, lieutenant jimmy, a torpedo boat full of the same kind of candy that you sent us at the end of our second houseboat holiday, that if you come down to this dock one year from to-day you will see our yacht, which captain jules has named 'the little captain,' paying her respects to the statue of liberty. come, let's go and make father and captain jules convince him, phil," proposed madge, hugging phyllis close to her, as if the thought of being parted from her for so long as one year was not to be borne. "i'll take that wager, miss morton," replied lieutenant jimmy jokingly, "because i would be so awfully glad to have to pay it." "madge simply must come back on time, lieutenant jimmy," whispered phil, nodding her head mysteriously toward a young woman and a man. "it's a state secret, and i ought not to tell you, but miss jenny ann and mr. theodore brown, the artist, are to be married a year from this fall. we must all be at the wedding. miss jenny ann couldn't possibly be married unless every one of the 'mates of the merry maid' were there. if we can arrange it, miss jenny ann is going to be married on the houseboat. won't it be the greatest fun?" for the moment phil was so cheered at the thought of another houseboat reunion, though a whole twelve months off, that she forgot that her best beloved madge was to leave in another half-hour for her trip around the world. phyllis and lieutenant jimmy were standing a little behind madge. david brewster stopped to talk to mrs. curtis and tom. at the far end of the dock captain jules fontaine was giving some orders to four sailors who formed the entire crew of his new yacht, for the old pearl diver was to pilot his own boat, which was to sail under captain morton's orders. the beautiful little yacht was captain jules's own property. the old man had made a comfortable fortune in his life in the tropics, but he had little use for it, and no desire, except to make madge and her father happy. the little captain's love for the water was what endeared her most to the old sailor. he could not be happy away from the sea and he couldn't be happy away from madge and captain morton. the fortunate girl's two fathers had discussed very seriously madge's own proposal to come to keep house for them at "the anchorage." both men knew that she could not settle down at their lonely little house far up the bay and several miles from the nearest town, which was cape may. wonderful as the fathers thought madge, they realized that she was very young and must go on with her education. they could not bear to send her away to college after all the long years of separation. captain jules conceived the brilliant idea of educating her by taking her on a trip around the world. the old sailor couldn't have borne being cooped up in liners and on trains with other people to run them. so madge's dream of a ship all her own, which was to sail "strange countries for to see," had come true with her other good fortune. leaving her friends for a moment, madge made her way toward the end of the dock to beg captain jules to reassure her friends of their return at the end of a year. the captain did not notice her approach. apparently no one was looking at her. on the end of the wharf were gathered three or four small street arabs. they had no business on the wharf, which was precisely their reason for being there. they were playing behind a number of large boxes and some other luggage, and, until madge approached, no one had observed them. they were having a tug-of-war and it was hardly a fair battle. two good-sized urchins were pulling against one other strong fellow and another small boy, so thin and pale, with such dark hair and big, black eyes that, for the moment, he made madge think of tania, who was almost well enough to leave the sanatorium and had sent her fairy godmother many loving messages by mrs. curtis. madge stopped for half a minute to watch the boys. in her stateroom were so many boxes of candy she would never be able to eat it all in her trip around the world. if she only had some of them to give this lively little group of youngsters! captain jules was at one side of the wide wharf with his back toward her and the group of boys. his yacht was occupying his entire attention. the street urchins did not realize how near they were to the edge of the dock because of the pile of luggage that surrounded them. the tug-of-war grew exciting. madge clapped her hands softly. she had not believed the smallest rascal had so much strength. suddenly the older lad's grip broke. the boys fell back against a pile of trunks that were set uneasily one above the other. one of the trunks slid into the water and the smallest lad slipped backward after it with an almost noiseless splash. his boy companions stared helplessly after him, too frightened to make a sound. of course, madge might soon have summoned help. she did think of it for a brief instant, for she realized perfectly that her white serge suit would look anything but smart if she plunged into the river in it. then, too, her friends, captain jules, and her father might be displeased with her. but the little lad had given her such an agonized, helpless look of appeal as he struck the water! and his eyes were so like tania's! captain jules turned around at the sound of feet running down the dock. david brewster and tom curtis were side by side. but they both looked more surprised than frightened. in the water, a few feet from the dock, captain jules espied madge morton, her white hat floating off the back of her head, her face and hair dripping with water. she was smiling in a half-apologetic and half-nervous way. in one hand she held a small boy firmly by the collar. "fish us out, somebody?" she begged. "i am dreadfully sorry to spoil my clothes, but this little wretch would go and fall into the water at the very last moment." captain jules and one of his sailors pulled madge and the small boy safely onto the wharf again. the captain frowned at her solemnly, while david and tom laughed. "how am i ever going to keep her out of the bottom of the sea?" the captain inquired sternly. "i don't know that i care for the rã´le of playing guardian to a mermaid." madge could see mrs. curtis, miss jenny ann, her chums and her father, as well as their other friends, hurrying down toward the end of the dock. she gave one swift glance at them, then she looked ruefully at her own dripping garments. tom and david long remembered her as they saw her at that moment. her white dress clung to her slender form; the water was dripping from her clothing, her cheeks were a brilliant crimson from embarrassment at her plight; her red-brown hair glinted in the bright sunlight, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief and dismay. before any one had a chance to scold or to reproach her, she had dashed across the wharf, run aboard the yacht and had shut herself up in her stateroom. a few minutes later, dressed in a fresh white serge frock, she emerged to say good-bye. the houseboat girls had made up their minds that not one tear would any one of them shed when the moment of parting came. lillian and phil stood on either side of eleanor, for neither of them had much faith that nellie could keep her word when it came to the test. madge went first to mr. and mrs. john randolph. "miss betsey" took both her hands and held them gravely. "madge, dear, remember i have always told you that wherever you were exciting things were sure to happen. you have convinced me of it again to-day. now, you are going around the world and i hope you will see and know only the best there is in it. good-bye." miss betsey leaned on her distinguished old husband's arm for support and surreptitiously wiped her eyes. "jenny ann jones, you promised i wouldn't have to say good-bye to you," protested madge chokingly. miss jenny ann nodded, while mr. theodore brown gazed at her comfortingly. madge rallied her courage and smiled at both of them. "do you remember, jenny ann," she questioned, "how on the very first of our houseboat trips you said that you would marry some day, just to be able to get rid of the name of 'jones'? i am sure you will like 'brown' a whole lot better." madge turned saucily away to hide the trembling of her lips. mrs. curtis said nothing. she just kissed madge's forehead, both rosy cheeks and once on her red lips. but when the little captain left her, and mrs. curtis turned to find her son standing near her, his face white and his lips set, his mother faltered brokenly: "i am trying hard not to be selfish, tom, and i am glad, with all my heart, that madge found her father, but no one will ever know how sorry i am not to have her for my daughter." "maybe you will some day, after all, mother," returned tom steadily. "we are young, i know, and neither of us has seen much of the world. still, i am fairly sure i know my own mind. perhaps madge will care as much as i do now when the right time comes." at the last, madge could not say farewell to her three chums. her eyes were so full of tears that captain jules had to lead her aboard the yacht. she stood on the deck, kissing both hands to them as long as she could see them, until their little boat had been towed far out into the great new york harbor. madge's father stood by her, watching the sunlight dance upon the water. "my little girl," captain morton began, with a view of distracting her attention from the sorrow of parting, "i have always forgotten to tell you that i saw you graduate at miss tolliver's. jules was not with me that day. he knew of you but never saw you until you went to cape may. i wonder i didn't betray myself to you then, dear. it was i who first called out to you when i saw that arch tottering over your head." madge nodded. "i know it now," she replied. "i must have caught a brief glimpse of your face. you and captain jules sent me the wonderful pearl. we never could guess from whom it had come." "yes," answered captain morton, "jules and i had kept it for you for many years. we determined that sooner or later you should have it. i shall never forget the day when jules came hurrying into 'the anchorage' with the news that he had seen you and talked with you about me. he was sure that you were our madge even before he knew your name to be morton. it was wonderful to hear that your dearest wish was to find me." madge slipped her arm into that of her father and laid her curly head against his shoulder. "if it was fate that separated us, then i shall never be dismayed by it again, for love and determination are far greater and through them i found you," she declared softly. "i am afraid i am very selfish to take you away for a whole year from mrs. curtis and tom and the houseboat girls," said her father, almost wistfully. "you are not sorry you are going to spend the next few months with no one but two old men for company?" "but i spent eighteen years without you," reminded madge. "don't you believe i ought to begin to make up for lost time? just think,"--her eyes grew tender with the pride of possession--"i have what i've longed for more than anything else in the world, my father's love. perhaps when we come back next year we can anchor the 'little captain' in pleasure bay and invite the 'merry maid' and her crew to visit us. then miss jenny ann could be married on the houseboat. we must be very sure to come home on time if we carry out that plan." "aye, aye, captain madge," smiled her father, "unless our good ship fails us we'll anchor next september in pleasure bay and send a special invitation to the crew of the 'merry maid' to meet us there." the end the rover boys on the river the search for the missing houseboat by arthur winfield contents i. plans for an outing ii. on the way to putnam hall iii. the doings of a night iv. what the morning brought forth v. for and against vi. link smith's confession vii. fun on the campus viii. good-bye to putnam hall ix. the rover boys at home x. a scene in a cemetery xi. attacked from behind xii. flapp and baxter plot mischief xiii. chips and the circus bills xiv. fun at the show xv. acts not on the bills xvi. aleck brings news xvii. a queer captain xviii. on board the houseboat xix. words and blows xx. days of pleasure xxi. the disappearance of the houseboat xxii. dan baxter's little game xxiii. a run in the dark xxiv. the horse thieves xxv. plotting against dora and nellie xxvi. the search on the river xxvii. caught once more xxviii. a message for the rovers xxix. jake shaggam, of shaggam creek xxx. the rescue--conclusion introduction my dear boys: "the rover boys on the river" is a complete story in itself, but forms the ninth volume of "the rover boys series for young americans." nine volumes! what a great number of tales to write about one set of characters! when i started the series i had in mind, as i have mentioned before, to write three, or possibly, four books. but the gratifying reception given to "the rover boys at school," soon made the publishers call for the second, third, and fourth volumes, and then came the others, and still the boys and girls do not seem to be satisfied. i am told there is a constant cry for "more! more!" and so i present this new rover boys story, which tells of the doings of dick, tom, and sam and their friends during an outing on one of our great rivers,--an outing full of excitement and fun and with a touch of a rather unusual mystery. during the course of the tale some of the old enemies of the rover boys turn up, but our heroes know, as of old, how to take care of themselves; and all ends well. in placing this book into the hands of my young readers i wish once more to thank them for the cordial reception given the previous volumes. many have written to me personally about them, and i have perused the letters with much satisfaction. i sincerely trust the present volume fulfills their every expectation. affectionately and sincerely yours, arthur m. winfield. the rover boys on the river chapter i plans for an outing "whoop! hurrah! zip, boom, ah! rockets!" "for gracious' sake, tom, what's all the racket about? i thought we had all the noise we wanted last night, when we broke up camp." "it's news, dick, glorious news," returned tom rover, and he began to dance a jig on the tent flooring. "it's the best ever." "it won't be glorious news if you bring this tent down on our heads," answered dick rover. "have you discovered a gold mine?" "better than that, dick. i've discovered what we are going to do with ourselves this summer." "i thought we were going back to the farm, to rest up, now that the term at putnam hall is at an end." "pooh! who wants to rest? i've rested all i wish right in this encampment." "well, what's the plan? don't keep us in 'suspenders,' as hans mueller would say." "dear old hansy! that dutch boy is my heart's own!" cried tom, enthusiastically. "i could not live without him. he must go along." "go along where?" "on our outing this summer?" "but where do you propose to go to, tom?" "for a trip on the broad and glorious ohio river." "eh?" "that's it, dick. we are to sail the briny deep of that river in a houseboat. now, what do you think of that?" "i'd like to know what put that into your head, tom," came from the tent opening, and sam rover, the youngest of the three brothers, stepped into view. "uncle randolph put it into my head, not over half an hour ago, sam. it's this way: you've heard of john v. black of jackville?" "the man that owed uncle randolph some money?" "exactly. well, black is a bankrupt, or next door to it. he couldn't pay uncle randolph what was coming to him, so he turned over a houseboat instead. she's a beauty, so i am told, and she is called the _dora_--" "after dora stanhope, of course," interrupted the youngest rover, with a quizzical look at his big brother dick. "now look here, don't you start in like that, sam," came quickly from dick, with a blush, for the girl mentioned was his dearest friend and had been for some years. "tell us about this houseboat, tom," he went on. "the houseboat is now located on the ohio river, at a place not many miles from pittsburg. uncle randolph says if we wish to we can use her this summer, and float down to the mississippi and further yet for that matter. and we can take along half a dozen of our friends, too." "hurrah! that's splendid!" burst out sam. "what a glorious way to spend the best part of this summer! let us go, and each take a chum along." "father says if we go we can take alexander pop along to do the cooking and dirty work. the houseboat is now in charge of an old river-man named captain starr, who knows the ohio and mississippi from end to end, and we can keep him on board." "it certainly looks inviting," mused dick rover. "it would take us through a section of the country we haven't as yet seen, and we might have lots of sport, fishing, and swimming, and maybe hunting. how many will the houseboat accommodate?" he added. "twelve or fourteen, on a pinch." "then we could have a jolly crowd. the question is, who are you going to take along? we can't take all of our friends, and it would seem a shame to ask some and not others." "we can decide that question later, dick. remember, some of the fellows already have their arrangements made for this summer." "i know major colby can't go," said sam. "he is going to visit some relatives in maine." "and george granbury is going up to the thousand islands with his folks," put in tom. "we might ask songbird powell," came from dick. "i don't believe he is going anywhere in particular." "yes, we ought to have him by all means, and hans mueller, too. they would be the life of the party." "i should like to have fred garrison along," said sam. "he is always good company. we can--" sam broke off short as the roll of a drum was heard on the parade ground outside the tent. "dress parade, for the last time!" cried dick rover. "come, get out and be quick about it!" and as captain of company a he caught up his sword and buckled it on in a hurry, while tom, as a lieutenant of the same command, did likewise. when they came out on the parade ground of the encampment they found the cadets of putnam hall hurrying to the spot from all directions. it was a perfect day, this fifth of july, with the sun shining brightly and a gentle breeze blowing. the camp was as clean as a whistle, and from the tall flagstaff in front of the grounds old glory flapped bravely out on the air. to those who have read "the rover boys at school," and other volumes in this series, dick, tom, and sam need no special introduction. when at home they lived with their father and their aunt and uncle at valley brook farm, pleasantly located in the heart of new york state. from this farm they had been sent by their uncle randolph to putnam hall military academy, presided over by captain victor putnam, to whom they became warmly attached. at the academy they made many firm friends, some of whom will be introduced in the pages which follow, and also several enemies, among them dan baxter, the offspring of a criminal named arnold baxter, who, after suffering for his crimes by various terms of imprisonment, was now very sick and inclined to turn over a new leaf and become a better man. a term at school had been followed by a remarkable chase on the ocean, and then a journey to the jungles of africa, in a hunt after anderson rover, the boys' father, who was missing. then had come a trip to a gold mine in the west, followed by some exciting adventures on the great lakes. on an island in one of the lakes they unearthed a document relating to a treasure hidden in the adirondack mountains, and next made their way to that locality, in midwinter, and obtained a box containing gold, silver, and precious stones, much to their satisfaction. after their outing in the mountains, the boys had expected to return to putnam hall, but a scarlet-fever scare broke out and the institution was promptly closed. this being the case, mr. rover thought it best to allow his sons to visit california for their health. this they did, and in the seventh volume of the series, entitled "the rover boys on land and sea," i related how sam, tom, and dick were carried off to sea during a violent storm, in company with dora stanhope, already mentioned, and her two cousins, nellie and grace laning, two particular friends of tom and sam. the whole party was cast away on a deserted island, and had much trouble with dan baxter, who joined some sailor mutineers. our friends were finally rescued by a united states warship which chanced to pass that way and see their signal of distress. after reaching san francisco once more, the rover boys had returned to the east, while dora stanhope and the lanings had gone to santa barbara, where mrs. stanhope was stopping for her health. the scare at putnam hall was now over, and in another volume of the series, called "the rover boys in camp," i related how dick, tom, and sam returned to the military academy again, and took part in the annual encampment. here there had been no end of good times and not a little hazing, the most of which was taken in good part. the boys had made a new enemy in the shape of a bully named lew flapp, who was finally expelled from the school for his wrong-doings. dan baxter also turned up, but when the authorities got after him he disappeared as quickly as he had done many times before, leaving his father to his fate, as already mentioned. "i don't think we'll be bothered much with dan baxter after this," tom had said, but he was mistaken, as later events proved. rat, tat, tat! rat, tat, tat! went the drum on the parade ground, and soon the three companies which comprised the putnam hall battalion were duly assembled, with major larry colby in command of the whole, and dick at the head of company a, fred garrison at the head of company b, and mark romer leading company c. in front of all stood captain putnam, the sole owner of the military institution, and george strong, his chief assistant. "the boys certainly make a fine showing, on this last day of our encampment," said captain putnam to his assistant. "and a good deal of the credit is due to you, mr. strong." "thank you for saying so, sir," was the answer. "yes, they look well, and i am proud of them, captain putnam. i believe our military school will compare favorably with any in the land." after the drill was over captain putnam came forward and made a rather extended speech, in which he reviewed the work accomplished at the academy from its first opening, as told by me in another series of books, entitled "the putnam hall series," starting with "the putnam hall cadets," down to those later days when the rover boys appeared on the scene. he also complimented the cadets on their excellent showing and trusted they would all have a pleasant vacation during the summer. this speech was followed by a short address by george strong, and then came a surprise when dick rover stepped forward. "captain putnam," said he, "in behalf of all the cadets here assembled i wish to thank you for your kind words, which we deeply appreciate. "i have been chosen by my fellows to present you with this as a token of our esteem. we trust it will prove to your liking, and that whenever you look upon it you will remember us all." as dick spoke he brought into view a fair-sized package wrapped in tissue paper. when unrolled, it proved to be a small figure of a cadet, done in silver and gold. on the base was the inscription: "from the cadets of putnam hall, to their beloved head master, captain victor putnam." after that mr. strong was presented with a set of cooper's works and the other teachers were likewise remembered. more addresses of thanks followed, and then the battalion was dismissed for dinner. "it's a fine wind-up for this season's encampment," said tom, after it was over. "i don't believe we'll ever have another encampment like it." "and now, ho, for the rolling river!" cried sam. "say, i'm just crazy to begin that trip on the houseboat." "so am i," came from both of his brothers. but they might not have been so anxious had they dreamed of the many adventures and perils in store for them. chapter ii on the way to putnam hall "boys, we start the march back to putnam hall in fifteen minutes!" such was the news which flew around the camp not long after the dinner hour had passed. already the tents had been taken down, the baggage strapped, and six big wagons fairly groaned with the loads of goods to be taken back to the military institution. the cadets had marched to the camp by one route and were to return to the academy by another. all was bustle and excitement, for in spite of the general order a few things had gone astray. "weally, this is most--ah--remarkable, don't you know," came from that aristocratic cadet named william philander tubbs. "what's remarkable, tublets?" asked tom, who was near by, putting away a pair of blankets. "lieutenant rover, how many times must i--ah--tell you not to address me as tublets?" sighed the fashionable young cadet. "oh, all right, tubhouse, it shan't occur again, upon my honor." "tubhouse! oh, rover, please let up!" "what's wrong, billy?" "that is better, but it is bad enough," sighed william philander. "i've--ah--lost one of my walking shoes." "perhaps, being a walking shoe, it walked off." "maybe it got in that beefsteak we had this morning," put in sam, with a wink. "i thought that steak was rather tough." "shoo yourself with such a joke, sam," came from fred garrison. "have you really lost your shoe, tubby, dear?" sang out songbird powell, the so-styled "poet" of the academy. and then he started to sing: "rub a dub dub! one shoe on the tubb! where can the other one be? look in your bunk and look in your trunk, and look in the bumble-bee tree!" "whoop! hurrah! songbird has composed another ode in washtub's honor," sang out fred garrison. "washtub, you ought to give songbird a dollar for that." "thanks, but i make not my odes for filthy lucre," same from powell, tragically, and then he continued: "one penny reward, and a big tin sword, to whoever finds the shoe. come one at a time, and form in line, and raise a hullabaloo!" and then a shout went up that could be heard all over the encampment. "i'll lend you a slipper, tubbs," said little harry moss, whose shoes were several sizes smaller than those of the aristocratic cadet. "somebody get me a shingle and i'll cut tubstand a sandal with my jackknife," came from tom. "i'll shingle you!" roared william philander tubbs, and rushed away to escape his tormentors. in the end he found another shoe, but it was not the one he wanted, for that had been rolled up in the blankets by tom and was not returned until putnam hall was reached. drums and fifes enlivened the way as the cadets started for the military academy. the march was to take the balance of that afternoon and all of the next day. during the night they were to camp out like regular soldiers on the march, in a big field captain putnam had hired for that purpose. the march did not take the cadets through oakville, so the rover boys did not see the friends they had made in that vicinity. they headed directly for the village of bramley, and then for another small settlement named white corners,--why, nobody could tell, since there was not so much as a white post anywhere to be seen in that vicinity. "it's queer how a name sticks," declared tom, after speaking of this to his brother dick. "they might rather call this brown corners, since most of the houses are brown." at the corners they obtained supper, which was supplied to the cadets by the hotel keeper, who had been notified in advance of their coming. while they were eating a boy who worked around the stables of the hotel watched them curiously. afterwards this boy came up to sam and tom. "we had a cadet here yesterday who was awfully mad," said the boy. "had hydrophobia, eh?" returned tom. "too bad!" "no, i don't mean that; i mean he was very angry." "what was the trouble?" "i don't know exactly, but i think he had been sent away from the school for something or other." "what was his name?" "lew flapp." "why, i thought he had gone home!" cried sam. "so did i," answered his brother. he turned to the hotel youth. "what was this flapp doing here?" "nothing much. he asked the boss when you were expected here." "is he here now?" "no, he left last night." "where did he go to?" "i don't know, but i thought i would tell you about the fellow. i think he is going to try to do you cadets some harm." "did he mention any names?" "he seemed to be extra bitter against three brothers named rover." "humph!" "are the rovers here?" went on the youth. "i think they are, sonny. i'm one, this is another, and there is the third," and tom pointed to dick, who was at a distance, conversing with some other cadets. "oh, so you are the rovers! how strange that i should speak to you of this!" "which way did this lew flapp go?" questioned sam. "off the way you are bound." "i'll wager he tries to make trouble for us on our way to putnam hall, tom." "it's not unlikely, sam." "shall we tell captain putnam of this?" tom shook his head. "no, let us tell dick, though, and a few of the others. then we can keep our eyes peeled for lew flapp and, if he actually does wrong, expose him." a little later tom and sam interviewed dick on the subject, and then they told larry colby, fred garrison, george granbury, and half a dozen others. "i don't believe he will do much," said larry colby. "he is only talking, that's all. he knows well enough that captain putnam can have him locked up, if he wants to." by eight o'clock that evening the field in which they were to encamp for the night was reached. tents were speedily put up, and half a dozen camp-fires started, making the boys feel quite at home. the cadets gathered around the fires and sang song after song, and not a few practical jokes were played. "hans, they tell me you feel cold and want your blood shook up," said tom to hans mueller, the german cadet. "coldt, is it?" queried hans. "vot you dinks, i vos coldt mid der borometer apout two hundred by der shade, ain't it? i vos so hot like i lif in africa alretty!" "oh, hans must be cold!" cried sam. "let us shake him up, boys!" "all right!" came from half a dozen. "get a blanket, somebody!" "no, you ton't, not by my life alretty!" sang out hans, who had been tossed up before. "i stay py der groundt mine feets on!" and he started to run away. several went after him, and he was caught in the middle of an adjoining cornfield, where a rough-and-tumble scuffle ensued, with poor hans at the bottom of the heap. "hi, git off, kvick!" he gasped. "dis ton't been no footsball game nohow! git off, somebody, und dake dot knee mine mouth out of!" "are you warm, now, hansy!" asked tom. "chust you wait, tom rofer," answered the german cadet, and shook his fist at his tormentor. "i git square somedimes, or mine name ain't--" "sauerkraut!" finished another cadet, and a roar went up. "hans, is it true that you eat sauerkraut three times a day when you are at home?" "no, i ton't eat him more as dree dimes a veek," answered hans, innocently. "hans is going to treat us all to limberger cheese when his birthday comes," put in fred garrison. "it's a secret though, so don't tell anybody." "i ton't vos eat limberger," came from hans. "oh, hansy!" groaned several in chorus. "base villain, thou hast deceived us!" quoted songbird powell. "away to the dungeon with him!" and then the crowd dragged poor hans through the cornfield and back to the camp-fire once more, where he was made to sit so close to the blaze that the perspiration poured from his round and rosy face. yet with it all he took the joking in good part, and often gave his tormentors as good as they sent. "they tell me that william philander tubbs is going to newport for the summer," said tom. a little later, when the cadets were getting ready to retire. "just wait till he gets back next fall, he'll be more dudish than ever." "we ought to tame him a little before we let him go," said sam. "right you are, sam. but what can we do? nearly everything has been tried since we went into camp." "i have a plan, tom." "all right; let's have it." "why not black tubby up while he is asleep?" "sam, you are a jewel. but where are we to get the lamp-black?" "i've got it already. i put several corks in the camp-fire, and burnt cork is the best stuff for blacking up known." "right again. oh, but we'll make william philander look like a regular negro minstrel. and that's not all. after the job is done we'll wake him up and tell him captain putnam wants to see him at once." several boys were let into the secret, and then all waited impatiently for tubbs to retire. this he soon did, and in a few minutes was sound asleep. "now then, come on," said sam, and led the way to carry out the anticipated fun. chapter iii the doings of a night as luck would have it, william philander tubbs just then occupied a tent alone, his two tent-mates being on guard duty for two hours as was the custom during encampment. the aristocratic cadet lay flat on his back, with his face and throat well exposed. "now, be careful, sam, or you'll wake him up," whispered tom. one cadet held a candle, while sam and tom blackened the face of the sleeping victim of the joke. the burnt cork was in excellent condition and soon william philander looked for all the world like a coal-black darkey. "py chimanatics, he could go on der stage py a nigger minstrel company," was hans mueller's comment. "makes almost a better nigger than he does a white man," said tom, dryly. "wait a minute till i fix up his coat for him," said fred garrison, and turned the garment inside out. a moment later all of the cadets withdrew, leaving the tent in total darkness. then one stuck his head in through the flap. "hi, there, private tubbs!" he called out. "wake up!" "what--ah--what's the mattah?" drawled the aristocratic cadet, sleepily. "captain putnam wants you to report to him or to mr. strong at once," went on the cadet outside, in a heavy, assumed voice. "wants me to report?" questioned tubbs, sitting up in astonishment. "yes, and at once. hurry up, for it's very important." "well, this is assuredly strange," murmured william philander to himself. "wonder what is up?" he felt around in the dark for a light, but it had been removed by tom and so had all the matches. "beastly luck, not a match!" growled tubbs, and then began to dress in the dark. in his hurry he did not notice that his coat was inside out, nor did he discover that his face and hands were blacked. captain putnam's quarters were at the opposite end of the camp, and in that direction william philander hurried until suddenly stopped by a guard who chanced to be coming in from duty. "halt!" cried the cadet. "what are you doing in this camp?" he demanded. "captain putnam wants me," answered tubbs, thinking the guard wanted to know why he was astir at that hour of the night. "captain putnam wants you?" "yes." "it's strange. how did you get in?" "in? in where?" "in this camp?" "oh, ribble, are you crazy?" "so you know me," said ribble. "well, i must say i don't know you." "you certainly must be crazy. i am william philander tubbs." "what! oh, then you--" stammered ribble, and then a light dawned on him. "who told you the captain wanted to see you?" "some cadet who just woke me up." "all right, go ahead then," and ribble grinned. behind tubbs he now saw half a dozen cadets hovering in the semi-darkness, watching for sport. on ran william philander, to make up for lost time, and soon arrived at the flap of the tent occupied by captain putnam. "here i am, captain putnam!" he called out. and then, as he got no reply, he called again. by this time the captain was awake, and coming to the flap, he peered out. "what do you want?" he asked, sharply. "you sent for me, sir," stammered tubbs. "i sent for you?" "yes, sir." "i have no recollection of so doing," answered captain putman. "where are you from?" "from?" "exactly." "why, i am--ah--from this camp," answered the puzzled tubbs. "do you mean to tell me you belong here?" questioned the now astonished master of putnam hall. "of course, captain putnam. didn't you send for me? somebody said you did," continued william philander. "sir, i don't know you and never heard of you, so far as i can remember. you must be mixed up. "i mixed up? i guess you are mixed up," roared tubbs, growing angry. "if i don't belong to this camp, where do i belong?" "how should i know? we have no negroes here, to the best of my knowledge." "captain putnam, what do you mean by calling me an--ah--negro?" fumed william philander. "well, aren't you one? i can't see very well." "no, sir; i am not a negro, and never was a negro," answered tubbs, getting more and more excited. "i shall report this to my parents when i arrive home." "will you in all goodness tell me your name?" queried captain putnam, beginning to realize that something was wrong. "you know my name well enough, sir." "perhaps i do, and perhaps i don't. answer me, please." "my name is william philander tubbs." "tubbs! is it possible!" "somebody came to my tent and said you wanted to see me." "well, did you think it was necessary to black up to make a call on me?" "black up?" repeated william philander. "that is what i said?" "am i black, sir?" "yes, as black as coal. look at yourself in this glass," and the captain held out a small looking glass and also a lantern. when tubbs saw himself in the glass he almost had a fit. "my gracious sakes alive!" he groaned. "how ridiculous! how did this happen? why, i look like a negro!" "is anything amiss, captain putnam?" came from the next tent, and george strong appeared. "nothing, excepting that private tubbs has seen fit to black up as a negro and call upon me," answered the master of the academy, with a faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "i didn't black up!" roared william philander. "it's all a horrid joke somebody has played on me while i was asleep! you don't want me, do you?" "no, tubbs." "then i'll go back, and if i can find out who did this--" a burst of laughter from a distance made him break off short. "they're laughing at me!" he went on. "just hear that!" "go to bed, and i will investigate in the morning," answered captain putnam, and william philander went off, vowing vengeance. "just wait till i find out who did it," he told himself, as he washed up the best he could in some cold water. "i'll have them in court for it." but he never did find out, nor did captain putnam's investigation lead to any disclosures. william philander's trials for that night were not yet at an end. on the march to the camp some of the cadets had picked up a number of burrs of fair size. a liberal quantity of these had been introduced under the covers of tubbs' cot immediately after he left the tent. having washed up as best he could, the aristocratic cadet blew out the light he had borrowed and prepared to retire once more. he threw back the covers and dropped heavily upon the cot in just the spot where the sharpest of the burrs lay. an instant later a wild shriek of pain and astonishment rent the air. "ouch! oh my, i'm stuck full of pins! oh, dear me!" and then william philander tubbs leaped up and began to dance around like a wild indian. "what's the matter with you, billy?" asked one of his tent-mates, entering in the midst of the excitement. "what's the matter?" roared poor tubbs. "everything is the matter, don't you know. it's an ah--outrage!" "somebody told me you had blacked up as a negro minstrel and were going to serenade your best girl." "it's not so, parkham. some beastly cadets played a joke on me! oh, wait till i find out who did it!" and then william philander began to moan once more over the burrs. it was a good quarter of an hour before he had his cot cleaned off and fit to use once more, and even then he was so excited and nervous he could not sleep another wink. "william philander won't forget his last night with the boys in a hurry," remarked tom, as he slipped off to bed once more. "you had better keep quiet over this," came from dick. "we don't want to spoil our records for the term, remember." "right you are, dick. i'll be as mum as a clam climbing a huckleberry bush." the boys were tired out over the march of the afternoon and over playing the joke on tubbs, and it was not long before all of the rovers were sound asleep. the three brothers had begged for permission to tent together and this had been allowed by captain putnam, for the term was virtually over, ending with the dismissal of the cadets at the last encampment parade. on guard duty at one end of the field was a cadet named link smith, a rather weak-minded fellow who was easily led by those who cared to exert an influence over him. at one time link smith had trained with lew flapp and his evil associates, but fortunately for the feeble-minded cadet he had been called home during the time when lew flapp got into the trouble which ended by his dismissal from putnam hall. link smith was pacing up and down sleepily when he heard a peculiar whistle close at hand. he listened intently and soon heard the whistle repeated. "the old call," he murmured to himself. at first he did not feel like answering, but presently did so. then from out of the gloom stalked a tall young fellow, dressed in the uniform of a cadet but with a face that was strangely painted and powdered. "who is it?" questioned link smith, uneasily. "don't you know me, link?" "lew flapp!" cried the weak-minded cadet. "hush, not so loud, link. somebody might hear you." "what do you want?" "i want to visit the camp," answered lew flapp. chapter iv what the morning brought forth link smith was much surprised by lew flapp's assertion that he wanted to visit the camp during the middle of the night and when practically everybody was asleep. "what do you want to come in for?" he asked, feeling fairly certain that flapp's mission could not be as upright and honest as desired. "oh, it's all right, link," answered the big bully, smoothly. "but what do you want?" "well, if you must know, i want to talk to a couple of my old friends." "why can't you talk to them to-morrow, after they leave school?" "that won't do. i want them to do something for me before they leave the academy." "it's a strange request to make, lew." "oh, it's perfectly square, i assure you. you see, it's this way: i want them to get some proofs for me,--to prove that i am not as black as the follows reported to captain putnam." now, it is possible that some other cadet would not have been hoodwinked in this fashion by the bully, but link smith swallowed the explanation without a second thought. "oh, if that's what you want, go ahead," said he. "but don't tell anybody i let you in." "i shan't say a word if you don't," answered lew flapp. "by the way," he went on, with assumed indifference, "they tell me the rover boys have cleared out and gone home." "no, they haven't," was link smith's prompt answer.--they are right here." "are you sure, link?" "of course i am. they are bunking together in the last tent in street b, over yonder," and the feeble-minded cadet pointed with his hand as he spoke. "is that so! well, i don't care. i don't want to see them again until i can prove to captain putnam that they are a set of rascals." "are you going to try to get into the academy again, lew?" asked link, curiously. "not much! i'll be done with captain putnam just as soon as i can show him how he mistreated me and how the rovers are pulling the wool over his eyes." "everybody here thinks the rovers about perfect." "that's because they don't know them as well as i and rockley do." a few words more passed, and then lew flapp slipped into the camp lines and made his way between the long rows of tents. he had gained from link smith just the information he desired, namely, the location of the rover boys' sleeping quarters. he looked back, to make certain that link was not watching him, and then hurried on to where the rovers rested, totally unconscious of the proximity of their enemy. "i'll show them what i can do," muttered lew flapp to himself. "i'll make them wish they had never been born!" at last the tent was reached and with caution he opened the flap and peered inside. all was dark, and with a hand that was none too steady he struck a match and held it up. each of the rover boys lay sleeping peacefully on his cot, with his clothing hung up on one of the tent poles. "now for working my little plan," murmured flapp, and allowed the match to go out. in a second more he was inside the tent, moving around cautiously so as not to disturb the sleepers. the bully remained in the tent all of ten minutes. then he came out as cautiously as he had entered, and fairly ran to where link smith was still on guard. "did you see them?" asked the feeble-minded cadet. "i did, and it's all right, link. now, don't tell anybody i visited the camp." "humph! do you think i want to get myself in trouble?" "good-night." "good-night." and in a moment more lew flapp was out of sight down the country roadway and link smith was pacing his post as before. bright and early the camp was astir, and at half-past seven o'clock a good hot breakfast was served, the cadets pitching into the food provided with a will. "and now for putnam hall and the grand wind-up," said tom, as he finished his repast. "and then to go home and prepare for that grand trip on the houseboat," came from sam. "which puts me in mind that we must see who will go with us," said dick. "songbird powell says he is more than willing," answered tom. "and i know dutchy will fall all over himself to become one of the party." "i think fred garrison will go," said sam. "he said he would let me know as soon as he heard from his parents." captain putnam had expected to begin the march to the hall by half-past eight, but there were numerous delays in packing the camping outfit, so the battalion was not ready for the start until over an hour later. the cadets were just being formed to start the march when several men appeared at the edge of the field. "there's them young soldiers now!" cried one. come on and find the rascals!" "what do you want, gentlemen?" demanded george strong, who happened to be near the crowd. "who is in charge of this school?" asked one of the men. "captain victor putnam is the owner. i am his head assistant." "well, i'm josiah cotton, the constable of white corners." "what can i do for you, mr. cotton?" "i'm after a feller named dick rover, and his two brothers. are they here?" "they are. what do you want of them?" "i'm goin' to lock 'em up if they did what i think they did." "lock them up?" cried george strong, in astonishment. "that's what i said. show me the young villains." "but what do you think they have done?" "they broke into my shop an' stole some things," put in another of the men. "that's right, they did," came from a third man. "don't let 'em give ye the slip, josiah." "i ain't a-goin' to let 'em give me the slip," growled the constable from white corners. "when was your shop robbed?" demanded george strong, of the man who had said he was the sufferer. "i can't say exactly, fer i was to the city, a-buying of more goods." "mr. fairchild is a jeweler and watchmaker, besides dealing in paints, oils, glass, an' wall paper," explained the constable. "he carries a putty considerable stock of goods as are valuable. yesterday, or early last night, when he was away, his shop was broken into and robbed." "and what makes you think the rovers are the thieves?" asked george strong. "we got proof," came doggedly from aaron fairchild. "we're certain on it." by this time, seeing that something was wrong, captain putnam came to the scene. in the meantime the battalion was already formed, with major colby at the head and dick in his proper position as captain of company a. "i cannot, believe that the rover boys are guilty of this robbery," said the master of putnam hall after listening to what the newcomers had to say. "what proof have you that they did it?" "this proof, for one thing," answered josiah cotton, and drew from his pocket a memorandum book and the envelope to a letter. in the front of the memorandum book was the name, richard rover, and the envelope was addressed likewise. "the thief dropped that," went on the constable. "where did you find these things?" "on the floor of the shop, in front of the desk." "anybody might have dropped them." "see here, captain putnam, do you stand up fer shieldin' a thief?" roared aaron fairchild. "to me this hull thing is as plain as the nose on my face." as aaron fairchild's smelling organ was an unusually large one, this caused the master of putnam hall to smile. but he immediately grew grave again. "this is a serious matter, mr. fairchild. i do not wish to shield a thief, but at the same time i cannot see one or more of my pupils unjustly treated." "are ye afraid to have 'em examined?" "by no means. i will call them up and you can talk to them. but i advise you to be careful of what you say. the rover boys come from a family that is rich, and they can make it exceedingly warm for you if you accuse them wrongfully." "oh, i know what i'm a-doin' and the constable knows what he's a-doin', too," answered aaron fairchild. george strong was sent to summon dick, tom, and sam, and soon came up with the three brothers behind him. "something is wrong, that is certain," murmured dick. "those men look mad enough to chew us up," answered tom. "now, boys, keep cool," cautioned george strong. "i think some terrible mistake has been made." "what's it all about, mr. strong?" asked sam. "i'll let them explain," returned the head assistant. josiah cotton had heard captain putnam's words of caution to aaron fairchild, and as he had a great regard for persons who were rich, and did not want to get himself into trouble, he resolved to move with caution. "i'd like to ask you three young gents a few questions," said he, as the boys came up. "fust, which one of you is richard rover?" "i am richard, commonly called dick," was the ready reply. "this is my brother tom, and this is sam." "very well. now then, do you remember visitin' mr. fairchild's jewelry an' paint store?" went on the constable. "visiting a jewelry and paint store?" repeated dick. "i do not. what a combination!" "perhaps he paints his jewels," put in the fun-loving tom. "don't you git funny with us!" growled aaron fairchild. "let's come to the p'int. my store was robbed, an' i'm thinking you fellers done the deed." "robbed!" echoed sam. "and you think we did it," put in dick, indignantly. "i like that!" "we are not thieves," said tom. "and you ought to have your head punched for thinking it." "boys, keep cool," came from captain putnam. "mr. cotton, hadn't you better do the talking for mr. fairchild?" "i want 'em searched," burst out aaron fairchild. "if they robbed my store they must have put the stuff somewheres." "what makes you think we robbed you?" asked dick. "this," and he was shown the memorandum book and the envelope. "humph! i lost that book some weeks ago, when i had my fight with lew flapp, rockley, and the rest of that crowd that were dismissed from the academy." "and what of the envelope, richard?" asked captain putnam. "i don't remember anything about that. it probably came on a letter from home and i must have thrown it away." "the book and the envelope were found on the floor of the shop that was robbed." "well, i didn't drop them there." "and neither did i," came from tom. "nor i," added sam. "are you going to let us search you and your belongings or not?" demanded the constable from white corners. "i don't see why you should search us," put in tom, hotly. "it's an outrage, to my way of thinking." "you had better let him make a search," came from captain putnam. "then he will see that he has made a mistake." "all right, search me all you please," said sam. "i am of tom's opinion, that it is an outrage," said dick. "nevertheless, he can search me if he wishes." "let us retire to yonder barn, out of the sight of the battalion," said captain putnam. the constable and aaron fairchild were willing, and all walked to the barn in question. "you can look at that first," said dick, and unbuttoning his coat he took it off and handed it to the constable. josiah cotton dove into one pocket after another, bringing out various articles which were dick's private property. "any o' these yours?" he asked the jeweler. "can't say as they are, josiah," answered aaron fairchild. "go on a-huntin'. maybe somethin' is in the linin'." "there is!" shouted the constable, running his hand over the padding. he found a small hole and put in his fingers. "here ye are!" he ejaculated, and brought forth two plain gold rings and one set with a topaz. "my property!" gasped aaron fairchild. "my property and i'll swear to it! didn't i tell ye he was a thief?" chapter v for and against all in the barn gazed in amazement at the three rings which the constable of white corners held in his hand. "i don't know how those rings got into my coat," said dick, who was the first to recover from the shock. "i am certain dick didn't steal them," put in tom. "and so am i," added sam. "dick, this is a plot against you." "it ain't no plot--it's plain facts," came from aaron fairchild. "go on an' continue the search, josiah." "that's what i'm a-doin'," returned the constable. he felt the coat over carefully and presently brought forth another ring and a pair of child's bracelets. "it's as plain as preachin'!" came from the third man, a farmer named gassam. "he's the thief, sure." "i declare upon my honor i am innocent," cried dick, the hot blood rushing to his face. he turned to captain putnam. "you don't think i--i--" "i believe what you say, captain rover," answered the master of the hall, promptly. "there is assuredly some mistake here." "give me your coat," said josiah cotton to tom. the garment was handed over, and after a thorough search two small gold stick pins were found in the middle of the back. "more o' my goods," cried aaron fairchild, triumphantly. "i can prove i had 'em on sale not four days ago." sam's coat was then examined, and from one of the sleeves came half a dozen cheap rings and an equally cheap watchchain. "all mine. the case is as clear as day," said the jeweler. "josiah, you must lock 'em up." "0' course i'll lock 'em up," answered the constable. "lock us up!" cried sam, aghast. "not much!" came from tom. "i'm no thief, and i don't propose to go to jail." "boys, have you any idea how this jewelry got into your clothes?" asked captain putnam. "no, sir," came promptly from the three. the rest of the rover boys' clothing was then searched and a few more cheap rings were brought to light. "now let us go for their baggage," said the constable, and this was done, but nothing more was found. it was soon buzzing around the battalion, which stood at parade rest, that something was wrong, and then somebody whispered that the rovers were accused of breaking into a shop and stealing some jewelry. "it can't be true," said fred garrison. "i shall never believe it." and a number of others said the same. but a few shrugged their shoulders-those who had belonged to the lew flapp and dan baxter crowd. "i never trusted those rovers altogether," said one. "they have too much money to spend." "well, they are worth a good bit of money," replied another cadet. "this ain't a quarter of the stuff i lost," said aaron fairchild, after the baggage had undergone a rigid inspection. "what have you done with the rest?" asked the constable of the rovers. "you may think as you please," said dick. "i am innocent and i do not understand how that stuff got where you found it. an enemy must have placed it there." "yes, and that enemy must be the one who robbed the shop!" cried tom. "it's easy enough to talk," came from gassam, the farmer. "but you can't go behind the evidence, as they say in court. you might just as well confess, an' give up the rest o' the goods. maybe if ye do that, they'll let ye off easy." "what do you consider this stuff worth?" asked dick. "nigh on to thirty-five dollars," answered aaron fairchild. "how much did you lose altogether? "about a hundred an' sixty dollars' worth." "then the real thief kept about a hundred and twenty-five dollars' worth for himself," said tom. "there can be no doubt but that one of our enemies did this," said sam. "the question is, which one?" "perhaps dan baxter--or lew flapp," suggested dick. "yes, but how did the things get into our clothes, tom?" "i give it up." "that sort of talk won't wash," put in the constable. "you have got to go with me." "where to?" "to squire haggerty's office." "i will go with you," said captain putnam. "this affair must be sifted to the bottom." it was learned that squire haggerty lived two miles away. but a wagon was handy, belonging to a nearby farmer, and this was hired to take the whole party to the place. "you must take charge of the cadets," said captain putnam to his head assistant. "i must see this affair through." "i do not believe the rovers are guilty, sir," whispered george strong. "neither do i. this is a plot against them. the question is, who carried the plot out?" not long after this the battalion of cadets marched off on the road to putnam hall while the rovers and the others entered the big wagon. inside of half an hour squire haggerty's home was reached. the squire proved to be an irishman of about fifty, who when he was not acting as a judge did jobs of mason work in the vicinity. "sure, an' it's the boldest robbery we have had in this neighborhood for years," said the squire. "the back door av the shop was broken open and many valuables extracted from the premises." "have you any idea when the robbery was committed?" asked captain putnam. "not exactly mr. fairchild was away all day yesterday and did not get home until nearly twelve o'clock at night." "didn't he leave anybody else to run the shop?" "he has nobody. when he goes away he has to lock up." all were ushered into the squire's parlor, where he had a flat-top desk and several office chairs. the squire had heard of captain putnam, and knew of the fame of the academy, and he respected the hall owner accordingly. "i will be after hearing all the particulars of this case," said he, as he sat down to his desk. in a long, rambling story aaron fairchild told how he had come home from a visit to the city late the night before. he had some goods for his shop with him and on going to the place had found the back door broken in and everything in the shop in confusion. jewelry and other things to the value of a hundred and sixty dollars had been taken, and on the floor he had found the memorandum book and the envelope. from some boys in the hamlet he has learned that the rover boys belonged to the putnam hall cadets, and farmer gassam had told him where to find the young soldiers. then he had called up the constable and set out; with the results already related. "this certainly looks black for the rover boys," said squire haggerty. "how do ye account for having the goods on your persons, tell me that now?" "i can account for it only in one way," said dick. "the thief, whoever he was, placed them there, for the double purpose of keeping suspicion from himself and to get us into trouble." "thin, if he wanted to git you into throuble, he was after being a fellow who had a grudge against ye?" "that must be it," put in captain putnam. "do ye know of any such persons?" "yes, there are a number of such persons," answered dick. and he mentioned dan baxter, flapp, rockley, and a number of others who in the past had proved to be his enemies. following this, captain putnam related how dan baxter had escaped after trying to harm dick rover and how it was that lew flapp was considered an enemy and how the fellow had been dismissed from the academy, along with several followers. squire haggerty listened attentively. "well, if one of thim fellows robbed the shop he must have visited your camp, too," said squire haggerty. "did ye see any of thim around?" captain putnam looked inquiringly at the rover boys. "i must confess i didn't see any of them," said dick. "but we heard from lew flapp," cried tom, suddenly. "how strange that i didn't think of this before." "where did you hear from him, thomas?" "at the hotel where we stopped for supper yesterday. a boy who works around the stables told me flapp had been there and was very angry because he had been sent away from the academy. the boy said flapp vowed he was going to get square with the rovers for what they had done." "what boy was that?" asked josiah cotton, with interest. the boy was described and, a little later, he was brought over from the hotel. he was very much frightened and insisted upon it that he had had nothing to do with the robbery. "tell what you can about lew flapp," said dick, and the boy did so. "that young fellow had been drinking, or else he wouldn't have talked so much," added the lad. "he certainly said he was going to get square with the rover brothers." "have you seen him since?" "yes, i saw him in the village right after the cadets left." "anywhere near mr. fairchild's shop?" "on the road that runs back of the shop." "where was he going?" "i don't know." "and that is the last you saw of him?" "yes, sir." "you don't know if he went towards the back of the shop?" "no, sir." more than this the boy could not tell and he was excused. squire haggerty shook his head in perplexity. "i don't know about this," he said. "but it looks to me as if i'll have to hold these rover brothers until they can clear themselves." chapter vi link smith's confession for a moment there was a painful pause and the rover boys looked at each other and at captain putnam in perplexity. "does this mean that we must go to jail?" demanded tom. "i don't think it will be necessary to hold them," came from captain putnam. "squire haggerty, i presume you know who i am." "yes, sir, captain putnam of putnam hall." "then you will, of course, let me go on a bail bond for these three pupils of mine." "if ye care to do it, captain." "certainly. i am convinced that they are innocent. why, it is preposterous to think that they would break into such a shop and rob it of a hundred and sixty dollars' worth of goods. they are rich young gentlemen, of a high-standing family, and each has all the spending money he needs." "i see, i see." "well, it ain't nuthin' to me what they be, so long as i git my goods back," growled aaron fairchild. "i ain't got nuthin' against 'em personally, especially if they are innocent." "i think you will find it to your advantage to let this whole matter rest for the present," went on captain putnam. "if you make a charge against the boys it will hurt both them and my school. i feel sure they will not run away, and i will give you my personal word that they shall appear in court whenever wanted." "that sounds reasonable," came from the constable, who was beginning to fear the influence which captain putnam and the rovers might bring to bear on the case. "it ain't no nice thing to ruin a boy's repertation, if he ain't guilty," he added. "that is a sensible speech which does you credit, sir," said the captain. "i'd like to find this feller flapp," went on aaron fairchild. "how does he look?" "i have his photograph at the academy. i will let the constable have that, if he wishes it." "that suits me," returned josiah cotton. "hang me if i don't kinder think he must be guilty. but it puzzles me how them things got in the boys' uniforms." the matter was discussed for fully an hour, and the whole party visited aaron fairchild's shop. but no clews were brought to light. then a wagon was hired to take the captain and the boys to putnam hall. the constable went along, to get the photograph which had been promised. on the way the three rovers were unusually silent and but little was said by the master of the school. arriving at the hall the picture was turned over to josiah cotton, who soon after departed. then the three rovers were invited into the captain's private office. the marching battalion had not yet arrived and was not expected for several hours. "i'd like to sift this matter out," said the captain, seating himself at his desk. "richard, when did you clean your uniform last?" "yesterday afternoon, captain putnam." "were those holes in there then?" "i don't think so." "how about your uniform, thomas?" "i cleaned up yesterday morning. i don't remember any holes." "and you, samuel?" "i had a hole in my left sleeve, but the jewelry was found in the right sleeve." "let me examine the coats." this was done, and all concluded that the holes had been cut with the blade of a sharp knife, or with a small pair of scissors. "i believe the job was done in the dark," said dick. "somebody must have visited our tent last night after we went to sleep." "when did you go to sleep, richard?" "well, i don't think we were real sound asleep until about midnight. there was some sort of a noise in the camp that kept us awake." "somebody said tubbs was up playing negro minstrel," added tom, soberly. "yes, he was up. so you went to sleep about midnight? and when did you get up?" "at the first call," answered sam. "and your coats were as you had left them?" "mine was," came from sam and dick. "i don't remember exactly how i did leave mine," said tom. "but i didn't notice anything unusual." "then, if the real thief visited our camp he must have come in between midnight and six o'clock," went on the master of the school. "i must question those who were on guard duty about this." "that's the idea!" cried dick. "if the thief sneaked in somebody must have seen him." "unless a guard was asleep on his post," came from tom. "as it was the last night out they may have been pretty lax in that direction." dinner had been ordered, and the three rovers dined with the captain in his private dining room. then the boys went up to their dormitory to pack their trunks. "i must say this is a fine ending for the term," was tom's comment, as he began to get his belongings out of the closet. "and after everything looked so bright, too!" "it's a jolly shame!" cried sam. "if lew flapp did this, or dan baxter, i'd like to--to wring his neck for it!" "it will certainly put a cloud on our name," said dick. "in spite of what we can say, some folks will be mean enough to think we are guilty." "we must catch the thief and make him confess," went on tom. the three boys packed their trunks and other belongings and then went below again and down to the gymnasium and then to the boathouse. but they could not interest themselves in anything and their manner showed it. "what is the matter that you came back so soon?" questioned mrs. green, the matron of the academy, who knew them well. "oh, we had business with captain putnam," answered tom, and that was all he' would say. he dearly loved to play jokes on the matron, but now he felt too downcast to give such things a thought. late in the afternoon the distant rattle of drums was heard, and soon the battalion, dusty and hot, came into view, making a splendid showing as it swung up the broad roadway leading to the hall. "here they come!" cried sam. but he had not any heart to meet his friends, and kept out of sight until the young cadets came to a halt and were dismissed for the last time by captain putnam and major colby. "well, this is certainly strange," said larry colby, as he came up to dick. "what was the row in the barn about?" "i'll have to tell you some other time, larry," was dick's answer. "there has been trouble and captain putnam wants to get at the bottom of it." "somebody said you had been locked up for robbing a jewelry shop." "there has been a robbery and we were suspected. but we were not locked up." as soon as he was able to do so, captain putnam learned the names of the twelve cadets who had been on picket duty between midnight and six o'clock that morning. these cadets were marched to one of the classrooms and interviewed one at a time in the captain's private office. from the first six cadets to go in but little was learned. one cadet, when told that something of a very serious nature had occurred--something which was not a mere school lark and could not be overlooked--confessed that he had allowed two cadets to slip out of camp and come back again with two capfuls of apples taken from a neighboring orchard. "but i can't tell their names, captain putnam," the cadet added. "how long were they gone, beresford?" "not over fifteen or twenty minutes." "did you see the apples?" "yes, sir, i--er--ate two of them." "and you allowed nobody else to pass?" "no, sir." "very well; you may go," and beresford went, thankful that he had not been reprimanded for neglect of duty. had the thing occurred in the middle of the term the reprimand would surely have been forthcoming. the next cadet to come in was link smith, who showed by his general manner that he was much worried. captain putnam knew smith thoroughly and also remembered that the feeble-minded cadet was a fellow easily led astray. "smith, you were on guard duty from twelve o'clock to two last night," he began severely. "yes, sir," answered link smith, with an inward shiver. "did you fall asleep on your post during that time?" "no, sir--that is, i don't think i did." "what do you mean by saying you don't think you did?" "i--that is--i was awfully sleepy and could scarcely keep my eyes open. i--i sat down on a rock for a little while." "and slept? "i--i think not." "was that before or after you allowed an outsider to get into our camp?" "oh, captain putnam, how did you know i let somebody in? i--that is--i mean, who said i let anybody in?" stammered poor smith, taken completely off his guard. "never mind who told me. what i want to know is, did you sleep after you let him in or before?" "why, i--i--really--" "tell me the truth, smith." "i guess i took a nap afterwards, sir. but it was only for a minute, sir," pleaded the cadet. "i see. did you see the outsider leave camp after you had let him in?" "why, sir--i--i--" "i want the strict truth, remember, smith. if you don't tell the truth you may get yourself in great trouble." "oh, captain putnam, i--i didn't mean to do anything wrong!" "did you see the outsider leave again or not?" "yes, sir, i saw him leave?" "how soon after he had come in?" "about fifteen or twenty minutes,--certainly, not much longer than that." "now, who was the outsider?" "why, i--er--i--" "answer me, smith!" and now captain putnam's voice was as keen as the blade of a knife. he stood before the frightened cadet, looking him squarely in the eyes. "it was lew flapp. but, oh, please, don't let him know i told you! he'll kill me if he finds it out!" link smith was about ready to cry. "lew flapp." the captain drew a long breath. "how did you come to let him in? you knew he had been dismissed from the school." "he begged me to let him in, saying he merely wanted to speak to two of his old friends. i asked him why he didn't wait until morning, but he said he wanted them to do something for him before they left the school--that he must see them then and there." "did he mention his friends' names?" "no, sir." "what did he say when he went away?" "nothing much, sir, excepting that he had seen them and it was all right." "where did he go to?" "i don't know. it was dark and i soon lost sight of him." "he came alone?" "yes, sir. but, please, captain putnam, don't tell him i told you, or he'll kill me." "don't be alarmed, smith. i'll protect you. if you see flapp again tell me at once." "i will, sir." this ended the examination of link smith, and as soon as it was over the remainder of the cadets who had been on guard duty the night before were likewise told they might go. chapter vii fun on the campus "it was lew flapp, just as i supposed," said dick, when he heard the news from captain putnam. "what a rascal he is getting to be! almost as bad as dan baxter." "oh, he would have to be a good deal worse than he is to be as bad as dan," returned sam. "but i admit, he is bad enough." "i'd give some money to lay my hands on him," put in tom. "oh, but wouldn't i punch his head good and hand him over to the police afterwards!" word was sent to josiah cotton and other officers of the law to look for flapp, but for the time being nothing was seen or heard of that individual. the rover boys were to start for home the next day and that night a large number of the cadets held a special jollification on the parade ground in front of the hall. a bonfire was lit, and the lads danced around and sang to their hearts' content. in the midst of the excitement somebody saw peleg snuggers, the general-utility man of the school, hurrying across the backyard. "hullo, there goes peleg!" was the shout. "let's give him a rousing farewell, boys," came from tom rover. "hi, there, peleg, come here." "can't, i'm in a hurry," responded the man-of-all-work, who had had the cadets plague him before. "oh, you must come," was the cry, and in a moment more peleg snuggers was surrounded. "let us march him around on our shoulders," went on tom. "peleg loves that, i know he does." "don't, neither!" cried the general-utility man. "now, tom rover, you just let me alone." "we'll carry you around for your rheumatism, peleg. you've got rheumatism, haven't you?" "no, i haven't." "it's good for the lumbago, too." "ain't got no lumba--oh, crickey! let me down, boys. i don't want a ride!" "behold, the conquering hero comes!" announced sam, as six of the boys hoisted poor snuggers up into the air. "now, sit up straight, peleg. don't you want a sword?" "here's a broom," put in fred garrison, and handed over an article which was worn to a stump. "present arms! forward, march! general washtub will lead the funeral procession." "if you let me tumble i'll break my neck!" gasped peleg snuggers. "oh, creation! how can i carry that broom and hold on, too! this is awful! shall i call the captain? let up, i say!" "send for mrs. green to give him some soothing syrup, he's got the fits," came from a cadet in the crowd. "i'll get her," cried tom, struck with a new idea. off ran the fun-loving youth to the kitchen of the academy, where the matron was superintending the work of several of the hired girls. "oh, mrs. green, come quick!" he gasped, as he caught the lady by the arm. "what is it, tom?" "it's poor peleg! they say he's got a fit! he wants some soothing syrup, or something!" "well, i never!" ejaculated mrs. green. "a fit! poor man! shall i ring for the doctor?" "perhaps you had better ring for two doctors, or else come and see if you can help him." "i'll do what i can," answered the matron, and ran to get some medicine from a chest. "i know what it is," she added. "it's indigestion. he ate four ears of green corn for dinner and four for supper,--and it was very green at that." "then he will surely want mrs. green to help him," murmured tom. off hurried the matron with some medicine and tom at her heels. in the meantime the boys had marched poor peleg close to the fire. "now, steady," cried sam. "don't let him fall into the flames and singe his hair." "let us warm his feet for him," cried a cadet. "take off his shoes and stockings!" "hi, don't you do nuthin' of the kind," cried peleg snuggers, in new alarm. "my feet are warm enough!" but there was no help for it, and in a twinkling off came his shoes and his socks followed. "i ain't a-goin' to have my feet warmed!" groaned the utility man. "you are worse nor heathens! lemme go!" he struggled violently, but the cadets placed him on the grass and sat on him. then one, who had run down to the ice-house for a piece of ice, came up. "here's a red-hot poker," he said. "peleg, don't you want your initials branded on your feet?" "no! no! oh, help! somebody, help!" yelled the utility man. "be careful, or he may get a spasm," whispered dick, who was looking on without taking part. "oh, he's all right," returned the cadet with the ice. "wait till i brand a p on one foot and an s on the other!" and he drew the ice across the sole of one foot as he spoke. the poor utility man thought it was a red-hot poker and gave a yell which would have done credit to a south sea savage. he squirmed and fought, and in the midst of the melee mrs. green and tom arrived. "there he is," said tom. "he certainly must have a fit." "poor peleg!" cried mrs. green. "here, my dear, take this. it will do you good." and she held out the bottle of medicine she had brought. "take about a big spoonful." "hurrah, mrs. green to the rescue!" shouted sam. "come, peleg, don't be backward about coming forward." "what is this, mrs. green?" asked the astonished man-of-all-work, as he suddenly sat up. "it's for your cramps, or fits, or whatever you've got, peleg." "cramps, or fits? i ain't got no cramps or fits! are you crazy, mrs. green?" "oh, peleg, don't act so! you certainly have cramps, or indigestion. come, take the medicine!" "that fer your medicine!" roared the angry man-of-all-work, and flung the bottle into the bonfire. "oh, that medicine!" shrieked the matron. "and i made it myself, too!" "it's them pesky boys, mrs. green! they be a-tormenting the life out of me." "the boys?" the matron stopped short in wonder. "yes, mum. they've stolen my shoes and socks, and they started to brand me with a red-hot poker. i ain't got no fits, nur cramps, nur nuthin', i ain't!" "well, i declare!" burst out the thoroughly angry matron. "tom rover, come here!" "thank you, mrs. green, i'll come day after to-morrow!" murmured tom, as he kept at a safe distance. "well, i guess you are all in this together," went on mrs. green, looking at the crowd of cadets. "it's your last night and i suppose you will tear the academy down over our ears." "why, mrs. green, we never do anything wrong," said sam, reproachfully. "oh, no, of course not," was the sarcastic answer. "i'll be thankful to find myself alive after you are all gone." and with this reply the matron bounced off into the kitchen, where she slammed the door after her. "here are your shoes, peleg," said george granbury, as he handed them over. "i want my socks first." "here you are," came from larry colby. as larry's term as major was now over he was inclined to be as full of fun as anybody. peleg took his socks and his shoes and started to put on the former. "hullo, what's this!" he cried, and shook one foot violently. "what's in that sock! a grasshopper, i declare! larry colby, did you do that?" "why, peleg, you know i never play any jokes," answered the ex-major, innocently. "don't i, though! but never mind." the general-utility man started to put on the other sock. "if you think--great snakes, what's this? oh, my foot! a hop-toad! beastly!" and peleg flung the toad at larry. the ex-major dodged and the animal struck william philander tubbs full in the face. "oh, ah--what do you--ah--mean by such actions!" stormed the aristocratic cadet. "i shall report this." "hurrah, tubby has gone into the frog-raising business," shouted tom, merrily. "i shan't put nuthin' on here," went on peleg snuggers, and watching his chance, he ran off at top speed, with his shoes in one hand and his socks in the other. chapter viii good-bye to putnam hall "now, songbird, give us one of your best poetical effusions," came from dick rover, after the excitement had died down a little. "we haven't heard a word out of you for fourteen minutes and a quarter." "yes, songbird, turn on the poetry spigot and let her flow," put in tom. "give us something on old schooldays," came from another cadet. "put in a touch of last farewells," added another. "don't forget to speak of the moon and fond memories." "or, shall we ever forget?" "or, camping on the old camp-ground, songbird." "and of all things, mention the soup we had last thursday. no piece of poetry would be complete without that soup." "who's making up poetry about soup?" roared songbird powell. but then he grew calmer. "all right, fellows, here goes." and he started: "of all the days to mem'ry dear, the dearest days are those spent here, when we--" "that's a libel!" interrupted tom. "captain putnam's rates are no higher than the rates of other first-class academies. i move we cut that verse out, songbird." "i didn't mean the cost of the days spent here." "you can't spend anything here," put in george granbury. "you have to go to cedarville to do your shopping." "i'll make a fresh start," came from powell, and he warbled: "old putnam hall i do adore, and love the place as ne'er before, the campus, boathouse, fishing pier-the roads that run from far and near-each classroom is a hallowed spot, though many lessons are forgot! the dormitories, bright and clean-no better rooms were ever seen! the mess-room, where we gathered oft--" "to eat our eggs both hard and soft!" finished up tom, and then went on: "the prison wherein i was cast, and thought that day would be my last, the teachers sweet and the teachers sour, and the feasts we held at the midnight hour, the games of ball we lost and won, and the jubilees! what lots of fun! and then the skating on the ice--" "when we broke in, 'twas not so nice:" interrupted george granbury, referring to a calamity the particulars of which have already been related in "the rover boys in the mountains." and then songbird powell took up the strain once more: "i love each corner and each nook, i love the lake and love the brook, i love the cedars waving high--" "and love the dinners with mince pie," interrupted tom once more, and continued: "in fact, i love it one and all, there is no spot like putnam hall!" and then, with one accord, all standing around joined in the academy cheer: "zip, boom, bang! ding, dong! ding, dong! bang! hurrah for putnam hall!" then the fire was stirred up, more boxes and barrels piled on top, and the cadets danced around more wildly than ever. they were allowed to keep up the fun until midnight, when all were so tired that further sport was out of the question, and all went sound asleep. bright and early the next morning the cadets assembled for their last breakfast in the mess-room. the parade was dispensed with, for some had to leave by the early boat on the lake in order to make the proper connections. many were the handshakings and the kind words of farewell. some of the students had graduated and were not to come back. of these a few were bound for college, while others were going into various lines of business. "we shall never forget our days at putnam .hall!" said more than one. "and i shall never forget you, boys," answered captain putnam. "i wish all of you the best of success in life." it was not until ten o'clock that the three rover boys left for cedarville in the big school stage. as was usual, peleg snuggers drove the turnout, which was filled to overflowing with cadets. behind the stage came a big wagon, heavily loaded with trunks and boxes. "now, young gents, no cutting up," pleaded the general-utility man. "the hosses won't stand it, nowhow!" "that's an old scare, peleg," replied tom. he had a tin horn and gave a loud blast. "that will let folks know we are coming." and then a dozen other horns sounded out, while some of the cadets began to sing. a few minutes after reaching the steamboat dock at the village, which, as my old readers know, was located on the shore of cayuga lake, the _golden star_ came along and made her usual landing. the boat looked familiar to them and they gave the captain a rousing greeting. over a dozen pupils were to make the trip to ithaca at the foot of the lake. there the rovers would get aboard a train which would take them to oak run, the nearest railroad station to their home. "the _golden star_ looks like an old friend," remarked dick, when they were seated on the front, upper deck, enjoying the refreshing breeze that was blowing.' "i am never on this boat but what i think of our first meeting with dan baxter and with dora stanhope and nellie and grace laning," came from tom. "what an enemy dan baxter has been from that time on!" "and what a pile of things have happened since that time!" was sam's comment. "by the way, it is strange that none of us have heard from any of those girls lately. they ought to be coming east from california by this time." "i wish they were home," went on tom. "i'd like to propose something." "maybe you'd like to propose to nellie," put in his younger brother, slyly. "no sooner than you'd propose to grace," was tom's prompt answer, which made sam blush. "dick," he went on, "wouldn't it be great if we could get the girls and mrs. stanhope to take that trip with us on the houseboat?" "that would certainly be immense," cried the eldest rover, enthusiastically. "why didn't we think of it before? we might have written to them about it." "is it too late to write now?" asked sam. "or, maybe we can telegraph." "perhaps mrs. laning wants her girls at home now," said dick, slowly. "they have been away a long time, remember." "perhaps mrs. laning might go along. we could have a jolly time of it with six or seven boys and perhaps the same number of girls and ladies." the idea of having the girls along interested the three rovers greatly and they talked of practically nothing else during the trip on cayuga lake. ithaca reached, they bid farewell to the last of their school chums, who were to depart in various directions, and then made their way to one of the hotels for dinner. "there they are, mamma!" they heard a well-known voice exclaim. "oh, how glad i am that we didn't miss them!" and the next moment dora stanhope rushed up, followed by nellie and grace laning and mrs. stanhope. "well, of all things!" ejaculated dick, as he shook hands warmly. "where did you drop from?" "we were talking about you during the trip from cedarville," said tom, as he too shook hands all around, followed by sam. "we were wondering why you hadn't written," added sam. "we were going to surprise you," answered grace. "we expected to get home yesterday and visit the academy. but there was a breakdown on the line and our train was delayed and that made us miss a connection." "we thought sure we'd miss you," said nellie. "it made us feel awfully." "have you dined yet?" asked dick. "no." "then you must all come and take dinner with us. we want to hear all you've got to tell." "and we want to hear what you've got to tell too," said dora, with a merry laugh. she was looking straight into dick's eyes. "have you had a good time at the hall?" "yes, but we had a better time at the encampment." "i heard you met some very nice young ladies up there," went on dora. "who wrote to you about that, dora?" "oh, never mind; i heard it, and that's enough." "well, we did meet some nice young ladies." "oh!" and dora turned away for a moment. they were on their way to the dining room and the others were temporarily out of hearing. "but i didn't meet anybody half as nice as you!" went on dick, in a low tone of voice, and caught her hand. "oh, dick!" she said this with a toss of her head, but smiled, nevertheless. "it's true, dora. i wished you were there more than once. i would have written more, only we had a whole lot of trouble with our enemies." "and you really did think of me?" "i did--nearly every day. i suppose you forgot all about me, and that's why you didn't write." "dick rover, you know better than that!" "i suppose you met some stunning californian that owns a gold mine and he claimed all of your attention." "i did meet one rich young man, and--and he proposed to me," faltered dora. "oh, dora!" and now dick's heart seemed to stop beating. "and you--you didn't accept him, did you?" "would you care if i did?" she whispered. "dora!" he answered, half fiercely. "well, i told him i didn't want him, so there," said dora, hurriedly. "i told him that i wanted to marry somebody that lived in the east, and that i--i--" "and that you had the young man picked out? why didn't you tell him that, dora? you know--" "hi, you folks!" came in a cry from tom. "what are you steering for the smoking room for? we are bound for the dining room." "well, i never!" murmured dora. "dick, we had better watch out where we are going." "that's right." they turned toward the dining room. "dora, you know, as i was saying, that--" "dick rover, i thought we were going to dinner! just see the folks! what a crowd! you musn't talk like that here." "yes, that's true, but--" "you really must mind, dick." she gave him a bright smile. "i--i--guess i understand you!" and then all went in to dinner. chapter ix the rover boys at home there was a great deal to tell on all sides, and the dinner lasted over an hour. the stanhopes and the lanings had had a grand time while at santa barbara and the widow was much improved in health, so much so, in fact, that she was now practically a well woman. those who had been in the far west listened with interest to the boys' doings at the hall and during the encampment, and were amazed to think that dan baxter and his father had turned up once more, and that arnold baxter was trying to turn over a new leaf. "i do not believe dan will ever turn over a new leaf," said dora. "he is a thoroughly bad young man." "let us hope that he does," said her mother. "i do not wish to see anybody throw himself away as that young man is doing." "after this you will have to watch out for this lew flapp as well as for dan baxter," said nellie. "both appear to be painted with the same brush." during the dinner the houseboat project was broached, and the boys spoke of what a fine time they expected to have on the ohio, and perhaps on the mississippi. "and we would like all of you to go with us," said dick. "with you!" exclaimed mrs. stanhope. "oh, mamma, what a delightful trip it would be!" exclaimed dora. "and we would like your mother to go too," went on tom, to nellie and grace. "oh, if mamma would only go!" cried grace. "i am sure it would do her a great deal of good. she goes away from home so little." the matter was talked over until it was time for the two parties to separate, and the rovers promised to write more particulars in a few days,--as soon as they knew more about the houseboat and how it was to be run, and what sort of sleeping accommodations it afforded. the boys saw the stanhopes and the lanings on the boat bound up the lake and then almost ran to the depot to catch their train. it came in directly, and in half a minute more they were being whirled away in the direction of oak run. "there is no use of talking, those girls are just all right," said sam, bluntly. "i never met a nicer lot in my life." "i guess dick thinks one of them is all right," said tom, with a grin. "although i don't see why you were steering her into the smoking room," he added, to his big brother. "were you going to teach her to smoke cigarettes?" "oh, say, tom, let up," grumbled dick. "you paid about as much attention to nellie as i did to dora." "anyway, i didn't steer her to the smoking room." "no, but while you were talking to her i saw you put five spoonfuls of sugar in her coffee for her," returned dick. "maybe you didn't think she was sweet enough for you, eh?" at this tom reddened, while sam set up a roar. "he's got you, tom!" cried the youngest rover. "better cry quits and talk about something else. we all like those girls amazingly, and that's the end of it;" and then the subject was changed. it was almost dark when oak run was reached. here a carriage, driven by jack ness, the rovers' hired man, was in waiting for them. "hullo, jack!" cried tom. "all well at home?" "very well, master tom," was the answer. "and how are you, and how is master dick and master sam?" "all o. k. and top side up, jack," said sam. they were soon in the carriage, and then the hired man whipped up the team and away they sped across swift river, through the village of dexter's corners, and then along the highway leading to the farm. "i see the lights of home!" sang out sam, as they made the last turn. "i can tell you, it makes a fellow feel good, doesn't it?" "it's a true saying that there is no place like home," returned dick. "here we are!" the carriage made a turn around a clump of trees and then dashed up to the piazza. from the house rushed several people. "here we are, father!" sang out dick. "how are you, uncle randolph, and how are you, aunt martha?" "dick!" cried mr. anderson rover, and embraced his oldest son. "and tom and sam! i am glad to see you looking so well!" "my boys!" murmured their aunt, as of old, and gave each a sounding kiss. "getting to be big young men," was their uncle's comment. "they won't be boys much longer." "i'm going to stay a boy all my life, uncle randolph," answered tom, promptly. "by the way," he went on, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "how is scientific farming getting on?" "splendidly, thomas, splendidly." "not losing money any more, then?" "well--er--i have lost a little, just a little, this summer. but next summer i expect grand results." "going to grow a new kind of turnip?" "no i--" "or maybe it's a squash this time, uncle." "no, i am trying--" "or a parsnip. i have heard there is a great call for parsnips in new zealand. the natives use them for dyeing--" "thomas!" interrupted his father, sternly. "please don't start to joke so early. to-morrow will do." "all right, i'll subside," answered tom. "but really, do you know, i'm bubbling all over, like an uncorked soda-water bottle." "don't you feel hungry?" "hungry! just you try me and see." "i made a big cherry pie for you, tom," said his aunt. "i know you like it." "oh, aunt martha, that's worth an extra hug." he gave it to her. "your pie can't be beat!" "and i've got some fried chicken. dick likes that." "and i like it, too," said sam. "yes, i know it, sam. but i made some spice cakes too--" "oh, aunt, just my weakness!" cried the youngest rover. "there's another kiss for you, and another! you're the best aunt a boy ever had!" they were soon washed up and sitting down to the table. scarcely had they seated themselves than alexander pop came in, acting as waiter, something he always did when the boys came home. alexander, usually called aleck for short, was a good-natured colored man who had once been employed at putnam hall. he had gone to africa with the rover boys, as already related in "the rover boys in the jungle," and had been with them on numerous other trips. he was now employed steadily in the rover household. "howde do, gen'men?" he said, with a broad grin on his coal-black face. "aleck!" all three cried together; "how are you?" "fust-rate, thank yo'. yo' am looking right smart, too," went on the colored man. and then he began to serve them with the best the place afforded. he loved dearly to talk, but thought the present no time for so doing. it was a happy family gathering, and all remained at the table a long time, the boys telling their different tales from beginning to end. mr. anderson rover was much interested in what they had to say about the baxters and lew flapp. "you must be careful," said he. "arnold baxter can do you no more harm, but the others will be worse than snakes in the grass." "we'll watch out," answered dick, and then he and the others asked about the houseboat which had been taken for debt and how soon they could use the craft. "you may use the houseboat as soon as you please," said randolph rover. "but you must promise your father and aunt martha and me not to get into mischief." "how could we get into mischief with a houseboat?" questioned tom. "why, we just intend to knock around and take it easy all summer." "the rest ought to do all of you a power of good," came from his father. "i declare, it seems to me you have been on the jump ever since you first went to putnam hall." "where is the houseboat now?" "tied up at the village of steelville, not very far from pittsburg. as i wrote to you, she is under the command of captain starr. he knows the ohio and the mississippi thoroughly and will take you wherever you wish to go." "well, we want to stay home a few days first, and make all of our arrangements," said dick; and so it was decided. chapter x a scene in a cemetery "hurrah, fred garrison says he will go with us!" cried sam, two days later. "i have just received a telegram from him. he says he will come on to-morrow." "and here is word from songbird powell," put in dick. "he will go, too. he is to meet us at pittsburg, any time i say." "and hans mueller will go," said tom. "that makes three of our friends to start with. i hope the lanings and the stanhopes go." "so do i," answered dick, who could not get that talk with dora in the hallway of the hotel out of his head. sam was anxious to meet fred garrison, and on the following afternoon drove down to the railroad station at oak run to greet his chum. the train was late, and after finding this out sam took a walk around the village to see what changes had been made during the past few months. but oak run was a slow place and he look in vain for improvements. "guess i'll have my hair cut while i am here," he said to himself, and started to enter the only barber shop of which the railroad village boasted. as he pushed open the door a young fellow got out of one of the chairs and paid the barber what was coming to him. then he reached for his hat and started to leave. "lew flapp!" ejaculated sam. "is it possible?" the bully of putnam hall whirled around and gave a start. he had not dreamed of meeting one of the rovers. "what--er--what do you want?" he stammered, not knowing what to say. "where did you come from, flapp?" "that's my business." "it was a fine trick you played on us while we were on the march back to putnam hall." "trick? i haven't played any trick on you," answered lew flapp, loftily, as he began to regain his self-possession. "you know well enough that you robbed that jewelry shop and then tried to lay the blame on me and my brothers." "rover, you are talking in riddles." "no, i'm not; i'm telling the strict truth." "bah!" lew flapp shoved forward. "let me pass." "not just yet." sam placed himself in front of the barber shop door. "what's the row?" put in the barber, who happened to be the only other person in the shop. "this fellow is a thief, mr. gregg." "you don't say!" cried lemuel gregg. "who did he rob?" "he robbed a jewelry shop up near putnam hall and then he laid the blame on my brothers and me." "that was a mean thing to do." "it is false!" roared lew flapp. "get out of my way, or it will be the worse for you!" "i'm not afraid of you, flapp," responded sam, sturdily. "mr. gregg, will you help me to make him a prisoner?" "are you certain of what you are doing?" questioned the barber, nervously. "i don't want to get into trouble over this. i once cut off a man's beard by mistake and had to pay twenty-two dollars damages." "i know exactly what i am doing. help me to make him a prisoner and you shall be well rewarded." at the promise of a reward lemuel gregg became interested. he knew that the rovers were well-to-do and could readily pay him handsomely for his services. "you--you had better stay here, young man," he said, to lew flapp. "if you are innocent it won't hurt you. we'll have the squire look into this case." "i won't stay!" roared the bully, and making a sudden leap at sam he hurled the youngest rover to one side and tried to bolt through the door. "no, you don't!" came from the barber, and leaping to the front he caught lew flapp by the end of the coat and held him. "let go!" "i won't!" "then take that!" and the next instant lew flapp hit the barber a telling blow in the nose which made the blood spurt from that member. then flapp dove for the door, pulled it open, and sped up the street with all speed. "oh, my nose! he has smashed it to jelly!" groaned the barber, as he rushed to the sink for some water. sam had been thrown against a barber chair so forcibly that for the moment the wind was knocked completely out of him. by the time he was able to stand up, flapp was out of the building. "we must catch him!" he cried. "come on!" "catch him yourself," growled lemuel gregg, "i ain't going to stand the risk of being killed. he's a reg'lar tiger, he is!" and he began to bathe his nose at the sink. lew flapp was running towards the railroad, but as soon as he saw that sam was on his track he made several turns, finally taking to a side road which led to the oak run cemetery. here he saw there were numerous bushes and cedar trees, and thought he could hide or double on his trail without discovery. but he forgot one thing--that sam was a splendid runner and good of wind as well as limb. try his best, he could not shake the youngest rover off. "the fool!" muttered the bully to himself. "why don't he give it up?" flapp looked about him for a club, but none was at hand. then he picked up a stone and taking aim, hurled it at sam. the missile struck the youngest rover in the shoulder, causing considerable pain. "i reckon two can play at that game," murmured sam, and he too caught up a stone and launched it forth. it landed in the middle of lew flapp's back and caused the bully to utter a loud cry of anguish. "stop, flapp! i am bound to catch you sooner or later!" cried sam. "you come closer and i'll fix you!" growled the bully. "i'll hammer the life out of you!" "you've got to spell able first," answered sam. the cemetery gained, lew flapp ran along one of the paths leading to the rear. along this path were a number of good-sized sticks. he picked up one of these, and a few seconds later sam did likewise. near the rear of the cemetery was a new receiving vault, which had just been donated to the cemetery association by the widow of a rich stockholder who had died the year before. the vault was of stone, with a heavy iron door that shut with a catch and a lock. making a turn that hid him from sam's view for the moment, lew flapp espied the vault, standing with the door partly open. "he won't look for me in there," reasoned the bully, and slipped into the place with all possible alacrity. once inside, he crouched in a dark corner behind the door and waited. sam, making the turn at just the right instant, saw flapp disappearing into the vault. without stopping he ran forward and closed the iron door, allowing the heavy catch to slip into place. "now, lew flapp, i guess i've got you!" he called out, after he was certain the door was secure. to this the bully made no answer, but it is more than likely his heart sank within him. "do you hear me, flapp? you needn't pretend you are not in there, for i saw you go in." still lew flapp made no answer. "do you want me to go away and leave you locked in the vault?" continued sam. "it would be a beautiful place in which to die of starvation." "let me out!" came from the bully, and now he got up and showed his face at the small grating near the top of the door. "let me out, rover, that's a good fellow." "then you don't want to die of starvation just yet?" "you wouldn't dare to leave me here, you know you wouldn't!" "why not? don't you deserve it, after the trick you played on dick and tom and me?" "i tell you it's all a mistake. let me out and i will explain everything," went on flapp, who was now thoroughly alarmed. "i'll let you out--after i have summoned the town constable." "don't have me locked up, i beg of you, sam. give me a chance," pleaded the bully. "you don't deserve any chance. you tried to send me and my brothers to prison, and you have got to suffer for it." "then you won't let me out?" "no." "i'll pay you well for it." "you haven't got money enough to pay me, flapp, and you know it." "if you have me locked up i'll say you helped me in that robbery." "ah, so you admit you did it," cried sam, triumphantly. "no, i admit nothing," growled the bully. "good-bye, then." "where are you going?" "i am going after the cemetery keeper and the constable," answered sam, and walked off without another word. chapter xi attacked from behind lew flapp watched sam's departure with much anxiety. as my old readers know, he was a coward at heart, and the thought of being put under arrest for the robbery of aaron fairchild's shop made him quake in every limb. "i must get out of here, i really must," he told himself, over and over again. he shook the door violently, but it refused to budge. then he tried to reach the catch by putting his hand through the grating, but found it was out of his reach. "it's a regular prison cell!" he groaned. "what a fool i was to come in here!" he tried to reach the catch by using his stick, but that was also a failure. "wonder if i can't find a bit of wire, or something?" he mused, and struck a match he had in his pocket. now it chanced that the widow who had given the new vault to the cemetery association had a horror of allowing supposed dead folks to be buried alive. as a consequence she had had the vault furnished with an electric button which opened the door from the inside. it had been stipulated that a light should be placed close to the button, but as yet this was not in place. by the light of the match lew flapp saw the button, and these words over it: to open the door and ring the bell push this button. "good! that just suits me," he chuckled to himself, but immediately had something of a chill, thinking that the button might not yet be fixed to work. with nervous fingers he pushed upon the object. there was a slight click, and he saw the big iron door of the vault spring ajar. "the trick is done, and i am free!" he murmured, and sprang to the door. but here he paused again, to gaze through the grating. sam was out of sight and not another soul could be seen. the coast was clear. "now good-bye to oak run," he muttered to himself. "i was a fool to come here in the first place, even to meet that dan baxter!" in a moment more he was out of the vault and running to the rear of the cemetery as fast as his legs would carry him. in the meantime sam made his way as quickly as possible to a house situated at the front corner of the cemetery, where the keeper of the place resided. a knock on the door brought the keeper's daughter. she knew sam and smiled. "what can i do for you, sam?" she asked. "where is your father, jennie?" "he just went down to the village to buy a new spade." "oh, pshaw! that's too bad." "what is the matter? i hope you're not going to have a funeral in your family." "no funeral in this, jennie. i met a thief in oak run and tried to have him arrested. he ran into the cemetery and hid in the new vault and i locked the door on him. now i want your father or somebody else to help me take him to the lock-up." "a thief! what did he steal?" "some jewelry. it's a long story. do you know where i can find somebody else?" "jack sooker is working over to the other end of the cemetery--cutting down an old tree. you might get him." "where?" "i'll show you." jennie ran to get her hat. she was just putting it on when a bell began to ring in the hall of the cottage. "gracious me!" gasped the girl. "what's the matter now?" "that's the bell to the new vault." "i don't understand." "there is an electric button in the vault. when you push it, it unlocks the door and rings this bell. it was put there in case somebody was in the vault in a trance and came to life again." "what!" ejaculated sam. "then that rascal must have pushed the button and opened the door from the inside." "yes." "i'm off. he is not going to escape if i can help it." and so speaking, the youngest rover dashed off the porch of the cottage and in the direction from whence he had come. it did not take him long to reach the new vault and a glance through the open doorway showed him that his bird had flown. "what a dunce i was not to think of that electric button!" he mused. "i knew mrs. singleton had stipulated it should be put in. she has a perfect horror of being buried alive." sam looked around in all directions, but could see nothing of lew flapp. but not far away was a pile of loose dirt and in this he saw some fresh tracks, pointing to the rear of the cemetery. "that's his course," he thought, and set off in that direction. he still carried the stick he had picked up and vowed that lew flapp should not get away so easily again. the end of the cemetery bordered on the swift river, a stream which has already figured in these stories of the rover boys. it was a rocky, swift-flowing watercourse, and the bank at the end of the burying ground was fully ten feet high. "perhaps he crossed the river," thought the youngest rover. "but he couldn't do that very well unless he had a boat and then he would run the risk of being dashed on the rocks." the edge of the river reached, sam looked around on all sides of him. lew flapp was still nowhere to be seen. "i've missed him," thought sam. "what next?" as the youngest rover stood meditating, a figure stole from behind some bushes which were close at hand. the figure was that of lew flapp, who had been on the point of turning back when he had seen sam coming. "he will raise an alarm as soon as he sees me," reasoned the bully. "oh, if only i could get him out of my way!" he gazed at the youngest rover and when he saw how close to the water's edge sam was standing, a sudden thought came into his mind. as silently as a wild beast stealing on its prey, he crept up to sam. "there! how do like that, sam rover!" he cried, triumphantly, and gave the youngest rover a shove which sent him over the bank and into the rocky stream below. sam gave out one yell and then, with a loud splash, sank beneath the surface. lew flapp gazed for a second in the direction, wondering when sam would reappear. but then a new fear took possession of him and off he ran, this time harder than ever. his course was along the river bank for a distance of a hundred yards, and then he came out on a road leading to a small place called hacknack. "to hacknack!" he muttered, after reading a signboard. "that's the place i'm looking for. one mile, eh? well, i had better lose no time in getting there." the bully was a fair walker and now fear lent speed to his limbs, and in less than fifteen minutes he reached the hamlet named. he gazed around and presently located a small cottage standing near the edge of a sandpit. "that must be the cottage," he told himself, and walking to it he rapped on the door four times in succession and then four times again. there was a stir within and then an old woman, bent with age and with a wicked look in her sharp, yellowish eyes, came to answer his summons. "is this mother matterson's place?" he asked. "yes, i'm mother matterson," squeaked the old woman. "who are you and what do you want?" "my name is lew flapp. i'm looking for a fellow called si silvers," he added, for that was the name dan baxter had assumed for the time being. "it's all right, old woman; tell him to come in," said a voice from inside the cottage, and lew flapp entered the house. immediately the old woman closed the door after him and barred it. chapter xii flapp and baxter plot mischief the cottage which mother matterson occupied was a much dilapidated one of a story and a half, containing three rooms and a loft. some of the windows were broken out and the chimney was sadly in need of repair. many were the rumors afloat concerning this old woman. some said she was little short of being a witch, while others had it that she was in league with tramps who had stolen things for miles around. but so far, if guilty, she had escaped the penalty of the law. "so you've come at last," went on the person in the cottage, as lew flapp came in, and a moment later dan baxter came into view. he was tall and lanky as of old, with a sour look on his face and several scars which made him particularly repulsive. "i had almost given you up." "i've had my own troubles getting here," answered flapp. "at first i couldn't locate hacknack and then i had the misfortune to fall in with sam rover" "sam rover! is he on your track now?" "i rather guess not," and the bully of putnam hall gave a short laugh. "he has gone swimming for his health." "what do you mean?" "i'll tell you," answered lew flapp, and in a rapid manner he related all that had occurred since he had met sam in the oak run barber shop. "well, all i can say is, that you are a lucky dog," came from dan baxter, at the conclusion of the recital. "you can thank your stars that you are not at this moment in the oak run lock-up." "i shouldn't have run any risk at all if it hadn't been for you," growled flapp. "oh, don't come any such game on me, flapp. i can read you like a book. you know you don't dare to go home--after that trip-up at white corners. your old man would just about kill you--and you'd be locked up in the bargain." at these words lew flapp winced, for he knew that dan baxter spoke the truth. he was afraid to go home, and had come to hacknack simply because he knew not where else to go and because baxter had promised him some money. the amount he had realized on the sale of the stolen jewelry had been spent. "see here, what's the use of talking that way?" he grumbled. "i didn't come here to get a lecture." "i'm not lecturing you," came hastily from dan baxter. "i'm merely telling you things for your own good, flapp. i want you to pull with me. i know we'll get along swimmingly." "you said you'd let me have some money." "and i'll keep my word." "i need at least fifty dollars." "you'll need more than that, flapp. you've got to stay away from home until this matter blows over, or until your old man patches things up with that aaron fairchild and the white corners authorities. i've got a plan, if you care to listen to it." "sure, i'll listen--if you'll only let me have that money." "i'll let you have all you want--providing you'll agree to help me." "well, what is your plan? but first tell me, how about this woman?" and flapp nodded his head toward mother matterson. "don't you worry about her," grinned dan baxter. "i've got her fixed. she won't squeal." "then go ahead." "as i said before, the best thing you can do is to stay away from home until this unpleasantness blows over. write to your father and tell him it is all a mistake, and that you are not guilty but that you can't prove it. ask him to square the thing with aaron fairchild and the others, and tell him you are going on an ocean trip and won't be back until you know you are safe. then you come with me, and we'll have a jolly good time, besides squaring up matters with the rovers." "where are you going and how are you going to square matters with them? "i've learned a thing or two since i came here. at first i was going to try to fix them while they were at home, but now i've learned that they are going away on a houseboat trip on the ohio and the mississippi. i propose to follow them and give them more than they want the first opportunity that presents itself." "you are certain about this houseboat trip?" "i am." "and who is going?" "the three rover boys and some of their school chums." "humph! i'd like to get square with the whole crowd!" muttered lew flapp. "i'd like to sink them in the middle of the ohio river!" "we'll square up, don't you worry," answered dan baxter. "i'm not forgetting all they've done against me in the past. if i had the chance i'd wring the neck of every one of them," he added, fiercely. "i don't think it is safe to stay around here any longer," said lew flapp, after a pause. "somebody may spot us both." "i'm not going to stay any longer. we can get out on the night train. by the way, supposing sam rover doesn't get out of the river." "what do you mean?" questioned flapp, with a shiver, although he knew well enough. "maybe sam rover was drowned." "oh, don't say that!" "bah! don't be chicken-hearted, flapp." "i--i--didn't mean to--to--kill him." "i know you didn't. just the same that is a dangerous river. the current is swift and it's full of rocks." "you're making me feel very uncomfortable." "oh, don't worry. those rover boys are like cats--each has nine lives. sam rover will be hot-footed after you before you know it." "have you got that money with you, baxter?" "to be sure i have. i never travel without a wad." "then let me have some." "you won't need it, if we are to travel together." "we may become separated," urged lew flapp. he did not altogether trust his companion. "well, i reckon that's so, too. i'll let you have twenty-five dollars. when that's gone you can come to me for more. but remember one thing: you've got to help me to down the rovers." "i'll help you to do that. but--but--" "but what?" "we mustn't go too far." "oh, you leave that to me. you've heard how they treated my father, haven't you?" "they say dick rover was kind to him." "bah! that's a fairy story." "but your father says the same--so i have been told." "the old man is out of his head--on account of that fire. when he gets clear-headed again he won't think dick rover--or any of the rovers, for the matter of that--is his friend." there was another pause. "where do you propose to go to?" "philadelphia, on a little business first, and then to pittsburg, and to that place where they have their houseboat." "and after that?" "i'm going to be guided by circumstances. but you can rest assured of one thing, flapp--i'll make those rover boys wish they had never undertaken this trip." dan baxter brought out a pocketbook well filled with bank bills and counted out five five-dollar bills. "my, but you're rich!" cried the bully of putnam hall. "oh, i've got a good bit more than that," was the bragging answer. "i want you to know that once upon a time my father was as rich as the rovers, and he would be as rich now if it wasn't that they cheated him out of his rights to a gold mine," went on dan baxter, bringing up something which has already been fully explained in "the rover boys out west." the claim belonged to the rovers, but the baxters would never admit this. "did they really cheat him?" questioned lew flapp, with interest. "they certainly did." "then why didn't you go to law about it with them?" "they stole all the evidence, so we couldn't do a thing in law. do you wonder that i am down on them?" "no, i don't. if i were you, i'd try to get my rights back." "i'm going to get them back some day," answered dan baxter. "and i am going to square up with all the rovers, too, mind that!" chapter xiii chips and the circus bills it is now time that we return to sam and find out how he fared after being so unexpectedly hurled into the river by lew flapp. the youngest rover was taken so completely off his guard that he could, for the moment, do nothing to save himself. down he went and his yell was cut short by the waters closing over his head. he was dazed and bewildered and swallowed some of the water almost before he was aware. but then his common-sense returned to him and he struggled to rise to the surface. as he neared the top, the current carried him against a sharp rock. instead of clutching this, he hit the rock with his head. the blow almost stunned him, and down he went once more, around the rock and along the river a distance of fully a hundred feet ere he again appeared. by this time he realized that he was having a battle for his life, and he clutched out wildly for the first thing that came to hand, it was a tree root and by its aid he pulled himself to the surface of the river and gazed around him. he was under the bank, at a point where the current had washed away a large portion of the soil, exposing to view half of the roots of a tree standing above. to get out of the stream at that spot was an impossibility, and he let himself go once more, when he had regained his breath and felt able to take care of himself. in a few minutes more sam reached a point where to climb up the bank was easy, and he lost no time in leaving the river. once on the bank he squeezed the water out of his garments. he had lost his cap, but spent no time in looking for the head covering. "oh, if only i had lew flapp here!" he muttered over and over again. but the bully had, as we already know, made good his escape, and sam found it impossible to get on his track. soaked to the skin he made his way back through the cemetery. "hullo, so you have fallen into the river!" sang out a man who saw him coming. it was jack sooker, the fellow mentioned by the cemetery keeper's daughter. "no, i was pushed in," answered sam, who knew sooker fairly well. "how did it happen, sam?" "i was after a rascal i wanted to have locked up. but he shoved me into the river and got away." "you don't tell me! where is he now?" "i don't know." "that's too bad. do i know him?" "no, he is a stranger around these parts." "a young fellow?" "yes, about dick's age." "can't say as i've seen him. what are you going to do about it?" "i don't know yet. i've got to get some dry clothes first:" sam walked up to the cottage at the corner of the cemetery. jennie, the keeper's daughter, saw him coming and gave a cry at his wet garments. "can i dry myself here?" he asked, after he had explained the situation. "to be sure you can, sam," she answered, and stirred up the fire in the kitchen stove. "if you wish i'll lend you a suit of my brother zack's clothes--that is, if you are in a hurry." "thanks, i'll borrow the suit. i want to report this; and i'll send the suit back to-morrow." "you needn't hurry. zack isn't home just now, so he doesn't need the suit." the clothes were found, and sam slipped into a bedchamber of the cottage and made the change. then, after thanking jennie once more for her kindness, the youngest rover set off for oak run as fast as he could. a train was just coming into the depot and the first person to hop off was fred garrison. "hullo, i thought you'd meet me!" sang out fred. "how are you?" "pretty well, considering," answered sam, with a quiet smile. "but i've had a whole lot of happenings since i drove down to the depot." "what's the matter, horse run away?" "no, i met lew flapp." "nonsense! why, what is he doing around here?" "i give it up, fred. but he was here and we have had a lively time of it," answered sam, and told his story. "well, i'll be jiggered! what do you propose to do next?" "i don't know what to do. i might get the village constable to hunt for him, but i don't think it will do any good." "why don't you tell your folks first?" "yes, i reckon that will be best. jump in the carriage and i'll drive you over to our home." fred had but little to tell out of the ordinary. his folks had wanted him to go to the seashore for the summer, but he had preferred to take the houseboat trip with the rovers. "i am sure we shall have a dandy time," he said. "i was on a houseboat trip once, down in florida, and it was simply great." "what do you think about the lanings and the stanhopes going with us?" "that will be nice. we certainly ought to have a bang-up time," answered fred, enthusiastically. sam had driven over with the best horse the rover stable afforded, a magnificent bay, which anderson rover had purchased in albany at a special sale early in the spring. sam had pleaded to take the steed and his parent had finally consented. "that's a fine bit of horseflesh you have," observed fred, as they sped along the level road leading to valley brook farm. "i like the manner in which he steps out first-rate." "chips is a good horse," answered sam. "there is only one fault he has." "and what is that?" "he is easily frightened at a bit of paper or some other white object in the road." "that is bad." the conversation now changed and the boys spoke of the good times ahead. farm after farm was passed, until they were almost in sight of valley brook. "what a beautiful stretch of country," observed fred, as he gazed around. "i don't wonder that your uncle settled here while your father was in africa." "we used to hate the farm, tom especially. we thought it was too dead slow for anything. but now we love to come back to it, after being at school or somewhere else." they were just passing the farm next to that of the rovers when a man came driving up to them at a rapid gait. he was seated on a buckboard and had behind him a box filled with showbills. "visit the circus day after to-morrow! biggest show on earth for a quarter!" he shouted, and flung a couple of bills at them. "a circus!" began fred, when, without warning, chips made a wild leap that nearly threw him and sam into the road. scared by the sight of the showbills the horse made a plunge and then began to run away. "whoa, chips, whoa!" sang out sam. "don't--don't let him get away, sam!" came from fred, as he gripped the side of the carriage. "he shan't get away if i can help it," was the answer, from between sam's shut teeth. "whoa, chips, whoa!" he went on. but chips wouldn't whoa, and the sight of another white handbill in the middle of the road caused him to shy to one side. both boys were unseated, and sam would have gone to the ground had not fred held him fast. "whoa!" yelled sam, and now he pulled in tighter than ever on the reins. but on and on went the bay steed, straight through the lane leading to the rovers' barn. "he'll smash us up!" gasped fred. "hi! hi!" came from the barnyard and then dick rover came into view. his quick eye took in the situation in an instant and he made a grand dash to reach chips' head. he was successful, and in spite of the steed's efforts to throw him off, held on until at last the bay was brought to a standstill, trembling in every limb and covered with foam. "how did this happen, samuel?" asked his uncle, as he too came forward. "a fellow with circus bills scared him," answered sam, and he added: "i'd just like to catch that fellow and give him a piece of my mind!" "and so would i," added fred. "are either of you hurt?" "no." "let us be thankful for that," said mr. rover; and then had the horse taken to the stable by jack ness. chapter xiv fun at the show as soon as the family were assembled and fred had been greeted all around, sam told of what had happened since he had started out to have his hair cut. "well, you've had your share of happenings," declared mrs. rover. "it is a wonder you are alive to tell of them." "we ought to go after lew flapp," said dick. "he ought to be arrested by all means." "yes, but where are you going to look for him?" "perhaps he will take the late train to-night from oak run." "that's an idea," came from tom. "let us watch the train." this was decided upon, and he and dick, accompanied by their father, went to oak run that evening for that purpose. but lew flapp and dan baxter took the train from a station three miles away, so the quest was unsuccessful. "i guess he didn't let the grass grow under his feet," said sam, the next morning. "no doubt he was badly scared." "what could he have been doing in this neighborhood?" asked dick. "i give it up." during the day sam got his hair cut and also returned the clothing loaned to him by the cemetery keeper's daughter. while in oak run he met the fellow who was distributing circus bills. "you want to be more careful when distributing bills," said he to the man. "what's the matter with you?" growled the circus agent. "you scared my horse yesterday and made him run away." "oh, go tumble over yourself," growled the fellow, and turned away. the manner of the man angered sam, and likewise angered tom, who happened to be along. "some of those circus chaps think they own the earth," was tom's comment. "i've a good mind to go to his old circus and have some fun with the outfit." "just the thing, tom! let us ask the others to go too. i haven't seen a circus in a long time." "well, this won't be much to look at. but we may get some fun out of it," added tom, with a sly wink. "yes, there is sure to be fun when you are around," added his younger brother, with a laugh. when the circus was mentioned at home dick said he would be glad to go and so did fred. "it is frozzler's grand aggregation of attractions," said tom, looking over one of the showbills. "the most stupendous exhibition on earth. daring bareback riding, trained elephants and a peanut-eating contest, likewise an egg-hunting raffle. all for a quarter, twenty-five cents." "what is an egg-hunting raffle?" questioned fred. "he's fooling you, fred," answered sam. "you mustn't believe all tom says." "thus doth mine own flesh go back on me," came from tom, with an injured look. "never mind, it is put and carried that we go and see frozzler's outfit, occupying reserved orchestra chairs, close to the family circle and adjoining the second gallery west." as soon as it was settled tom and sam laid their heads together to have all the fun they could at the circus, "just to get square with that agent," as sam expressed it. none of the older folks wanted to go, for which the boys were thankful. "say, i'd like to see dat show, tom," said aleck pop, when he got the chance. "ain't seen no circuses since i was a little boy." "then you must go by all means, aleck. but don't you get too close to the monkey cage." "why not, tom?" "they might take you for a long-lost brother." "yah! yah! dat's one on me!" aleck showed his ivories in a broad grin. "maybe da will take yo' for a long-lost brudder, too--yo' is so full ob monkey shines," and then tom had to laugh at the sally. at the proper time the four boys drove over to the circus grounds, taking aleck pop with them. aleck was arrayed in his best, and from his broad expanse of shirt bosom sparkled an imitation diamond which looked like a small electric light. tickets were procured for all by dick, and the boys and the servant pressed their way into the first of the tents, in company with one of the largest crowds ever gathered in that vicinity. now, as it happened, frozzler's grand aggregation of attractions was largely so only in name. frozzler was himself the man who had given out the showbills, his regular agent having refused to work because his salary had remained unpaid for three weeks. the circus was fast going to pieces. "here is where i am going to make a bunch of money," said frozzler to himself, as he saw the crowd coming in. "this day will put me on my feet again." but he never saw the "bunch" of money in question, for before the show was over a sheriff came along and levied on the receipts, in behalf of several tradespeople and some performers. the exhibition was held in two tents, one for the wild animals and the other for the ring performance. the wild animals were in exactly eight wagon cages and consisted of a sickly-looking lion, a half-starved tiger, several raccoons, two foxes, a small bear, and about a dozen monkeys. there were also two elephants, one so old he was blind and could hardly stand. "well, this is a sell, if ever there was one," murmured tom, after looking into the various cages. "i feel like going out to the butcher shop and buying something with which to feed that tiger," answered dick. "he looks as if he hadn't had a square meal for a week." "i'm going to give the monkeys some peanuts, that's the best i can do for them," put in sam. "if the ring show isn't better than this we are stuck sure," was fred's comment. "hullo, there's that handbill man now," cried tom, as giles frozzler came into the tent. "won't he laugh when he sees how sam and fred have been stuck?" two of the circus employees were near by and from their talk fred learned that the showbill man was the proprietor of the circus. "he certainly must be a one-horse fellow, or he wouldn't be throwing out his own showbills," said sam, on hearing this. frozzler wore a soft hat, and as he stood near the monkey cage tom threw some peanuts into the crown of the head covering. instantly the monkeys crowded forward. one seized a peanut and another, to get the rest of the nuts, caught hold of the hat and pulled it into the cage. "hi! give me my hat!" roared giles frozzler, and put his hand into the cage to get the article in question. the monkeys thought he had more peanuts and, being half starved, they grabbed his hand and pulled it this way and that, while one gave the man a severe nip. "oh! oh!" screamed the circus man. "let go my hand, you pesky rascal!" "hullo, dat monkey am got a limb dat don't belong to no tree," sang out aleck. "you shut your mouth!" growled frozzler "hi! give me my hat!" he went on to the monkeys. but the animals paid no attention to him. they ate up the peanuts as fast as they could and then one began an investigation by pulling the band from the hat. the head covering was a new one, purchased but two days before, and to see it being destroyed made giles frozzler frantic. "give me that, you rascals!" he roared, and began to poke at the monkeys with a sharp stick. but two of them caught the stick and, watching their chance, jerked it away from him. "hurrah! score one for the monks!" sang out tom, and this made the crowd laugh. "if you don't shut up i'll have you put out," came angrily from giles frozzler. "why don't you buy hats for the pool' dear monkeys?" went on tom. "then they wouldn't want yours." "oh, you keep quiet!" "those monkeys are about starved," said sam. "let us get up a subscription for their benefit. i don't believe they have had a square meal in a year." "all of the animals look starved," said dick, loudly. "dat am a fac'," added aleck. "this is a bum show," cried a burly farmer boy standing close by. "why, they have more animals nor this in a dime museum." "will you fellows shut up?" cried giles frozzler. "this show is all right." "of course you'd say so--you're the feller wot put out them bills," said the burly country boy. "if you don't like the show you can get out." "all right, mr. billman, give me back my quarter." "yes, give me my quarter and i'll go too," put in one of the shopkeepers of oak run. "and so will i go," added a woman. "me, too," came in a voice from the rear of the crowd. "oh, you people make me tired," grumbled giles frozzler, and then, fearing that the people would really demand their money back he sneaked off, leaving the monkeys to continue the destruction of his head covering. chapter xv acts not on the bills it was now almost time for the ring performance to begin. dick had purchased so-called reserved seats for the crowd, paying an additional ten cents for each seat, but when they reached the tent with the ring they found that the reserved seats were merely a creation of fancy on the part of the circus owner. giles frozzler had had imitation chair bottoms painted on the long boards used for seats and each of these buttons was numbered. "this is a snide, sure," said sam. "well, there is one thing about it, they can't crowd you," answered dick. and that was the one advantage the "reserved seats" afforded. on the common seats the spectators were crowded just as closely as possible, until the seats threatened to break down with the weight put upon them. there was a delay in opening the ring performance and for a very good reason. in the dressing tent giles frozzler was having great difficulty in persuading his leading lady rider and his clown to go on. both wanted their pay for the past two weeks. "i shall not ride a step until i am paid," said the equestrienne, with a determined toss of her head. "and i don't do another flip-flap," put in the clown. "oh, come, don't talk like that," argued giles frozzler. "i'll pay you to-morrow, sure." "no." "i'll pay you to-night--just as soon as the performance is over. just see what a crowd we have--the money is pouring in." at this the lady bareback rider hesitated, and finally said she would go on. but the clown would not budge. "i may be a clown in the ring, but not in the dressing room," said he, tartly. "i want my pay, or i don't go on." "all right then, you can consider yourself discharged," cried giles frozzler. he had started in the circus business as a clown and thought he could very well fill his employee's place for a day or two. in the meantime he would send to the city for another clown whom he knew was out of a situation. at last the show began with what frozzler termed on his handbills the grand opening parade, consisting of the two elephants, two ladies on horseback, two circus hands on horseback, the little bear, who was tame, and several educated dogs. in the meantime the band, consisting of seven pieces, struck up a march which was more noise than harmony. "here's your grand circus," whispered sam. "beats the greatest show on earth to bits, doesn't it?" "i'll wager a big tomato against a peck of clams that i can get up a better show myself, and do it blindfolded, too," returned tom. the grand opening at an end, there was a bit of juggling by a juggler who made several bad breaks in his act, and then came the lady bareback rider. at the same time, frozzler came out, dressed in a clown's suit and painted up. "hullo, there's that chap again!" cried dick. "he must be running half the show himself." "how are you to-morrow?" sang out the clown. and after doing a flip-flap, he continued: "mr. ringmaster, what's the difference between your knife and me?" "i know!" shouted tom. "his knife is a jack-knife, while you are a jack-of-all-trades!" at this sally there was a loud laugh. "what is the difference between my knife and you?" queried the ringmaster, as soon as he could make himself heard. "that's it." "i don't know." "i told you!" shouted tom. "the difference between your knife and me," answered frozzler, "is that you can shut your knife up but you can't shut me up," and then he made a face and did another tumble. "his knife is sharper than you, too," cried sam. a roar followed, which made frozzler so angry he shook his fist at the youngest rover. "why is that boy like a fish?" cried frozzler. "because he's too slippery for a clown to catch," put in fred, loudly, and this created such a laugh that frozzler's answer was completely lost on the crowd. again he shook his fist at our friends, but they merely laughed at him. "i had a funny dream last night," went on the clown. "what do you think i dreamed?" "that you had paid all your bills," called out dick. this brought forth another laugh at frozzler's expense, in which even some of the circus hands joined. "say, those boys are sharp," said the clown who had been discharged. "i shouldn't care to run up against them." "three of them are the rover boys," answered a man sitting near. "nobody can get the best of them." "i dreamed a whale came along and swallowed me," went on frozzler. "hullo, i knew you were a jonah!" sang out tom. and once more the crowd roared. "in the whale i met my old schoolmate, billy black," continued the clown. "that was a black moment for poor billy," was sam's comment. "did you give billy a whaling?" asked tom. "did dat whale git a stummick ache from swallerin' yo'?" came loudly from aleck. "i t'ink any whale would, 'less his insides was copper-lined." aleck said this so gravely that it brought forth a roar which did not subside for a full minute. poor frozzler could do nothing, and to save himself made half a dozen tumbles. then he started to run from the ring, but tripped over one of the ropes and pitched headlong on his nose. "hullo, there a tumble extra!" sang out tom. "thank you; nothing like giving us good measure!" "i'd like to wax that boy good!" growled giles frozzler, as he shot into the dressing tent. "those youngsters spoiled my act completely." and then he hurried to a pail of water to bathe his nose. the next act was fairly good and put the crowd in good humor once more. but that to follow was so bad that many began to hiss. then came a race which was as tame as it could possibly be, and many began to leave. "this is the worst circus yet," said one man. "if anybody comes to-night he'll be sold." "i'm going to let all my friends know what a flat thing it is," said another. "it isn't worth ten cents, much less a quarter." the circus was to wind up with the riding of a trick mule,--the animal being brought out by the clown. as it happened the regular clown and the mule were friends, but the mule hated frozzler, for the circus owner had on more than one occasion mistreated the animal. "be careful of that mule," said one of the hostlers, as he turned the trick animal over to giles frozzler. "he's ugly this afternoon." "oh, i know how to manage him," growled frozzler. "come on here, you imp!" and he hit the mule in the side. instantly the mule made a bolt for the ring with frozzler running after him. "one hundred dollars to anybody who can ride hanky-panky!" sang out giles frozzler. "he is as gentle as a kitten, and it is a great pleasure to be able--" the clown got no further, for just then the mule turned around and gave him a kick which sent him sprawling. then, like a flash hanky-panky turned around, caught frozzler by the waist and began to run around the ring with him. "hi! let go!" screamed the thoroughly frightened circus owner. "let go, i say! help! he will kill me! help!" "hurrah! the mule has got the best of it!" sang out tom. "he knows how to run a circus even if that fellow don't." "i'll bet on the mule," put in dick. "he's a nose ahead in this race!" "save me!" yelled frozzler. "drat that beast! stop him, somebody!" there was intense excitement, and several employees rushed forward to rescue frozzler. but before this could be done, the mule left the ring tent and dashed into the dressing room, where he allowed the circus owner to drop into a barrel of water which was kept there in case of fire. at this the crowd yelled itself hoarse; and this scene brought the afternoon performance to an end. chapter xvi aleck brings news "i reckon we got square," was tom's comment, after the fun was over and they were on their way to the farm. "my, but wasn't that circus owner mad!" "i don't think he'll have another such crowd to-night," said fred, and he was right. the evening performance was attended by less than a hundred people, and a week later the show failed and was sold out completely. by the end of the week word was received from both the stanhopes and the lanings that all would be glad to join the rovers in their houseboat vacation. they would take a train for pittsburg direct on the following wednesday morning and would there await their friends. "this suits me to a t!" cried dick, after reading the communication dora had sent him. "if we don't have the best time ever then it will be our own fault." "just what i say," answered sam, who had received a long letter from grace. there were many articles to pack and ship to pittsburg. the boys also made out a long list of the things to be purchased for the trip, and in this their father and their aunt helped them. sunday passed quietly, all of the boys attending both church and sunday school. it was a hard matter for tom to keep still on the sabbath day, but he did so, much to his aunt's comfort. aleck pop was highly delighted to think that he was to be taken along, especially as cook. "i'se gwine to do ma level best fo' yo' an' fo' de ladies," said the colored man. "yo' is gwine to hab reg'lar waldorf-astoria feed." "don't feed us too good, aleck, or we'll all die of dyspepsia," said sam. "i'll take care of dat, massah sam. don't yo' remember how i used to cook when we was out in de wilderness ob africa?" "indeed i do, aleck. yes, i know you'll take care of us," answered sam. on the day before the start the boys were surprised to see hans mueller appear, with a big trunk and a dress-suit case. the german boy came over from oak run in a grocery wagon, having been unable to find a cab. "how you all vos?" said he, shaking hands. "i dink first i go py dot pittsburg und den i dinks me i got lost maybe--so i come here." "that's right, hans," said dick. "but what made you bring such a big trunk?" "shsh!" answered hans, putting a finger to the side of his nose. "dot is a secrets alretty!" "a secret?" "dot's him. you vos going to haf der ladies along, hey?" "yes, they are all going." "i got me dree dress suits py mine drunk in." "three dress suits!" roared dick. "oh, hans!" "ain't dot enough?" questioned the german cadet, dubiously. "three dress suits!" repeated dick. "oh, somebody hold me, or i'll have a fit!" and he nearly doubled up with laughter. "what's the funeral about?" came from tom, who was standing near. "hans is to become a real ladies' man, tom." "i don't solve the riddle." "he has got three dress suits in his trunk." "phew! he'll leave us in the shade entirely. say, hans, have you got any patent leathers?" "yah, i got two pairs of batent-leather shoes." "hope you brought your pumps," put in sam, who had come up. "bumps?" queried hans, with a puzzled look. "vy i pring me a bump? does der poat leak?" "well, that's the limit!" roared dick. "sam means your dancing pumps?" said fred. "you mustn't forget them, you know--not if you want to be a really and truly society man." "i got a pair of slippers for dot," answered hans. "how many dress suits you vos dake along, hey?" "oh, about seven," answered tom, carelessly. "you ton't tole me dot, tom! maybe i haf to puy some more, hey?" "well, i shouldn't--not just yet," answered dick. "wait till the new fall styles come out. what you want for a starter is some everyday clothes, a sweater or two, and a pair of rubber boots, in case we have to walk ashore in the mud some time." "veil, i got dem too," answered hans. a letter had already been sent to captain starr, asking him to have the houseboat brought up to pittsburg. the captain was also told to have the _dora_ thoroughly cleaned and put in proper trim for he outing. "we want the ladies to be satisfied with her appearance," said dick. "and especially since she is named the _dora_," grinned tom. "oh, you're only piqued because she isn't named the nellie," retorted his older brother, with a laugh. "never mind, dick; some day you can use the houseboat on a honeymoon," answered tom, and then ran off. at last came the time for the boys to leave the farm. jack ness took all the trunks and suit cases to the depot and then transported the boys in the family carriage, with aleck on the seat beside him. "good-bye to valley brook farm!" cried tomb waving his hat. "take good care of yourselves, boys!" shouted anderson rover. "don't get drowned," put in the aunt. and then with final adieux they were off. the drive to oak run was a quick one, and ten minutes later the train came in and they went aboard. the run to pittsburg was to occupy several hours, so the boys made themselves as comfortable as possible. they had dinner on the train and ordered the best of everything to be had. it had been arranged that all bound for the houseboat trip should meet at the american house, and thither the boys made their way on reaching the smoky city, as pittsburg is often called, on account of its numerous manufactories. "here we are!" cried a voice, as soon as they entered, and songbird powell hurried up to them. "i thought you'd get here about this time." "have you seen anything of the ladies?" queried dick. "yes, they are all in the ladies' parlor. i told them i'd keep a lookout for you." they made their way to the parlor, where a great handshaking took place. mrs. stanhope and dora were there, and also grace and nellie with mrs. laning. the latter was not used to traveling and was in quite a flutter. "the girls insisted upon my coming," said mrs. laning. "i didn't think i could do it at first, but they wouldn't take no for an answer." "and we are real glad to have you," answered dick. aleck had been sent off to hunt up captain starr and the houseboat, and in the meantime all of the party obtained rooms for the night and then went to supper. "this puts me in mind of the time we took dinner at ithaca," said dick to dora, on the way to the dining hall. "do you remember?" "indeed i do," she answered, with a pretty blush. "but please do not steer me into the smoking room again," she added, mischievously. "don't you think we are going to have a good time, dora?" "if i hadn't thought that i shouldn't have come," answered the miss. it was a happy gathering, and hans mueller kept the young folks convulsed by his odd speeches. "and you ton't vos put no salt py mine coffee in dis dime, tom," said hans, referring to a trick which had once been played on him. "all right, hansy," answered tom. "and please don't you pour any coffee down my back," he added, for he had not forgotten how he had been paid back for that joke. the supper lasted a long time, and after it was over all went to one of the rooms upstairs, where they spent a couple of hours very agreeably. "we can be thankful that it is such pleasant weather," said mrs. stanhope. "an outing on a houseboat during a wet spell would not be so nice." "oh, we'd try to make things pleasant," said tom. "there is a piano on board, and we could have music and singing--" "a piano! oh, tom!" cried nellie. "how nice! it must be a regular little palace!" "i haven't seen the boat yet. uncle randolph said there was a piano on board." "and i've got a guitar," came from songbird powell. "with which he will sing to the moon on dark nights," came from tom. "i haf got some musics py mine drunk in too," said hans. "what have you got, hansy?" asked sam--"a tin whistle?" "no, a music pox vot mine fadder brought from chermany. he vos a fine pox, too, i can told you." "that's splendid, hans," said dora. "i love a good music box." so the talk ran on until there was a knock at the door and aleck appeared. the look on his black face showed that he was excited. "say, massah dick, i would like to see yo' in private a minute," he said. "certainly," replied dick. "excuse me," he added, to the others, and went out into the hall with the colored man. "i didn't want fo' to alarm de ladies," explained aleck. "but i wanted to tell you as soon as i could." "tell me what, aleck?" "dat i dun seen dat rascal, dan baxter, less dan half an hour ago," was the answer. chapter xvii a queer captain "you saw dan baxter, here in pittsburg?" ejaculated dick. "dat's it." "you are sure you were not mistaken, aleck? i thought that rascal was miles and miles away." "dat's jess wot i dun been thinkin' too. but it was dan baxter, suah. i knows him too well to make any mistake about his ugly face." "where was he?" "dat's de alarmin' part ob it, massah dick. yo' know yo' tole me to find de houseboat." "yes." "well, i found de boat wid dat dar cap'n starr on board, an' we made all dem 'rangements wot you spoke about. den i started to leave de boat. dar was an eleckric light on de dock an' a man standing near it, a-watchin' de houseboat. i almost run into him, an' den i discobered it was dat good-fo'-nuffin dan baxter." "he was watching the houseboat?" "dat's it." "did he recognize you, aleck?" "not till i spoke to him. i said, `wot yo' doin' heah, dan baxter?' when he heard dat he 'most jumped a foot. den he mutters sumthing wot i couldn't make out an' runs away." "did you go after him?" "yes, but i couldn't cotch him nohow. dar was big piles ob boxes an' barrels on de dock and he got away befo' i know wot i was at. i hunted an' hunted, but i couldn't git on his track." "this is certainly unpleasant, to say the least," mused dick, biting his lip. "if he is watching us he is doing it for no good purpose." "dat's de way. i reasoned. but i didn't want de ladies to heah. mrs. stanhope am a powerfully narvous woman." "yes, aleck, you were wise in keeping them in ignorance. but i'll have to tell tom and sam and the other fellows, and we'll have to keep our eyes open." "is you' goin' to report dis to de police?" "i may. i'll think it over first. now, how about the houseboat? has captain starr done as directed?" "yes, sah." "what kind of a man does he seem to he?" "all right, massah dick, only--" "only what?" asked the eldest rover, as he saw the colored servant hesitate. "well, to tell de truf, he seems kind of funny to me." "how funny?" "here," and aleck tapped his forehead. "do you mean that he is crazy?" "not dat persackly, massah dick, but he said sum mighty funny t'ings when we was talkin' acted like he was t'inkin' ob sumt'ing else." "humph! well, if he isn't the sort of fellow we want we'll have to let him go and get another captain." dick returned to the apartment he had left and told the others that aleck had made the necessary arrangements. then he gave tom and sam a wink which meant a good deal. soon after this the party broke up, and the boys retired to the connecting rooms they had engaged for the night. "so aleck saw dan baxter!" cried tom, when told of the news. "that must mean the rascal is on our trail." "just what i am thinking, tom," returned dick. "we ought to have the authorities arrest him," put in sam. "perhaps, but we've got to locate him first. now that he has been discovered he will do his best to keep shady. maybe he has already left the city." they talked the matter over for an hour, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion. "better take matters as they come," said powell. "he won't dare to molest you openly." "no, but he will molest us in secret, which will be worse," replied sam. "none of the ladies or the girls must hear of this," said tom. "it would spoil their whole trip, even if baxter didn't show himself again." "i ton't oben mine mouds apout noddings," declared hans. "i vos so quiet like an ellerfaunt in a church!" bright and early the boys were astir on the following morning, and dick, tom, and sam went off to interview captain starr before breakfast. they found the captain a thick-set fellow, with a heavy mustache and big, bushy whiskers. he had eyes of the dreamy sort, which generally looked away when speaking to anybody. "this is captain starr?" said dick, addressing him. "i'm your man." "i am dick rover, and these are my brothers, tom and sam." dick put out his hand, but the captain merely nodded. "is everything ready for the trip, captain?" asked tom. "yes, sir." "you had the boat cleaned up?" said sam. "yes, sir." "we'll look her over," said dick. "yes, sir." they walked over the houseboat from end to end. the craft was certainly a beauty and as clean as a whistle. there was a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and eight sleeping rooms--four of the latter downstairs and four upstairs. each sleeping room contained two berths. there was also a bunk room below, for the help, and a small room for the captain. in the living room, was the piano and also a bookcase containing half a hundred choice novels. "this is certainly great," said tom. "better than i thought it would be," answered sam. "it's a perfect palace." "and see how the brasswork shines," went on tom. "the captain certainly had things cleaned up. "but he is a queer stick, if ever there was one." came from dick, in a whisper. "i must say, i don't half like him." "he acts as if he was asleep," was tom's comment. "or else as if he had something on his mind." "anyway, he comes highly recommended," said sam. when they came out on the deck they found captain starr sitting on a bench smoking a corncob pipe. "she is in fine shape and i congratulate you, captain," said dick, pleasantly. "thank you," was the short answer. "you will be ready to have us taken down the river as soon as we get our things on board?" "yes, sir." "confound him," thought dick. "why doesn't he say something else? he is a regular automaton." "by the way, captain," put in tom, "have you noticed a stranger watching the _dora_ the last night or two?" at this question captain starr leaped to his feet, allowing his corncob pipe to fall to the ground. "what made you ask that question?" he demanded. "we have an enemy, named dan baxter. we suspect he is following us and is spying on us." "yes, i have seen a young fellow around half a dozen times. in fact, i caught him on the houseboat once." "you did!" cried dick. "what was he doing?" "going through the stuff in the living room." "what did you do to him?" "i yelled at him, demanding to know what he wanted. as soon as he heard me he ran ashore and disappeared." "did you try to find him?" "no, because i didn't want to leave the houseboat alone." "did you see him last night--while our colored man was here?" "i saw somebody, but it was too dark to make out exactly who it was." chapter xviii on board the houseboat after questioning captain starr as closely as possible all three of the rover boys came to the conclusion that it must have been dan baxter who had visited the _dora_ on the sly. "i don't like this at all," said sam. "he is going to make trouble for us--no two ways about that." "the best thing to do, in my opinion, is to get away without delay," said tom. "he won't find it so easy to follow us then." "i'm going to throw him off the scent," said dick. "how?" "by pretending to go to one place, while we can really go to another." "that's a scheme." a small tug had been chartered to tow the houseboat, and the captain of this was ordered to be ready for moving at eleven o'clock. "we shall go to camdale first," said dick, naming a place about forty miles away. "all right, sir--wherever you say," said the tug commander. returning to the hotel, the boys found the others finishing breakfast and sat down to their own. they said the _dora_ was in perfect trim and that the trip down the ohio was to begin without delay. "well, i am sure i am ready," said nellie. "i am just dying to see the houseboat." aleck hurried around to buy the necessary stores, which were taken to the _dora_ in a wagon, then two carriages brought down the ladies and the boys and a truck brought along the baggage. "what a beautiful boat!" cried dora after going on board. "and how tidy everything is!" "then you are not ashamed to have her called the _dora?_" said dick, well satisfied. "ashamed? oh, dick, i am delighted!" "this boat is a gem," was songbird powell's comment. "say, folks on the ohio will take us, to be millionaires." "dis ship is besser dan a ferrypoat," was hans' comment. "a ferryboat!" shrieked grace. "oh, hans!" "i mean von of dem double-decker ferrypoats vot runs from new york to chersey city--dem kind vot has got blate-glass vinders und looking-glasses der sthairs on," explained the german cadet. "da vos peauties, too." "if we don't enjoy this trip it will be our fault," said fred. the lines were cast off, the steam tug puffed, and in a moment more the houseboat had left the dock and the voyage down the ohio was begun. "i'll not be sorry to leave pittsburg behind," said nellie. "there is so much smoke." "well, they have to have smoke--in such a hive of industry," answered dick. by noon pittsburg and allegheny were left behind and once more the sky was clear and blue above them. the sun shone brightly and there was just enough breeze to keep the air cool and delicious. all sat on the forward deck, under a wide-spread awning, watching the scenery as they floated onward. after a consultation it was decided that the first stop should be made at a small village on the river called pleasant hills. mrs. laning had a friend there whom she had not seen for years, and she said she would be pleased to make a call. "all right," said dick, "pleasant hills it is." and he called to the tug captain and gave the necessary directions. "that will throw dan baxter off the track a little," whispered sam. aleck pop was highly pleased with the cooking arrangements. there was a first-class gasolene stove, and the kitchen was fitted with all sorts of appliances for rendering cooking easy. "i'se gwine to do my best fo' you," said the colored man, and dinner, which was served at one o'clock, proved to be little short of a genuine feast, with oxtail soup, breast of lamb, mashed potatoes, green peas, lettuce, coffee, pudding and cheese. "why, aleck, this is a surprise," said dora. "some day they will want you to become the chef in a big hotel." and this compliment tickled the colored man greatly. "t'ank yo' miss dora," he answered. "but i don't want to be no chef in a hotel. all i wants to do is to stay wid de rober boys so long as i lib." during the afternoon the boys tried their hands at fishing and caught quite a mess. by four o'clock pleasant hills was reached and they tied up in a convenient spot. all of the girls and mrs. stanhope went ashore with mrs. laning, to visit the friend that had been mentioned. "bring them down to the houseboat to-night, if they care to come," said dick. "thank you, dick, perhaps we will," answered mrs. laning. "let us take a swim while they are gone," suggested tom. "that water is too inviting to resist." "agreed!" shouted the others, and ran to their rooms, to get out their bathing suits. soon tom was ready, and leaping to the end of the houseboat, took a straight dive into the river. sam followed and fred came next, and then dick, songbird, and hans came down in a bunch. the water was just cold enough to be pleasant, and they splashed around in great sport. "this is what i call living!" yelled tom and diving under, he caught hans by the big toe. "hi, hi! let go mine does!" shrieked the german lad. "somedings has me py der does cotched!" "maybe it's a shark," suggested fred. "a shark! vos der sharks py der ohio river?" "tons of them," came from sam. "look out, hansy, or they'll swallow you." "du meine zeit!" gasped the german cadet. "vy didn't you tole me dot pefore, hey? i guess i don't schwim no more." and he started to climb up a rope ladder leading to the deck of the houseboat. "don't go, hans!" sang out songbird. "they are fooling you." "dere ton't been no sharks in der river?" "no, nothing but sawfish and whales." "a vale! dot's chust so bad like a shark." "no, not at all. a shark bites. a whale simply swallows you alive," put in sam, with a grin. "swallows me alife, hey? not on your life he ton't!" returned hans, and started again for the rope ladder. but sam pulled him back and ducked him, and was in turn ducked by fred, who went under by a shove from dick; and then followed a regular mix-up, the water flying in all directions. "by golly, dat's great!" cried aleck, from the deck. "i dun' t'ink a lot ob eels was dancin' a jig down dar!" "come down here, aleck, and get some of the black washed off!" shouted tom, gleefully. "not fo' a dollah, massah tom--leasewise, not while yo' is around." "what are you afraid of?" asked tom, innocently. "yo' is too full ob tricks fo' dis chile. when i wants a baf i'se gwine to take dat baf in a tub, an' when yo' ain't around," answered aleck. "yo' am--oh--wough!" and then the colored man retreated in great haste, for tom had sent up a shower of water all over him. "here comes a big river boat!" cried songbird, presently. "let us go out and catch the rollers!" and out they swam and waited until the swells, several feet high, came rolling in. it was immense fun bobbing up and down like so many corks. "wish the steamers would continue to come past," said fred. "this suits me to death." "here comes another pretty big boat," answered tom. "and she is closer to shore than that other craft, so we'll get the rollers at their best." "don't get too close," cried songbird. "i knew a fellow who did that once and got sucked under." on came the river boat and was soon opposite to where the houseboat lay. she carried only a few passengers, but a very large quantity of freight. "here she comes!" cried fred. "now for some more fun." "don't get too close!" repeated songbird, but tom did not heed him and went within fifty feet of the steamboat's side. the rollers here were certainly large, but all of a sudden tom appeared to lose interest in the sport. "hullo, tom! what are you so quiet about?" sang out dick in alarm. "perhaps he has a cramp," put in sam. "tom, are you all right?" he cried. "yes, i'm all right," was the answer, and then tom swam to his brothers with all speed. the steamboat was now well on its way down the ohio. "what is it?" asked dick, feeling that something was wrong. "if you have had even a touch of a cramp you had better get out, tom." "i haven't any cramp. did you see them?" "them? who?" "the two fellows at the stern of that boat?" "no. what of them?" "one was dan baxter and the other was lew flapp." chapter xix words and blows "baxter and flapp!" the cry came from several at once, and all climbed to the deck of the houseboat after tom. "are you certain of this, tom?" asked dick. "yes, i saw them as plain as day. they were looking at the houseboat." "did they see you?" "i think they did, and if so they must have seen the rest of our crowd too." "we ought to go after them," came from fred. "the name of that steamboat was the _beaver_." "wonder where she will make her first stop?" for an answer to this question captain starr was appealed to, and he said the craft would most likely stop first at a town which we will call penwick. "how far is that from here?" asked sam. "about six miles." "can we get a train to that place?" "yes, but i don't know when." a time-table was consulted, and it was found that no train could be had from pleasant hills to penwick for two hours and three-quarters. "that is too late for us," said dick. "if they saw tom they'll skip the moment the steamboat touches the landing." "if you want to catch them why don't you follow them up in the tug?" suggested songbird. "dot's the talk!" came from hans. "i would like to see you cotch dot flapp and paxter mineselluf." "i'll use the tug," said dick. he summoned the captain and explained the situation. it was found that steam on the tug was low, but captain carson said he would get ready to move down the stream with all possible speed. "i would like you to stay on the houseboat," said dick, to songbird, fred, and hans. "i don't want to leave captain starr in charge all alone." so it was agreed; and fifteen minutes later the tug was on the way after the _beaver_, with dick, tom, and sam on board. "can we catch the steamboat, captain?" questioned tom, anxiously. "we can try," was the answer. "if i had known you wanted to use the tug again to-night i should have kept steam up." "well, we didn't know." the _beaver_ was out of sight and they did not see the steamboat again until she was turning in at the penwick dock. "there she is!" cried sam. "hurry up, captain carson!" called out dick. "if you don't hurry we will lose the fellows we are after, sure." "i am hurrying as much as i can," replied the captain. in five minutes more they gained one end of the dock and the rovers leaped ashore. the _beaver_ was at the other end, discharging passengers at one gang plank and freight at another. "see anything of them?" asked sam. "yes, there they are!" shouted tom, and pointed to the street beyond the dock. "i see them," returned dick. "come on!" and he started for the street, as swiftly as his feet could carry him. he was well in advance of sam and tom when dan baxter, looking back, espied him. "hi, flapp, we must leg it!" cried baxter, in quick alarm. "eh?" queried lew flapp. "what's wrong now?" "they are after us!" "who?" "the three rover boys. come on!" the former bully of putnam hall glanced back and saw that dan baxter (and he too had been a bully at the hall) was right. "where shall we go to?" he asked in sudden fright. "follow me!" and away went dan baxter up the street with flapp at his heels. dick, tom, and sam came after them, with a number of strangers between. "do you think we can catch them?" asked tom. "we've got to catch them," answered dick. "if you see a policeman tell him to come along--that we are after a couple of criminals." having passed up one street for a block, baxter and flapp made a turn and pursued their course down a thoroughfare running parallel to the river. here were located a number of factories and mills, with several tenement houses and low groggeries between. "they are after us yet," panted flapp, after running for several minutes. "say, i can't keep this up much longer." "come in here," was dan baxter's quick reply, and he shot into a small lumber yard attached to a box factory. it was now after six o'clock and the factory had shut down for the day. once in the lumber yard they hurried around several corners, and presently came to a shed used for drying lumber. from this shed there was a small door leading into the factory proper. "i reckon we are safe enough here," said dan baxter, as they halted in the shed and crouched down back of a pile of boards. "yes, but we can't stay here forever," replied lew flapp. "we can stay as long as they hang around, flapp." in the meantime the rover boys reached the entrance to the yard, and dick, who had kept the lead, called a halt. "i am pretty certain they ran in here," he declared. "then let us root them out," said tom. "and the quicker the better." the others were willing, and they entered the small lumber yard without hesitation. as there were but three wagonways, each took one, and all presently reached the entrance to the drying shed. "see anybody?" questioned dick. "no," came from his brothers. "neither did i. i see there is a big brick wall around this yard. if they came in here they must have gone into this shed or into the factory itself." "that's it, dick," said tom. he pushed open the door to the shed. "i'm going to investigate." "so am i," said both of the others. in the shed all was dark and soon sam stumbled over some blocks of wood and fell headlong. "confound the darkness," he muttered. "we ought to have brought a light." "i've got one," answered dick, and feeling in his pocket he produced one of the new-style electric pocket lights. he pushed the button and instantly the light flashed out, as from a bull's-eye lantern. "hurrah, that's a good thing!" cried tom. "by the way, isn't it queer there is no watchman here?" "maybe the night watchman hasn't got around yet," answered dick, and struck the truth. they began to move around the shed, much to the alarm of both dan baxter and lew flapp. "i don't see any trace--" began dick, when of a sudden the light landed fairly and squarely on baxter's face. then it shifted to the face of lew flapp. "the old harry take you, dick rover!" yelled baxter, in a sudden rage, and throwing his whole weight against the pile of boards on which the eldest rover was standing, he caused it to go over, hurling dick flat on his back on the floor. "dick, are you hurt?" called out tom. the electric light had been broken, and all was pitch-dark. "i--i guess--not," answered dick. "but it was a close shave." "they are getting out!" came from sam, as he heard a scuffling of feet. "no--they are going into the factory," shouted tom. "stop, baxter! stop, flapp! if you don't--oh!" tom's cry came to a sudden end, for without warning a billet of wood struck him fairly on top of the head and he went down as if shot. by this time dick was on his feet. "what's up, tom?" "i--i--oh, my head?" "did somebody hit you?" "yes." sam was running after baxter and flapp. but they reached the factory first and banged the door full in the face of the youngest rover. "open that door, dan baxter!" called out sam. "all right!" was the sudden reply, and open flew the door. then down on poor sam's head came a heavy billet of wood and he pitched backward unconscious. then the door was closed once more and locked from the inside. chapter xx days of pleasure "sam! sam! speak to us!" it was dick who uttered the words, as he knelt beside his youngest brother and caught his hands. tom was just staggering up. but sam was past speaking, and made no reply. "what's the matter, dick?" asked tom. "poor sam is knocked out completely. i don't know but what they have killed him." "oh, don't say that!" "have you got a match? i've lost that electric pocket light." "yes." tom struck the match and lit a bit of pine wood that was handy, and found the light. "dick, don't tell me he is dead." "oh!" came in a deep gasp from poor sam, and he gave a shiver from head to feet. "he isn't dead, but they must have hit him a terrible blow. let us carry him out into the open air." this they did, and laid the youngest rover on some boards. here he presently opened his eyes and stared about him. "don't--don't hit me again!" he pleaded, vacantly. "they shan't hit you again, sam," answered dick, tenderly. he felt of his brother's head. on top was a lump, from which the blood was flowing. "this is the worst yet," said tom. "what had we best do next?" "call a policeman, if you can find any." "that's rather a hard thing to do around here." however, tom ran off, and while he was gone dick did what little he could to make sam comfortable. at last the youngest rover opened his eyes again and struggled to sit up. "where--where are they, dick?" "gone into the factory." "oh, my head!" "it was a wicked blow, sam. but keep still if your head hurts." when tom came back he was accompanied by a watchman from a neighboring yard and presently they were joined by the watchman of the box factory, who had been to a corner groggery, getting a drink. "what's the row?" questioned the first watchman, and when told, emitted a low whistle. "i think those fellows are in the factory yet," continued dick. as soon as the second watchman came up both went into the box factory and were gone fully ten minutes. then dick followed them, since sam was rapidly recovering. "can't find them," said one of the watchmen. "but yonder window is open. they must have dropped into that yard and run away." "is the window generally closed?" "yes." "then you must be right." "why don't you call up the police? you can do it on the telephone." "have you a telephone here?" "of course." dick went to the telephone and told the officer in charge at the station what had occurred. "i'll send two men at once," said the officer over the wire; and in five minutes the policemen appeared. again there was a search, not only of the box factory, but also of the whole neighborhood, but no trace of dan baxter or lew flapp could be found. having bathed their hurts, both sam and tom felt better, and all three of the rovers walked to the police station with the policemen, and there told the full particulars of their story. "you were certainly in hard luck," said the police captain, who happened to be in charge. "i'll do what i can to round these rascals up." but nothing came of this, for both baxter and flapp left penwick that very night. when the rover boys returned to the houseboat, it was long after midnight, but none on board had gone to bed. the stanhopes and lanings had come back, bringing their friends with them, and all had been surprised to find the rovers absent. after remaining on the houseboat a couple of hours the friends had gone home again. "something is wrong; i can see it in your looks, dick," said dora, as she came to him. "sam, where did you get that hurt on your head?" questioned grace, in alarm. "oh, we had a little trouble, but it didn't amount to much," answered the youngest rover as bravely as he could. "yes, but your head is in a dreadful condition." "and tom has a cut over the left eye," burst in nellie. "oh, you have had a fight of some kind, and i know it!" "a fight!" cried mrs. stanhope. "is it possible that you have been fighting?" "we had a brush with a couple of rascals in penwick," said dick. "we tried to catch them, but they got away from us. that is all there is to it. i'd rather not talk about it," he went on, seeing that mrs. laning also wanted to ask questions. "well, you must really be more careful in the future," said mrs. stanhope. "i suppose they wanted to rob you." "they didn't get the chance to rob us," put in tom, and then the rovers managed to change the subject. the stanhopes and the lanings did not dream that dan baxter and lew flapp had caused the trouble. perhaps, in the light of later events, it would have been better had they been told the truth. dick gave orders that the _dora_ should be moved down the river early the next day, and before the majority of the party were up, pleasant hills was left behind. "i sincerely trust we have seen the last of baxter and flapp," said sam. "so do i, sam," answered dick. "i'd like to meet them and punch their heads good for them," came from tom. after that a week slipped by with very little out of the ordinary happening. day after day the houseboat moved down the river, stopping at one place or another, according to the desires of those on board. the weather continued fine, and the boys and girls enjoyed themselves immensely in a hundred different ways. all had brought along bathing suits and took a dip every day. they also fished, and tramped through the woods at certain points along the stream. one night they went ashore in a field and camped out, with a big roaring fire to keep them company. "this is the way it was when the cadets went into camp," said dick. "i can tell you, we had lots of sport." "it must have been very nice, dick," answered dora. "sometimes i wish i was a boy and could go to putnam hall." "not much! i'd rather have you a girl!" declared dick, and in the dark he gave her hand a tight squeeze. during those days dick noticed that captain starr acted more peculiar than ever. at times he would talk pleasantly enough, but generally he was so close-mouthed that one could scarcely get a word out of him. "i believe he is just a wee bit off in his upper story," said the oldest rover. "but i don't imagine it is enough to count." "if he had any ambition in him he wouldn't be satisfied to run a houseboat," said tom. "it's about the laziest job i know of." the monday after this talk found the _dora_ down the ohio as far as louisville. to avoid the falls in the stream, the houseboat had been taken through the canal, and during the middle of the afternoon was taken down the stream a distance of perhaps eighteen miles, to skemport,--so named after samuel skem, a dealer in kentucky thoroughbreds. fred garrison had a friend who came from skemport and wanted to visit him. the others were willing, and fred went off with tom and sam as soon as the boat was tied up. when they came back, late in the evening, the others were told that the friend had invited all hands to visit a large stock farm in that vicinity the next afternoon to look at the horses there. "that will be nice!" cried dora. "i love a good horse." two large carriages were hired for the purpose, and aleck was allowed to drive one, a man from the local livery stable driving the other. "how soon will you be back?" sang out captain starr after them. "can't say exactly," replied dick. the distance to the stock farm was three miles, but it was quickly covered, and once there the rovers and their friends were made to feel perfectly at home. "i'd like to go horseback riding on one of those horses," said dora, after inspecting a number of truly beautiful steeds. "you shall," said the owner of the stock farm; and a little later dora, nellie, dick, and tom were in the saddle and off for a gallop of several miles, never once speculating on how that ride was to end. chapter xxi the disappearance of the houseboat never was a girl more light-hearted than was dora when in the saddle on the kentucky thoroughbred. and her cousin was scarcely less elated. "let us have a little race, nellie," cried dora. "it will be lots of fun." "oh, we don't want the horses to run away," answered nellie. "i don't think they will run away." the race was started, and to give the girls a chance, dick and tom dropped to the rear. soon a turn of the road hid the two girls from view. "wait a minute--there is something wrong with my saddle," said tom, a moment later, and he came to a halt and slipped to the ground. dick would have preferred going on, but did not wish to leave his brother alone, so he also halted. a buckle had broken and it took some time to repair the damage, so tom could continue his ride. "the girls have disappeared," said dick, on making the turn ahead in the road. they came to a spot where the road divided into three forks and halted in perplexity. "well, this is a nuisance," declared tom, after scratching his head. "i suppose they thought we were watching them." "more than likely." "which road shall we take?" "bless me if i know." "well, we can't take all three." they stared at the hoofprints in the road, but there were too many of them to make anything of the marks. "stumped!" remarked tom, laconically. "let us wait a while. perhaps, when the girls see we are not following, they will turn back." "all right; but we've made a fine pair of escorts, haven't we, dick?" "we are not responsible for that buckle breaking." "that's so, too." they waited for several minutes, but the girls did not appear. "supposing i take to one road and you to the other?" said dick. "if you see them, whistle." "what about the third road?" and tom grinned. "we'll leave that for the present." off they set, and as ill-luck would have it took the two roads the girls had not traveled. each went fully a mile before he thought of coming back. "well, what luck?" asked dick, as he rode up. "nothing doing, dick." "ditto." "then they must have taken to the third road." "that's it,--unless they rode faster than we did." "shall i try that other road?" "you can if you wish. i'll stay here. if they come back, we can wait for you," added the oldest rover. once more tom set off. but he had pushed his horse so fast before the animal was now tired and had to take his time in traveling. the third road led down to the river front, and before a great while the water's edge was reached. here there were numerous bushes and trees and the road turned and ran some distance along the bank. "well, i'm stumped and no mistake," murmured the fun-loving rover, "i felt sure--" he broke off short, for a distance scream had reached his ears. "was that nellie's voice?" he asked himself, and then strained his ears, for two more screams had reached him. "nellie, and dora too, as sure as fate!" he ejaculated. "something has happened to them! perhaps those horses are running away!" he hardly knew how to turn, for the trees and bushes cut off his view upon every side. he galloped along the road, which followed the windings of the ohio. but try his best he could locate neither girls nor horses. it was maddening, and the cold sweat stood out upon tom's forehead. something was very much wrong, but what was it? "nellie! dora! where are you?" he called out. "_where are you?_" only the faint breeze in the trees answered him. "i've got to find them!" he groaned. "i've got to! that is all there is to it." he repeated the words over and over again. "what will mrs. laning and mrs. stanhope say, and grace?" again he went on, but this time slower than before, looking to the right and the left and ahead. not a soul was in sight. the road was so cut up he could make nothing of the hoofmarks which presented themselves. "this is enough to drive one insane," he reasoned. "where in the world did they go to? i'd give a thousand dollars to know." at last he reached a point where the road ran close to the water's edge. he looked out on the river. only a distant steamboat and a small sailboat were in view. "wonder if they rode down to where we left the houseboat?" he asked himself. "she must be somewhere in this vicinity. maybe they have only been fooling us." although tom told himself this, there was no comfort in the surmise. he moved on once more. it was now growing dark and there were signs of a coming storm in the air. at last he reached a spot which looked somewhat familiar to him. he came down to the water's edge once more. "why--er--i thought the houseboat was here," he said, half aloud. "this looks like the very spot." but no houseboat was there, and scratching his head once more, tom concluded that he had made a mistake. "i'm upset if ever a fellow was," he thought. "well, no wonder. such happenings as these are enough to upset anybody." tom knew of nothing more to do than to return to where he had left dick, and this he did as quickly as the tired horse would carry him. "no success, eh?" said the oldest rover. "what do you make of it, tom?" when he had heard his brother's tale he grew unusually grave. "you are sure you heard them scream?" he questioned, anxiously. "i'm sure of nothing--now. i thought i was sure about the houseboat, but i wasn't," answered tom, bluntly. "i'm all mixed up." "i'll go down there with you," was the only answer dick made. it did not take long to reach the spot. it was now dark and a mist was rising from the river. "this is certainly the spot where we tied up," declared the oldest rover. "why, i helped to drive that stake myself." "then the houseboat is gone!" "that's the size of it." "and the girls are gone too," went on tom. "yes, but the two happenings may have no connection, tom." "don't be so sure of that!" "what do you mean?" "i'm thinking about dan baxter and lew flapp. they wouldn't be above stealing the houseboat." "i believe you there." "and if those girls happened to go on board--look there!" tom pointed out in the darkness on the road. two horses were coming toward them, each wearing a lady's saddle and each riderless. "there are the horses," said dick. "but the girls? you think--" "the girls came down here on their horses and dismounted, to go on board of the houseboat." "well, where is the houseboat?" it was a question neither of them could answer. they looked out on the river, but the mist hung over everything like a pall. "dick, i am afraid something serious has happened," came from tom, ominously. "those screams weren't uttered for nothing." "let us make a closer examination of the shore," answered the oldest rover, and they did so. they found several hoofprints of horses, but that was all. "i can't see any signs of a struggle," said tom. "nor i. and yet, if those rascals ran off with the houseboat and with the girls on board, how would they square matters with captain starr?" "and with captain carson? the tug is gone, too." "yes, but the tug went away when we did, and wasn't to come back until to-morrow morning. captain carson said he would have to coal up, over to one of the coal docks." "then some other tug must have towed the houseboat away." "either that or they are letting the _dora_ drift with the current." "that would be rather dangerous around here,--and in the mist. a steamer might run the houseboat down." the brothers knew not what to do. to go back to the stock farm with the news that both the girls and the houseboat were missing was extremely distasteful to them. "this news will almost kill mrs. stanhope," said dick. "well, it will be just as bad for mrs. laning, dick." "not exactly,--she has grace left, while dora. is mrs. stanhope's only child." once again the two boys rode up and down the' ohio for a distance of nearly a mile. at none of' the docks or farms could they catch the least sign of the houseboat. "she may be miles from here by this time," said dick, with almost a groan. "there is no help for it, tom, we've got to go back and break the news as best we can." "very well," answered tom, soberly. every bit of fun was knocked out of him, and his face was as long as if he was going to a funeral. dick felt equally bad. never until that moment had he realized how dear dora stanhope was to him. he would have given all he possessed to be able to go to her assistance. the mist kept growing thicker, and by the time the stock farm was reached it was raining in torrents. but the boys did not mind this discomfort as they rode along, leading the two riderless saddle horses. they had other things more weighty to think about. chapter xxii dan baxter's little game in order to ascertain just what did become of the houseboat, it will be necessary to go back to the time when the _dora_ was tied up near the village of skemport. not far away from skemport was a resort called the stock breeders' rest--a cross-roads hotel where a great deal of both drinking and gambling was carried on. during the past year dan baxter had become passionately fond of card playing for money and he induced lew flapp to accompany him to the stock breeders' rest. "we can have a fine time there," said baxter. "and as the rovers' houseboat will not be far off, we can keep our eyes on that crowd and watch our chance to deal them another blow." lew flapp was now reckless and ready for almost anything, and he consented. they hired a room at the cross-roads hotel, and that night both went to the smoking room to look at what was going on. a professional gambler from kentucky soon discovered them, and he induced dan baxter to lay with him,--after learning that lew flapp had no money to place on a game. baxter and the gambler played that night and also the next morning, and as a result baxter lost about every dollar he had with him. "you cheated me," he cried passionately, when his last dollar was gone. "you cheated me, and i'll have the police arrest you!" this accusation brought on a bitter quarrel, and fearful that they might be killed by the gambler and his many friends who frequented the resort, dan baxter and lew flapp fled for their lives. they were followed by two thugs, and to escape molestation took refuge in a stable on the outskirts of skemport and only a short distance from where the _dora_ lay. "how much money did you lose, baxter?" asked flapp, after they had made certain that they were safe for the time being. "two hundred and sixty-five dollars--every dollar i had with me," was the gloomy response. "is it possible!" gasped lew flapp. he wondered what they were going to do without money. "what have you got left of the money i loaned you?" went on baxter. "just two dollars and twenty cents." "humph! that's a long way from being a fortune," grumbled the discomfited leader of the evil-doers. "you are right. i think you were foolish to gamble." "oh, don't preach!" "i'm not preaching. what shall we do next?" "i don't know. if i was near some big city i might draw some money from a bank." "you might go to louisville." "no, i'd be sure to have trouble if i went to that place--i had trouble there before." they looked around them, and were surprised to see the houseboat in plain view. this interested them, and they watched the _dora_ with curiosity. "if we had a houseboat we could travel in fine style," was lew flapp's comment. "just the thing, flapp!" cried dan baxter. "perhaps; but you can't buy a houseboat for two dollars and twenty cents, nor charter one either." "we won't buy one or charter one," was dan baxter's crafty answer. "eh?" "we'll borrow that one. she's a fairy and will just suit us, flapp." "i don't quite understand. you're not fool enough to think the rovers will let you have their houseboat." "of course not. but if i take possession while they are away--" "how do you know they will be away--i mean all of them at one time?" "i'll fix it so they are. we must watch our chance. i can send them a decoy message, or something like that." "you'll have to be pretty shrewd to get the best of the rovers." "pooh! they are not so wise as you think. they put on a big front, but that is all there is to it," went on dan baxter, loftily. "well, go ahead; i don't care what you do." "you'll help me; won't you?" "certainly,--if the risk isn't too great. we don't want to get caught and tried for stealing." "leave it all to me, flapp." as we know, fortune for once favored dan baxter. from the stable he and flapp saw the party depart for the stock farm, leaving nobody but captain starr in charge. they also saw the steam tug move away, to get a new supply of coal in her bunkers. "everything is coming our way," chuckled dan baxter, with a wicked grin on his scarred face. "flapp, the coast is almost clear." "almost, but not quite. that captain is still on board." "oh, that chap is a dough-head. we can easily make him do what we want." "don't be too sure. he might watch 'his chance and knock us both overboard." "well, i know how to fix him. i'll send him a message to come here--that dick rover wants him. when he comes we can bind him fast with this old harness and leave him here. then we will have the houseboat all to ourselves." "and after that, what?" "we'll drop down the river a way. then we can paint a new name on the boat, get a steam tug, and make off for the mississippi,--and the rovers and their friends can go to grass." this programme looked inviting to flapp, and when dan baxter wrote a note to the captain of the _dora_ he volunteered to deliver it. he found captain starr on the front deck of the houseboat smoking his corncob as usual. the captain had one of his peculiar moods on him, and it took a minute or two for flapp to make him understand about the note. but he fell into the trap with ease and readily consented to follow the young rascal to the stable. as he entered the open doorway, dan baxter came at him from behind, hitting him in the head with a stout stick. the captain went down half stunned. "see--see here," he gasped. "wha--what does this--" "shut up!" cried baxter. "we won't hurt you if you'll keep still. but if you don't--" "i--i haven't hurt anybody, sir." "all right, old man; keep still." "but i--i don't understand?" "you will, later on." dan baxter had the straps of the old harness ready and with them he fastened captain starr's hands behind him and also tied his ankles together. then he backed the commander of the houseboat to a post and secured him, hands and feet. "now then, don't you make any noise until to-morrow morning," was dan baxter's warning. "if you do, you'll get into trouble. if you keep quiet, we'll come back in the morning, release you, and give you a hundred dollars." "give me a hundred dollars?" questioned the captain, simply. "that is what i said." "then i had better keep quiet. but the houseboat--" "the houseboat will be left just where it is." "oh, all right, sir," and the captain breathed a sigh of relief. that he was just a little simple-minded was beyond question. leaving the captain a prisoner, dan baxter and lew flapp made their way with caution toward the houseboat. as they had surmised, the _dora_ was now totally deserted. they leaped on the deck and entered the sumptuous living room. "this is fine," murmured lew flapp. "they must be living like nabobs on this craft." "you're right. a piano and a guitar, too." baxter passed into the dining room. "real silver on the table. flapp, we've struck luck." "sure." "that silver is worth just so much money,--when we need the funds." "would you sell it?" "why not? didn't i tell you the rovers robbed my father of a mine? this isn't a fleabite to what they've got that belongs to us." from the dining room the young rascals passed to the staterooms. "trunks full of stuff," observed flapp. "we shan't fall short of clothing." "i hope there is money in some of them," answered dan baxter. "hadn't we better be putting off?" asked flapp, nervously. "some of them may be coming back, you know." "yes, let us put off at once. this mist that is coming up will help us to get away." leaving the stateroom they were in, they went out on deck and began to untie the houseboat. while they were doing so they heard the sounds of two horses approaching. "somebody is coming," said flapp, and an instant later dora and nellie came into view. nellie had her skirt badly torn, and it was her intention, if she could locate the houseboat, to don a new skirt before she returned to where tom and dick had left them on the highway. "it's a pity you fell and tore the skirt," dora was saying. "but i suppose you can be thankful that you did not hurt yourself." "that is true. but the boys will think i can't ride, and--oh!" nellie came to a sudden stop and pointed to the houseboat. "dan baxter," burst from dora's lips. "oh, how did that fellow get here?" "dora stanhope!" muttered baxter, and then he and lew flapp ran towards the girls. chapter xxiii a run in the dark both girls were thoroughly alarmed by the unexpected appearance of dan baxter and his companion and brought their horses to a standstill. "how do you do, miss stanhope?" said baxter, with a grin. "what are you doing here?" demanded dora, icily. "oh, nothing much." "do you know that that is the rovers' houseboat?" "is it?" said baxter, in pretended surprise. "yes." "no, i didn't know it." baxter turned to nellie. "how are you, miss laning? i suppose you are surprised to meet me out here." "i am," was nellie's short answer. both girls wished themselves somewhere else. "my friend and i were walking down the river when we heard a man on that houseboat calling for help," went on dan baxter, glibly. "we went on board and found the captain had fallen down and hurt himself very much. do you know anything about him?" "why, yes!" said dora, quickly. "it must be captain starr!" she added, to nellie. "he's in a bad way. if you know him, you had better look after him," continued dan baxter. "i will," and dora leaped to the ground, followed by nellie. both ran towards the houseboat, but at the gang plank they paused. "i--i think i'll go back and get dick rover," said dora. she did not like the look in dan baxter's eyes. "yes, and tom," put in nellie. "you shan't go back," roared dan baxter. "go on and help the poor captain." his manner was so rude that nellie gave a short, sharp scream--one which reached tom's ears, as already recorded. "don't--don't go on board just yet, dora," she whispered. "you shall go on board!" went on dan baxter. "make her go, flapp. i'll attend to this one," and he caught hold of dora's arm. at this both girls screamed--another signal of distress which reached tom's ears but did no good. "i don't see the reason--" began lew flapp. "just do as i say, flapp. we can make money out of this," answered dan baxter. he caught dora around the waist and lifted her into the air. she struggled bravely but could do nothing, and in a moment more he had her on the houseboat. lew flapp followed with nellie, who pulled his hair and scratched his face unavailingly. "where--where you going to put 'em?" queried flapp. "in here," answered dan baxter, leading the way to one of the staterooms--that usually occupied by mrs. stanhope and dora. "now you stay in there and keep quiet, or it will be the worse for you," baxter went on to the girls. as nellie was pushed into the stateroom she fainted and pitched headlong on the floor. thoroughly alarmed, dora raised her cousin in her arms. at the same time baxter shut the door and locked it from the outside. "now, don't make a bit of noise, or you'll be sorry for it," he fairly hissed, and his manner was so hateful that dora was thoroughly cowed. "what's the next move?" asked flapp, when he and baxter were on the outside deck. he was too weak-minded to take a stand and placed himself entirely under the guidance of his companion. "get the houseboat away from the shore and be quick about it," was the reply. "somebody else may be on the way here." the order to push off was obeyed, and soon the _dora_, caught by the strong current of the river, was moving down the ohio and away from the vicinity of skemport. the mist was now so thick that in a few minutes the shore line was lost entirely to view. "i must say, i don't like this drifting in the dark," said flapp. "what if we run into something!" "we've got to take some risk. i'll light the lanterns as soon as we get a little further away. you stand by with that long pole--in case the houseboat drifts in toward shore again." the _dora_ had been provided with several long, patent sweeps, and for a while both of the young rascals used these, in an endeavor to get the houseboat out into the middle of the river. in the distance they saw the lights of a steamboat and this was all they had to guide them. "if we strike good and hard we'll go to the bottom," said lew flapp. "flapp, you are as nervous as a cat." "isn't it true?" "i don't think so. most of these boats are built in compartments. if one compartment is smashed the others will keep her afloat." "oh, i see." and after that lew flapp felt somewhat relieved. when the houseboat was well away from skemport, dan baxter walked to the door of the stateroom in which dora and nellie had been confined. "hullo, in there!" he called out. "what do you want?" asked dora, timidly. "how is that other girl, all right?" "ye--yes," came from nellie. "but, oh! mr. baxter, what does this mean?" "don't grow alarmed. i'm not going to hurt you in the least." "yes, but--but--we don't want to go with you." "i'm sorry, but i can't help that. if we let you go ashore you'll tell the rovers that we took the houseboat."--" "and is that why you took us along?" questioned dora. "certainly." "how far are you going to take us?" "that depends upon circumstances. i don't know yet where or when we will be able to make a landing." "it is horrid of you to treat us so." "sorry you don't like it, but it can't be helped," answered dan baxter, coolly. he paused a moment. "say, if i unlock that door and let you out will you promise to behave yourselves?" "what do you mean by that?" questioned dora. "i mean will you promise not to scream for help or not to attack myself or lew flapp?" "i shan't promise anything," said nellie, promptly. "i don't think i'll promise anything either," joined in her cousin. "humph! you had better. it's rather stuffy in that little stateroom." "we can stand it," answered both. "all right, suit yourselves. but when you want to come out, let me know." with these words dan baxter walked away, leaving the girls once more to themselves. both sat down on the edge of a berth, and nellie placed her head upon dora's shoulder. "oh, dora, what will become of us?" "i'm sure i don't know, nellie." "they may take us away down the river--miles and miles away!" "i know that. we must watch our chances and see if we cannot escape." "do you think the rover boys are following the houseboat?" "let us hope so." thoroughly miserable, the cousins became silent. they felt the houseboat moving swiftly along with the current, but could see nothing on account of the mist and the darkness. soon they heard the rain coming down. "it is going to be an awful night," said dora. "i don't see how anybody could follow this houseboat in such a storm." both girls felt like crying, but did their best to hold back the tears. each was tired out by the doings of the day gone by, but neither thought of going to sleep. the lanterns had been lit, and both baxter and flapp stationed themselves at the front of the houseboat, in an endeavor to pierce the mist. occasionally they made out some distant light, but could not tell where it belonged. "we ought to be getting to somewhere pretty soon," remarked lew flapp, after a couple of hours had passed. "don't you think we had better turn her in toward shore?'" "not yet, flapp; we ought to place as much distance as possible between the boat and skemport. remember, those rovers will be after us hot-footed when once they learn the truth of the situation." "do you know anything about the river around here?" "a little, but not much. do you know anything?" "no,--i never cared for geography," answered flapp. "it's getting as black as pitch, and the rain--hullo, there's another light!" flapp pointed to the kentucky side of the river. through the mist appeared a dim light, followed by another. "wonder if that is the shore or a boat?" mused baxter. "better yell and see." "boat, ahoy!" no answer came back, and for the moment the lights appeared to fade from sight. "must have been on shore and we are passing them, baxter." "more than likely, and yet--there they are again!" dan baxter was right; the lights had reappeared and now they seemed to approach the houseboat with alarming rapidity. "they'll run into us if they are not careful," said flapp, in fresh alarm. "boat, ahoy!" he screamed. "keep off!" "keep off! keep off, there!" put in dan baxter. if those in the other craft heard, they paid no attention. the light came closer and closer and of a sudden a fair-sized gasolene launch came into view. she was headed directly for the _dora_, and a moment later hit the houseboat a telling blow in the side, causing her to careen several feet. chapter xxiv the horse thieves for the moment it looked as if the houseboat might be sent to the bottom of the ohio river, and from the stateroom in which the two girls were confined came a loud cry of fright. dan baxter and lew flapp were also scared, and rushed toward the gasolene launch, not knowing what to do. "keep off!" "don't sink us!" loud cries also came from the launch, and those on the deck of the _dora_ could see several men, wearing raincoats, moving about. the bow of the launch was badly splintered, but otherwise the craft remained undamaged. "what do you mean by running into us in this fashion?" cried baxter, seeing that the _dora_ was in no danger of going down. "running into you?" came in a rough voice from the launch. "you ran into us! "not much we didn't." "what boat is that?" came in another voice from the launch. "a private houseboat. what craft is that?" "none of your business." "thank you." baxter put on a bold front. "i'm going to report you for running into us, just the same." "not much, you won't!" came from the launch. there were a few hurried words spoken in a whisper, and then a boat-hook was thrown on the _dora_ and a man leaped aboard and tied fast. "who is in command here?" he demanded, confronting baxter and flapp. "i am," answered baxter. "is she your houseboat?" "yes." "where are you bound?" "down to the mississippi. but what is that to you?" "how many of you on board of this craft?" went on the man, ignoring altogether the last question. "that is my business." "well, and i'm going to make it mine," cried the man, and pulled out a revolver. "answer up, kid; it will be best for you." he was a burly kentuckian, all of six feet tall and with a bushy black beard and a breath which smelt strongly of whiskey. "don't--don't shoot us!" cried lew flapp, in terror. "don't shoot!" "i won't--if you'll treat me proper-like," answered the kentuckian. "how many on board?" "four--two young ladies and ourselves," answered dan baxter. he was doing some rapid thinking. "say, perhaps we can strike up a. bargain with you," he went on. "a bargain? what kind of a bargain?" and the kentuckian eyed him narrowly. "we are looking for somebody to tow this houseboat down the river." at this the kentuckian gave a loud and brutal laugh. "thanks, but i ain't in that ere business." "all right, then; get aboard of your own boat and we will go on," continued baxter. "what's doing up there, pick?" called another man, from the launch. "remember, we haven't got all night to waste here." "that other boat is coming!" cried a third man. "boys, we are trapped as sure as guns!" "not much we ain't," said the kentuckian who had boarded the houseboat. "sculley!" "what next, pick?" "you've got a new job. this chap here wants somebody to tow him down the river." "well?" "you start to do the towing, and be quick about it. hamp, get on board at once! remember, sculley, you ain't seen or heard of us, understand?" "all right, pick." the gasolene launch came close once more, and the fellow called hamp leaped on board. he carried a rifle and was evidently a desperate character. "see here, i don't understand your game?" began baxter. "didn't you say you wanted somebody to tow you down the river?" asked the fellow addressed as pick. "i did, but--" "well, cap'n sculley of the _firefly_ has taken the job. he'll take you wherever you please, and at your own price. you can't ask for more than that, can you?" "no, but--" "i haven't got time to talk, kid--with' that other launch coming after us. i don't know who you are and i reckon you don't know me and my bosom pard here. but let me tell you one thing. it won't be healthy for you to tell anybody that me and my pard are on board here, understand?" "you are hiding away from somebody?" asked baxter, quickly. "i reckon that's the plain united states of it. if you say a word it will go mighty hard with you," and the kentuckian tapped his revolver. "you can trust us," replied baxter, promptly. "tell me what you want done and i'll agree to do it." "you will?" the kentuckian eyed him more closely than ever. "say, you can't play any game on me,--i'm too old for it." "i shan't play any game on you. just say what you want done and i'll help you all i can--providing that launch takes us down the river as quick as it can." "ha! maybe you want to get away, too, eh?" "i want to get down the river, yes. perhaps i'll tell you more,--after i am certain i can trust you," added baxter, significantly. "good enough, i'll go you. if that other launch comes up, tell 'em anything but that you have strangers on board, or that you have seen us." "i will." "if you play us foul--" "i shan't play you foul, so don't worry." by this time the second launch was coming up through the mist and the two men from kentucky retired to the cabin of the houseboat. in the meantime the first launch had tied fast to the _dora_ and was beginning to tow the houseboat down the stream. "boat, ahoy, there!" was the call. "ahoy!" answered the man on the first launch. "got any passengers on board?" "no." "what's your tow?" "a houseboat." "who is on board?" "i don't know exactly. what do you want to know for?" "we are looking for a couple of horse thieves who ran away from kepples about two hours ago." "i haven't seen anything of any horse thieves." the second launch now came up to the houseboat. as may be surmised dan baxter and lew flapp had listened to the talk with keen interest. "those chaps are horse thieves," muttered flapp. "yes,--but don't open your mouth, flapp," answered the leader of the evil-doers. "houseboat, ahoy!" was the call. "hullo, the launch," answered baxter. "seen anything of any strangers within the past two hours?" "strangers?" repeated baxter. "yes, i did." "where?" "about a mile back. two men in a small sailboat, beating up the river." "how were they dressed?" "in raincoats. one was a tall fellow with a heavy beard." "that's our game, curly!" was the exclamation on the second launch. "about a mile up the river, you say?" "about that--or maybe a mile and a half," replied dan baxter. "thank you. we'll get after them now!" and in a moment more the second launch sheered off and started up the ohio through the mist and rain. as soon as it was out of sight the men in the cabin of the _dora_ came out again. "that was well done, kid," cried he called pick. "and it was well you did it that way. if you had said we were aboard you might have got a dose of lead in your head." "i always keep my word," replied baxter. "you're a game young rooster, and i reckon i can't call you kid no more. what's your handle?" "what's yours?" "pick loring." "you're a horse thief, it seems." "i don't deny it." "my name is dan baxter, and this is my friend, lew flapp." "glad to know you. this is my pard in business, hamp gouch. we had to quit in a hurry, but i reckon we fell in the right hands," and pick loring closed one eye suggestively and questioningly. "you're safe with us, loring,--if you'll give us a lift." "i always stick to them as sticks to me." "if you want to stay on this houseboat for a while you can do it." "we'll have to stay on this craft. it's about the only place we'll be safe--for a day or two at least." "you can stay a couple of weeks, if you want to--all providing you'll lend us your assistance." "it's a go. now what's your game? you must have one, or you wouldn't act in this style," said pick loring. chapter xxv plotting against dora and nellie "in the first place," said dan baxter, "perhaps we had better give some directions to that man on the launch." "what kind of directions?" "we want to go straight down the river for the present." "he'll take you down. i told him not to go near either shore." "is he to be trusted?" "sure. he'll do anything i tell him to." "very well, then, that is settled. in the second place, tell me if i am right. you are both wanted for stealing sixteen horses over at a place called kepples." "who told you we took sixteen horses?" "i read about it in the papers a couple of days ago." "well, the report is true. i don't deny it." "you were fleeing from the officers of the law." "that's as straight as shooting," came from hamp gouch. "if we help you to escape, will you stick by us in a little game we are trying to put through?" "i will," answered pick loring, promptly. "so will i," added hamp gouch. "no game too daring for me either." "well, it's this way," continued dan baxter. "supposing i told you i had a game on that beats horse stealing all to bits. would you go in for half of what was in it?" "sure." "trust me," added gouch. "say," he went on. "got any liquor aboard? this rain is beastly." "i guess there is some liquor. we'll hunt around and see." "ha!" exclaimed pick loring. "say, perhaps you don't know much more about this houseboat than we did about them horses we took." "as you just said, i don't deny it." "you and your pard are running off with the boat?" queried hamp gouch. "yes." "good enough. we claim a half-interest in the boat. don't that go?" "that's pretty cheeky," returned lew flapp. "let it go at that, flapp," came from baxter. "yes, you can have a half-interest. but that isn't our game." "what is the game?" "on board of this houseboat are two girls who are mighty anxious to get back to their families and friends." "run off with 'em, did you?" cried pick loring, and now it must be confessed that he was really astonished. "we carried them off, yes. and we don't expect to let them get back home unless we can make considerable money out of it," continued dan baxter. "are they rich?" "they are fairly well-to-do, and they have close personal friends who, i feel sure, would pay a good price to see the girls get home again unharmed." "you're putty young to be runnin' a game like this," came from hamp gouch. "maybe, but i know just what i am doing." they walked into the living room, and lew flapp made an inspection of the pantry and then of captain starr's private apartment. as it happened, the captain used liquor, and several bottles were brought out, much to the satisfaction of the horse thieves. "this makes me feel more like talking," said hamp gouch, after swallowing a goodly portion of the stuff. "perhaps you had better give us the whole game straight from start to now," said pick loring. "then we can make up our minds just what we can do." sitting down, dan baxter told as much of himself and lew flapp as he deemed necessary, and told about the trip on the houseboat which the rovers, stanhopes, and the lanings had been taking. then he told how dora and nellie had been abducted and how the voyage down the ohio had been started in the mist and the darkness. "you're a putty bold pair for your years," said pick loring. "hang me if i don't admire you!" and he smiled in his coarse way. "of course you can see the possibilities in this," went on dan baxter. "supposing we can make the stanhopes and lanings and rovers pay over fifty or sixty thousand dollars for the return of the girls. that means a nice sum for each of us." "right you are," came from hamp gouch. "as you say, it beats horse stealing." "have they got the money?" asked the other kentuckian. "they have a good deal more than that between them. the rovers are very rich." "but they are only friends?" "more than that. dick rover is very sweet on dora stanhope, and tom rover thinks the world of nellie laning." "then of course they'll help pay up--especially if they hear the girls are likely to suffer. we can write to 'em and say we'll starve the girls to death if the money don't come our way." "exactly. but we've got to find some place to hide first. we can't stay on the river any great length of time. they'll send word about the houseboat from one town to another and the authorities will be on the lookout for us." "i know where you can take this houseboat," put in hamp gouch. "up shaggam creek. there is a dandy hiding place there and nobody around but old jake shaggam, and we can easily 'buy him off, so as he won't open his mouth." "how far is that creek from here?" "about thirty-five miles." the matter was talked over for fully an hour, and it was at last decided that the houseboat should go up shaggam creek, at least for the time being. if that place got too hot to hold them they could move further down the river during the nights to follow. the man on the launch was called up and matters were explained to him by pick loring. "sculley is a good fellow," said loring to baxter. "he will do whatever i say and take whatever i give him,--and keep his mouth shut." "that's the kind of a follower to have," was baxter's answer. the horse thieves were hungry, and a fire was started in the galley of the houseboat. the men cooked themselves something to eat and baxter and flapp did the same. it must be confessed that flapp did not like the newcomers and hated to have anything to do with them. but he was too much of a coward to speak up, and so did as baxter dictated. thus is one rascal held under the thumb of another. it was only when lew flapp was among those who were smaller and weaker than himself that he dared to play the part of the bully. dora and nellie heard the loud talking after the crashing of the launch into the houseboat and also heard part of what followed. both wanted to cry out for assistance, but did not dare, fearing that something still worse might happen to them. "they might bind and gag us," said nellie. "that dan baxter is bad enough to do almost anything." "yes, and from the way lew flapp treated dick, i should think he was almost as wicked as baxter," answered her cousin. the girls wondered who the newcomers on board could be, but had no means of finding out. nobody came near them, and at last tired nature asserted itself and both dropped into a troublous doze. when they awoke it was still dark. a steam whistle had aroused them. they looked out of the stateroom window. it had stopped raining, but the mist was just as thick as ever. "oh, if only it would clear up!" sighed dora. "nobody will be able to follow the houseboat in such a mist as this." "where do you think they will take us, dora?" questioned nellie. "goodness only knows. perhaps down the mississippi, or maybe to the gulf of mexico." "oh, dora, would they dare to do that?" and nellie's face grew pale. dora shrugged her shoulders by way of reply, and for the time being the cousins relapsed into silence. both were thinking of their mothers and of the rovers. what had the others said to their strange disappearance? "it is perfectly dreadful!" cried nellie, at last, and burst into tears, and dora followed. the crying appeared to do them some good and after half an hour they became more at ease. "we must escape if we possibly can, nellie," said dora. "we cannot afford to remain a moment longer on this houseboat than is necessary." "but how are we going to escape? it looks to me as if we were out in the middle of the river." "that is true. but both of us can row, and there is a small rowboat on board. if we could launch that and get away we might escape." "well, i am willing to try it, if you think it can be done. but we must get out of this stateroom first." the two girls listened, but nobody appeared to be anywhere near them. "i can hear them talking in the kitchen," said nellie. "more than likely they are getting something to eat." "i could eat something myself." "so could i. but i'd rather get away." both looked for some means of getting out of the stateroom and suddenly dora uttered a cry of delight. "oh, why didn't i think of it before!" "think of what?" "that key on the hook over there. it fits the door." "then we can get out!" "if that other key isn't on the outside." dora got down and looked through the keyhole. it was clear and she quickly inserted the key taken from the hook. it fitted perfectly, and in a second more the door was unlocked. "wait,--until i make sure that nobody is around!" whispered dora. she was so agitated she could scarcely speak. she opened the door cautiously and looked out. not a soul was in sight. from the galley came a steady hum of voices and a rattle of pots and dishes. "they are too busy to watch us just now--the way is clear," she whispered. "come on." "let us lock the door behind us, and stuff the keyhole," answered nellie. "then they will think we are inside and won't answer." this was done, and with their hearts beating wildly the two girls stole to the end of the houseboat, where lay the small rowboat dora had mentioned. chapter xxvi the search on the river as may be surmised, the news which dick and tom had to tell to the others at the stock farm produced great excitement. "dora and nellie gone!" gasped mrs. stanhope. "oh, dick, what has become of them?" "they must have gotten into some trouble!" cried mrs. laning. "you found no trace of them?" "we did not," said tom. "but we tried hard enough, i can assure you." "oh, what shall we do?" wailed mrs. stanhope, and then she fainted away, and it was a good quarter of an hour before she could be restored. all the boys were highly excited, and sam was for making a search for the missing houseboat without delay. "they may have gone on board and captain starr may have sailed off with them," said the youngest rover. "remember, he is a queer stick, to say the least." "that doesn't explain the screams i heard," said tom. "i dink me dot paxter got somedings to do mit dis," said hans. "he vos a rascals from his hair to his doenails alretty!" "the only thing to do is to make a search," came from songbird powell. "i'm ready to go out, rain or no rain." they were all ready, and in the end it was decided that all of the boys should prosecute the hunt, leaving mrs. stanhope, mrs. laning, and grace with the wife of the proprietor of the stock farm. the proprietor himself, a kentuckian named paul livingstone, said he would go with them. "if there has been foul play of any sort i will aid you to have justice done," said paul livingstone. "to me this whole thing looks mightily crooked." "one thing is certain,--if the houseboat was stolen, the mist and rain will aid the thieves to get away with her," said dick. it was a rather silent crowd that rode into skemport an hour and a half later. here a doctor was roused up and sent to the stock farm, to see if mrs. stanhope needed him, for she was weak and might collapse completely when least expected. once at the spot where the _dora_ had been tied up, another search was begun for the girls and the houseboat. some went up the shore and others down, each with a lantern which had been provided to dispel the gloom. "oh, where? oh, where? in dire despair we search the shore in vain!" came lowly from songbird, but then he felt too heavy-hearted to finish the verse and heaved a sigh instead. "this is simply heart-rending," he said. "that's what it is," answered dick. hans was not far off, shambling along in his own peculiar fashion. he held up his lantern and by the dim rays made out a building some distance away. "i yonder vot is in dare?" he said to himself. "maype i go und look, hey? it ton't cost me noddings." through the mist and rain he approached the building and walked around to the door, which was closed. he flung it open and held up his lantern to see inside. "_du meine zeit!_ vot is dis?" he gasped. "cabtain starr, or i vos treaming! hi, cabtain, vot you vos doing here, alretty?" he called out. "is that--that you, mueller?" asked the captain, in a trembling voice. "sure it vos me. vot you did here, tole me dot?" "i--the rascals tied me fast. they said they'd come and give me a hundred dollars in the morning, but i don't think they'll do it." "py chimanatics! vait a minute." hans ran outside and waved his lantern. "come here!" he bawled. "come here, kvick, eferybody!" his cry summoned the others, and they quickly gathered at the stable and released the captain. while they were doing this, they made the simple-minded fellow tell his story. "describe those two fellows," said dick, and captain starr did so. the description was perfect. "dan baxter and lew flapp!" cried tom. "of course, you didn't send that message?" asked the captain, of dick. "i did not, captain. it was a trick to get you away from the _dora_ and steal the houseboat." "is the craft stolen?" "yes." "oh, dear!" captain starr wrung his hands. "please don't blame me!" "i don't know as i can blame you, exactly. but you want to have your wits about you after this." when captain starr heard about the disappearance of the two girls he was more interested than ever. "i heard them scream," he said. "where was that?" "i think they must have been right in front of where the _dora_ was tied up." "when was this?" asked sam. "not very long after the villains made me their prisoner." "it's as clear as day!" cried fred garrison. "baxter and flapp first stole the houseboat and then they abducted dora and nellie." "it's a wretched piece of business," came from dick. "oh, if i can only lay my hands on them they shall suffer for it!" "we must chase the houseboat, that's all i know to do," put in tom. "and the quicker we begin the better." "that's easily said, tom. how are we going to locate the craft in this mist? she may have gone up the stream and she may have gone down." "more than likely she went down with the current. they hadn't any steam tug handy to pull her." paul livingstone was appealed to and told them where they could find the coal docks at which their own tug was lying. all hurried to the place and called up captain carson. "i'll get up steam just as soon as i can," said the tug captain, and hustled out his engineer and fireman. soon the black smoke was pouring from the tug's stack and in less than half an hour they were ready to move. "this seems like a wild-goose chase," remarked sam. "but it is better than standing around with one's hands in his pockets." "i wish i had dat dan baxter heah!" said aleck pop. "i'd duck him in the ribber an' hold him undah 'bout ten minutes!" all were soon on the steam tug, which was crowded by the party. the lanterns were lit, and they moved down the ohio slowly and cautiously. "we had better move from side to side of the river," suggested dick. "then we won't be so liable to pass the houseboat without seeing her." as all of the party were wet, they took turns in drying and warming themselves in the engine-room of the tug. those on the lookout did what they could to pierce the gloom, but with small satisfaction. half an hour later they passed a small river steamer and hailed the craft. "what's wanted?" shouted somebody through a megaphone. "seen anything of a houseboat around here?" "no," was the prompt answer. "all right; thanks!" and then they allowed the river steamer to pass them. "dis night vos so vet like neffer vos!" remarked hans. "well, we have got to make the best of it," answered dick. "i don't care how wet i get, if only we are successful in our chase." "i am mit you on dot," returned the german cadet, quickly. two hours passed and they saw no other craft. they had passed several settlements of more or less importance, but not a sign of the missing houseboat appeared. "here comes something!" cried tom, presently, as they heard a distant puff-puff. "steer in the direction of that sound," said dick, to captain carson, and this was done. out of the mist appeared the light of a long launch, having on board several officers of the law. "steam tug, ahoy!" was the cry. "ahoy!" shouted back captain carson. "seen anything of another launch around here?" "no." "see anything of a small sailboat?" "no." "confound the luck!" came in another voice from the launch. "what's the matter?" asked paul livingstone. "hullo, mr. livingstone, is that you?" called out one of the officers of the law on the launch. "it is, captain dixon. what's the trouble?" "we are looking for those two horse thieves, pick loring and hamp gouch. i suppose you know they escaped." "so i heard. well, i hope you get them," answered the owner of the stock farm. "they took four of my horses once." "so i understand. what are you doing out here this time of night?" "we are looking for a houseboat that was stolen. seen anything of such a craft?" "certainly we did." "you did!" burst from dick and several of the others. "where?" "down the river four or five miles. the fellows on board told us that they had seen a sailboat with two men in it beating up the river, and from the description we took the men to be loring and gouch." "how did the houseboat look?" asked tom. one of the officers of the law gave a brief description of the _dora_ and told what he could of baxter and flapp. "it's our houseboat beyond a doubt," said sam. "and those two fellows were flapp and baxter." "did you see anybody else on the houseboat?" questioned dick. "not a soul. so the houseboat was stolen?" went on the police officer, curiously. "yes, and, worse than that, two girls have been abducted." "creation! that's serious." "it will be serious for those rascals if we catch them!" muttered tom. "where did the houseboat go to?" "it was heading straight down the river when we saw it last." "then come!" cried dick. "let us go after the craft and lose no time." a moment later the steam tug parted company with the launch, and the chase after the _dora_ was resumed. chapter xxvii caught once more the two girls hardly dared to breathe as they stood at the rear of the houseboat, trying to untie the small rowboat which lay on the deck. "oh, dora, supposing they find us out?" gasped nellie. "i don't think we'll be any worse off than we were," answered her cousin. "do you think we can launch the rowboat and get into it without upsetting?" "we can try." the small craft was soon unfastened and they dragged it to the edge of the houseboat. there was a small slide, on hinges, and they had seen the boys use this more than once, and knew how it worked. down went the rowboat with a slight splash, and they hauled the craft up close by aid of the rope attached to the bow. "now the oars!" whispered dora. they were at hand, in a rack at the back of the dining room, and soon she had secured two pairs. "you drop in first, nellie," went on dora. "be quick, but don't fall overboard." nellie obeyed, trembling in every limb. she landed safely and in a few seconds dora followed. just as this was done a man appeared on the deck of the houseboat, followed by another. "oh, dora--" began nellie, when her cousin silenced her. then the rope was untied, and the rowboat was allowed to drift astern of the larger craft. "hullo, there!" came suddenly out of the darkness. "what's up back there?" "who are you calling to, hamp?" came from the galley. "something doing back here," answered hamp gouch. "somebody just cut loose from our stern." "what's that?" burst out dan baxter, and tumbled out on deck, followed by the others. "i said somebody just cut loose from this houseboat. there they go," and the horse thief pointed with his hand. "it can't be the girls!" cried flapp. "run to the stateroom and see," answered baxter. "i'll get the big lantern." lew flapp hurried to the door of the state-room, taking with him the key baxter handed over. "hullo, in there!" he shouted. "are you awake?" receiving no answer he knocked loudly on the door. "i say, why don't you answer?" he went on. "i'm coming in." still receiving no reply, he started to put the key in the lock and found that he could not do so. "it won't do any good to block the lock," he called out. "answer me, or i'll break down the door." still nothing but silence, and in perplexity he ran back to baxter. "i can't get a sound out of them, and the keyhole is stuffed," he said. "we'll break in the door," said the leader of the evil-doers. it took but a minute to execute this threat, for the door was thin and frail. both gave a hasty look around. "gone!" "they must have taken the rowboat and rowed away," said lew flapp. both went back to where they had left pick loring and hamp gouch. "the girls are gone," said baxter. "they must have skipped in that rowboat." "we can soon fix 'em," muttered loring. "we'll get sculley to go after them." the launch ahead was signaled and soon came up alongside. "what's wanted now?" "take me aboard and i'll tell you," answered baxter, and he and pick loring boarded the launch. in the meantime the two girls had placed the oars into the rowlocks and were rowing off as fast as their strength would permit. "oh, dora, do you think we can get away!" gasped nellie. "we must! do your best, and keep time with me." "but which way are we going?" "i don't know, yet. the best we can do is to keep away from the lights of the houseboat." stroke after stroke was taken in dire desperation, and after a while they had the satisfaction of seeing the lights of the houseboat fading away in the distance. all was gloom and mist around them and they stopped rowing, not knowing in which direction to turn next. "we are lost on the river," said nellie. "yes, but that is better than being in the hands of our enemies," was dora's answer. "yes, dora, ten times over. but what shall we do next?" "let us try to row crosswise with the current. that is sure to bring us to shore sooner or later." this they set out to do, and after a while felt certain that they were drawing close to the river bank on the north. "we are getting there!" cried nellie. "oh, dora, aren't you glad?" scarcely had she spoken when they saw a light behind them, and a long launch came unexpectedly into view. in the bow stood dan baxter with a lantern. "i thought i heard their oars," cried that rascal. "here they are!" "pull, pull, nellie!" cried dora. "pull, or we shall be captured!" both of the girls rowed with all their strength, but before they could gain the shore, which was now less than two rods away, the launch came up and made fast to the rowboat. "might as well give it up," said dan baxter, sarcastically. "it's no use, as you can see." "oh, mr. baxter, do let us go!" pleaded nellie, more terrorized than ever before. "not much! you have got to go back to the houseboat." at this nellie gave a loud scream, and dora immediately followed with a prolonged call for help. "shut them up!" came from pick loring. "there are a whole lot of people living around here." without answering, dan baxter leaped into the rowboat and took dora by the arm roughly. "if you don't shut up, i'll gag you!" he cried. "let me go!" she said, and struck at him feebly. while this was going on pick loring came over and took hold of nellie. "tow us along, sculley!" called the horse thief. "get back to the houseboat as soon as you can." "what's the matter out there?" came in an unexpected call from the shore. the speaker could not be seen. "help us!" shrieked dora. "we are two girls and some men are carrying us off." "you don't say so!" ejaculated the speaker on shore. "tell the rover boys!" called out nellie. "dan baxter is taking us down the river on the houseboat." "save us, and we will pay you well," added dora, and then baxter's not over cleanly hand was clapped over her mouth, and she could say no more. loring's hand was likewise placed over nellie's mouth, and then the launch began to tow the rowboat back into midstream once more. the poor girls were utterly disheartened and dropped back on the seats in something close to a faint. "this is a mess," growled dan baxter. "have you any idea who that was that called from the shore?" "some kind of a watchman," answered loring. "we have got to get out of this neighborhood in railroad time or the jig's up," he added. "well, i'm willing." it did not take long to catch up to the houseboat, which was drifting down the river in the fashion it had pursued before being towed by the lunch. flapp and hamp gouch were waiting impatiently on the deck. "got 'em?" asked lew flapp. "yes, but we had no time to spare," returned dan baxter. "two minutes more and they would have been ashore." "after this maybe we had better stand guard over them, baxter." "just what i have been thinking." once alongside of the houseboat, the two girls were forced on board once more and taken to the stateroom next to that which they had before occupied. the window was locked up and nailed and after the girls were inside, dan baxter placed a strong bolt outside. "now if you try to escape again you may get hurt," he called out, after the job was done. "mr. baxter, you shall suffer for this!" answered dora, as spiritedly as she could. "oh, don't think you can scare me." "the rovers will get on your track soon." "i am not afraid of them." "you said that before, but you've always been glad enough to hide from them." "it's false!" cried baxter, in a passion. "i never hid from them." "you are hiding now. you dare not face them openly." "oh, give us a rest. i am doing this for the money that is in it." "money?" "yes, money." "i do not understand you." "well, you'll understand to-morrow or the day after." "we haven't any money to give you," put in nellie. "no, but maybe your folks have." "are you going to make them pay you for releasing us?" "that's it." "perhaps they won't pay," said dora. "if they don't, so much the worse for you. but i know they'll pay--and so will the rovers pay," chuckled baxter. "what have the rovers to do with it? or perhaps you want them to pay you for giving back the houseboat." "they'll pay for both--for the houseboat and for releasing you. i know dick and tom rover won't want to see you remain in the power of me and flapp and our friends." "dan baxter, you are a villain!" burst out both girls. "thank you for the compliment," returned the rascal, coolly. "i hope you'll enjoy your stay in that stateroom." "you ought to be in prison!" went on dora. "if you talk that way you'll get no breakfast in the morning." "i don't want any of your breakfast!" and dora stamped her foot to show she meant it. "oh, you'll sing a different tune when you get good and hungry," growled dan baxter, and he walked away, leaving the girls once more to themselves. chapter xxviii a messsage for the rovers morning found the rovers and their friends still on the steam launch, looking in all directions for the houseboat. the rain had ceased and there was every indication that the mist would blow away by noon, but at present it was hard to see a hundred feet in any direction. "nature has assisted them to escape," said dick, bitterly. "oh, we'll find them sooner or later," answered sam. "perhaps, sam. but think of how the girls may be suffering in the meantime." "i know; and mrs. stanhope and mrs. laning are suffering too." the steam tug carried only a small stock of provisions, and it was decided to go ashore at a small place called gridley's for breakfast. here there was a country hotel at which they obtained a breakfast which put all in a slightly better physical condition. the proprietor of the hotel was a bit curious to learn the cause of their unexpected appearance and became interested when dick told him about the missing houseboat. "wonder if that had anything to do with a story bill daws told me an hour ago," said he. "bill works at the mill clown by the river. last night, in the dark and mist, he heard somebody in a rowboat and a launch having a row. two gals screamed for help, and somebody said something about a houseboat and tell somebody something--he couldn't tell exactly what. i thought bill had 'em on, but maybe he didn't." "where is this bill daws now?" asked dick. "gone home. he works nights and sleeps in the daytime." "where does he live?" "just up that street over yonder--in the square stone house with the red barn back of it." waiting to hear no more, dick set off for the house mentioned, taking tom with him. they rapped loudly on the door and an elderly woman answered their summons. "is mr. bill daws in?" asked dick. "yes, sir, but he has gone to bed." "i must speak to him a minute. tell him it's about the talking he heard on the river in the dark." "oh, is that so! he told me something about it," answered the woman. she went off and coming back invited them into the house. soon bill daws appeared, having slipped on part of his clothing. "i can't tell ye a great deal," said the watchman. "i heard two gals cry out and some men was trying to shet 'em up. one gal said something about a houseboat and about telling somebody about it." "did she say to tell the rovers?" "thet's it! thet's it! i couldn't think o' thet name nohow, but now you hev struck it fust clip." "the girls were trying to escape in the rowboat?" "i reckon so, and the men in the launch were after 'em." "where did they go?" "out into the river, and thet's the last i see or heard o' 'em." "thank you," answered dick, and seeing that bill daws was poor he gave the fellow two dollars, for which the watchman was profoundly grateful. "it proves one thing," said tom, when the brothers were coming away. "we are on the right track." "right you are, tom. i hope we stay on the trail until we run down our quarry." not long after this the entire party was on the steam launch once more. they took with them provisions enough to last a couple of days and also an extra cask of drinking water. by one o'clock in the afternoon the sun burst through the mist and an hour later the entire river was clear, so that they could see steamboats and sailboats a long distance off. the captain of the tug brought forth his spyglass and they took turns in looking through the instrument. "nothing like a houseboat in sight," said sam, disconsolately. "it beats the nation where they have gone to." "they may be hiding around some point or in some cove," suggested fred. "they must know that we will follow them." "i think you ought to telegraph up and down the river," put in songbird. "dot's der dalk," came from hans. "let eferypody know vot rascals da vos alretty!" in the middle of the afternoon they made a stop at a town called smuggs' landing and from this point dick sent messages in various directions. one message was sent to a city ten miles further down the river and an answer came back in half an hour stating that, so far as the authorities could find out, nothing had been seen of the _dora_. "now the question is, has she gone past that town, or is she between there and this point?" said dick. "persackly," came from aleck. "an' i dun gib two dollahs to know de answer to dat cojumdrum." "all we can do is to continue the search," said tom. "but i must say it is getting a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack." "vot for you looks for a needle py a haystack?" questioned hans, innocently. "needles ton't vos goot for noddings in hay. a hoss vot schwallows a needle vould die kvick, i tole you dot!" and his innocence brought forth a short laugh. "i move we make a swift run down the river for a distance of twenty or thirty miles," came from tom. "we can go down on one side and come up the other, and keep the spyglass handy, so that nothing that can be seen escapes us." the matter was discussed a few minutes and it was decided to follow tom's suggestion. additional coal had been taken on and soon the steam tug was flying down the river under a full head of steam, causing not a little spray to fly over the forward deck. "say, dot pow ist like a fountain," was hans' comment, after he had received an unexpected ducking. "i shall sit py der pack deck after dis;" and he did. so far captain starr had said but little during the pursuit, but now he began to show signs of interest. "let me lay my hands on the villains who tied me fast in that stable and i shall teach them a lesson they will not forget in a hurry," said he, bitterly. "they made a fool of me." "that's what they did, captain," said sam. "still, they might have imposed upon anybody." "i've been thinking of something. you'll remember about those two horse thieves?" went on the captain of the houseboat. "to be sure." "couldn't it be possible that they got on the _dora_ too?" "it's possible." sam mused for a moment. "that sailboat story might have been a fake." he called dick and mr. livingstone to him and repeated what captain starr had said. "such a thing is possible," said dick. "but we have no proofs." "if we can catch those thieves as well as baxter and flapp it will be a good job done," said the owner of the stock farm. and from that moment he took a greater interest in the pursuit than ever. night came on and still they saw nothing of the houseboat. they had gone down the river a distance of twenty miles and were now on their way back. "we've missed them," said dick, soberly. "it certainly looks like it," returned tom. every bit of fun had gone out of him. "it's rough, isn't it?" "i'm thinking of what to telegraph to mrs. stanhope and mrs. laning," went on the eldest rover. "i hate to send bad news." "tell them you are still following the houseboat and that you know dora and nellie are on board. it's the best we can do." and when they landed a message was sent to that effect. soon a message came back, which read as follows: "bring them back safe and sound, no matter what the cost." "we will, if it can be done," muttered dick, and clenched his fists with a determination that meant a great deal. the night was spent at a hotel in one of the small towns, and at daylight the search for the missing houseboat was renewed. it had been decided to drop down the ohio further than ever, and look into every smaller stream they came to by the way. thus several hours passed, when they found themselves on the south side of the river, not far from the entrance to a good-sized creek. down the stream came a worn and battered rowboat in which was seated an old man dressed in rags. as he approached the steam tug he stopped rowing. "say," he drawled. "kin you-uns tell me whar to find a party called the rovers?" "that's our party right here," replied dick, and he added, excitedly: "what do you want to know for?" "so you-uns are really the rovers?" "yes." "searching fer somebody?" "yes,--two young ladies." "good 'nough. got a message for ye." and the old man rowed toward the steam launch once more. chapter xxix jake shaggam, of shaggam creek "they will watch us more closely than ever now," said dora, after she and her cousin were left to themselves in the stateroom on board of the houseboat. "i presume that is true," answered nellie, gloomily. "they expect to make money by carrying us off, nellie." "i don't see how they can do it. papa hasn't much money to pay over to them, and won't have, unless he sells the farm." "mamma has quite some money of mine," went on dora. "perhaps they will make her pay over that. and then they are going to try to get something out of the rovers too." "it's a shame!" "they ought not to have a cent!" the girls sat down and talked the matter over until daylight. at about nine o'clock lew flapp approached the stateroom door. "don't you want something to eat?" he asked, civilly. "i want a drink," answered nellie, promptly, for she was exceedingly thirsty. "i've got a pitcher of ice water for you and some breakfast, too. you might as well eat it as not. there's no sense in starving yourselves." "i suppose that is true," whispered nellie to her cousin. she was hungry as well as thirsty, having had no supper the night before. the door was opened and lew flapp passed the food and drink into them. then he stood in the doorway eyeing them curiously. "it's too bad you won't be friends with us," said he, with a grin. "it would be much pleasanter to be friends." "thank you, but i don't want you for a friend, mr. flapp," said dora, frigidly. "i ain't so bad as you think i am." "you are bad enough." "i ain't bad at all. dick rover got me in a scrape at school, and ever since that time he's been spreading evil reports about me." "you robbed that jewelry store." "no, i didn't, and i can prove it. the rovers were the real thieves." "you cannot make us believe such .a tale. we know the rovers too well," said dora, warmly. "they are as honest as any boys can be," added nellie. "bah! you do not know what you are talking about. they are crafty, that is all,--and half the cadets at putnam hall know it." to this neither of the girls would reply. they wished to close the stateroom door, but lew flapp held it open. "i think you might give me a kiss for bringing you the eating," he said, with another grin. "i'll give you--this!" answered dora, and pushed the door shut in his face. there happened to be a bolt on the inside and she quickly shoved it into place. "just you wait--i'll get square on you!" growled lew flapp, from the outside, and then they heard him stamp off, very much out of sorts. fortunately for the girls, the breakfast brought to them was quite fair and there was plenty of it. they ate sparingly, resolved to save what was left until later in the day. "he may not bring us anything more," said dora. "perhaps i did wrong to shut the door on his nose." "you did just right, dora," answered her cousin, promptly. "i think he and baxter are horrid!" "but they have us in their power, and have some men to aid them, too!" "i wonder who those men can be?" "i do not know, but they are very rough. i suppose they would do almost anything for money. they smell strongly of liquor." slowly the time went by. they tried to look out of the stateroom window, but dan baxter had placed a bit of canvas outside in such a position that they could see nothing. "they do not want us to find out where they are taking us," said dora, and her surmise was correct. night was coming on once more when they felt a sudden jar of the houseboat, followed by several other jars. then they heard a scraping and a scratching. "we have struck the bottom and are scraping along some trees and bushes," said nellie. "where can we be?" "here is a fine shelter!" they heard pick loring exclaim. "they'll never spot the houseboat in such a cove as this." "i believe you," answered dan baxter. "it is certainly a dandy hiding place." "those girls can't very well get ashore neither," said hamp gouch. "if they tried it they would get into mud up to their waists." "is this shaggam creek--the place you spoke about?" asked lew flapp. "yes." "you said there was an old man around here named jake shaggam." "yes, he lives in that tumble-down shanty over the hill. i don't think he will bother us." "does he live there alone?" "yes. he is a bachelor and don't like to go down to the village." the girls heard this talk quite plainly, but presently baxter, flapp, and the two horse thieves withdrew to another part of the houseboat and they heard no more. "we are at a place called shaggam creek," said dora. "that is worth remembering." "if only we could get some sort of a message to the rover boys and the others," sighed nellie. "dora, can't we manage it somehow?" "perhaps we can--anyway, it won't do any harm to write out a message or two, so as to have them ready to send off if the opportunity shows itself." paper and pencils were handy, and the cousins set to work to write out half a dozen messages. "we can set them floating on the river if nothing more," said nellie. "somebody might pick one up and act on it." the hours slipped by, and from the quietness on board the girls guessed that some of their abductors had left the houseboat. this was true. baxter and flapp had gone off, in company with pick loring, to send a message to mrs. stanhope and to mrs. laning, stating that dora and nellie were well and that they would be returned unharmed to their parents providing the sum of sixty thousand dollars be forwarded to a certain small place in the mountain inside of ten days. "if you do not send the money the girls will suffer," the message concluded. "beware of false dealings, or it may cost them their lives!" "that ought to fetch the money," said dan baxter, after the business was concluded. "if they can raise that amount," answered loring. "of course you know more about how they are fixed than i do." "they can raise it--if they get the rovers to aid them." the prospects looked bright to the two horse thieves, and as soon as loring returned to the houseboat he and hamp gouch applied themselves arduously to the liquor taken from captain starr's private locker. "those fellows mean to get drunk," whispered lew fiapp, in alarm. "i'm afraid so," answered baxter. "but it can't be helped." late in the evening, much to their surprise, an old man in a dilapidated rowboat came up to the houseboat. it was jake shaggam, the hermit, who had been out fishing. "how are ye, shaggam!" shouted pick loring, who, on account of the liquor taken, felt extra sociable. "come on board, old feller!" against the wishes of baxter and flapp, jake shaggam was allowed on board the houseboat and taken to the living room. here he was given something to eat and drink and some tobacco. "you're a good fellow, jake," said hamp gouch. "mighty good fellow. show you something," and he took the old man to where the girls were locked in. "better stop this," said flapp, in increased alarm. "oh, it's all right, you can trust jake shaggam," replied gouch, with a swagger. liquor had deprived him of all his natural shrewdness. he insisted upon talking about the girls and tried to open the door. failing in this he took the hermit around to the window. "nice old chap this is, gals," he said. "finest old chap in old kentucky. think a sight o' him, i do. shake hands with him." "what are these yere gals doin' here?" asked shaggam, with interest. "got 'em prisoners. tell ye all 'bout it ter-morrow," answered gouch, thickly. "big deal on--better'n stealin' hosses.'' "they seem to be very nice girls," answered jake shaggam. he was a harmless kind of an individual with a face that was far from repugnant. watching her chance dora drew close to the old man. "take this, please do!" she whispered, and gave him one of the notes, folded in a dollar bill. "thank you," answered jake shaggam. "say nothing,--look at it as soon as you get away," added dora. the old hermit nodded, and in a few minutes more he followed gouch to another part of the boat. "do you think he will deliver that message?" asked nellie. "let us pray heaven that he does," answered her cousin. chapter xxx the rescue--conclusion the rovers and the others on the steam tug could scarcely wait for the old man in the dilapidated rowboat to come up alongside. "you have a message for us?" said dick. "hand it over, quick." "the message says as how you-uns will pay me twenty-five dollars fer delivering of it in twenty-four hours," said the old man, cautiously. "who is it from?" "it is signed dora stanhope and nellie laning." "give it to me--i'll pay you the money," cried tom. "all right, reckon as how i kin trust you-uns," said the old man. it was jake shaggam, who had received the message the evening before. he had read it with interest and started out at daylight to find out something about the rovers and where they might be located. good fortune had thrown him directly in our young friends' way. "this is really a message from the girls!" cried tom, reading it hastily. "it is in nellie laning's handwriting." "and dora stanhope has signed her name too," added dick. "i know her signature well." "of course you do," put in fred, dryly, but nobody paid attention to the sally. "they are on the houseboat, and the craft is hidden up shaggam creek," put in sam. he turned to the captain of the tug. "where is shaggam creek?" "this ere is shaggam creek, an' i'm jake shaggam," answered the hermit. "but you-uns said you'd pay me thet twenty-five dollars." "i will," said tom, and brought out the amount at once. "thank you very much." "if you'll take us to that houseboat without delay i'll give you another five dollars," put in dick. "i'll do it. but i don't want them fellers on the houseboat to see me." "why not?" "cos pick loring and hamp gouch thinks i am their friend. ef they knowed as how i give 'em away they'd plug me full o' lead." "then the two horse thieves are with baxter and flapp," said songbird. "if we bag the lot we'll be killing two birds with one stone, as the saying goes." "come on!" cried paul livingstone. "i want to get those two horse thieves by all means. why, there is a reward of one thousand dollars for their capture, dead or alive." "by golly, i'se out fo' dat reward!" came from aleck, and he pulled out a horse pistol which he was carrying. "jess let me see dem willains." and he flourished the weapon wildly. the steam tug was led up the creek by jake shaggam for a distance of two miles. "see that air turn yonder?" he said. "yes," said captain carson. "thet houseboat is behind the trees and bushes around the p'int. now whar's the five dollars?" "there you are," said dick, and paid him. "much obliged. now i reckon i'll go home an' let you-uns fight it out," added jake shaggam, and tying up his rowboat he stalked off, just as if he had accomplished nothing out of the ordinary. "we had better approach with caution," said paul livingstone. "those horse thieves are desperate characters. they would not be above shooting us down rather than give up to the law." in the meantime baxter and flapp were much disturbed by the condition of affairs on board the houseboat. both loring and gouch had been drinking more or less all night and were in far from a sober condition. "i don't mind a drink myself, but those chaps make me sick," growled dan baxter. "i guess we made a mistake to take them into our scheme," said lew flapp. "look how gouch blabbed to that old man last night." "where are they now?" "in the captain's stateroom opening a new bottle of liquor. neither of them can stand up straight." "for two pins i'd pitch them overboard. where is sculley?" "he is with them, drinking hard, too." "if we only knew how to run that launch we could leave them behind and sail out of here." "perhaps we'll have to do that--if the three keep on drinking." baxter and flapp were on deck. they had had their breakfast, but had given nothing more to the girls. "i'm going to tame 'em," grumbled flapp, who had not forgotten how the door had been slammed in his face. "that's right, we'll make 'em come to terms," added baxter. "we'll have 'em on their knees to us before we get through." presently both walked to the window of the stateroom dora and nellie occupied. "well, how do you feel--pretty hungry?" questioned baxter. "not so very hungry?" said dora, as lightly as she could. "don't you want a nice hot breakfast?" "i'd rather have some fruit." "oh, by the way, we've got some nice harvest apples on board--and some berries. wouldn't you like some berries, with sugar and cream?" "and some fresh breakfast rolls?" put in flapp. "not if you baked them," came from nellie. "you can have a good breakfast, if you'll be a little more civil to us," resumed dan baxter. "we are more civil than you deserve," said dora. "do you want to be starved?" at this both girls turned a trifle pale. "would you dare to starve us?" cried nellie. "why not--if you won't be friendly?" asked lew flapp. "you've been treating us as if we were dogs." "yes, and we--" began dan baxter, when he chanced to look through the bushes and down the creek. "great scott, flapp!" he yelled. "what's up?" "the game is up! here comes a tug with the rovers and a lot of other people on board!" "the rovers!" faltered lew flapp, and for the instant he shivered from head to feet. "oh, good! good!" cried nellie. "help!" she screamed. "help!" "help! help!" added dora. "help us! this way!" "we are coming!" came back, in dick's voice, and a moment later the steam tug crashed into the side of the houseboat, and the rovers and several others leaped on board. "stand where you are, lew flapp!" cried tom, and rushed for the bully of putnam hall. "stand, i say!" and then he hit flapp a stunning blow in the ear which bowled the rascal over and over. in the meantime dan baxter took to his heels and made for the front of the houseboat. from this point he jumped into the branches of a tree and disappeared from view. "come on after him!" cried sam, and away he and fred went after baxter, leaving the others to take charge of flapp, and round up the horse thieves and sculley. but dan baxter knew what capture meant--a long term of imprisonment in the future and, possibly, a good drubbing from the rovers on the spot--and he therefore redoubled his efforts to escape. "follow me at your peril!" he sang out, and then they heard him crashing through the bushes. gradually the sounds grew fainter and fainter. "where did he go to, sam?" "i can't say," said sam. "we'll have to organize a regular party to run him down." it was an easy matter to make lew flapp a prisoner. once captured the former bully of the hall blubbered like a baby. "it was dan baxter led me into it," he groaned. "it was all his doings, not mine." when loring, gouch, and sculley were confronted by the party the intoxicated evil-doers were in no condition to offer any resistance. roundly did they bewail their luck, but this availed them nothing, and without ceremony they were made prisoners, their hands being tied behind them with stout ropes. "are you hurt?" asked dick, of the girls, anxiously. "not in the least, dick," answered dora. "but, oh! how thankful i am that you came as you did!" "and i am thankful too," came from nellie. "and we are thankful to be on hand," said tom. and the others said the same. here let me bring to a close the story of "the rover boys on the river." the trip had been full of adventures, but it now looked as if all would end happily. without loss of time dora and nellie were taken care of and the houseboat was put into proper order for use by the rovers and their friends. "dat galley am a mess to see," said aleck pop. "but i don't care--so long as dem young ladies am saved." as speedily as possible, messages were sent to the lanings and to mrs. stanhope, carrying the news of the girls' safety and the recovery of the missing houseboat. after that paul livingstone saw to it that pick loring, hamp gouch, and their accomplice, sculley, were turned over to the proper authorities. for this the whole party received the reward of one thousand dollars, which was evenly divided between them. "dot's der first money i receive playing detecter," said hans, when he got his portion. "maybe i vos been a regular bolice detecter ven i got old enough, hey?" lew flapp was taken back to new york state, to stand trial for the robbery of aaron fairchild's shop, but through the influence of his family and some rich friends he was let out on bail. when the time for his trial arrived he was missing. "he is going to be as bad as dan baxter some day," said sam. "perhaps; but he is more of a coward than baxter," answered dick. "wonder where baxter disappeared to?" came from tom. "we'll find out some time," said sam; and he was right. they soon met their old enemy again, and what baxter did to bring them trouble will be told in the next volume of this series, to be entitled "the rover boys on the plains; or, the mystery of red rock ranch." in this work we shall meet many of our old friends again and learn what they did towards solving a most unusual secret. two days after the missing houseboat was found there was a re-union on board in which all of our friends took part. there was a grand dinner, served in aleck pop's best style, and in the evening the craft was trimmed up with japanese lanterns from end to end, and a professional orchestra of three pieces was engaged by the rovers to furnish music for the occasion. mr. livingstone and his family visited the houseboat, bringing several young folks with them. the girls and boys sang, danced, and played games, while the older folks looked on. songbird powell recited several original poems, fred garrison made a really comic speech, and hans mueller convulsed everybody by his good nature and his funny way of talking. "i never felt so light-hearted in my life!" said tom, after the celebration had come to an end. "we owe you and the others a great deal," said mrs. laning. "yes, and i shall not forget it," put in mrs. stanhope. "all of you are regular heroes!" "heroes? pooh!" sniffed tom. "nothing of the sort. we are just wide-awake american boys." and they are wide-awake; aren't they, kind reader? the end the house boat boys or drifting down to the sunny south by st. george rathborne author of "canoe mates in canada", "chums in dixie" "the young fur takers", etc. the house boat boys; or a voyage to the gulf. chapter i. what a letter from a tramp steamer did. "i say, what's gone wrong now, maurice, old fel?" the speaker, a roughly clad boy of about fifteen or over, caught hold of his companion's sleeve and looked sympathetically in his face. the lad whom he called maurice was better dressed, and he seemed to carry with him a certain air of refinement that was lacking in his friend, who was of a rougher nature. despite this difference he and thad tucker were the closest of chums, sharing each other's joys and disappointments, small though they might be. they had met just now at the post-office of a little country town not many miles below evansville, indiana, as the afternoon mail was being sorted. the yellow flood of the great ohio river could be seen from where they stood, glowing in the early november sunshine. upon being greeted with these words maurice pemberton shook his head dolefully. "it's come, just as i've been half expecting it these four months, thad. the old couple i live with have sold their house and leave for chicago in a week. that turns me out into the streets, for you know they've given me a home ever since mother, who was a friend of mrs. jasper, died; and in return i've tried to make good by doing all their gardening and other work between school hours. now a son has sent for them to come and make their home with him. pretty tough on a fellow not to know where he's going to sleep after a single week." but thad was smiling now, as though an idea had flashed into his head that gave him reason for something akin to pleasure. "well, i don't know; if it comes to the worst, pard maurice, you're a dozen times welcome to share my old bunky on the shantyboat. i'd just love to make another cot like mine, and have you there. say, wouldn't it be grand? of course, though, you'd find it a pretty poor contraption alongside the house you've lived in; but if it was a thousand dollar launch still you'd be just as welcome, and you know it," he said with a heartiness that could not be misunderstood. the other looked at him affectionately, and was about to say something in return when the window of the post-office was thrown open as a signal that the mail had been distributed. so maurice stepped up to secure the usual papers, together with an occasional letter, that came for the jaspers. thad saw him start and look curiously at one letter, and then begin to tear the end off as though it were meant for him. watching curiously, all unaware how history was making at that identical moment for himself and maurice, he saw the other smile and nod his head, while an expression of delight gradually crept over his face. then maurice remembered that his chum was standing there waiting for him to come, and together they passed out of the little office. "if that doesn't beat the dutch!" maurice was saying, half to himself, as he looked at the letter he was holding in a hand that trembled a little despite his efforts to seem composed. "it cert does," declared thad, positively; and then both laughed. "excuse me, old fellow, for not speaking up and letting you into the facts; but you can see for yourself that the thing's kind of staggering me a bit. just to think of its coming today of all times, when i'm most in need of a home. talk to me about chance; i guess there's something better than accident about this." "all right; i agree with you, pard maurice; but suppose you let a little light in on my dumb brain. where's the letter from, and what does she say?" observed the other, eyeing the envelope dubiously, for he had a sudden fear that it meant the sundering of the ties that bound them together. "new orleans, and it comes from uncle ambrose--you've often heard me speak of him, and that he was a captain on a tramp steamer that went all over the world picking up cargoes. for three years i've lost track of him, but he hasn't quite forgotten his nephew maurice it seems. listen to what he says, after telling me how he's beginning to feel lonely without a relative near, and growing old all the time. sit down here where we can look out on the bully old river, while i read." thad dropped beside him on a stone, and cuddled his arms around his knees in a favorite attitude of his, while he prepared to listen. "we are billed to be back here in new orleans about the fifteenth of february, and if you can make it, my boy, i'd like to see you here then. i've got a berth as supercargo open to you, and there's a fine chance to see something of the world; for in the course of three years we are apt to visit the seven seas, and many strange countries. be sure and come if you care to take up with your old uncle. the older i grow the stronger the ties that bind to the past appeal to me, and it will make me happier to have one of my own blood aboard to share my travels. from your affectionate uncle. ambbose haddon. "on board the campertown. "bully! that's just fine for you, maurice; but don't you think the captain forgot one thing?" declared thad. "what's that?" asked his friend, looking puzzled. "why didn't he think to enclose the price of a ticket from here to new orleans? he might have known money didn't grow on bushes around here." maurice laughed. "i always heard uncle ambrose was forgetful of small things, and i guess it's true. never once entered his head when he was writing. perhaps it may later, and he'll think to enclose the money from some foreign port. why, would you believe it, he didn't even mention where the steamer was going to next; only remarked that they sailed in a day or so. but the tone of the letter is warm, and--why, of course i must accept the invitation. it just seems to come in now at the one time i need it most. you wouldn't want me to let it pass, would you, thad?" "i should say not, even if it does hurt some to think of you going away and me staying in this bum old place," said his friend, quickly giving maurice an affectionate look that spoke volumes. "if i could only go, too. i'm dead sure uncle would be glad to have you with me on board; and think of the glorious times we could have. why, it seems too good to be true, doesn't it?" "i guess it does for me. i'd like to go the worst kind, but where would i pick up the money to pay my way? of course i might float down the mississippi on the tramp all right, given time enough; but that would be kind of lonely business for one; now if you could only--say, i wonder--oh, bosh, of course you wouldn't want to even think of it," and he dropped his head dejectedly. "wouldn't think of what? why don't you go on and finish? you've got some sort of a fine scheme in your head, so explain," demanded maurice, quickly. "i was just thinking, that's all, what a great time we might have if we did start out in my little bum boat to make new orleans. there's three months ahead of us, and scores of shanty-boats float down from cincinnati to orleans every fall and winter--you know that. gee! what fun we could have!" and the two boys started at each other for half a dozen seconds without saying a word; but those looks were more eloquent than all the language ever uttered. then maurice thrust out his hand impulsively. "shake! do you really think we could do it, thad?" he exclaimed. "do i? why, it would be as easy as pie. think of it; all you have to do is to let the current carry you along. it's a snap, that's what!" cried the other, brimming over with enthusiasm. ah! thad was yet to learn that a thousand unforeseen difficulties lay in wait for those floating craft that drifted down the great water highway every winter; but "in the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail," and to his eyes the enterprise was a veritable voyage of pleasure, nothing less. "then we'll go!" declared maurice, with vim, shaking his chum's hand furiously. "given a week to get my traps together, sell what i don't want, lay in some provisions, buy a few things, like a flannel shirt and corduroy trousers after the style of those you wear, and i'll be ready. say, thad, what a day this has turned out after all, and i was just thinking it the blackest ever." "it's made me mighty happy, i know," asserted thad, with tears in his honest blue eyes; "for i'd just hated to lose you, old boy, sure i would." "just to think of our launching on that great old river and starting for such a long voyage; it's immense, that's what. i've always wanted to see something of the old mississippi and to think that the chance has come. why, it's like magic, that's what. a flip of the hand and everything is changed. the opening of uncle ambrose's letter must have been the turning point in my life--our lives, thad. oh, i am so glad i hardly know what to do." "ditto here. on my part i'll put the week in tinkering on the old barge, for she can stand some improvement, i guess. when that fisherman gave her to me on going to the hospital, from which the poor fellow never came back, he said he always intended dropping down the river to the gulf in her; but i never dreamed i'd be the one to navigate the tramp that way. i can hardly wait to get back. i want to be at work making those changes, and building your bunk." "just like you, thad, always ready to do something for another fellow," declared his chum, affectionately. "oh! shucks! that's where the best part of the fun comes in. and how lucky it is you've got a gun, maurice, for there will be lots of chances while we travel down stream to pick up a mess of ducks, some snipe, and perhaps a big goose or two. bob fletcher told me he had shot 'em off the bars down the mississippi." "right you are, thad," cried the other. "and if our supplies and money run out, why, we can sure stop in some place and get work, i reckon. then there's fish to be had for the catching, and you know i'm up to all the wrinkles about that job, seeing that i've been supplying many families here with the finnies during the summer and fall. say, can you come down tonight, and talk it all over aboard our palatial houseboat? we can arrange all the things we want to do, make out a list of supplies that are sure to be needed, no flimsies or luxuries allowed, and in the morning i'll get to work." "of course i'll come, after supper. still in the old cove, are you?" "yes. i've got a stout lock on the door now, and every time i leave the shanty i drag my little canoe, as i call it, into the house. if i didn't some thief would run off with it sure. they're a tough crowd around here, the boys i mean. wonder if we'll run up against many as bad when we journey along?" remarked thad; and in good time he would learn that the ohio and mississippi rivers constitute what might easily be termed the "rogues' highway," since hundreds of tough characters make use of the current, in order to slip from one borough that has grown too hot for their comfort to another where they are not known. but perhaps it is just as well that we do not see the difficulties that lie in our path, lest they daunt us by their multitude; coming one at a time we are enabled to wrestle with the trials and tribulations, and overcome them gradually. filled with enthusiasm the two lads plunged into the task they had laid out, and long ere the seven days had expired were ready for the voyage over unknown waters; the little shanty-boat had been thoroughly repaired, and changes in her interior made, looking to the comfort of the crew, and all supplies brought aboard that the limited means of the boys would allow; so that on the tenth of november all was in readiness for the launching. chapter ii. the fikst night afloat. it was a frosty morning, but something more than that would be needed to dampen the enthusiasm and ardor of the two lads who pushed out from the river bank where a little creek flowed into the ohio's flood, and started upon what was to be a momentous voyage. several of maurice's boy friends were on hand to wish them the best of luck, and with the cheers of these fellows ringing in their ears they moved out upon the swift current of the river. when the group of boys had vanished and the cruisers found themselves beyond the confines of the town they had called home for some years, all attention was given to what lay before them. the boat had been urged out into the stream by a dexterous use of the sweep made for that purpose, and which, with the exception of a couple of long poles, was the only method aboard for steering the craft; and as it was not their design to get too far away from shore until they were better versed in the navigable qualities of the tramp, the boys sat in comfortable positions and talked, watching the panorama as they drifted along. indeed, there always is something fascinating about such a method of travel that must appeal to almost any boy; for in spite of the uplifting tendencies of education, and the refining influences of homes, there remains in the hearts of most lads, and men as well, a peculiar longing for a spell of tramp existence--it is satisfied after a short period in the open and the wilds, when the comforts of home appeal just as strongly to the exile. no doubt this yearning for getting close to the heart of nature is an inherited trait, coming down to us from our remote ancestors, and will never be wholly eradicated from our systems. and these two lads could enjoy it to the full, for neither of them had known the delights of a real home for many years--in fact thad, never. they made many plans while sitting there, and as time passed and new views were constantly opening before them, both seemed agreed that it had been an inspiration that had caused thad to suggest this voyage, with the far-away crescent city as their goal. thad had, indeed, done fairly creditable work in fixing up the interior of the house upon the float. there were a couple of bunks that in the daytime could be raised so that they lay flat against the wall, and out of the way, since room was at a premium inside the shanty, with a cook stove, a table, a trunk and various other things filling space. from numerous hooks in a couple of corners their clothes hung; then about the little stove, which was to give them warmth and furnish the heat to cook their meals, several frying pans and tin kettles hung, while a tea kettle sung a soft song of contentment that seemed to fit in with the spirit possessing the two cruisers. a supply of firewood occupied a box arranged for its accommodation, and there was considerable more of the same outside; while a new axe gave promise of any needed amount, dependent only upon willing muscles, and an ability to swing the same freely. there was the gun thad had mentioned, hanging from a couple of nails--true, it might not be called a beauty, for it was an old type marlin, and much battered by service; but then maurice had on many occasions proved its shooting qualities, and that, after all, is the true test of a firearm. it was a double-barrel twelve bore, capable of knocking down even a big goose, provided the right charge was in the shell, and the eye that glanced along the tubes knew its business and could hold on the moving game. at noon they were passing henderson, ky., and changing their course to the west, for the river makes a tremendous sweep before getting anywhere near mt. vernon, forming a gigantic horseshoe as it were, the last part of the turn bringing the voyager with his face into the northeast. throughout the whole livelong day the little shanty-boat continued to sweep along with the current, which was something like four miles an hour at this point though it exceeds that considerably when the river rises, or the wind comes out of the north and east. about 4 o'clock they passed mt. vernon, for which both boys were glad, as they did not enjoy the thought of tying up on this, their first night afloat, close to a strange town. they were apt to be pestered by curious visitors, and perhaps boys bent on pranks that might cost the travelers dear, since some of these fellows would not think anything about setting fire to a boat, and laugh to watch the frantic efforts of the owners to extinguish the flames. when the dusk was beginning to gather on the moving waters, thad spied what seemed to be the mouth of a good-sized creek below. as they were just then skirting the shore with the intention of pulling in at the first chance, it was not much of an effort to turn the boat so that they could pole into the mouth of the stream and go up it some distance. thad's steering oar seemed to work to a charm, and he was more than a little pleased with his work in that direction; for much of the pleasure of the long voyage was apt to depend upon the ability with which they could guide their clumsy craft when an emergency arose. fortunately the creek seemed quite deserted; they had feared lest some other boat like their own might have preempted their claim, and the owners endeavor to make it disagreeable for them. not that either of the boys felt timid, for they were both built along the line of fighters, and ready to hold their own with any chap of their size, or larger; but until they became used to this strange method of living they would rather not run into any trouble if it could be decently avoided. once the boat was secured to a tree ashore, they began to get busy with preparations for supper. while floating down-stream thad, who was a born fisherman, and always looking for a chance to snatch a mess of the finny tribe out of the water, had kept a couple of baited lines dangling behind; and during the afternoon several bites had resulted in a couple of captures, both being of an edible variety, known along the ohio as buffalo fish, the two weighing possibly four pounds. thus they were supplied with the substantial end of a meal without the cost of a penny. thad had cleaned the fish as fast as caught, so that all they had to do now was to slap them on the frying pan, after a bit of salt pork had been allowed to simmer, salt and pepper to taste, and then turn when necessary. meanwhile maurice had made a pot of coffee, and set the table. a cloth would have been the height of absurdity on such a trip as this. maurice had settled that part of the business by tacking white oilcloth over their single table, and this answered the purpose admirably, besides being easily kept clean. "ain't it great, captain?" asked thad, as they sat there enjoying the meal by the light of the two lanterns hanging from hooks in the rafters of the cabin roof. thad had insisted that maurice be the skipper of the expedition, because of his superior knowledge of boats in general, and also his possessing the chart of the rivers. for himself he wanted to be called the cook, and declared that he felt proud of his ability to fling flapjacks and do various stunts in connection with getting up appetizing meals. nevertheless, it might be noticed that just as frequently the captain insisted on taking his turn at the fire or washing the tin dishes after the meal; while the cook was able and willing to stand his "trick at the wheel" when the occasion arose. this was, of course, stretching the imagination pretty far, since their only means of propulsion or steering rested in that sweep. maurice admitted that it was indeed delightful, and the look on his face quite satisfied the anxious thad that as yet he could not see the slightest cloud on the horizon to make him regret starting. for bread they had brought several loaves along; neither of them had the nerve to think of baking the staff of life in that disreputable oven, even had they known how. later on, however, maurice did turn out some "pretty fair" biscuits--that is, the boys thought them good, and they were the ones to say, since it was their appetites that had to be satisfied, not those of some finicky girl who might have turned up her nose in horror at the "abominations" these lads called fine. thad smoked, while maurice had never taken to the habit as yet; but he did not dislike the odor of tobacco, and hence his chum was not compelled to always enjoy the solace of his pipe outdoors in uncongenial weather, though as a rule he preferred to sit there by the rudder and puff away, while his thoughts ran riot, as those of a boy usually will. when the meal was over and the dishes washed, marking the close of their first day, the lights were extinguished and the boys sat outside for a short time. with the gathering of night, however, the air was growing colder again, so that they were soon glad to seek the shelter of the cabin. maurice made sure to draw the shades fully over the windows, for he did not wish to advertise the fact of their being in that cove to every passerby. they knew that a road ran close to the water, having heard a wagon passing over a bridge not fifty feet away earlier in the evening. one thing they had been wise in doing--while the little boat that trailed behind the larger craft could not be said to possess any particular pecuniary value, it was of considerable necessity to the travelers, and represented their only means of getting around in a hurry, or going ashore when the water was too shallow to admit of the flat reaching the bank. in order to prevent possible loss from some prank of mischievous boys or thieving negroes, maurice had secured a long and stout chain, with a padlock, and at night this was so attached to the dinky that no one could sneak the stumpy little craft away without the use of a hatchet to chop out the staple; and while this was being done the owners of the tramp would surely be getting extremely busy also with gun and axe. "how does it go?" asked the owner of the shanty-boat, as he saw maurice settle down in his bunk, and draw the blankets around him with the air of one who did not expect to be disturbed for a long spell. "hunky-dory. beats my old bed at home by a long shot. there's no use talking, thad, you're built for a carpenter, sure pop, and if there's any vacancy aboard the campertown in that line i'm going to induce uncle ambrose to let you fill it. douse the glim whenever you're ready, cook. i hope i won't have to crawl out of this bully berth until morning," was the reply of the other, that brought a smile of satisfaction to thad's face, for it is always pleasant to know that one's labor is appreciated. so thad blew out the one lantern which they had been using since coming in the second time, and then crawled into his own bunk. as he had been occupying this for half a year or more of course he was very familiar with its features, both good and poor and made no comment as he retired. the two boys soon passed into the land of slumber, and as the hours drew on no sound arose to waken them; indeed, outside all was still save the gurgle of the great river near at hand, the swishing of running water against the sturdy bow of the shanty-boat, a hoarse cry from some bird that fluttered along the shore looking for food, possibly a night heron passing over, and once or twice the hoarse whistle of some steamboat breasting the current of the mighty ohio. and the first night of their eventful cruise passed away, with everything well when the peep of dawn aroused them from slumber to a new day. chapter iii. unwelcome visitoks. "hello, maurice!" the call came from thad, who had been the first to step outdoors after getting into his clothes. "what now?" came the muffled answer, for maurice was pulling a sweater over his head at the moment. "come out here, will you. we're in a peck of trouble, i reckon," continued the voice from beyond the door; and accordingly maurice made haste to leave the cabin. he found thad with a pole in his hand, shoving against the bank until he was as red as a turkey gobbler in the face. "what's doing here--why all this scrimmage?" naturally sprang from the lips of the mystified one. "stuck fast--river taken a sudden notion to go down while we snoozed, and has left us on the mud. i don't seem able to budge the thing an inch; but perhaps the two of us might," returned thad, grinning sheepishly as he contemplated the result of their indiscretion. maurice grasped the significance of the situation and looked grave. the river, as he well knew, was always a freakish thing, and apt to rise or fall at any time, according to the amount of rainfall along its feeders. just now it had commenced to rapidly decline, and as a result the shanty-boat had been grounded. as it was a heavy affair, once let it fairly settle upon the ooze of the creek bed and no power they could bring to bear would be sufficient to start it on its way; and hence they must stay there, marooned, until the river took a notion to rise again, which might be in a day, a week or three months. that was a pleasant lookout for a couple of boys bound south, and with winter close upon their heels--in a week or two they might be frozen in so securely that there would be no possibility of release until spring. no wonder, then, that maurice looked serious as he sprang to the side of the boat and stared over at the water of the creek. it was running out--they should have known of the danger upon hearing the gurgle during the night; but somehow, lacking experience, they had thought nothing of it save that the sound was a musical lullaby, soothing them to slumber. they would know better another time, and not fasten their craft to the shore in a shallow creek when the river was at a stand or falling; it takes experience to learn some of the tricky ways of these western rivers; but once understood the cruiser is not apt to be caught a second time. maurice snatched up the second pole and threw his weight upon it, while thad also strained himself to the utmost; they could feel the boat move ever so little, but it was most discouraging, to be sure. some other means must be employed if they hoped to get the tramp off the slimy bed before she settled there for good. maurice was equal to the occasion. "the block and tackle does it!" he exclaimed, darting into the cabin. what mattered it if the rope was second hand, and the block creaked for want of grease--that last fault was speedily rectified; and having fastened one end of the line to a tree on the opposite side of the creek, the boys secured a purchase and then exerted themselves to the utmost. it was a success, for now they had a firm foundation, whereas with the poles it was partly a case of lost force, the soft nature of the ground preventing them from doing their best. impulsive thad gave a cheer when the boat began to move in response to their united endeavor, and presently glided off her slippery bed into the deeper channel of the creek. "a close shave," declared maurice, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, and surveying the late resting place of the shanty-boat with satisfaction. "i should remark," echoed his chum, dancing a hornpipe on the deck; "just think what if we had been stuck here a week or two; all our grub gone, and the dickens to pay with our plans. never again for me. i'm going to be the most careful chap when it comes to lying up to a bank with this craft you ever saw." "i'll get the line loose while you start up the fire. then we'll push out of here and cook breakfast while we float downstream. every mile made now may save us trouble later; for you know what old pap larkin told us about sudden freezes coming sometimes in november, and we want to get in the big river before we strike anything like that." in less than ten minutes they were moving out of the mouth of the creek, with the river, half wreathed in fog, lying before them. "we'll have to keep a good lookout, unless we want to run a chance of cutting down some river steamer coming upstream," laughed thad. "oh, that's easily avoided by keeping close in by the shore until this mist rises, which i calculate it will do by 9 o'clock or so," replied maurice, using his pole to advantage, so as to send the boat out upon the current of the river, where they were speedily moving merrily along. it was a delight to cook breakfast with such surroundings, and a constantly changing panorama along the shore. never did bacon have such a delicious odor; and when the coffee boiled up, sending its fragrance throughout the cabin and out of the partly open door, maurice, who was attending to the steering part of the business at the time, loudly bewailed the fact that he must wait five long minutes more ere satisfying the craving appetite that these suggestions of breakfast put on edge. while they were still eating they passed a place on the kentucky side that from the map they believed to be uniontown, which proved that they were making fair progress while sitting around--which is one of the finest things in connection with drifting south. as maurice said it reminded him of a garden that grew while the proprietor slept, for they could count on so many miles a day with ordinary good luck, and not a hand put out to urge the craft along. while both these boys had spent much of their lives upon the banks of the ohio, and were accustomed to the various sights familiar to all river dwellers, at the same time things had a vastly different appearance now that they were afloat and actually drawing a little nearer and nearer to the sunny southland with each passing hour. they were in good spirits all the time, and hailed other voyagers with the customary salutations suitable to the occasion. it became no unusual thing to see one or two flatboats with cabins something like their own, either drifting lazily along the stream or tied up close to the bank; for, as has been said before, the river is a muchly traveled highway, and the types of people that make use of it in their annual pilgrimages south must prove of tremendous interest to any one fond of studying humanity. it was a banner day for the travelers, clear and fairly pleasant, one that in the rougher times ahead would always be looked back to as a period to be envied. they made great progress, too, and when the afternoon sun waning in the west warned them that it was time to keep their eyes about for a decent place in which to pass the night, maurice calculated that they had come all of forty miles since morning, which was making quite a gap in the distance separating them from the junction of the two rivers. the air was growing colder, and thad, who professed to be something of a weather sharp, declared that they were in for a touch of winter very speedily, which made them both long to get out of the clutches of the ohio before ice formed and impeded their progress. maurice scouted any chance of this happening; it might have been more serious had they been cruising in a small boat which must find a safe harbor every night in some creek; because it might grow cold enough to freeze such a craft in some night, or at least shut those harbors of refuge to entrance; but with such a big and stanch craft they could tie up to the shore and pay little attention to the in-rolling waves cast by the suction of passing steam-boats. this night they found a chance to secure the shanty-boat to some rocks; and as the neighborhood seemed lonely, they chose to go ashore and build a fire on the sandy stretch that ran under the shelving bank. just for a change they cooked supper ashore, too, for it would be seldom that this sort of an opportunity might come to them, and they felt that they ought to take advantage of it while it lasted. already had the wind shifted to the northwest, and it was cold enough to make them seek the leeward side of the fire while eating supper. they had gone aboard to see about the fire, and maurice was lying on a bed of dead grass and moss looking into the glowing depths of the fire and allowing his thoughts to go out to the wonderful possibilities of the beckoning future, with uncle ambrose as the good fairy who was to lead him into strange lands that he had always wanted to see, when a bit of turf falling upon his arm caused him to suddenly glance upward. to his surprise and a little to his consternation he beheld three black faces surveying him from over the edge of the bank; nor did he fancy the expression that could be seen upon the said countenances. upon seeing that their presence was no longer unknown to the boy below, the trio of darkies dropped over the bank. closer inspection failed to add to the good opinion of maurice, for the fellows bore all the earmarks of desperadoes, possibly belonging to that class of nomads who prowl along the shores of these western rivers, picking up a living by doing odd jobs, and stealing whenever they think it can be done with safety. "hello, boss! done takin' it easy, i spects. got any 'jections ter weuns warmin' up a little by dat fiah? gittin' powful cold, boss, an' it jes' happens we ain't got nary a match in our clo's, dat's a fack," said the leader, advancing eagerly and holding out his hands toward the blaze. "why, of course not, boys; make yourselves at home. i was just going aboard anyway, and the fire's yours," remarked maurice, rising. he saw the three roughs looks quickly toward each other, and noted that one of them had slipped between him and the boat, as though it might be their intention to prevent his leaving. it was evident that there was trouble brewing, and unless it was nipped in the bud something of a fight would take place. that they would stand no show whatever in the hands of these rascals, alone as they were in this isolated place, maurice knew full well, but he would not allow himself to show any sign of fear lest in this way he precipitate the trouble. perhaps these men had been watching them for some time, and knew there were only a couple of boys on the shanty-boat, so that it would be useless to call out as if several husky men constituted the crew. maurice did not wish to come within arms' length of the negro who had slipped between himself and the boat, lest the fellow seize upon him, so that he was in a quandary how to act in order to gain his haven of refuge. the puzzle was solved in a way he had not anticipated, for just as the wicked-looking black tramp was putting out his hand to grasp him, as he pulled back, a voice broke upon the silence, the voice of his comrade thad, saying: "i'd be mighty careful how i laid a hand on that boy, you there!" chapter iv. a little run in the night. when thad thus broke in upon the little drama being enacted upon the strip of beach under the overhanging bank of the river the three negroes, as well as maurice, looked toward the deck of the boat. by the light of the fire on the sand thad was seen holding the old marlin in his hands, and keeping the frowning muzzles of the twobarrel gun pointed in the direction of the black tramp who had seemed about to interfere with the passage of maurice to the boat. evidently none of the fellows were armed, at least with shooting irons, for it was almost ludicrous to see the rapidity with which they threw up their arms and showed signs of surrender. "don't let dat little buster go off, mister. we ain't meanin' yuh no ha'm, 'deed we ain't now, we's jes' de most innercentest coons yuh eber seed, we is. all we asks is a chanct tuh wawm our fingers by dis ere blaze, an' i reckons yuh won't keer 'bout dat, massa," exclaimed the leader, in a whining tone. maurice took advantage of the opportunity to walk around the fellow who had interfered with his free passage, and gain the deck of the boat, when thad immediately turned the gun over to him. evidently the boys were in for a bad time of it. these wandering blacks might want to lie around the fire all night, and sleep would be impossible for both lads at the same time, since there must be a watch kept lest the rascals rob them during the hours of darkness. maurice knew that it was best to take the situation in hand right then and there in the start; he also was aware of the fact that these negroes only yielded to force, and that any attempt to gain their good will would be absolutely wasted; for southern boys learn that early in life, and so it is they can manage the shiftless population that is employed to work on the plantations, while northern men make the mistake of treating such negroes too well. accordingly maurice took the bull by the horns. "see here, you fellows, we don't object to your having all the fire you want, but we're not going to stand having you camp right there all night. go down the shore or up a hundred yards or so, and take some of the fire with you. then one of you come back here and get a big fish we have no use for. i reckon you know how to cook it without a pan. anyhow, it's all we can let you have, for we're on short rations ourselves. dye understand, boys?" he said. maurice could assume quite an air of authority when he chose; it seemed to be a portion of his birthright; and these lazy blacks are quick to recognize this vein in the voice of anyone with whom they come in contact. "all right, boss. we don't wanter tuh disturb yuh, an' we'll go up de sho' er bit. dat fish he taste mighty fine, i reckons, mister, an' we sho' be powful glad tug git 'im, dat's so. hyah, yuh lazy good-for-nothin' brack niggah, pick up some ob dat fiah an' tote it up yander whah de p'int juts out. dat look good enuff fur dis chile. an' boss, ef yuh gut dat ere fish handy i cud kerry hit wid me right now," remarked the strapping leader. "get it, thad," said maurice, in a low tone, not wishing to take his eye off the trio of desperadoes for a moment, not knowing what they might attempt, for if ever he had seen jailbirds loose it was just then. so thad stepped around the cabin and took down the big "buffalo" that was hanging by a cord so that the night air would keep it in decent condition; it had come in on one of his lines that afternoon, and they really had little use for such a quantity of fish; indeed, both boys were already a little tired of a diet of the products of the river, and yearned for different fare. the darky ashore caught the finny prize, and his eyes glistened at its size; but maurice knew full well that this act of benevolence on their part would not serve to protect them a particle from the thieving propensities of the nomads if a chance were given to purloin anything. in ten minutes they could see a fire up on the point of land and hear the loud voices of the three blacks disputing over various things--evidently they were a noisy crowd, and the prospects for a quiet night did not loom up very brilliantly. maurice listened and his brow clouded over. "i don't like the prospect a little bit, thad," he remarked, as a louder burst of profanity than usual marked a near fight above. "we're in for a tough night, it seems," sighed his chum, dismally. "oh! as to that, i don't know. it all depends whether we have the nerve to cut the gordian knot," observed maurice, grimly. his friend looked hastily at him, for the fire was still burning fitfully on the shore, though robbed of its best brands by the negroes. "what dye think of doing--running those critters off--gee, it's a big proposition for a couple of boys, maurice." "the running's all right, but you get the cart before the horse. it's us who are to do the skipping, while they enjoy that fish a little later. all depends on whether we care to take the chances of floating down a mile or two further in the dark, and finding a place to tie up. if we don't it's a case of floating on all night, and running the risk of a collision." "i say go. why, we've got an anchor, you know, and the current ain't so very swift near shore but what it'd hold when we chose to drop her over. if we stay here one of us has to be on guard all night, and even then i believe those black jailbirds would be ugly enough to try and burn us up or something like that--steal our pumpkin-seed boat perhaps. yes, i'm in favor of cutting loose," declared thad, eagerly. "all right; consider it settled. we'll just wait until we think they're busy with the fish and then one of us must go ashore while the other covers him with the gun, and undo the line from those rocks. after that it will be easy." half an hour passed away. then, as the sounds had died out above, they fancied the trio of unwelcome neighbors must be busily employed in eating, so thad volunteered to drop ashore and get the rope loose from its anchorage. maurice was a little skeptical about the apparent freedom from surveillance, and stood on deck with the shotgun in his hands ready to spring to the assistance of his pard at the slightest sign of trouble. but thad met with no opposition when he climbed to where the loop of the rope was secured over the pinnacle of rock, and in a minute he had freed the line, tossing it down on the beach where it could be pulled aboard. when his comrade was again alongside, maurice breathed easier; this was their first adventure, and it was apt to make a deep impression on both lads. a dozen pulls sufficed to bring the rope aboard and then the poles were taken in hand with the idea of shoving off from the shore. they had been careful not to let the boat ground, remembering their experience of the previous night, so this part of the job was not difficult at all. just as they began to move with the current they heard a loud yell from the shore, and looking up saw one of their late visitors standing there, surveying the vanishing shanty-boat with manifest dismay and anger. his shout was evidently understood by the others, for they could be heard tearing along down the shale heading for the scene. but our boys had now pushed the boat far enough out into the stream to avoid any possibility of being boarded, no matter how bold the desperadoes might be; and it gave them no concern that the trio howled and swore and threatened all manner of things for being deserted in this manner, just when they thought they had a good soft snap for a breakfast, and perhaps fat pickings. thanks to the friendly current, the boys were quickly beyond earshot of the loud-tongued and chagrined blacks on the shore. "ugh! that wasn't a pleasant experience, was it? did you ever set eyes on three more villainous mugs in all your life? those scoundrels are sure doomed to meet with a noose before they're many months older, for if they haven't done murder up to now they're going to before long. i'm glad we gave them the slip. it was well done all around. now to float on for an hour or so, and then see if we have any luck finding an anchorage." maurice contented himself with these words, but thad had to skip around on the deck in his usual exuberant style before he could settle down to taking his trick at the steering apparatus. thus the shanty-boat floated on through the darkness, and the minutes slipped along until the hour set had been exhausted; then, when they were thinking of coming to a halt, the lights of a town appeared close by, and it became necessary to navigate with caution lest they strike some obstruction in the shape of an anchored boat or a dock where steamboats landed. it was decided to drop down a little distance below the place and tie up, for as some of their provision were already getting low, it would be necessary to go ashore and lay in more bread at least. when a jutting point shut out the last of the town lights, they poled in closer to the shore, and began to cast about for some friendly tree to which the hawser could be attached. "there's a shanty-boat tied up yonder," whispered thad, suddenly, pointing to a place where the gleam of a light through a small window could be seen. "let her float down a bit farther. we don't want too close neighbors, especially when we know nothing about them. there, listen to that dog bark; the little rat sees us all right. that's where we made a mistake not to get a dog to go with us on the trip; they're good company, and fine for guarding the boat. first chance i get i mean to have one, no matter if it's a mongrel yellow cur." a man stepped out of the cabin of the boat that was tied up and looked across the little stretch of water separating them. "hello!" he said, as if seeing them clearly. "going to tie up below?" maurice rather liked the ring of his voice, and so he made answer. "we want to--is there good holding ground or a convenient tree, do you know?" he asked. "yes, half a dozen of 'em. i saw the lot before dark; and the swing of the current pushes in toward the bank. don't get too far in, as she's lowering right along," continued the friendly flatboatman. maurice thanked him, for it was a pleasure to run across a chap so different from the usual type of selfish, envious and profligate drifters. they quickly sighted the trees, and thad, jumping ashore, soon had a line fast around one that would hold them safely until daylight. the man on the other boat had glimpsed them sufficiently to have his interest aroused, for they could hear him throwing a pair of oars into a small boat, and sure enough he quickly came alongside. "anything i can do to help you, boys?" he asked with so much heartiness that maurice warmed toward him immediately. of course there was really no need of assistance, since everything had been already accomplished; but maurice asked the other to come aboard and join them in a friendly little chat. the trip promised to be lonely enough, with suspicions directed toward nearly all those encountered, so that it was a real pleasure to run across a good fellow like this who felt some interest in them. chapter v. hard put to keep warm. the big, broad-shouldered man proved to be a machinist and clock mender, who was in the habit of plying his trade along the river every winter; he had his family aboard the boat that served him as a workshop, and there were certain localities on his route where they looked for him regularly--he was, it seemed, a jack-of-alltrades, and could after a fashion even tune a piano if pushed. our two boys enjoyed an hour or two in his company very much, and learned considerable about matters connected with the lower river that might possibly prove valuable to them later on. in return, of course, they told bob archiable all about their project, and he wished them a pleasant voyage to the crescent city, with much luck when uncle ambrose came to port. the itinerant machinist told them they had undoubtedly done a wise thing in quitting their harbor up the river after the advent of those three roughs. he believed he knew who the trio might be, and if he was right they were the ugliest set of desperadoes in that vicinity, who would not hesitate to attempt any sort of dark deed, provided the reward seemed sufficient to compensate for the risk involved. it was a real pleasure to run across such a pleasant and manly fellow as archiable, and the meeting, brought about in so queer a manner, would always remain in the memory of the two boys as one of the bright spots of their cruise down the river. the night passed quietly. one of the boys came out on deck now and again, as they happened to be awake; for the incident of the early evening seemed to have made them somewhat nervous; but nothing happened, and morning came along in due season, with a lowering sky and a feeling of snow in the air. maurice went back to the town for supplies after they had eaten breakfast, while thad took the dinky and paddled up to where the other boat was tied to enjoy a little more talk with the jolly owner. he met bob's wife, a little woman who seemed to thoroughly enjoy the strange experience of being a pilgrim half the year. there were also a couple of boys, one six and the other eight, sturdy little chaps, who looked like chips of the old block, and only eager for the time to come when they could put their shoulders to the wheel and help "dad." finally they got away and waved a farewell to this friendly couple, who had conceived a sudden and abiding interest in the future of the two young voyagers starting out in the big world to seek their fortunes. "we're going to get it in the neck today, i reckon," remarked thad; and if his words were lacking in elegance, they certainly conveyed a proper notion of what he meant to his comrade, for the air was biting, and the waves dashed up against the starboard side of the shanty-boat in a way that was suggestive of storm and little progress. so it must always be in making a trip down these inland waters, where one is at the mercy of a capricious current save when a favorite of fortune chances to own a motor boat that scorns the usual drifting process, and speeds along at a ten-mile-an-hour clip, regardless of baffling head winds. one day excellent progress may be made, and then come several during which it seems as though every deterring influence in the calendar arises to keep the voyager from making his expected distance during the hours of daylight. it is just as well in the start to decide that nothing that can arise will disturb one's temper, and that with equally good nature the bad will be accepted with the good. by ten o'clock it was snowing furiously, and the tang of the bitter wind that swept across from the far distant indiana shore seemed to penetrate to the very marrow, so that the boys were constantly exchanging places, one bobbing inside the cabin to get warm while the other held the steering apparatus. the snow became so furious that soon they were unable to see even the kentucky bank, and then maurice began to think they had better haul up before losing their bearings; it would be a serious matter to find themselves adrift on the wide river without knowing whether they were in the middle of the stream or not. "we'd better haul in closer to the shore, and come to a halt, i think, thad. it may be all right to run along in the midst of this storm, but i don't like it a little bit. in fact, that cabin seems good enough for me today. how do you feel about it, old man?" he asked, rubbing his hands, which, even when covered with a pair of woolen gloves, felt the stinging cold. "couldn't please me better," answered his chum, picking up a pole and feeling to ascertain the depth of the water. with that wind blowing them toward shore there was little difficulty in making a landing, and after skirting the edge for some distance they found a chance to get a purchase on a convenient tree, when the trick was done. all the balance of the day they hugged the fire; nor were they any too warm at that, for the furious blast seemed to find cracks and crannies in the wall of the flimsy cabin through which to gain entrance. at times it fairly howled around them, and thad suggested the advisability of their tying down the cabin with a spare cable, for fear less some tremendous blast of wind tear it from its foundations and send it flying among the treetops ashore; but maurice declared he did not believe it to be quite so bad as all that. as the supply of fuel was growing low it became necessary for one of them at a time to go ashore and use the ax to a purpose, so that during the afternoon the pile was replenished bountifully in this manner. such a night as that was--the boys had never passed a more unpleasant one in all their previous experience. it became very cold in the cabin, despite the half-way decent fire they kept going all night, and their blankets did not seem to be sufficient covering to induce warmth, for maurice was shivering most of the time. a flimsy boat like the one they were on can seem like an iceberg during a heavy wind that sweeps across a wide stretch of rough water, and comes straight out of the alaska region; then, the waves that were kicked up by its passage across the river dashed against the side of the boat and flew in spray over the very top of the cabin, freezing upon the wall in great icicles, and adding to the general discomfort, for in the morning they had difficulty in breaking their way out of the door. about four o'clock maurice could not stand it any longer, and getting up, he pulled on his sweater and sat down to make the stove red hot, after which it became fairly comfortable in the cabin and thad slept on. luckily the storm was of short duration, and with the morning the wind seemed to have gone down considerably, with promise of a further mitigation of the cold during the day. of course, neither of the boys enjoyed such an experience, but they were of a philosophical turn of mind and ready to accept things as they eame along, making the most of the good and enduring the evil when it could not be avoided. lucky the lad who has been blessed with a disposition after this kind, for life will have a bountiful supply of pleasures in store for him, out of which no temporary adversity may cheat him. they started downstream again after breakfast, for the snow had ceased and it was easily possible to see their course. the morning packet breasting the current hove in sight a short time after they cut loose from their night's anchorage, and it was always a pleasure for them to wave to those aboard these boats-never did the pilot aloft in his little house wfeere he handled the wheel fail to respond to the waving of a handkerchief--it was the custom of the river, and one would be lacking in common politeness if he refused to answer such a friendly greeting. by noon they were making great progress again, and maurice began to have hopes of bringing up at paducah by night; but there were so many twists and turns to the river he had not counted on that when the afternoon drew near its close and they saw a town at the mouth of a river coming in on the kentucky side, he knew it must be smithland lying at the junction of the cumberland with the ohio. once again they floated past a town, unwilling to put in for fear of trouble with some of the rough characters usually found along the river front in all of these places. fortunately, after experiencing some difficulty in crossing the mouth of the cumberland, which was belching forth a volume of yellow water that carried the shanty-boat out some distance, despite their efforts, they finally managed to find a place to stay for the night. it was in striking contrast to the previous experience, for there was no wind, and the cold had moderated wonderfully, so that it seemed as though rain might be the next thing on the program. they were a bit too close to the town for quiet, as sounds frequently came to their ears from a number of flatboats anchored just below the mouth of the smaller river that emptied its volume of water into the ohio; these people were evidently engaged in having a high old time, probably with plenty of liquor, for they kept the racket going more than half the night. fortunately, however, they knew nothing of the nearness of the shanty-boat that had gone past just at dusk, and while our boys kept the door locked and slept on their arms, so to speak, they were not disturbed at all. they were glad to get away in the morning without meeting any of the rough element belonging to those anchored shanty-boats. paducah showed up during the morning, after which they had a long stretch before them straight away into the west as it seemed, at the end of which they could expect to find the big junction city of cairo. here they would make a sudden turn to the left and begin to glide down the waters of the wonderful mississippi, heading really south at last. but they could not hope to make it on this day, though a favorable run seemed to be the order of things; it actually did rain, as thad predicted, and each of the boys, clad in oilskins, took turns at the rudder as the boat swung along downstream, not far away from the kentucky shore. taking it in all they had experienced but little decent weather thus far; that would come, they hoped, when they managed to get further along in the direction of dixie, where the warm breezes would thaw them out, and allow of lying on the deck taking a sun bath. the shore was mighty uninviting along here and seemed low in most places and marshy. ducks were numerous and the gun was kept handy in case they had a chance to knock down a couple, for it would be an agreeable change in their fare to have game for supper. the rain stopped about three, and maurice, who had been looking ahead, declared that if he could only get ashore he believed it was possible to crawl through the brush and get a shot at a bunch of ducks in a cove ahead; so the boat was brought to a stop by means of the anchor, and jumping into the little dinky, gun in hand, he made for the shore. thad waited after he had disappeared, being anxious to see how the adventure panned out. about ten minutes later he heard a shot, followed by a second, and then maurice came hurrying along to the little boat into which he jumped and set out in hot chase of his game, which was floating away on the current. thad pulled in the anchor and floated downstream; he saw his chum drag several ducks aboard, and so of course thad had to do the highland fling as usual. chapter vi. in the game country. it proved that maurice had knocked down three of the feathered prizes, and as they were fat teal, it looked like a genuine treat in store for the river travelers on the shanty-boat. thad was at work plucking the fowl before they had gone fifty yards down the stream, and announcing that they would have them for dinner that very night--at least a couple, for he believed one apiece ought to satisfy the demand. "when i heard you shoot i knew we were in for a treat, and with the second shot i said it must be two; but you went me one better, pal maurice. that little old gun is as good as ever, i do believe, and my conscience, how she does penetrate. these bones are knocked into flinters in places. how many were there in that flock?" "just three," returned maurice, smiling. "i thought so, and you bagged the whole lot. i reckon no fellow could have done better than that, at least so you could notice," quoth thad, holding up the first victim of his labors so that the shooter could see how plump the bird was. "yum, yum," went on thad, swinging it to and fro, and gloating over the tempting appearance of the game; "don't i just wish it was time to sound the gong for supper and these boys browned and ready to be devoured. but three mortal hours must crawl along before then. how can i ever stand it?" he groaned. maurice was accustomed to these ludicrous actions of his chum, and only laughed at the wry face he made; but, to tell the truth, he would not be sorry himself when the night had settled down over the river, and they were lying in some snug sheltered nook, sniffing the cooking meal. the birds seemed to be young, and it was decided to try the oven upon them; so thad went in, after he had them both ready. once when the other glanced through the partly open door he saw him trying to make some stuffing out of bread crumbs. then the fire was attended to, so that there would be an abundance of heat, after which thad appeared with the look of a victor on his face. an hour later and the first scent of dinner began to ooze from the door; whereupon thad darted in and began to baste the fowl with tender solicitude. he came out making motions with his lips as though his mouth were fairly watering, and shaking his head in a suggestive way that made maurice roar. meanwhile the boat had been steadily heading down the river, and the same dismal prospect confronted them along the shore--marshy land, with higher ground further back, an ideal place for ducks, great flocks of which could be seen at this hour flying from the river to some favorite sleeping place in the marsh. "if this were a hunting expedition, which it is not, we would not need to go a bit further than this place. just imagine the shooting a fellow could have in the swampy land beyond--with some decoys he could bang away for hours at fresh flocks passing back and forth all day trading. well, i mean to pick up quite a few now and then, unless we get tired of duck as we did of fish," maurice observed, while watching these bunches of feathered squawkers sailing swiftly past the boat and heading shoreward. "tired of duck--why, you could never get me to say that. i could eat it every meal and every day for a month," announced thad, sniffing the air, which was now becoming very strongly impregnated with a delicious odor that announced the nearness to completion of the baking birds. and when finally they found a place to anchor the shanty-boat--for trees there were none within reach of their longest cable--and the shades of evening began to gather around them, thad went inside to see if dinner were ready for serving. well, that was a feast the boys enjoyed to the limit--the ducks were tender, delightfully browned, and possessed of a flavor our young and hungry cruisers had never seen equaled; the stuffing proved to be a success; the coffee was as tasty as usual, and, in fact, they fairly reveled in good things until nature called a halt, and the board was cleared. the night proved very quiet, and as there was now a moon of fair size, the early part of it was not wholly dark and forbidding. and such a variety of queer sounds as came to their ears from the adjacent marshes, most of which must have been made by the aquatic birds that spent the night there; but there were also mysterious grunts and squawks that kept both boys guessing for the longest time, while they sat on deck, thad smoking his pet pipe and maurice just bundled up in a blanket, taking it easy. "i rather think if a fellow hunted around in that place he'd find 'coons and 'possums galore, besides a fox or two prowling around in search of a fat duck, for you know, thad, they're like you, and can eat one at every meal, day in and day out. a funny assortment of sounds to woo a chap to sleep, eh? if you wake up in the night please don't think you're in a menagerie and shout for me to jump in and pull you out. to speak of it makes me feel that i'm pretty sleepy and that a turn of a few hours in that cozy bunk of mine wouldn't go amiss. what say?" it turned out that thad was about as sleepy as his chum, so after looking to the anchor to see that it had good holding ground, for a sudden storm coming out of the east would be apt to sweep them down the big river, extremely dangerous at this point, they retired inside the cabin. the night passed without any storm, breaking over their devoted heads, for which both boys were thankful when morning came, and they looked out to see the sun painting the heavens red with his advance couriers. maurice was washing his face in the only little tin basin they owned when he heard an exclamation from his friend--whenever anything out of the usual occurred thad always began growling and talking to himself as though he had an audience which was waiting to be addressed. "well, it's gone sure enough, and that's all there is to it. now, hang it, how could a fox have come aboard our boat with twenty feet of water separating us from the shore? that's a conundrum i give up," thad was saying to himself. "hey what all this row about--who's been aboard during the night, and what do you miss, mr. cook? you remember we ate those two ducks last night; did you expect they would turn up again this morning to be devoured over again?" laughed the captain, still dashing the cold water in his face, and finally snatching up the coarse huck towel to rub his skin dry. "that's all right, but it's the other chap i'm after now--perhaps you'll be so obliging as to tell me where i can put my paws on him. i hung the duck from this nail--the cord was good and strong, and it couldn't have broken loose. you see it ain't there now. so the question is did the blamed bird come to life again and skedaddle off, or was one of your friends the foxes aboard while we snoozed, to make way with my fat duck? anyhow, it's gone, dead sure, and that's no lie." "i see it is. certain, are you, that it hung there when we went to bed?" "one of the last things i did was to slip around here and nip it to make sure it was as tender as those jolly birds we had for supper. there wasn't any wind to whip it around and twist the cord till it broke. yet where is it now?" and he shook his head dolefully, looked at his friend as if confident maurice could in some way explain the mystery. maurice went at things in a far different way from his chum; instead of calling it an unfathomable mystery he stepped forward and took hold of the piece of cord that still hung from the nail. thad saw him closely examine it. "could a fox swim aboard and climb on top of the cabin to reach over and down to where that duck was hanging, and cut the cord with his sharp teeth, and then sling the bird over his shoulder to swim back again to--" he began. "stop!" exclaimed maurice. "you're on the wrong track. it wasn't a fox!" "'coon, 'possum, wildcat, whatever could it have been?" "a two-legged thief," announced maurice, quietly. "shucks! you don't say so? how'd he ever get here, and if he wanted to steal why didn't he run off with something more valuable than a poor little teal?" "h'm, will you tell me what he could have taken, with everything nailed down, the cabin door locked and even the little dinky fastened with a chain and lock. this cord was cut with a knife and never twisted apart. do you know that once in the night i awoke and thought i heard something knock against the side of the boat-that must have been his skiff when he came aboard, and i thought it was only a floating log. well, our teal is gone; but think of the lot over in the marsh yonder. the fellow must have been mighty hungry, and with no way of shooting a dinner. why, while you cook breakfast i'm going to see what i can do with taking toll of our neighbors who kept serenading us all night." which he did. once in the marsh with the little boat and his gun, maurice found that it would be the easiest thing in the world to knock over a dozen ducks if he wanted them, and indeed he held his fire from the first because he believed he could get several victims with the one shot. four times he pulled the trigger inside of ten minutes, and when thad looked out to see if he were in sight, so as to wave to him that breakfast was ready, the lone hunter was just in the act of throwing a couple of plump birds upon the deck. "two--wow, that's good!" cried cookey, in his usual ornate style, darting out to pick the game up. "four!" exclaimed maurice, suiting the action to the word, and landing a second brace beside the first. as thad stooped down to feel of these he received a shock, for a third couple struck him on the head. "six?" he ejaculated, almost afraid to believe his eyes. "that's not all. i'm determined to keep you on a duck diet for a week, so there's another brace, and for good measure count these as ten!" announced the mighty nimrod, climbing over the gunwhale himself, gun in hand. it was a pretty assortment of game, six of them teal, three mallards and one of an unknown breed, which maurice thought might be a broadbill, though he had an idea that class of divers kept near the salt water in its migration. "i forgive that wretched thief; he's welcome to the lone duck he took. why, it looks like you'd enjoy nothing better than to agree to supply food for all the families in evansville at this rate; and i believe you could do it, too, down here, for every time you shot, a million or two ducks sprang up above that marsh, and their wings made a roar like thunder. say, i like this country around here. given a good old gun like this marlin, plenty of ammunition, a fishing outfit, and some cooking things and matches--yes, and a little tobacco for a fellow's pipe, and i think i could exist here forever without needing a cent. i'm awful glad i came, ain't you, pal?" "don't i look like it, cook? see anything like regret on my phiz? i'm just as happy as i look, and the end isn't yet, for we've got several months of this before us; of course, there'll be troubles and setbacks, but in spite of all we're sure to keep making steady progress into dixieland, and long before uncle ambrose gets into port again we'll be waiting for him in new orleans. it was just the finest thing in the world that his letter should have reached me on that black day; and then to think how you had this inspiration, too--why, i consider that we're two of the luckiest fellows on earth this morning," said maurice, earnestly. "bully for you, old pal; my sentiments exactly; and now, come in to breakfast." chapter vii. a wild blow. "how does it look to you--think we can make the riffle today?" asked thad, as they floated down the stream, very broad and swollen at this point, as the low shores allowed the water just that much more expanse--further up, the ohio is confined by hills that prevent its spreading to any great extent, even in the spring freshets. maurice knew what he meant, for they had only the one thought in mind just now, and that was getting into the mississippi. he drew out his charts and studied them to make sure he was right, though from frequent use he knew the same by heart. "i can see no reason why we shouldn't. as near as i can make out we're now something like twenty-three miles above cairo, and at the rate we're sailing along we ought to pass there shortly after noon--say by two o'clock anyway. that will give us time to move down a few miles and have our first night on the greatest of american rivers," he remarked. "i'm a little bit worried as to how we'll get on. you see i've heard so much about the tricks of the big river that i'm nervous," admitted thad. "oh, rats! it can't be much worse than the old ohio when she gets on a bender, and we've seen some pretty big ones in my time. we'll come out all right, never fear, old chap. every day will have to look out for itself. what's the use of borrowing trouble? not any for me. now, what could be finer than this view, for instance?" sweeping his hand around to include land and water, with the sun dimpling the little waves. "nothing on earth; it's just grand, that's a fact, and i'm a fool for thinking anything can get the better of a couple of fellows like you and me when we've got our war clothes on. hurrah for we, us and company, not forgetting the old tramp. say, she's behaving herself some, eh, pard," laughed thad, his face all wreathed in genial smiles again. "she's all right, and a credit to you. a little cool and inclined to be draughty on a windy night, but taken all in all a thing of beauty and a joy forever. here's to her--may it be many a moon before she's broken up into hindling wood." so they joked and chatted as the day wore along. nothing escaped their eagle eyes on the shore, and from time to time one would draw the attention of the other to some point of especial interest. now it might be the peculiar formation of a point of land, some trees, a swamp with hanging spanish moss, which, however, was nothing to what they would see further south--or anon perhaps it was some negro cabin on an elevation, with the pickaninnies playing by the door, and the strapping woman of the household leaning against the post, always smoking her clay pipe. maurice, with the hunter instinct, watched the flight of an osprey that was circling the river brink with an eye to dinner; and later on observed an eagle drop down into a fluttering flock of ducks, from which he evidently took his usual toll, as presently he flew heavily away, with some dark object dangling below. about noon they had a little lunch, thad making a pot of coffee, and otherwise the meal was called in local parlance a "snack," which would seem to mean a pickup affair that could be eaten standing if necessary. they wished to get this duty out of the way, for by the signs it was believed that they must be approaching cairo, and as the junction of the two rivers is a turbulent place, with considerable craft moving about, the boys considered it wise to have their full attention fixed upon their movements. after all, it was a mere nothing--they simply turned a point and found themselves upon a much wider stretch of water--and this was the famous mississippi! now they were really heading south, and no matter how much colder the weather grew, it could not freeze them in and stop their flight to the desired port. just as maurice had figured, it was two in the afternoon when they could really and truly say they were afloat on the big river. in about a couple of hours they began to cast their eyes along the shore seeking a favorable place to tie up for the coming night-the mere thought of being adrift upon that immense yellow flood after sunset was appalling to them, though possibly by degrees they might become so accustomed to the rolling tide that it would cease to have the same sensation of alarm for them. it was almost dark before they discovered a convenient tree close enough to the water's edge to serve their purpose; for evidently the river during its periodical seasons of flood had torn nearly all growth on the lower banks away. thad climbed up to this friendly trunk and slipped the cable around its base. the boys sat there on deck for some little time watching the last flickering red die out of the western heavens; and when the panorama had come to its logical conclusion, with a sigh they entered the cabin to prepare supper. in this manner did they spend their first night upon the father of waters, and it was as peaceful as any they ever knew. the river sang merrily as its little wavelets washed up against the sides of the shanty-boat, the air was almost balmy in its touch, coming from the south where the cotton fields and wilderness of pines lay; and all together the boys felt that they had been exceedingly foolish to imagine that anything terrible could await them upon the bosom of this majestic stream. ah! wait until the same river is seen under different conditions, and perhaps the old dread may be revived with redoubled force; for the mississippi in the throes of a westerly storm is a sight to appall the stoutest heart. when morning came they were soon under way again, and reaching out for another stretch toward that genial clime that seemed beckoning them onward. now they could notice quite a difference in the stage of the current, for with the increased volume of water it seemed that they were being borne onward faster than at any other time in the past. all the way down it was policy on their part to hug the eastern shore; indeed, to attempt to cross that billowing flood with such a frail craft would have seemed the height of foolishness, both boys thought, nor would they have any object in so doing. the river makes many wonderful twists and turns, sometimes seeming to flow almost due north as it follows its intricate channel; for it is a law of nature that water always pursues the easiest route, and seeks its own level. maurice had during the morning commented on the balmy feeling in the air, whereupon the weather sharp, thad, had warned him solemnly that there was a great change coming within twenty hours, perhaps much less, for all signs pointed to cold and windy weather. so much faith did maurice place in this prediction of his chum that he insisted upon tying up earlier than usual that afternoon so that they could lay in an abundance of firewood. it is not often that a weather prophet has so much honor in his own family, and really maurice never did a wiser thing in his life than when he thus provided for a bad spell to come on the strength of thad's knowledge of floating clouds and such signs. for the storm descended upon them that very night, and coming off the river, gave them something of a fright lest they be wrecked thus early in their voyage down the big water. given two miles of river over which to sweep with fury, and a forty-mile-an-hour gale can kick up a tremendous sea, besides penetrating every crack and cranny to be found in a flimsy cabin, chilling the very marrow of the sleepers. it was about two in the morning when maurice awoke to find the boat pitching violently and himself shivering with cold, for they had let the fire die out on retiring, such was the heat of the cabin. "hi there, show a leg, thad. there's something doing, and i rather reckon your plagued old storm's arrived ahead of time. d'ye want to freeze to death, boy? pile out and let's get a fire started. then we'd better make sure our cable's going to hold, for if we broke loose in this howling sea it'd be good-by to our boat, perhaps to us, too." was the way he brought his chum out of the bunk, "all standing," rubbing his eyes as the candle which maurice had lighted pictured the scene. hurriedly dressing while their teeth chattered, the boys started a blaze in the stove, and after a bit thawed out sufficiently to go outside, muffled in sweaters and coats, to see what all this racket meant. they found a wild scene there, with the waves rushing down the river most furiously. already the atmosphere had grown so frigid that ice was forming on the side of the cabin where this spud and foam dashed. looking out upon the raging waters the boys shivered at the sight, even with scanty light from the heavenly bodies that were part of the time obscured behind masses of black clouds. it was frittering snow, and the prospect of a spell of bad weather looked very promising. "let me catch you making any more predictions of storms; won't there be trouble headed your way?" shouted maurice, with mock severity; whereat the weather sharp laughed and began to feel of the rope that fastened them to the shore. "if the wind should change there might be a chance of our being smashed against the shore here. if it was light i'd say it would pay us to get the anchor out yonder to kind of hold the boat off; but to look at that water i don't think our little dinky would hold out five minutes," continued maurice, shaking his head. it was finally concluded to retire to the warmth of the cabin and wait until the morning broke, when they could decide what should be done. for some time they sat there, now dozing by the stove, and anon starting up as some unusually weird contortion on the part of the boat gave them the impression that the end had come, and they were about to be tossed into the raging flood. maurice was just sinking into some sort of condition resembling sleep when there was a sudden wilder rush of wind than at any time previously. and as he started up, thrilled with a sensation of coming peril, he felt a new motion to the shanty-boat that portended trouble. "the cable's broken, pard, and we're afloat!" he shouted, as the equally bewildered thad struggled up alongside him. chapter vii. the terrors of the storm. after that one feeling of horror both the boys recovered more or less of their ordinary ability to meet danger, and overcome it. it was maurice who sprang to the door, and threw it open. as he pushed out upon the narrow deck of the float he could not but be appalled by the sight that met his wondering eyes. just as he had suspected so strongly, they had broken away from the anchorage. doubtless the rope had been frayed by some sharpedged stone, and when that unusual gust swooped down upon them it gave at the weakest part. out on the river little could be seen save a jumble of foamy waters, that seemed to be tumbling wildly over and over, driven by the furious blast from the north. maurice turned his eyes toward the other side, for it was in that quarter his deepest interest lay. back of the clouds there was a pretty good-sized moon still above the western horizon, so that this helped lighten what would otherwise have been inky darkness. hence, maurice could make out the tops of the trees on the bank of the river, as they were outlined against the lighter heavens. "we're just humming along!" he shouted, as he noticed how the tree-tops seemed to be constantly shifting, owing to the progress of the boat downstream. "the worst of it is we seem to be drifting out all the while!" was what thad called, as he, too, sized up the situation. both of them knew what this meant. once they were swept far out upon the bosom of that madly agitated flood, and the chances of the gallant old shanty-boat remaining right-side-up would be very scanty. "we must fight against that with all our might!" yelled the other, as he pushed back to where the sweep was to be found. they set to work with every pound of force they could bring to the front. again and again was the long oar dipped into the water, and made to press against the rush of the current. "how is it?" gasped maurice, after they had been employed in this manner for some five minutes, each sixty seconds filled with anxiety. "i think we are about holding our own!" replied thad. "is that all? then how can we ever get her in nearer the shore?" demanded his chum, forlornly, as he continued to tug away. "have to trust to luck for that," came the immediate reply. "tell me how?" implored maurice, who somehow failed to grasp the situation quite as accurately as the other. "the shore lines change constantly, you know." "yes, that's so; but we might open up a big pocket at any time, as soon as strike a point sticking out," suggested maurice. "sure. that's what i meant when i said we'd have to stick everlastingly at it, and trust to luck for the rest," replied his comrade. perhaps it was because thad had been up against hard knocks more than his friends, but one thing was evident--when trouble of this kind came he seemed able to show a better and more hopeful spirit than maurice. another short space of time passed. "say, this is working our passage all right!" came from maurice. "but so long as we hold our own we ain't got a thing to say. and i think we're doing that, don't you, maurice?" "i did a minute ago, but just now it strikes me the trees kind of look further away." "that's a fact, they do; but mebbe it's only a little bay before we strike that point, you know," continued the other lad. they dared not halt a single minute in their labor, for fear lest the boat be carried further out on the raging river. "how are you--feel cold?" asked thad, a little later. "not much--i'm as warm as toast, all but my hands, and they're freezing. but where's the land, thad? can you see anything of those bully old trees, partner?" "mighty little just now; but i'm hoping they ain't going to give us the shake just yet. that would be mighty mean, when we think so much of 'em!" said the second willing worker, as he tugged and strained with all his power. it really looked more perilous than ever around the bobbing shanty-boat, which was now being tossed about on the water very much after the style of a cork. and if the waves ran so high close to the shore what must they be far, far out yonder toward the middle of the mighty stream? neither of the tugging lads wanted to picture the scene; indeed, they had all they could manage in considering how the wabbly craft might be piloted so as to once more hug the friendly shore. presently a shout from maurice, rather feeble it must be confessed, for he was short of breath just then, announced that he had made some sort of happy discovery. "land! land!" he exclaimed, hoarsely, just as a shipwrecked sailor on a floating raft might cry as an island hove in sight. and thad could easily see the tree-tops again, outlined against the gray heavens; yes, they were closer than for some time, and to his excited imagination seemed to be even looming up more and more positively. "we're getting there, old chap; give her another good dig, and follow it up with yet another!" he managed to cry. "hurrah! that's the way to do it! again, my hearty, and all together with a will! she moves in, thad; we're going to make the ripple!" "wait!" said the more cautious thad; "don't shout till you're out of the woods." but nevertheless he too seemed to feel that more than half the battle was won, since they had passed over a wide bayou without any accident, and were now once again close to the land. how eagerly their young eyes hung upon those shifting tree-tops, as they hurried by; never before had the dry land seemed quite so glorious as at that particular moment; and they felt that it would be a happy event if they could but plant their feet again on it. maurice knew something of the river, but thad had studied the oddities of the ohio for many a moon, while living upon its breast. he knew, for instance, that when a bayou was struck the chances were there would be a point of land jutting out immediately below it, formed by the dirt swept out by the erratic current. and this was just what he was hoping to find now. of course the swift tide would never allow them to land on the upper side of that cape; but if they could only take advantage of its inward sweep beyond, they might succeed in getting into comparatively still water, where the anchor would hold. they fought "tooth and nail," as thad said, to accomplish such a result. "we're passing the point!" shouted maurice, ending with a groan. "keep working! the current sets in just below, and we want to ride along with it," answered his chum. then maurice saw a great light, and realized what his comrade had in mind. "the trees are further away!" he could not help saying. "yes, but the water ain't near so sassy; don't you see how we are pushing the old tub in closer all the while? when i say the word you jump for the anchor, and let her slide!" "oh!" maurice was encouraged to work again with renewed vigor, for hope had once more found a lodgment in his soul. hardly had ten seconds passed before the voice of thad rang out above the clamor of the wind, and the breaking of the waves against the stern of the laboring shanty-boat. "now! do it!" and maurice, dropping away from the sweep, made a hasty jump for the place where the anchor and its cable lay. in his haste he must have made a misstep, for suddenly thad saw him stumble and vanish over the side into the boiling waters of the mississippi! a feeling of horror shot through the heart of the boy as he thus witnessed the catastrophe that had overtaken his chum. he forgot all necessity for remaining on guard at the sweep, in order to prevent the boat from being carried out; but abandoning his trust he sprang toward the spot where he had last seen maurice. throwing himself down on his chest he endeavored to penetrate the almost inky darkness that rested upon the water at that particular place. but not a thing could he see at first; it was as though those treacherous waters had swallowed up his friend forever! and just then he became aware of the fact that there was a sudden change in the movement of the shanty-boat, which instead of continuing to whirl down-stream seemed to be brought to a stop, and was tugging violently at some object that persisted in restraining her onward progress! the anchor! yes, in his plunge maurice must have knocked this over the side, and the heavy object, swiftly reaching bottom in that shallow spot, had brought the wild cruise of the craft to an abrupt conclusion. but maurice--dear would the safety of the old boat have been purchased, had he been swept away, to be possibly drowned in the flood, encumbered as he was with all his clothes. "wow!" thad heard this sound, although he could see nothing; and a thrill shot through him at the consciousness that it must have been made by his chum. "where are you, maurice?" he shrilled, eager to lend what assistance lay in his limited power. "holding on to the cable of the anchor, and swallowing a pint of yellow stuff every breath!" came back in broken sentences, as though the speaker might be ejecting some of the surplus fluid whenever the opportunity offered. so thad gripped the rope and tried to shorten the extent of its holding; but he found this a greater task than he had bargained for, and indeed, utterly impossible, with all that sweep of the river to buck against him. "wait! it's all right, and i'm coming!" he again heard the other say; and this time it seemed as though the voice must be much closer. then he caught his first glimpse of maurice, amid all the foam in the rear of the boat, where the onrushing flood failed to start the anchored craft from her moorings. in another minute he could reach out a helping hand, which being seized upon by the imperiled lad, maurice was soon brought close enough, to admit of his climbing over the low gunwale. "gee! that was a close shave, though!" he gasped, as he sat up, the water pouring from him in rivulets. thad was pumping his hand like a machine, and almost crying in his hysterical delight. "oh! you gave me an awful scare, old fellow, you sure did! i thought you was a goner, and felt like jumping in, too, myself. it would be mighty tough to lose you, maurice, mighty tough!" he kept saying as he squeezed the other's hand. "well, a miss is as good as a mile; and the only thing i'm thinking of just now is a way to get warm. my teeth are rattling together like the dickens. it was just comfortable in the water; but this air cuts through me like a knife!" said maurice, getting up on his knees. "you must go inside at once, and i'll have the fire booming in a jiffy. never mind the boat; i reckon that rope will hold us here all right till morning. when you are warm i'm going to come out and see if i can put another anchor of some sort over. we've got a rope and that fine big stone, you know. shoo, now, and get into the coop, you!" in this fashion did thad chase his chum indoors. he busied himself with the fire, and it was not long before he had the interior of the cabin feeling comfortable. and while the boat pitched and plunged, yet seemed to hold her own against the raging storm, maurice changed his clothes, and was presently feeling none the worse for his involuntary bath. long before this the other had slipped out to fulfill his programme with regard to the second anchor. chapter ix. good old marlin. when thad came in later on he declared that the chances were now that the boat would hold her own during the balance of that stormy night. "always providing," he added, with due caution, "that it don't get any worse, and the wind shift to the northeast, which would be bad for us here." so they started in again to try and keep watch-and-watch, one securing a little sleep while the other stood guard. it was only a poor makeshift at best, for what maurice called "cat-naps" were the best they could do at any time. that night would not soon be forgotten by the boys, for it seemed to be about forty hours long. and as time crept on at a snail pace the howling of the wintry gale continued unabated, with the roar of the wind through the tree-tops ashore, the dash of the waves on the point above, and the constant wabbling motion of the shanty-boat to remind them of their peril. it may have been a couple of hours before the time for morning to come along that thad, after a trip of investigation outside, returned with some news. "wind's shifted!" he announced, as he came staggering in again. maurice jumped up. "then we ought to get busy if we don't want to be dragged out of this comfortable pocket again!" he exclaimed. "hold on, old fellow; you don't catch on. the wind has taken a notion to back into the west, and is now whooping it up from across the old mississip," said the other, sinking into a seat, and holding both shivering hands out to the cheery blaze. "oh! that's a different thing. i reckon then we're more in danger of going ashore, than being sent adrift again," admitted maurice. "i guess the anchors are good to hold, if only we don't get banged on a nasty rock. i've got a notion there are a lot around here, even if we can't see 'em. but the chances don't amount to much; and it's me for another little snooze." with which thad sought his bunk, and bundled in "all standing" in sea parlance, not even removing his boots, for he did not know but that he might have to turn out at any moment. but the next thing he knew was when a most appetizing odor came stealing to his sense of smell, and he realized that his chum was cooking breakfast. "hello, there, going to have a midnight meal?" queried thad, drowsily, as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. whereupon the other stepped to the little window, raised the shade and allowed the awakened sleeper to see that dawn was at hand, gray and forbidding, but daylight all the same. "well, all i can say, pard, is, that i'm mighty glad to see her come along. that was the most ding-dong night i ever spent, for a fact. and i guess i dreamed about you going in swimming with all your duds on, too. that was what woke me up just now with a jump." thad crawled out, stretching and yawning. "oh! you'll feel better after you've had a little coffee, and some bacon. nothing like a hot breakfast to tone a fellow up after a bad night like that," remarked the cook, cheerily, as he started to transfer the various things from the stove to their table, with its clean white oilcloth cover. thad went outside to take an observation. he found the storm still busy, and the sight out on the river was quite discouraging to a boy who wanted to get along toward the blamy southland as speedily as possible. still, they had indeed much to be thankful for, with that snug craft to serve as a refuge while the gale lasted, plenty to eat aboard, and a supply of wood within reach. "i guess the little dinghy would live between here and the shore," he remarked, as he came in presently. "what's in the wind now?" demanded maurice, already pouring out the amber liquid into the brace of tin cups that served them just as well as the dainty aluminum ones sported by some canoeists they had once known in their kentucky home town. "well, you see, our wood isn't apt to hold out all day; and besides, there's another night coming for us in this place. one of us must go ashore later on and do some chopping." "that'll be me, then, to start with. i'd like to get a few of the kinks out of my arms. here, squat down, and begin work with that mess. plenty more where that came from, and no bill to settle." in this manner did the early morning meal progress, for the boys, having survived the perils of the night, were feeling quite like themselves again. true to his promise, about nine o'clock as near as they could judge, maurice climbed down into the dinghy, taking with him their only ax. thad had even been careful enough to fasten this with a piece of rope-end to the single thwart in the dump boat. "if you should have a turn-over the blooming thing don't know enough to swim, like you do; and to lose it just now would put us in a fine old pickle," he explained, when maurice joked him about the solicitude he was showing. "that's it," remarked the occupant of the dinghy, as he balanced himself carefully in sitting down; "it might be hard to buy another ax down along here, and one as good as this daisy. now, when i say the word, give me a dandy push, will you?" "all right," and thad braced himself for the exertion. "i suppose it will be harder coming out again, with a load of wood. i'm glad you thought of that bully old scheme of dragging some of it aboard with a rope," said maurice, taking up the paddle. "i'll pay out the painter as you go along," remarked the one who was to remain on board the larger craft. "push!" having been given a fine start he plied his blade, and rapidly the little boat drew near the adjacent shore. no accident befell maurice, and he was able to land safely; after which he drew his small craft well up on the beach, before climbing the abrupt bank just beyond, by means of protruding roots of trees. thad listened until he heard the steady blows of the ax; and then he went back to some work he had been doing at the time. it might have been about half an hour later that he suddenly caught what seemed to be an angry bark from the shore; and as the sound appeared to come directly from that quarter where he remembered maurice had been at work, he immediately became quite concerned. the sound came again almost immediately, and seemed even more savage than before. following it he caught the voice of his pard raised in anger. "get out, you rascal! hi! there, what d'ye mean jumping at me like that! keep off, or i'll give you a dig with the ax. d'ye hear, you big fool?" apparently maurice was in some sort of trouble, and as near as the boy on the shanty-boat could understand he had been attacked by some roving animal that had taken a fancy to try and assault the strange woodchopper. thad jumped into the cabin and came out with the little marlin in his hands; but then he realized how utterly impotent he was to give his beleaguered chum a helping hand just then. the boiling water lay between him and that shore for a distance of perhaps thirty feet or more; nor was it possible for even his sanguine spirit to bridge it. true, there was the dinghy on the little beach, and the cable attached to its stern ran all the way to the larger boat, so that it was possible for him to tug away, and eventually bring it alongside. should he try it? the sounds had grown even more furious, as though maurice and the unseen dog might be engaged in something resembling a regular circus. suppose he pulled the dinghy away from the shore, and just then his chum appeared, eager to throw himself into it, his disappointment would be terrible. but all the same thad could not stand there helpless and listen to that terrible racket going on. why, for all he knew, poor old maurice might be in hard luck, with the teeth of a savage hound threatening his very life. and so thad made up his mind in a hurry, for he was not the one to hesitate when an emergency called for speedy action. he had laid the marlin down on the deck, and applied both hands to the task of getting the small boat across that intervening stretch of water as quickly as human means could accomplish the job. if anything was needed to urge him on to unusual haste it might have easily been found in the continual confusion of shouts, laughter, barks, and general confusion existing ashore. swiftly the tender of the shanty-boat came spinning through the water, until in a short time it bumped against the side. thad waited only long enough to deposit his precious gun in the bottom, and then crawling over the side himself, he seized upon the paddle, and dipped deeply. no doubt he made the shore in much less time than it took maurice; for there was need that he should. the noise continued, from which thad drew new hope; at least his beloved chum could not have been seriously injured, for just then he could almost positively declare that he heard him laugh again. so there was a comical side to the adventure, it would seem. thad was in such a hurry to reach the spot that he must needs make an unfortunate miscalculation when attempting to climb up the steep bank, or else a root upon which he depended proved false to his trust. however that might be the boy fell back again, landing in a heap at the base of the little bluff. taking warning from his mishap that speed is not always an indication of ultimate success, thad became a little more careful; and as a consequence he soon had the satisfaction of finding himself on the top of the river bank. here maurice had piled quite some wood, which doubtless he calculated fastening to the spare rope, so that it could be dragged aboard once he had joined his chum. smaller stuff he would stow away in the tender, and thus avoid getting the same wet. but thad was not bothering his head about the wood just then; he could still hear the barking, and the voice of his friend not far away, accompanied by various mysterious sounds that seemed to resemble the dropping of a heavy body on the ground. so he gripped the gun and began to move forward, steeling his nerves for any sort of surprise possible. in this fashion he presently reached what seemed to be a little glade, where at some time in the dim past the trees had gone down, either in a hurricane or before a settler's ax. then the show was before him! his attention was immediately attracted to a moving object that continued to leap upward with wriggling movements, and then fall back again to the ground, to obtain new footing and try again. and each attempt was being greeted by disdainful remarks from maurice, who could be seen dangling his legs some seven feet or so up in a friendly tree. thad breathed freer. he knew now that his chum had been wise enough to take refuge among the branches of this tree when he lost hold of the ax with which he had been defending himself. and since he seemed so very merry now, it was evident that he had not been badly injured by the teeth of the brute. thad began to push his marlin forward, as though he might mean business from the start. he did not fancy the looks of the big dog, which was of a dingy yellow-color, and as large as a two-month-old calf. possibly he belonged to some farmer within a mile or so of the spot; or it might be that he was a stray beast, drawn back to the original state of his kind by the call of the wild. thad did not try to find out, and indeed, there was no possible way in which he could ascertain, since the dog could not talk. maurice had apparently become aware of his presence, for just then he called out. "take care, thad, he's a holy terror of a brute. if you shoot be sure you get him, or he'll jump you like he did me. he's mad clear through. hi! look out. he's scented you and he's coming!" thad needed no warning, for he had been watching the big buff dog every second of the time. he dropped on one knee, and threw the marlin up to his shoulder with a resolute air. thad could hardly be said to be an expert shot, for his opportunities to go out hunting had never been very numerous; still, he possessed nerve, and could aim straight, which, after all, were qualities standing him in better stead just then than experience. the beast was coming all right, there could be no doubt about that; and his appearance, with that hair bristling along above his shoulders, was anything but pacifying. to the kneeling lad the rush of a lion in the african wilds could not have seemed more fierce. he waited just three seconds, until maurice, fearing that his chum might be almost paralyzed with fright, gave a shriek to startle him into action. but thad had done the wise thing after all; he wanted the dog to get close enough to warrant the bird-shot to possess all the deadly attributes of a bullet. of course there was more danger of his missing entirely; but thad's mind was fully made up that he just could not and would not do any thing of the sort. then his finger pressed first one trigger, and almost simultaneously the other, of the double-barrel. the deafening report was accompanied by what seemed to be a piercing yelp or two, after which there was silence. maurice had jumped down out of his tree as soon as the shots told that there was no further danger of his being hit by any stray leaden pellet; and seizing upon the handy ax he bounced across the glade toward the scene of hostilities. "thad!" he shouted eagerly, as he ran, waving the ax in the air, and ready to resume the battle, if so be it seemed necessary. "all right here, old hoss!" came the cheery answer, that made the other experience immediate relief. and then maurice looked toward the spot where he had had his last glimpse of his late enemy. something was moving amid the snow that covered the ground. "you got him, thad; he's kicking his last!" yelled the excited maurice, as he gazed with distended eyes at the feeble struggles that marked the passing of the powerful brute. by the time the marksman had reached the spot the animal had given up the ghost; but even in death he presented a ferocious aspect that made maurice shiver. "phew! that was an exciting little time," he said, wiping his forehead, as though somewhat overheated by his recent exertions. "where d'ye suppose he came from?" asked the other, as he bent over the victim of the steady-shooting gun, and shrugged his shoulders at sight of the bared white teeth, so wicked in appearance. "i don't know. looks to me like he might be a wild dog; but perhaps he belongs to some shanty-boat crowd below here. i wouldn't be too ready to tell about this until we're well away. it might breed trouble for us, you see," said maurice, sagely. "but he tackled you without cause, and any fellow is allowed to defend himself," expostulated the other. "that's good logic, generally; but the owner of the dog never looks at things from the right side. he'd blame you for shooting, and say we ought to have chased the beast off with pea-shooters. well, he kept me jumping right lively up to the time i lost my grip on this old ax. then i got up in that blessed tree, though i'll never know just how i did the trick. h'm! that old gun of mine is some shooter, ain't she? my! how you knocked a hole in the critter. that was going some, for you. thad, don't you forget it, son." now that he was ashore thad assisted in getting the wood down to the edge of the water. here some of it was fastened to a spare rope which could be carried out to the floating boat, when the firewood might be hauled aboard. thad paddled out first, so as to draw the laden dinghy after him; then maurice used the second rope to get it back ashore, loaded it with the results of his chopping, after which the other did his part. in this fashion the entire amount of fuel was finally taken aboard. "i think we have enough to last us for some time now," remarked maurice, after he had in the end allowed thad to draw him out just as the cargoes of wood had been taken aboard. and as thad once more pushed a couple of shells into the chambers of the little old marlin he shook his head, observing: "i'd hate to think what would have happened if i'd just missed that ugly customer when i pulled those triggers. for he was coming at me like a house afire, and with blood in his eyes. but, i didn't, all the same, and what's the use bothering over it? is the storm going down any, d'ye think, maurice?" but maurice could not say that it was in the least. chapter x. "not today," said thad. "i wonder how long this measly old storm is going to keep us here?" maurice was saying, that afternoon, as he stood on the after-deck of the anchored shanty-boat, and looked at the wild scene out on the raging river. they had seen not a sign of life thus far around them, since dawn. even the few boats moving at this late season of the year on the father of waters seemed to have been bottled up in such harbors as could be found conveniently near at the time the storm broke loose. "you called me a weather sharp because i said it was due; and now you want me to give a guess about the end--is that it, maurice?" asked the other, smiling. "well, if you can hit it as good this time, and encourage a poor ship-wrecked mariner i'd be obliged." "say, it ain't as bad as that. we've got a lot to be thankful for, i reckon, with this bully old boat to hold us, and keep out the cold. for one you don't hear me kicking," returned thad, earnestly. "oh! come off; you know mighty well that i'm the last boy to run up the white flag. everything's lovely, and the goose hangs high; anyhow, it will later on if i get a crack at one on a sandbar further down the river. but what do you think of the prospects for clearing?" went on maurice, turning to his chum. "not good for anything today. p'raps the old storm will blow itself out tonight, and in the morning we may drop out of here. "oh! well, it's too late now to think of going on today, so after all it don't matter much we can pull some more wood on board before night, and laugh at the cold," remarked maurice. "perhaps we'd better be doing it right away, then," observed thad, with a glance at the west; "for dark comes sudden like at this time of year, you know." "all right. get the ax and i'll see to the gun, thad." "thinking of more dogs, eh?" "well, no; to tell the truth i had the master of one dog in my mind right then," came the reply, as maurice entered the cabin to take the marlin off the hook on the wall. thad looked a bit thoughtful, but said nothing. perhaps they were not so very far away from some shanty-boat that had sought refuge in a friendly cove from the gale; and he knew the general habit of these floating people was to harbor at least one dog to each craft, sometimes half a dozen. that gun might come in handy should they find themselves confronted by an angry dog owner, demanding the reason why they had shot his canine property. so they left their home craft, and paddled ashore in the little tender, one at a time. the ax was soon at work, and the chips flying under the lusty strokes of both boys by turns. thad had been more or less impressed by what his chum said. while maurice worked with the ax he managed to sit by the fire they had started, seemingly to keep warm, but in reality because the shotgun had been leaned against a neighboring tree. and ordinarily thad was far from being timid by nature; so that it must have been some sort of prophetic warning that bade him stick to the camp. "guess we've got about enough, eh, thad?" demanded the other, as he threw the tool down, and breathing heavily, sat alongside his chum on the convenient log near the blaze. "as much as we can get aboard, anyhow. with night only an hour off the quicker we begin to navigate the better for us. here goes," and with that thad started to carry the chopped wood down to where the small boat awaited its cargo. they were busily engaged in doing this, and had really managed to get most of the fuel aboard, with maurice pulling from the deck of the anchored craft, and his chum doing the work ashore, when thad heard crunching footsteps above the spot where he crouched. looking up he saw a bearded face thrust out from the bank; and almost instinctively he knew that the prediction of his companion was about to come true. was this the owner of the dead brute that lay not more than eighty or one hundred feet away? thad felt a sudden cold chill. he was certainly not a coward by nature, and had proved this at various times in the past; still, there was an ugly scowl on that red-bearded face that surely stood for new trouble. and thad was glad that he had insisted upon keeping the gun ashore with him while he performed his end of the duty of transporting the wood to the shanty-boat. he also remembered that it was close beside him, where he could lay a hand on it quickly if need be. then the man spoke, and his voice was just as disagreeable as his face seemed to be--a heavy rumble with more or less of threat under the surface. "so, here ye be, hey? wot business hed yer ter shoot up my dawg; tell me that, consarn ye?" perhaps he said something much stronger than the concluding words; but that does not matter. thad gave the signal to his chum to pull, for he had the last of the wood stocked in the dinghy. then he turned his attention to the man who had addressed him. if his face was white it was only natural; but his voice did not quiver in the least. "i admit that i shot the dog. he was trying to kill my friend, who was busy cutting wood. i'd do it again, and so would any one. what business have you letting such a savage dog loose?" even while talking he edged a trifle toward the spot where the gun was standing against the bank. the man might take a notion to slide down, with the intention of attacking him, and thad wanted to make sure of his line of defense, like a wise general always should. "hey! wot's thet ye say? i got a boat just a leettle way below hyer, an' my dorg's got a right ter run loose. ye owns up ye shooted ther pore critter, does yer? i gotter a notion right now ter give yer sumpin ter pay back fur wot ye done!" he actually threw himself over the edge of the little bluff, being angered by such talk on the part of a boy. maurice gave a shout from the boat. "look out, there, what you're doing, or i'll shoot you full of holes!" was what he whooped; but since the only weapon they possessed was at that moment ashore it can be understood that he was only seeking to fill the man with sudden consternation. perhaps it did work to some extent, for the big fellow rather hesitated as he cast an apprehensive glance out toward the shantyboat. those few seconds were worth much to thad. he had started for the place where the gun stood, and which, unfortunately, happened to be close to where the man had landed. indeed, had the fellow been aware of the fact in the beginning he might easily have cut thad off from his coveted weapon. but knowing the absolute necessity for obtaining a grip on the marlin, the boy plunged forward, regardless of the fact that in so doing he had to advance toward the enemy. his aggressive movement rather puzzled the other, until he saw the gun leaning there against the bank. then he gave a howl, and also projected his bulk forward, evidently with the expectation of reaching the firearm first. but he was just three seconds too late. thad snatched the weapon up, and drawing back both hammers, held it in a threatening attitude. "keep back, there, or i'll do the same to you i did to your dog!" cried the excited but resolute boy. the fellow saw something in the attitude of the lad to give him cause for prudence; and he immediately drew up, throwing out both hands in a sudden spasm of alarm. "hi! hold on thar, sonny, don't ye pull them triggers hard! it'd be jest murder, 'cause i ain't got nary weepon by me, i swar. i didn't go ter mean any thin' hard. corse ye done right ter shoot the ornery dawg if he war atryin' ter eat yer pard up. yuh see i didn't know ther hull facts in ther case, i didn't. let up easy, now, bub; drap thet gun, won't yer?" he whined. "don't do it, thad!" shouted maurice, dancing about on the deck of the flat in his excitement; "don't you trust him an inch, i tell you! make him vamoose the ranch--tell him to clear out, or you'll pepper his hide." but thad needed no such entreaty on the part of his chum to know only too well that not the slightest reliance could be placed on the honor of such a rough customer. he continued to cover the man. "if you take one step this way i'll let fly!" he said, impressively. "but i ain't holdin' no grudge agin you-uns now 'bout thet dawg. reckons it's better the critter's got his, 'cause the missus sez as how he acted like he wos agwine mad," expostulated the man; but there was a gleam in his eyes that thad did not like, and he would not take chances. "all right, if that's the case; but all the same you threatened me, and i'm not going to trust you close. just back up along the beach, and if you make the first move to do anything i'm going to shoot. now, twenty-three for yours, mister, skidoo! we don't want your company; not today," said thad. the man looked at him. he must have seen something in the determined manner of the lad to influence him in reaching a decision. that boy would keep his word; he was ready to shoot if crossed; and the way in which he had killed the brute of a dog proved his skill with the gun he was fondling now. "oh! all right, bub, i'll clear out, if yuh sez so; but if i ever get a chanct tuh even up this hyer score i'm gwine tuh do hit, sure's yer born!" he moved away, muttering, and looking angrily toward the lad; but not once did the latter show signs of weakening. when the big fellow had vanished from sight, thad hastened to draw the dinghy, which maurice had hastily emptied, back to the beach. "just sit in it and keep an eye toward the bank, thad," sang out the chum on the boat, "and leave it to me to drag you out here. that chap means mischief, unless i'm mistaken." since his own thoughts coincided with those expressed by maurice, thad was satisfied to obey instructions. he squatted low in the small craft, handled the gun in a way that any one ashore could not help seeing, and kept watch along the line. when he was almost there he saw the man break cover, almost directly opposite, and could even note the look of disappointment on his face as he discovered how the boy had eluded his clutches. he shouted out something which neither of them wholly understood; but there could be no mistaking the ugly manner in which that fist was shaken toward them. "don't notice him, and he'll go away soon. it's getting dusk already, you know, and cold enough to freeze his red nose." maurice proved to be something of a prophet, for sure enough presently the man, finding that his derisive words met with no response, concluded that lingering in the vicinity did not pay. "there, he's gone," announced thad, finally. "a good riddance of bad rubbish," echoed his chum. "i hope we don't have visitors in the night," remarked thad. "um; so that is what was on your mind. well, now, i hardly think that fellow, or any of his crowd will have the nerve to come here and try to swim out to us; and you see they can't get aboard any other way, having no boat. still--" "you mean that we had better be on the safe side, and keep watch?" suggested thad. "i was just going to say something along that style. it wouldn't be a bad idea, you know." "well, i always did believe that it's better to keep from getting a cold, than to be able to cure one." but evidently the man must have determined that, with a gun in their possession, the boys were not to be easily taken by surprise, for he did not show up during the entire night, much to the relief of both young shanty-boat cruisers. perhaps he had no companions to back him up in a desperate enterprise; or it may be that the comforts of his own cabin appealed too much to him on this stormy night. be the cause what it might, both lads were satisfied to have the night pass without any alarm; though several times when thad was on guard some prowling raccoon or skunk on the shore gave him cause to fancy that the anticipated trouble was on the point of breaking loose. who the man was, and what manner of boat he possessed neither of them ever knew; for they caught no glimpse of any craft just below their stopping place when eventually the chance came to continue the voyage. chapter xi. nearing the sunny south. during the second night the storm began to die away, and when another dawn came the sun actually shone, though the country looked bleak and cold under the blanket of snow that had fallen. just as soon as it was advisable they broke away from their holding ground and once more started down the river, which was still pretty rough; but both boys were so sick and tired of that place they wanted to leave it for new scenes. they were a little anxious lest in some way the rough owner of that miserable dog would bob up and give them trouble, and not until some miles had been navigated did they breathe freely. and every mile they put behind them meant that they were so much closer to the genial sunny south, of which they had heard so much. after this frigid experience they were of the opinion that they could not reach that balmy region any too soon to suit them. during the day the wind went down, and when afternoon was waning they sighted the town of hickman, which was not a great distance from the tennessee line--the mere mention of this fact caused thad to give a cheer. now, they knew that it was not advisable to stop long at any river town, for fear of trouble with some of the rougher element that haunted the docks, but as some of their supplies had become low, and needed replenishing, they drew in, and maurice went ashore to make a purchase, while thad guarded the boat. contrary to their fears nothing happened to give them cause for alarm, and as for the fellows around the landing, thad found them about on a par with the usual loungers, good-natured chaff predominating. indeed, one of them even made him a present of a little yellow cur that had a pair of bright eyes and an affectionate muzzle, which tickled thad immensely, he had longed so much for a pet. they got away from hickman at a quarter to four, with a clear sky and frosty atmosphere that promised good sailing weather on the morrow. the yellow dog was immediately named dixie, and took to his new title from the start, being a lively little chap, full of fun, and as frisky as they make them. he promised to be great company for the boys, and something of a watchdog, too, when the occasion warranted it, for his sharp bark upon hearing any foreign sound was enough to arouse the heaviest sleeper. thad declared he would now be able to sleep with both eyes shut, for up to this time he had been compelled to keep one half open. just as maurice feared they failed to find any place at which to tie up as darkness came on, and it looked as though they would finally have to depend on their anchor and a stout cable. as they slowly floated along close to the shore thad's sharp eyes finally detected an opening, which looked very much as though some stream entered the river at this point, and upon pushing in to investigate they found that it was indeed so. and so they rested comfortably after all, though maurice was a little fearful lest they be paid a visit by some of the rough characters floating around the levee at hickman, and who would suppose the little shanty-boat could not have gone many miles down-stream before pulling up for the night. fortunately for their peace of mind this did not happen. perhaps it was the cold night that deterred them, or it may have been that thad had made friends with the hickman fellows--no matter, they saw nothing of visitors, and in the morning got away in grand style, with dixie barking a farewell to the creek that had served them so well as a harbor of refuge. so they continued on their voyage, always making progress when it was at all possible; and with each day's setting sun drawing nearer the goal of their hopes, the great city on the lower mississippi, where maurice was to meet his uncle, and speak a good word for his chum. it took them a full week to reach memphis, for they had poor days as well as good ones, and there were various causes to delay them. maurice found a chance to use his gun again one evening when they had tied up in a convenient cove. it seemed that the ducks had a liking for that very spot and from tune to time a little flock would come spinning around the point with the intention of alighting there, where they would be protected from the strong wind that was blowing outside. as soon as he discovered what was going on maurice snatched up his gun and with a belt of shells dropped into the dinghy, paddling over to the point, where he landed, and hiding among some bushes awaited events. they were not long in coming either, for in less than five minutes a venturesome band of half a dozen teal came swinging in. too late they saw the boat tied up in the cove, and wheeled to depart, when there was a bang! bang! and several concluded to defer their departure. out came maurice, and paddling around he picked up three birds, to the immense delight of thad, who issued from the cabin at the sound of the reports, and of course executed one of his incomparable hornpipes on the deck at the prospect of another round of game for dinner. but maurice was not yet done; this was pretty fair for a start, but there should be more to follow; so he once again ensconced himself in the bushes and waited. his patience was rewarded, for in less than another five minutes more birds began to head in, and he was kept busy banging away, with such success that after the battle was over eight lay upon the still water of the bayou, while several more had floated off down the stream. not wishing to let any get away after shooting them, the young sportsman put out in chase in his dinghy, and succeeded in finding two; meanwhile thad, with one of the poles, succeeded in retrieving five of those in the lagoon. altogether it was a banner evening, and no wonder they felt joyful as they sat around the late supper; for thad, with his mouth watering, so he said, for duck, insisted upon preparing a couple right away. it is not often a fellow can make a fine meal from a duck that two hours previous has been plunging through the atmosphere from the north with a speed of possibly eighty miles an hour; but all manner of things may come to pass to those who voyage down the mighty mississippi on a shanty-boat. the night in this secluded cove was another pleasant experience which they must always look back to with delight; so it is a cruise of this sort is marked by its red and white stones, the one indicating trouble, the other joy unspeakable. maurice was not yet done with his business as a provider of viands for the table, and going ashore as the moonlight tempted him, gun in hand, he prowled around and presently had his suspicions confirmed, for he came upon a fat 'possum that yielded up the ghost at the summons of the marlin gun. thad nearly had a fit when he saw what his chum was bringing aboard. once he had tasted the animal when with some darkies in the brush --they had gone 'coon hunting with a pack of dogs and unexpectedly running across a 'possum thad was fortunate enough to get a few bites of the animal when done--it struck his fancy and he had never forgotten the sweet morsel. "i bet you had that rascal in mind when you bought those sweet potatoes from the coon yesterday at memphis," he declared, shaking his forefinger at the other. maurice pleaded innocent of the charge, and declared that the only one in the party at all able to prophesy regarding the weather or anything else was thad himself. "all the same i imagine they'll just about fit the crime, and tomorrow we'll see how you can get up a real southern dinner. now that we are entering dixieland we must pay more attention to the fads that these people cater to, and 'possum heads the list," remarked maurice, holding the plump animal up so that they could admire his proportions. the way the little yellow dog jumped and barked made them suspect that he knew something about hunting 'coons and 'possum and indeed there are few canines in the south that do not; so maurice declared that if the chance ever came he meant to try dixie in that capacity. there was one good thing about this voyage, and that was the fact of the ever moving current of the river--so long as they kept in its swing they could count on being wafted closer and closer to their destination. what they had to beware of were the many false channels that led nowhere; or else after winding in and out for ten miles brought the traveler out upon the main stream just a mile below where he entered. closely each night maurice studied his chart and at the same time kept in mind the warning he had received that this map was likely to prove wrong in many cases, so quickly does the mighty current cut new channels along its course. chapter xii. the lost trap. it was a quiet evening. outside, the moon was just creeping up over the trees, and shining from a cold looking sky. out upon the broad river the current swept past with its constant gurgle and swish, ever heading into the mysterious southland, which our boys yearned to reach. maurice was doing some sort of writing at the table, by the light of the only lantern they possessed, and which did not afford any too generous a light. thad was rummaging about, looking everywhere for a steel trap he had once possessed, and which now seemed strangely missing. "i wanted to try it ashore the worst kind tonight, because i've never stopped thinking of that fine 'possum we had; and from the signs where we picked up our wood i'm just dead sure a family of the ringtails hold out," he was saying, as he turned things over, and looked in the most inaccessible corners. thad was gifted with a streak of stubbornness; when he wanted anything badly he hated to give it up the worst kind. consequently, although he had apparently hunted that whole cabin over from one end to the other, he kept "nosing around," as his cruising mate observed, rooting here and there, and muttering his disgust. "i've been told that there's such a thing as putting a thing away too carefully, and now i believe it," remarked maurice, as he looked up for the tenth time to see the other bending far over, and actually pawing into a dark hole under the sheathing of the cabin side. "but you remember seeing that trap after we started?" complained thad. "sure i have; but since that early day you must have tucked it away in some place that's just disappeared. joking aside, i wonder if it was that thing fell overboard the other day when you were romping about the deck with dixie?" continued maurice, as if a new idea had come to him. thad had a broad grin on his face as he turned around, still on his knees. "what's this?" he remarked, holding some object up. "well, now," drawled the other, in his kentucky way, "looks to me like it might be a trap; and since we only had one aboard it must be the missing muskrat gripper. where'd you hit it?" "in this blessed hole, and for the life of me i don't remember ever putting it in there. if i did it must have been while i was asleep and dreaming." "sure you didn't expect to get a rat, and try and call it a bally 'possum? hey! what are you after now? expect to find the mate to it perhaps. think traps grow from seed like corn?" maurice exclaimed, as he saw the other once more thrust his arm into the hole. "why, i tell you this ain't the trap i had at all. must have been one poor old the badgeley owned. p'raps he kept his traps in here. say, wouldn't it open your eyes some now if i pulled out a second one of the same? now, what d 'ye think of that?" "i declare if it isn't another of the same kind. they do grow then. any more where that came from, thad?" demanded the boy at the table, beginning to show a decided interest. "oh! i don't know. would you say that was anything like the breed?" and he continued to drag out objects which he held up until maurice had counted five. "here, you've gone and loaded that hole to have the laugh on me; now just own up!" he exclaimed, finally, throwing up his hands as if surrendering. "honest injun, i never set eyes on a single one of the lot before now. you can see they're awfully rusty, too, and need oiling, because they've been lyin' in that cubbyhole lots of months. i've had the tramp nearly a year now, and the old fisherman built it himself, he told me, meaning some day to float down the mississippi. just to think that we're doing it instead of him." "sure there's no more of 'em inside that bully old cache?" demanded maurice, laughing as he surveyed the pile of rusty traps, which no doubt has once been used by the former owner of the boat to add to his scanty income by supplying him with numerous pelts of muskrats in the swamp not far from the town on the ohio. "i reckon i got the whole bunch; but no harm in making one more try," and as he spoke thad pushed his arm again into the dark opening. maurice watched him as if amused. "another, eh?" he laughed, as he saw thad draw back, with an exclamation of surprise and wonder. "no trap this time; but something else poor old the must have shoved in there for safe-keeping." when he held the object up maurice saw that it seemed to be a little packet, wrapped in a dingy piece of oiled cloth. "well, i declare, that's mighty queer. looks like the old fellow used that hole for keeping his valuables in. bring it over to the light, thad, and let's take a peep at it." thad was only too eager to do so, for somehow the fact of finding a treasure-trove aboard the tramp excited him not a little. so he knelt down beside the rough little table that served them in so many capacities, yet which could be turned up against the cabin wall in case more room was needed at any time. "here, take my knife and cut that cord," said maurice, when his chum had been clumsily fingering the wrapping that bound the odd little packet for what to him seemed an unnecessarily long time. "guess i'll just have to," observed thad, with a grin; "since my fingers all seem like thumbs. here she goes, then," and he started to use the keen edge of the steel blade. "wonder what it is," remarked the other, his eyes glued curiously on the packet, which was not more than five or six inches in length. "feels just like a book," returned thad, starting to unwrap the cloth that bound the object in its waterproof folds. "a book, eh? like as not some sort of diary. i've never heard you talk much about the old fellow; was he educated at all, and could he write d'ye think?" demanded his comrade, with awakening interest. "sure he could. well, what did i tell yo? it's a book all right, and p'raps old the kept a record of the fish and muskies he caught winter and summer. he was a queer old duck, though he did seem to think a heap of me. wow! look at that, would you!" thad's startled exclamation was not in the least surprising, considering what had happened. as he idly opened the book there was disclosed a little collection of genuine government yellowback bills, not one of which was less than ten dollars in its denomination. no wonder both boys stared, their eyes seemingly "as big as saucers," as thad afterwards described it. mechanically thad began to count the money that had come into their possession so miraculously. "three hundred and thirty dollars! did you ever hear of such luck in all your born days?" he said, his face lighting up with delight. "but it isn't ours, you know, thad. he gave you the boat, but how do we know he ever meant you to have this money? can't you just remember something that would explain it all? didn't he say just a little to you at some time about it?" maurice looked anxiously from the pile of bills to thad's sober face, as though urging him to exert himself to the limit to bring back to his mind some clue that would unravel the mystery. and thad suddenly became anxious himself; he cast a quick look toward the little window of the shanty-boat cabin, just as if oppressed with a fear that hostile eyes might even then fee fastened upon them. so quickly does the possession of riches bring new troubles; up to that moment such a thing as a possible intruder had been far from occurring to thad; but circumstances alter cases, and now they had something worth stealing--and he grew afraid. so his first act was to push the money out of sight under an old magazine that maurice had been reading, one they had secured from bob archiable, the itinerant clock mender, when aboard his floating home. "i remember now that when i went to see poor old the at the hospital, when they sent for me, he told me that he wanted me to have the tramp for my own. then he started to say something more, but began to choke so he could hardly breathe. the nurse tried to ease him, but he died right there before me. i've never forgot how mournful like he looked at me. i always thought the old man was trying to tell me something more. and now i believe it was this!" "that's right, old fellow. but let's look into the book. i see it has lots of writing in it, and perhaps we'll get a clue that way." the book proved to be a rude sort of a diary, in which the river fisherman kept an account of the various little matters which concerned his rather monotonous life. now and then, however, there were references to his expectation of realizing some long anticipated pleasure; and the name of "bunny" began to appear frequently. "what do you make of it?" asked thad, after they had read for half an hour; he relied upon the sagacity of his companion to solve what was proving a puzzle to him. "why, it seems to me that bunny must have been some one dear to the old man. i kind of think it was a daughter who married and went down the river some time or other; for his thoughts seem to have always been bent on that coming trip away down in dixie, when he grew too old to fish alone. but go on and read some more. i reckon we'll catch on sure before the end." maurice settled himself more comfortably to listen. "sounds good to me, what you say; and that's about my mind, too," observed the one who had discovered the treasure-trove, as he once more turned to the soiled diary to continue reading what the former owner of the shanty-boat had written, in his crabbed hand. "here it is, at last; just listen," he exclaimed, fully ten minutes afterward, and then he went on: "i met a man today that had just come up from down-river way. and he knows george stormway well. he told me bunny was getting on right well, and had three children. last time i heard there wa'nt but two mouths to feed. but he said george was laid up sometimes with the shakes, and money mighty scarce in their cabin. time about for old the to make up his mind to just drop in on bunny, and surprise her. if i live to fall that's what i'm going to do, sure. i reckon if i left here in october i'd bring up at morehead sometime about the end of november. but it'll be a long wait till then. as i get older i seem to want to see the gal and her kids more'n more," maurice looked at thad, and perhaps there was a suspicious moisture in his eyes as he winked violently several times. "the poor old chap never hung out, thad. if he had he would be on board this boat right now, carrying his little treasure down to his bunny, to give her a surprise. that was a tough deal all right," he said, reaching out his hand for the charts they had secured of the lower mississippi. "what's up?" asked the other and his voice was rather husky, so that he had to cough several times to clear it. "why, d'ye know, i was wondering where that place might be. i don't remember having noticed it; and p'raps it is too small to be put on the map." thad went on reading in the diary, while his chum placed a forefinger on the chart, and ran it slowly down. "here's where we are, right now," he was saying, half to himself; "and down below-well, i declare, if that ain't the queerest thing. what d'ye think, thad, we must be only a day's run, above morehead. it's on the map all right, even if it is only a wood station, where the river steamers stop to load up!" thad had to examine the location to make sure, and all the while he was saying eagerly: "it's just like all this happened on purpose, maurice--my wanting that trap so bad, and not finding it, and then looking in the hole in the side of the cabin, to strike this! i reckon old the's spirit must have been pushing me along; and maurice, there ain't but one thing for us to do now." "yes," said the other, nodding his head with determination; "this money don't belong to us. bunny needs it, and bunny's going to get it, if we can find her out!" "shake on that, pard maurice. i knew you'd say it!" cried thad. and then and there they ratified the bargain with a grip that stood for everything that was loyal and true. chapter xiii the face at the window. "what else did you find in what he wrote?" asked maurice, after they had dropped each other's hand again. "nothing much. he keeps mentioning bunny often, showing that she was getting more'n more on his mind. and twice he speaks about me, and how much he had come to think of me. i'm glad to read that. here he even wonders if i'd like to go down river with him in the fall. ain't it a queer world, after all, maurice? just to think how things come around; for here we are right near the place poor old the wanted to visit, and carrying his little pile to bunny?" "nothing else worth telling?" asked the other. "he speaks here about feeling bad, and hopes it ain't his old trouble springing back on him again. then the writing stops. i reckon he was taken sick about that time. i tried to nurse him, you know; but when he went out of his head i got scared, and ran for a doctor. then they took him away to that fine hospital at evansville, because he used to live there. after that it ended right soon." "well, i guess the best thing for us to do would be to hide the book and the money where you found it. all these months it's stayed in that black hole safe, and it can stand another day or so." so, taking the advice of maurice, thad had placed the bills once more between the pages of the diary, which he carefully pushed into its former hiding place. "perhaps bunny'll be glad to have his book, too. if she's his girl she'd like to read what he said about her," suggested maurice. "that's so," replied the other, getting up from his knees. maurice saw him look up instinctively toward the little window; and then spring hastily to his feet. at the same moment he thought he heard some sound outside, as if a floating object had struck against the anchored shanty-boat. it might be a log, as frequently happened, for there were many such drifting on the surface of the big river, washed from the banks above by some local flood. thad, without wasting any time in thought, sprang to the door. this had a faculty of catching sometimes, and requiring more or less labor before it could be thrown open; and of course it had to play thad such a trick just then, when he seemed so desirous of making haste. maurice, seeming to scent trouble of some sort from the strange actions of his chum, waited to snatch up the old faithful marlin twelve-bore. it had seen them through other scrapes, and might come in handy again. finally, after considerable exertion, thad managed to open the stubborn door, after which he rushed out on deck, followed by his mate and the barking dixie. "what'd you think you saw?" demanded maurice, as he discovered by the light of the moon that the deck was devoid of anything in the way of peril. "a face at the window! some man was aboard i oh! i wonder if he saw me put that book away?" exclaimed the excited thad. "but where is he now?" and the speaker glanced toward the shore, which was a good twenty feet away, the gap being far too wide to allow of any man jumping it. "there's something moving away below there in the shadow of the trees on the water!" exclaimed thad. "a log, p'raps," remarked the other, carelessly. "but i did see a face, i'm sure of it; and if it was a man he just jumped into his skiff and put off before i could get out. i wish i knew for sure." thad made a move toward the little dinghy which lay upon the deck, fastened with a chain and padlock, so that it could not be stolen by any light-fingered coon. "hold on there, none of that. let me catch you chasing down-river after an unknown man in a skiff. why, he'd just as like as not upset you if you accused him of boarding our boat. settle down and try to forget it all. i reckon it was only imagination after all." but thad continued to shake his head, and declare that he did not believe his eyes could play him such a trick. "if it was a man, maurice, and he once saw all that money, why he'd come back again to try and steal it," he said, solemnly. "oh, i guess not," laughed his chum, holding up the gun in a suggestive way; "at least not as long as we could defend our property with this bully old shooter. but better make up your mind it was a log, and let it go at that." "wish i could," grumbled thad, shaking that stubborn head: of his. "well, how about that trapping expedition--plenty of steel in sight, and a nice fat young ringtail would be just the boss dish tomorrow. anything doing?" so thad once more consented to drop the engrossing subject of old the badgeley's treasure-trove, and pay attention to the matter of supplying their scanty larder with meat. "nothing to hinder my setting the whole outfit on the bank yonder, is there?" he demanded, entering the lighted cabin again, and thinking how snug it seemed after a short time on the cold deck. "i don't reckon there is, chum thad. if one 'possum is good, two ought to some better, and as for three, oh! my!" and he smacked his lips as if in joy over the prospect of a feast. accordingly thad carried out his plan. with some dripping from fried bacon he greased each trap until the jaws worked readily. then he went ashore in the little tender, bearing the lantern in order to make sure of his work. maurice sat there and watched the shore. there was no reason why he should fondle his gun all the while, but he persisted in doing so; which might be taken as an indication that the words of his companion had made a deeper impression on the scoffer than he would admit. in half an hour thad came aboard again, with cold fingers, but a satisfied air. "it's only a question of how many," he observed, as he once more fastened the dinghy with the chain and lock. "all right then. i'm going to make up my mouth for fat pig tomorrow, and look out for squalls if you disappoint me," and maurice, as he spoke, led the way inside. thad was very particular how he saw to the fastenings of the door, an operation his chum watched with many a chuckle. "say, if he has as poor luck opening doors as some people i know, he never would get in here without arousing the dead; get that, thad?" "well, you never can tell about doors. just when you want them to open smart like, they won't budge. then, when you'd like the pesky old thing to hang fire she slides open just like the track was greased with mutton tallow. i'm one of the kind that likes to make sure!" "oh! i reckon you are right. anyhow, we used to write in school that it's no use locking the stable door after the horse is stolen. but looky here, do you know it's turning-in time--ten o'clock as near as i can tell. me for the bunk, right quick!" thad sat there for some little time after his chum had crawled into his comfortable, if cramped nest. finally he, too, began to get ready to retire. on these cold nights the boys only partly undressed. they did not have any too many blankets or comfortables, and it did get mighty dreary in the cabin after the fire went out, with the wind sweeping over that wide stretch of flowing water that came out of the wintry north. but before thad put out the lantern, he placed it just where he could lay his hand on it at a second's notice and also made sure to have matches handy. nor was that all. he quietly picked up the old marlin, and deposited it alongside his bunk. then came darkness, as he blew out the light. thad heard a sound not unlike a chuckle from the opposite bunk; but although he imagined his comrade was laughing at all his preparations for trouble, the fact did not give him much concern. when his mind was made up nothing could turn thad aside. no doubt he woke up at regular intervals during that night, and rising to his elbow listened eagerly to the various sounds coming from without. the little window was well within the range of his vision, and as the moon shone brilliantly without he could see its entire dimensions plainly. but long ago an iron bar had been fastened across the exact center of the opening, since the former owner of the shanty-boat did not enjoy the thought that roving boys might enter and pillage while he was on his route, peddling the buffalo fish he caught. it would have to be a pretty small individual who could force his way through that window; and yet thad's fears induced him to observe it with considerable apprehension. but the night passed without any alarm. if strangers landed on the deck of the shanty-boat while the young owners slept, they failed to make their presence known. morning came at last. both boys were early astir, as was their custom; the coming of daylight served to lure them from their bunks; and indeed on many occasions they would have been getting breakfast before, only that there was need of husbanding their scanty stock of oil. maurice, knowing that his chum was eager to learn whether any spoils had fallen to his traps, volunteered to cook the limited morning meal, while thad paddled ashore. he was almost through, and the coffee was giving a most appetizing odor to the surrounding air, when the trapper came paddling out. maurice watched operations with more or less interest. first of all thad threw the traps aboard, trying to look disappointed while so doing. "oh! come off, you!" cried his chum, who could see that there was something assumed in the actions of the returned sportsman; "think i don't just glimpse a tail like a round file sticking up over the gunnel? just as you said last night, it's only a question of how many." "one!" said thad, as he tossed a young 'possum on deck. "but that tail is still there!" cried his comrade. "two!" "my! you make my mouth water some. that tail--" "three, and that takes your old tail. now, what d'ye say to that for good hick. ain't we going to live high for a while? i don't suppose you happened to see anything suspicious around?" and thad, as he spoke, handed up the gun which he had made sure to carry with him "in case any more vicious dogs chanced to be roaming near by," he had explained at the time he departed. "why, no, of course not; but what makes you ask such a silly question as that, thad?" "silly it may be, but i give you my word i heard a man cough just as i climbed into the dinghy," asserted thad. but maurice only smiled. truth to tell he felt positive that there had been nothing to the scare of the preceding night. surely the ordinarily alert dixie must have barked had any stranger been moving about on the deck while they sat in the cabin. they were soon busy at the table. on the preceding day they had been fortunate enough to buy a loaf of bread from a woman on a canal-boat that was tied to the bank, her husband being temporarily employed at some work on shore. butter they had none, but the sharp appetites for which the outdoor life was responsible, craved none, and things tasted good at all times; the only anxiety that arose was in connection of quantity. "wood's mighty low, and as there's a chance of bad weather today, after that red in the sky this morning, i move we lay in a stock while we have the chance." "second the motion," quickly added thad. "all right. i'll rig up our endless carry then, while you clear the table, after you get enough to eat," and maurice went out on the deck, where he could be heard working with the little tender. thad looked after him, and scratched his head. then he did a most extraordinary thing, which was nothing more or less than reaching down and taking the packet from the hole in the wall, stripping the cover from the book, and wrapping up a piece of wood in its place. then he thrust the deception in the hole, and after a look about him hid the diary, with its precious contents, inside the coffeepot, which he had emptied of its contents, and cleaned. perhaps he was playing a practical joke on his chum; but his face was too sober to indicate this. the probability was that thad felt uneasy, and as both of them were apt to be away from the craft at the same time, in the process of wood gathering, he intended to make things as secure as possible during his absence. which was conclusive evidence that at least he had not changed his mind concerning the fact of a human face having been pressed against that little window on the previous night. chapter xiv. "morehead--or bust!" when thad came out he found that his comrade had gone ashore, taking the ax with him. indeed, the sound of lusty blows told that he was already hard at work, securing a supply of the necessary fuel. thad shut the door of the cabin. he would have locked it, no doubt, only that it happened maurice had the key in his pocket just then. so thad shrugged his shoulders, and dragging the little ferry-boat over the twenty feet of water he pulled himself ashore. it was easy to locate the chopper by the sounds that arose; and so he soon joined his mate, ready to spell him in the labor entailed by the necessity for fuel. the wood burned so quickly, with a strong draught always causing the stove to roar, that large quantities of fuel were absolutely necessary. both boys handled an ax first-rate, and indeed, thad could equal many an experienced woodsman in the accuracy of his strokes; while maurice was not far behind him. when the chance came, and maurice stopped for a breathing spell, the second relay came into action; and once more the chips flew as the fallen oak branches were cut into stove lengths. by the time it came thad's turn again to rest he wandered off, much to the amusement of maurice, who knew whither his thoughts must be roving. just as he swung the ax above his head for a downward stroke he received an electric shock. thad was calling his name, calling in an excited tone, too, as if there was dire need of the other's presence. "bring the gun! bring the gun!" that seemed to be the tenor of the shouts; and as he dropped his tool maurice swooped up the marlin, which was standing against an adjoining tree, and jumped for the river bank. he knew that whatever had happened thad wanted him at the water's edge; and it was in that direction he hastened as fast as his legs could carry him. twice in his haste he fell down, tripping over trailing vines; for the continued shouts of his chum startled him. and when he burst out of the thicket, to stand on the river bank, close to where thad was yelling, this was what he saw: a row-boat was speeding down the river, urged on by the lusty movements of a red-headed man who was sitting in it; thad danced about on the deck of the swamp, pointing after the fleeing party, and calling on maurice to "give him both barrels, the thief!" but maurice knew that it was useless, since the other was by this time out of range, and the gun contained only small shot. nevertheless, urged on by the frantic appeals of thad he did level the marlin, and bang away, though he saw the man duck down before the reports came. after the bombardment was over the redhead again poked into view, and the fugitive made a movement with his hand to indicate his poor opinion of such useless business. maurice, fearing the worst, began to drag the boat in to shore. dixie, having been drawn from his prowling around in search of game by the shouts and shots, leaped in even before the little dinghy had reached the bank. by the time maurice climbed out on the deck thad seemed to have recovered from his excitement to some extent. "didn't i tell you i saw a face, and wasn't it a sorrel-top, too? mebbe you'll believe me next time, my boy," he said, impressively. "where was he, and what was he doing?" demanded maurice, showing signs of alarm, and looking a bit weak as he contemplated the grave consequences that might follow this raid. "in the cabin, of course, and making himself at home. he had his boat on the other side there, so i never suspected anything wrong till he dashed out, jumped into it, and pulled like everything." "were you on board then?" asked maurice. "just climbing on deck when he came jumping out like a whirlwind." "perhaps you disturbed him in his game then?" suggested maurice making a bee-line for the open door. when a few seconds later the other followed him it was to see maurice on hands and knees before the little opening in the wall of the cabin, thrusting in his arm as far as he could. "oh! thad, it's gone--the thief got away with poor bunny's money!" he was exclaiming, his voice full of horror. "well, he would have hooked it, only for something i did that you'd have called silly if you'd seen me!" and with this complacent remark thad coolly walked over to the shelf where some of their cooking utensils stood, took down the battered old coffeepot, and throwing back the lid, thrust his hand inside. the astonished eyes of his mate followed each little proceeding with rare interest; and when maurice saw the well remembered diary of old appear, which being opened disclosed the lovely yellowbacks nestling within, he gave a shout twice repeated, while he swung his hat around his head. "bully for you, thad! i take it all back, every word! it surely does pay to be cautious, even if people call you an old woman. only for that he might have found the money; and then how mean we'd feel. tell me what you did. he acted like he was satisfied he'd done a big thing." "well, perhaps he knows better now, if he's had time to tear open the package i put in place of this book; for it was a nice fat sliver of wood!" laughed thad. thereupon maurice grappled him with a bear-like hug, and waltzed him out on deck, to the intense delight of dixie, who seemed to think all this demonstration must be for his benefit, for he set up a furious barking and snapped at the heels of the dancing boys. when they went ashore again things were left differently. the cabin door was locked, with dixie inside. they could depend on his snappy barking to give warning of any uninvited guest aboard. but the wood-cutting proceeded without further alarm. true, thad was so nervous over the matter that he insisted on carrying what fuel they had cut down to the dinghy every little while, just so he could call out to the yellow cur, and have him give a reassuring bark. and finally the several loads had been safely ferried across the watery gap, so that the cruisers were ready to start moving. the anchor was raised by means of a primitive but effective derrick maurice had devised. this he also made use of in handling the square fish net which could be dropped over the side, baited, and then lifted half an hour later, with more or less generous results. of course this method of fishing was only to be enjoyed while they were at anchor. it is in general use along the ohio river; and indeed, maurice had even seen pictures of the same thing in the magazine lying on the table, and which illustrated queer doings far off in uncle sam's philippine possessions. once again they were floating southward, with a moving panorama of shore to interest them. maurice was figuring on the swiftness of the current, just how many miles an hour it ran at this point, and when they were likely to bring up at morehead. "i think we ought to make it by sun-down, thad," he finally announced, after finishing his complicated calculations. "you make me feel good, partner, when you say that," returned his chum, who was handling the sweep and keeping the boat a certain distance from the shore, where they could get the full benefit of the current without taking undue risks of being swept out on the broad bosom of the majestic river. "yes, i know what's on your mind. you'd like to get rid of our responsibility, and hand that packet over to bunny," remarked maurice. "wonder what she's like; sounds as if she might be a little girl; but that couldn't be, for she was his daughter," thad said. "yes, and has three kids, the book said. oh! that must have been a pet name for her when she was little. the chances are well find her a strapping big woman, something like that one we bought our last loaf of bread from." "well, she won't take after her pa then, that's all, maurice." "why, was he small," asked the other. "i always thought so, for a man; not quite as tall as i am; and with a voice like a lady's. i liked old the; and i wish he had only lived long enough to deliver his own money to bunny," thad went on. "i was wondering where that fellow came from, thad." "who, our visitor of last night and this morning? oh! i suppose he's got a shack somewhere below here, and was on the way home from an up-river town when he sighted our craft, and crept aboard to see if there was anything he could pick up." "that's about the right thing. say, i bet he was hopping mad when he tore open that package, and saw what he had drawn in the lottery, eh, thad?" "mad would never fill the bill. i hope he don't wait up for us, and give us a shot or two wlien we sail past his cabin. i'd hate the worst kind to have my skin filled with shot; and nobody could ever prove who did it. that's one reason why i've steered further away from the bank than we generally keep, you notice, maurice," "well, that's level old head on your shoulders, my boy. the fellow who gets you napping will have to tumble out of bed right early in the morning, i reckon," laughed maurice, patting his chum patronizingly on the shoulders. "and i keep one eye on the shore, too, pretty much all the time. just let me see anybody moving, and i'm ready to drop flat till the storm rolls by. what's that over there right now, maurice?" he pointed with quivering finger at some object that seemed to be bending down the bushes on a certain projecting point which they happened to be approaching. "don't worry; it's all right. that is only a cow, for you can see her horns from here, thad." "but seeing horns sometimes spells trouble. they say the devil mounts a fine pair, you know. a cow, maurice, means human kind near by; that stands for a cabin; and how do we know but what our sorrel-top friend of this morning owns the ranch. just lie down behind that box, or go into the cabin till we drift past. i'll feel easier when we leave the thing a mile above." a hail from the shore presently came floating over the water; but it was a negro who called, and he only wanted to know if they had any coffee they would spare him. since their entire stock amounted to just enough for a scant week, with meagre chances for replenishing the caddy when exhausted, since their funds were very low, of course they had to reply in the negative. the darky was inclined to be talkative, as is usually the case, and even followed them half a mile along the bank, trying to find some basis for a dicker. "thank goodness he can't cross that creek!" exclaimed maurice, as they passed the mouth of quite a good sized stream that flowed into the enormous river, adding its mite to the gigantic flood. the colored gentleman looked as though it would only require the least encouragement for him to step in and swim across; but as this was not forthcoming he waved his ebony arm in farewell and turned back again. thad breathed easier. nevertheless, for hours he continued to scan the shore-line ahead; and once, when some unseen hunter fired at some sort of game back from the river's edge, the sweep-tender was seen to duck his head mechanically, much to the amusement of his companion. the day grew old, and they had made uninterrupted progress, not even stopping for the midday meal. while thad held the long oar his mate slung some sort of a hot meal together, which satisfied their voracious appetites and warmed them as well. "where's your storm?" asked thad, about the middle of the afternoon, as he glanced up at the sky. "here, you're squinting in the wrong direction, man. suppose you look to the southward, a little veering toward the west. don't you glimpse some dark clouds there?" "of course," thad agreed; "but that's a poor sign. why, you can nearly always see some clouds hanging low down there. it's been getting warmed right smart. that sun feels almost hot to me." "that's a pretty good sign of rain, that seldom fails. but what do we care! our roof don't leak, thad!" "no, but it will be tough if the downpour comes just when we want to look for george stormways and bunny. i suppose, though, we could tie up at morehead and wait till it passes by." "hope we haven't passed it already," said maurice, looking serious. "oh! i don't think that could be possible, do you? if the place is big enough to get marked on the chart, it ought to be of a size for two fellows to see it in passing. and the two landings we did notice were other settlements, for we asked their names. one man said morehead was below a piece. i'm expecting to see it soon." "suppose we don't till dark?" remarked thad, always on the lookout for trouble. "what are you going to do then?" "keep right along, sonny, until we see lights, when we can push in and tie up. it's morehead or bust!" "all right, you're the skipper, i told you, maurice. the cook has ideas of his own, but he ain't going to run counter of an experienced navigator like the boss. but i hope we come across that station before dark. you know the moon don't rise till about nine now; so we can count on several hours of black sailing." thad said no more, neither did his comrade make any attempt to continue the argument; for both of them were still hoping that morehead would consent to show up inside of another hour. but for some reason distances seemed unduly lengthened on this particular day, and the gloaming swooped down upon them with the coveted goal still undiscovered ahead. maurice was grimly set upon keeping his word. as a usual thing they discouraged night traveling on the great river, because of the aggravated perils involved; but this was a case that was out of the common. thad went in to look after the wood fire, and wrestle with the problem of what to have with the baked 'possum, that had been cooking much of the afternoon. there were no sweet potatoes now, since the last one had been devoured on the preceding day; so after mature thought the cook was compelled to put on some "grits," as they fortunately still had quite a little stock of this famous southern staple, which in the north goes by the name of hominy alone. he hoped that by the time supper was ready they might have reached their haven; either that, or the determination of maurice to keep moving have suffered a change. if it were otherwise they must eat one at a time, while the other attended to the sweep, and kept watch and ward. he had things pretty well along when a welcome shout from the pilot outside came to his ears. "what ho?" asked thad, as he thrust his head out of the cabin door. "lights ahead on the shore, and i reckon we must be close on that old morehead," returned maurice. "i can hear roustabouts chanting," said the cook, as he bent his ear; "and i bet you that's a steamboat getting wood aboard." "wouldn't be surprised. if it is, then that place is morehead. perhaps this george stormways may be in charge of the woodyard. anyhow i reckon we're going to learn something about him here; and now you see that my idea of keeping right along drifting was the correct one after all." "i suppose so. i hope the steamer don't take a notion to move off while we're passing. i wouldn't like to take the responsibility of ramming and sinking her, you know, maurice." "get in nearer the shore, and we'll drop anchor above the landing. if we do that we needn't worry, because you see she's bound to lean away from land when she starts. that's the ticket. get in the push!" thad had picked up the pole with which they were able in shallow water to urge the shanty-boat toward the shore; he could reach bottom easily, and under his efforts, as well as the swing of the current, and the inclination of the sweep, the tramp soon gained an offing in water that was not more than three feet in depth. the two boys could easily see the exciting scene as a line of black ran on board the steam-boat, each carrying two or more sticks of wood on his head, and keeping rhythmic time to the droning chant which every man joined in. lanterns and blazing torches made of fat pine knots lit up the weird scene; and taking it in all, they would not have missed it for considerable. "there goes the pilot's bell--they're off!" exclaimed maurice, as the line ceased pouring over the guards of the steamboat; then came a loud and hoarse whistle, after which steam began to hiss and the stern wheel to churn the waters of the mighty mississippi. "now it's our turn," laughed maurice, prepared to drop down to the landing, where a fire burned and threw a glare around. chapter xv. thad gets a shock. the arrival of the little tramp did not create anything like the commotion which marked the landing of the big stern-wheel river steam-boat. a few darkies idling on the shore drew near, filled with curiosity when they discovered that only two boys comprised the crew of the floating craft; and dixie barked strenuously at them, as if to let the community know that while the shanty-boat failed to possess a whistle, it was not without some means of announcing its arrival. thad threw a rope ashore to one of these blacks, who whipped it about a post, and the boat presently lay alongside the landing. "you go ashore and ask questions." it was thad who said this, because he knew his chum was so much better able to probe things than himself. "all right," replied maurice, readily, "and you can look after the boat; though likely enough none of these fellows will try to run away with it." "well, i don't mean to give them half a chance. just think what would become of us if such a thing happened. we'd have to go to work on a cotton plantation, sure, to make money enough to get further along. i've got the good old marlin handy, maurice, and just let any thief try to come aboard, that's all. i'll pepper his hide for him, and salt it in the bargain," declared thad, resolutely. "i believe you would, boy," laughed his comrade, as he stepped from the deck to the shore. he had already noted that morehead did not appear to be much of a place. indeed, beyond the piles of cordwood, and a few scattered cabins, there did not seem to be anything of a settlement. "only excuse it has for being on the map is that some steamers find it convenient to stop and wood up here. that woodyard is the whole thing," thought maurice. he turned upon the negro who had whipped the cable around the post in an obliging way. "where can i find the man who runs the woodyard?" he asked. "'deed, i reckon he am in hees store dar, boss," came the reply. "a store, eh? where is it situated?" continued maurice, bent on following up the clue. "see dat flare up yander--dat am de light in de windy. mars kim he keep gen'ral 'sortment ob goods. on'y place to buy grits in ten mile," observed the other, pointing. "what is his name?" asked the boy, deeming it only right that he should be fully armed with this much information before starting in to interview the other. "mars kim, fuh sho'! dat's wat we allers calls him, boss. reckons, as how yuh haint gut sech a ting as some terbaccy 'bout yuh, now? i'se done clean out." maurice shook his head in the negative. "i'm sorry, but you see, i don't smoke," he remarked. he would have willingly tossed the moke a nickel for his readiness to assist them; but truth to tell, even such small coin happened to be at a premium with the voyagers just then--although they carried a small fortune in yellowbacks, not for worlds would they think of making use of a single bill for their own benefit--it was a sacred trust in their eyes. he strode over to the building where the brilliant light in the window announced headquarters. closer investigation disclosed the fact that the glow was caused by an acetylene lamp which piece of enterprise doubtless caused the storekeeper to assume a high place in the estimation of the lazy negroes, and shiftless "white trash" of the neighborhood. it was a general country store. maurice had seen many such, though, as this one happened to be at a point much further south than the others, it doubtless contained features that stamped it unique in his eyes. but they had no money to spend in groceries just then; and it was an entirely different errand that caused him to venture into the establishment. over the door he noticed a sign which he was just able to read. it at least gave him the name of the proprietor. store, and office of woodyard. kim. stallings, prop. a gawky clerk, undoubtedly of the "cracker" persuasion, was waiting on several dusky customers, and vainly endeavoring to keep them in a clump, as if he feared to let the bunch scatter, lest certain unprotected articles vanish with their departure. looking further maurice discovered that over in one quarter there seemed to be a sort of enclosure, over which was the significant notice "p. o." he could see that some one was behind the gaudy brass grillwork; and believing that this was likely to be the proprietor, engaged in entering upon his books that late delivery of cordwood to the steamboat, the boy moved that way. as he stood there in front of the little opening the man beyond looked up. he seemed surprised to see a stranger. "evenin', sah. what can i do foh you?" he asked politely, upon discovering that it was a white person. "is this mr. stallings?" asked maurice. "yes, sah, that is my name," replied the other, curiously. "i have just come off a shanty-boat that is tied up here. i have a chum with me on the boat. we want to find a man by the name of george stormways. can you tell me if he happens to live near by?" "huh!" the owner of the woodyard and country store bent forward still more and took a closer look at the speaker. it seemed to maurice as though mr. stallings had suddenly become more deeply interested in the personality of the stranger, though he could not give even a guess just why that should be so. "george stormways," repeated maurice, slowly and deliberately, as though he wanted the other to fully understand. "why, yes he gits his mail hyah, sah; leastways, he allers used tuh come hyah tuh trade, when he had any money. george worked foh me a long spell, till the shakes knocked him out," said the other, finally. maurice had been studying the man. he believed he could see honesty in his thin sallow face, but hesitated to say anything about the real motive that influenced himself and chum to stop in order to hunt up george stormways. such a secret had better be confined to as few persons as possible. still, that would not prevent him from saying that he had some good news for the man he sought. "how far away from the landing does he live, mr. stallings?" he asked, promptly. "reckons as how it air all o' fo' mile, sah. an' in the present disturbed condition o' the country, mebbe, sah, it would be wise foh you to defer yuh visit thah to mawnin'," came the reply. "i reckon we'll have to, sir, if we can tie up below the landing without getting in the way. we want to see george and his wife the worst kind, and couldn't think of going on down the river without making a big effort to do so. yes, we'll spend a day at morehead, and get acquainted. i only wish we were better supplied with cash, so we might trade with you; but just now it happens we're on rock bottom." the other seemed to be fairly consumed by curiosity. never before had he known such a bright lad to be drifting south on a shantyboat. usually those aboard such craft were seasoned river travelers, men who lived on the water, "mississippi tramps," as they are called, some of whom might be honest, though he judged the entire lot by the character of a few, and they the worst. but here was a bright, wide-awake boy, with a face that somehow interested him, despite his inborn suspicion. "what did yuh say yuh name might be, sah?" he asked. "i didn't happen to mention it, but it is maurice pemberton. we are both natives of kentucky, and on the way to new orleans to meet my uncle, who is captain of a big steamer, due there in february." "would yuh please step around to the side, an' oblige me by coming in hyah. seems like i feel an interest in yuh-all, and if yuh felt like tellin' me the story i'd be obliged." maurice was only too willing to oblige. at the same time he continued to hold to his resolution to handle the subject of the money with due caution. mr. stallings was undoubtedly perfectly trustworthy; but the information might get afoot, and cause trouble. of course he could not decline to make a friend of the storekeeper, who had taken an interest in the voyage of the little tramp. maurice was only a boy, but he knew that one could never have too many friends in this world. so he followed directions, and was speedily seated alongside kim. stallings, telling him all about how the voyage happened to begin. the man became greatly interested as he proceeded and read the wonderful letter from uncle ambrose with kindling eyes. "glad yuh stopped in hyah, maurice; glad tuh have met up with yuh; and if so be yuh are short with cash, i wouldn't mind trustin' yuh foh some grits and such like. i reckons sho' yuh'd send the money aftah yuh met with this uncle. so don't yuh go tuh worryin' 'bout gettin' on short rations, my boy," remarked kim. stallings, after he had talked with the other for some little time. "that's awful fine of you to say so, mr. stalling. perhaps we'll take you up, though my chum is against running in debt a cent. but we have a long trip ahead of us yet, and to stop over and go to work to earn money enough to buy grub might keep us from getting down to orleans in time to meet uncle ambrose." maurice insisted upon shaking the lean hand of the dixie storekeeper as he said this, an operation to which the other did not seem in the least averse. "but yuh said that yuh wanted to meet up with george stromway the wust kind," continued the man, kindly; "in the mawnin' i'll start yuh right. p'raps one o' his kids might be 'round tuh take yuh through the woods, and 'round the swamps, foh it's ticklish travelin' with a stranger, sah." "we have some good news for george," admitted the boy. "well, now, i'm glad tuh hyah that same. i reckon he needs it right bad around now. nawthin' ain't a gwine tuh do pore george any lastin' good till he pulls up stakes an' gits outen this low kentry. if he was only on a farm up on higher land i reckon the shakes'd give the critter the go-by. but george, he cain't never raise the money he'd have tuh put up, tuh rent a farm an' buy the stock foh it." "would it take very much?" queried maurice, trying to appear quite unconcerned, though he was really quivering with eagerness. the storekeeper looked at him and smiled, as though he could read the boy's face like a printed book. "oh! not so very much, sah. i done reckons as how a couple o' hundred'd do the trick; but that means a heap o' money tuh a pore feller like george. he done tole me a year back that some relative o' hisn up-nawth was a thinkin' o' comin' down with some cash, an' settin' o' him up on a farm; but it all seemed to blow over. he was nigh broke up about it, too, sah, i tell yuh." maurice could not hold in altogether. "it was his wife's father, old the. badgeley. my chum knew him well. he didn't come because he died. but he left something for his daughter. he called her bunny, and i don't even know her name," he said. "that sounds real good, sah; and i sure am glad tuh heah it. i've done all i could afford foh george; but he don't seem to hold out. many times he's kim back to work foh me, an' broke down. it'll be a godsend foh the pore feller, if so be he kin pull out. i'll see that you git a fair start in the mawnin' sah, i shore will." maurice began to fear that his chum might be growing anxious about him, so he got up to leave. "nothin' yuh-uns 'd like tuh have to-night?" inquired mr. stallings, as he shook hands warmly at parting. maurice smiled and shook his head. "there's lots we need," he said; "but i wouldn't dare think of accepting your kind offer without consulting thad. he's queer about running up debts. but in the morning we'll both see you again." so he said good night, and went out, resolutely shutting his eyes to the abundance of good things to eat that greeted him on every side. thad was eagerly waiting for him, and the other could see that he was brimming over with excitement. "say, if it wasn't for wanting to meet up with george so bad i'd be for dropping down river five miles, and giving this beastly old place the go-by," he said, as maurice came aboard. "why, what on earth is the matter?" asked the other, dismayed. "then you didn't hear anything about it, eh? i reckon it's such a common occurrence around this part of the country they don't think anything about it," continued thad, seriously. "why, whatever in the wide world are you talking about, son?" demanded maurice, greatly puzzled to account for this new evidence of timidity on the part of his friend, who, as a usual thing, had always seemed bold enough. "i don't like it so close, that's all. i bet you i dream of the thing tonight, and every time i look up it seems like my eyes always went straight there." he pointed up the bank. maurice followed his extended forefinger to a point just a little further along, where some trees stood. he could see some object that seemed to move to and fro like the exhausted pendulum of a clock. apparently it was suspended from a limb, and as maurice caught the true significance of what his chum meant, he felt a cold chill pass through his frame. "say, do you mean to tell me that is a man hanging there?" he asked; and if his voice took on a sudden hoarseness, it was not to be wondered at under the circumstances. "i just reckon it must be," returned thad, pleased to note that his comrade seemed just as filled with horror as he himself had been. "but do you know it is--did any of those coons tell you so?" persisted the other. "n-no, because, you see, maurice, i never noticed it when they were around. the moon, managed to climb up while you were gone; and then i just happened to see it. ugh! i've done mighty little else but stare at it ever since." "but perhaps you may be mistaken, thad." "sure; but don't forget that we're away down in dixie, now; where they hang a darky without bothering trying him, if so be he's shot a white man. and don't it look like it--tell me that, maurice?" went on the late guardian of the shanty boat. "oh! i admit that it does, all right. but if you think i'm going to let the whole night go by without investigating this thing, you're away off." maurice turned resolutely around as he spoke. "where are you going?" demanded his chum, nervously. "ashore again to see. if that is a man, i rather think mr. stalling would have said something to me about it; though now that i think of it he did hint that it wasn't altogether safe for a stranger to go wandering off into the woods and swamps right now. perhaps it's just as you say, and this is some black thief they caught. but i hope you're mistaken, thad." "i do, too, because you see i want some sleep tonight. but hold on." "what's the matter now?" asked the other, as thad caught his arm. "i'm going with you, that's all," and accordingly he stepped ashore, carrying the gun along with him. they approached the suspicious object with more or less display of valor; though doubtless the hearts of both lads beat like triphammers from the unwonted excitement. the moon, which had been partly hidden by some fleecy, low-lying clouds, now took a sudden notion to sail into a clear patch of blue sky; and in consequence objects could be much more readily seen. both lads strained their eyes to discover how much truth there might be in the grim suspicions of thad. not until they were close up to the strangely swaying object could they fully decide as to its character. then thad gave a grunt, while maurice laughed. "that's the way with most ghosts, thad; when you get close up they just turn out to be something awfully common and you feel sick to think what you imagined," remarked maurice, as he put up his hand and took hold of the swinging object. "say, who'd imagine now that they'd hang up an old bundle of wraps off goods, like this?" said thad, in disgust. "but you can sleep all right now," remarked his friend, not a little relieved himself to find that they were not up against one of those grim tragedies that have been so common through the country of the lower mississippi. "that's right. let's get back home. i want to hear what you picked up about george," declared thad, a little confused. and accordingly they once more went aboard the boat, seeking the comfortable interior of the cabin, where maurice could spin his yarn, and a council of war be called to decide on many matters. chapter xvi. the trouble that was met on the road. the night seemed unusually long to thad. they had locked the door of the cabin, and by this time he had come to the positive conclusion that no human being could ever climb in through the little window, as long as that stout iron bar remained across its center. nevertheless, half a dozen times thad awoke, and on each and every occasion he seemed to deem it a solemn duty to get out of his bunk, pass over to the window, which was, of course, open for ventilation, and observe the whole of the shore that could be seen. but the bright moonlight bathed the bank in its radiance, the soft night wind murmured among the trees, and possibly certain sounds, such as the hooting of owls, or the barking of some honest watchdog, disturbed the silence of the night, yet there was no cause for alarm. morning came at last. it had been decided that they might accept the kind offer of the storekeeper to a limited extent. they would be foolish to allow a scruple to stand in the way. besides, even as it was, they stood to run up against trouble below, from a shortage of provisions. so maurice went ashore, and, seeking the store, was cordially greeted by the proprietor. "made up yuh mind tuh trade with me, sah?" asked mr. stallings, as he thrust out his lean brown hand in greeting. "we have up to five dollars. my chum refuses to get any deeper in debt. and if you have no objections we'll carry off a slab of breakfast bacon and some grits right now," returned maurice. "right glad you settled it that way. i'd ben sorry tuh see yuh go on without some provisions, sah. pick out just what yuh want, an' i'll make a note o' it. but if so be ten dollars 'd seem better tuh yuh, don't hang back," went on the generous southerner. "i wouldn't dare go one cent beyond the five, or thad would be after my scalp. and he'll want to see the bill, too, depend on that." maurice quickly returned to the boat, bearing the bacon and grits; for without the same their breakfast would have been slim, indeed. afterward they locked the cabin, and both ventured over to the general store; for thad was determined that since the precious packet had to be delivered to george that morning, he was not going to let his chum have all the pleasure of bringing joy into the life of the poor family. "besides," he added, when making his plea, "who knows what trouble you might meet up with on the road? if the storekeeper hinted that it wasn't right safe for strangers to be wandering around, perhaps you might be held up by some thieves. two would be better than one if that happened, you know." maurice was well satisfied that it should be so; though he had not brought the subject forward, he hardly fancied the idea of taking that four mile jaunt and back, alone. besides, the possession of so much money was apt to arouse fears that might never have occurred to him otherwise. so he had readily assented to the proposition of his chum. mr. stallings was pleased to meet the second lad; and thad quite took to the southern storekeeper and woodyard proprietor at sight. they remained long enough to get full directions concerning the road that would bring them to the desolate little home of george. "i'd advise yuh tuh keep an eye out along the swamp, boys. they's a few bad coons somewhar in that thar place. the sheriff he 'lows tuh git 'em right soon, an' any day weuns hyah 'spect tuh see 'im drift in wid some prisoners. i heard as how he had collected his posse three days back. keep that gun right handy, son; an' if so be yuh have tuh shoot, make her tell!" all of which might be interesting news; but it was hardly calculated to quiet the nerves of the two boys. however, they were not the kind to give up any cherished object simply because it involved peril. "thank you, mr. stallings. you said you'd keep an eye on our boat while we were gone, didn't you? it isn't much of a beauty, but you see it's all we've got; and we calculate that it'll just have to carry both of us to orleans," remarked maurice, as they started away. "don't yuh think of any harm acomin' tuh the boat, sah. i'll give yuh my word they wont. and if so be yuh choose tuh stay over night, i'll use the key yuh left with me, an' put a man inside tuh keep guard, a man who would as soon shoot a thief as eat his bacon." so the two chums started off. the morning was delightfully fresh, with the sun shining overhead, and just a tank of frost in the air, enough to make them tramp along with a spring to their steps. but before they had gone beyond the last cabin thad gave utterance to an ejaculation of dismay. "what's the matter now; forgot something? hope the marlin is loaded, and you picked up a few more shells for your pocket?" said his comrade, as they both stopped short. "oh, sure, i saw to all that. it's a different matter," mumbled thad, who seemed to be staring hard at something to one side. turning, maurice discovered a tumble-down shack, around which several dirty white children were playing. "what is it?" he asked; "didn't think you saw a ghost, again, eh?" thad shook his head. "nope. this was a live ghost, i reckon. and he had a fiery red-top in the bargain," he said positively. immediately maurice understood what ailed him. "a man with a red head of hair; and you think it might be the same fellow that tried to rob us yesterday up-river? is that it?" "sure it is," replied thad. "but you know there are lots of men with red hair?" protested his comrade. "yes, but not with that nasty laugh. you heard it when he paddled away, thinkin' he had the stuff; and i heard him give the same kind of laugh just when he dodged into that shack." "he did, eh? funny i didn't happen to hear it. what made him laugh this time, d'ye suppose, thad?" "ask me something easy, will you? p'raps he was tickled to see old friends again. then, again, mebbe the notion struck him that after all the fish that got away the other time was comin' straight into his net. all i know is he laughed; and that it's the same critter!" when thad was positive it took mountains to change his opinion. but then maurice did not see that there was anything improbable in the idea, since the thief who had visited them had rowed down river, and just as likely as not had his home at morehead. "well, come along, pard. even if it is our old acquaintance, he'd better think twice before trying to hold us up," he remarked, giving a pull at the other's sleeve. "but he knows what we've got along. he may tell some others just as tough as himself; and how could we hold up our end if half a dozen tackled us?" grumbled thad, as he stalked along at the side of his chum. "shall we go back, then?" asked the other. "nixy. i don't care if there's a dozen coming, we're going to get to george all right. you hear me, maurice." "that's the right way to speak. but, after all, perhaps we won't have the least bit of trouble. didn't you hear mr. stallings say the sheriff was abroad with a posse, looking for rascals. strikes me that this wouldn't be a good time for our friend to try any of his tricks. they use a rope down here for a remedy. jails are played out. there's no need of bothering any, thad." so they walked briskly along the road, which was, after all, not much of a thoroughfare, and required close watching lest they stray away and lose themselves. but the storekeeper had given plain directions, so that with proper diligence they should not have any trouble about keeping along the right path. although thad had appeared to agree with his chum that there was no need for worry, it might be noticed that he let maurice do most of the looking for the right signs that were to safeguard their course. on his part he felt that necessity demanded that he twist his head just one in so often and scan the rear. maurice knew what he was doing, but made no complaint. indeed, in secret, he was almost as anxious as thad, even though he had not seen the man with the red head with his own eyes; and had tried to laugh at the idea of his being the same scoundrel who had tried to rob the shanty-boat further up the river. after they had placed morehead landing some distance in the rear they found themselves in a very lonely place, indeed. evidently they must be approaching the swamp spoken of by the friendly storekeeper. here and there they could see trailing streamers of spanish moss clinging to the branches of the trees; and the further they went the more desolate their surroundings became. "say, ain't it enough to give a feller the shivers?" observed thad, when an owl began to hoot in a mournful way back from the road. "i must say it doesn't seem to be particularly cheerful around this region. but we must be more'n half way there; and nothing's happened yet," returned maurice, stoutly. "there, what was that?" asked his chum, coming to a sudden stop. "where?" demanded maurice, who had taken his turn at carrying the gun; and as he spoke bringing it half way up to his shoulder, while his thumb played with one of the hammers. "i saw something moving ahead; sure i did!" declared thad, shaking that obstinate head of his the whole. "perhaps so, but that's not saying it was a man! did it have red hair, do you know, thad?" "there you go, maurice, always making fun of me. i didn't see any head, so i can't say; but it looked like a man creeping off." "right where, son?" "do you see that clump of bushes, the ones with the bully red leaves? well, it was close to them. it moved just when i happened to look that way. i give you my word, maurice." "all right. we'll find out quick enough, i reckon," remarked the other, with that decisive ring in his voice which thad knew so well. "now what are you goin' to do, pard? don't be too rash. remember what mr. stallings, said," and thad laid a restraining hand on his chum's arm. but maurice was not to be daunted. "fall in behind me, then. i'm going up to the bushes and see for myself what it was. ten to one it must have been a muskrat out of the swamp; or perhaps a fox, prowling around for his grub." he cocked both barrels of the marlin, and the act must have instilled new courage in the heart of thad, for he immediately removed his detaining hand. "all right, then; go ahead. if he jumps for you, poke the old gun in his face." he stooped down and secured possession of a stout cudgel himself, as though he felt inclined to back up his comrade after a fashion. in this manner they slowly approached the clump of bushes, where the frost had turned the leaves to rusty red color. maurice was on the alert for any sign of trouble. he even passed partly around the clump, without discovering anything to indicate the presence of an enemy. when he had made sure that the bushes did not conceal a lurking figure, he turned to thad with a grin. "went off in smoke, i reckon. a fellow who can see a hanging coon in a bundle of burlap strung up to a tree might imagine anything, it seems to me," he said a little sarcastically. thad looked somewhat sheepish. he allowed his head to droop, and shrugged his shoulders. "i did see something move, i tell you. it seemed to skip back out of sight, like it didn't want me to get my peepers on it," he said, with a conviction that would not be denied. "all right. i hear you; but please show me the animal or human being. i'm willing to be convinced, thad." the other started to smile. "i reckon i can't show you the thing that was here, maurice, but i might do the next best thing," he said, eagerly. "what's that--point out it's shadow?" jeered the other, still skeptical. "a smoke ghost don't leave any marks behind, does it?" "well, i don't know. i wouldn't like to say, since i never ran up against one. but why do you make that remark, brother?" "looky there!" thad dramatically pointed down at his feet as he spoke, and maurice, turning his gaze in that quarter, instantly saw something that caused him to draw in a quick breath and involuntarily clutch the gun with a gesture of alarm. there were plain marks on the ground, and even as inexperienced woodsmen as the two boys could easily see that these had undoubtedly been made by the big feet of a shuffling man! chapter xvii. an unexpected meeting. "he was here, all right!" said thad, in an awed tone, as he looked all around him. maurice took several steps forward, as if mechanically starting to follow the plain imprints of those big shoes. "hold on, there, pard; you wouldn't want to chase after that critter, now, would you? we haven't lost anybody, that i know about. the best thing for us is to keep right along the road, and mind our own business. ain't i right?" demanded thad. "i reckon you are, son; and don't think i was so silly as to try and follow that creeper. i'm not anxious to see him. come on, the quicker we get moving the better." with that maurice turned on his heel and started off. "i don't want him to get the notion in his head we're scared about it," he muttered; "but all the same i think we'd better shinny on our own side, and move along." "keep that gun ready for business, maurice," admonished the other, who flourished his stick in a belligerent way while bringing up the rear. "don't you fear about that, my friend. if anybody jumps out at us i'm ready to give him a warm reception!" maurice spoke aloud. it was his hope that if the man might be lingering near he would overhear the words, and take warning accordingly. they hurried along the dimly defined road. it must have been quite some time since vehicles used this, for the marks of wheels were in many places utterly obliterated by the rains of summer and fall. three times they really got off the trail; but fortunately their united vigilance told them of the fact before it was too late to remedy it easily. "must be getting near george's place," grunted thad, at last, for he was almost out of breath, what with their haste, and the necessity for keeping that head of his at all angles, so as to forestall any treachery on the part of the enemy, whom he felt sure must be dodging their trail all this time, waiting for a chance to get in a telling blow. "i'm afraid not. seems to me mr. stallings said it was nearly a mile past the swamp; and you see we've just got to the worst of that." "all right, then; keep hoofing it, pard. we've just made up our minds that we're going to see george at home, and nothing ain't going to stop us. get that?" declared thad. "just what i say. come on again, if you've caught your wind." again they pushed on. their surroundings seemed even more dreadful than ever; and maurice realized for the first time what a fearful place a swamp may seem, especially when danger is hovering about, and a hostile figure may spring out from behind any tree. even the sudden harsh cawing of a crow that sprang up from the ground and lodged on a branch startled thad; and when a rabbit bounded away through the brush alongside the road, maurice involuntarily threw his marlin half way up to his shoulder as though inclined to press the triggers. "i hope we left him behind," said thad, presently, when, for the fiftieth time, he turned his head to look. "but i don't believe we did," replied the other instantly. "see here, you found that other footprint; what d'ye think of this?" "he's been here ahead of us, as sure as you live. oh, look! that little twig jumped up into place right before my very eyes. don't you see what that means, maurice? he passed along here only a minute or so ahead of us. that twig didn't have time enough to get back to its position up to now. phew! perhaps he's laying for us further on." "well, what if he is? do we go on?" "well, i guess yes. let me carry the shooter now!" said thad, as he reached out his eager if trembling hand. "oh, no! what's the use changing? i'm as fresh as a daisy; and besides, that stick just fits your hand. i'll give him a scare if he tries to jump at us, never fear." "just as you say, maurice; only please don't get excited and fill me up with birdshot, instead of the thief." "no danger, if you keep where you belong, in the rear. there's some pretty suspicious looking trees ahead there, on both sides of the road. we want to watch close now, thad. once we get by here, i've a hunch the going may be better." "yes," said thad, whirling his shillalah around in a lively way, as a token of what he meant to do in case of an emergency. by the time they reached the spot where the trees joined branches across the dimly defined road both boys were in somewhat of a feverish state of apprehension. they looked at each hoary old trunk as if they believed every tree might conceal a crouching enemy, ready to leap out and attack them. yet, strange to say, neither of them once thought of craning their necks in order to survey what lay above. perhaps, had thad done so, he might have received more or less of a shock just about that time. "hark!" exclaimed maurice, pulling up. "that was a shout, wasn't it?" demanded his chum, his eyes seeking those of the other instantly. "i'm dead sure it was, and not an owl," replied maurice. "and it came from ahead there; didn't you think so?" "it certainly did. listen, there's more of the same kind. now what d'ye make of all that?" muttered maurice. "somebody's coming this way, for i can hear the sound of running. say, perhaps it's the coons he told us about, the outlaws that live in the swamp! mebbe the sheriff's posse has stirred 'em up like a hornet's nest, and they're on the jump!" maurice looked annoyed. "if that's the case we ought to be hiding ourselves," he declared. "yes, but just remember, boy, that there's another thing bothering us just now. what if we ran plump into the arms of that red-top who's laying for us?" "well, then, let's drop down here behind a couple of these trees. perhaps they'll go past and never get a peep of us," suggested the one who carried the double-barrel gun. "no use," chirped thad, immediately. "and why not?" asked maurice. "they saw us; they know we're here; that's why." "how do you know that?" "i just saw a feller bob up along the road there. he swung his arms over his head as he dropped down into another hollow. and look, ain't that some more of the bunch, topping the rise? i tell you, it's all off, maurice; they've got us caged. why, we can't run away, and all that's left is to stay here, grin and bear it." thad sat down as though he believed it absolutely useless to take the least step toward seeking safety in flight, but, indeed, both of them were already partly winded with their efforts, so that anything in the line of running might be deemed mere madness. "hide the packet then, quick! stick it under that root there, while no one is looking. perhaps we can fool them yet!" hissed maurice, as a brilliant idea flashed through his brain. "bully for you, my boy! that's the ticket." while he was speaking thad drew the small package from his inside pocket, where he had been carefully keeping it since leaving the boat, and with one quick nervous movement thrust the same out of sight under the convenient root. no sign remained of his action, and he was fain to believe that no human eyes save his own and those of maurice could have witnessed the act. but it was not so. "say, they're coming on the jump!" exclaimed maurice, who had remained on his feet while the other squatted, the better to carry out the process of secreting the precious packet. "how many?" asked thad, between quick breaths, induced by the tremendous excitement of the occasion. "don't know, but a whole lot of 'em. and every mother's son seems to be armed with some sort of gun. a fine chance we'd have against such a husky bunch, if we showed signs of fight. yet it does go hard against the grain to give up without striking a blow." maurice gnashed his teeth and frowned while speaking, fingering the lock of his marlin nervously. by this time thad had risen to his knees, an overwhelming sense of curiosity urging him on. "why, maurice, that's funny!" he exclaimed, immediately "i don't see it; what's struck you now, thad?" "why, don't you remember what mr. stallings told us?" "sure i do--that these swamp rats were about as ugly a crowd to handle as he had ever heard tell of; and i guess he was right; for if i ever saw a tough lot of fellow citizens they're coming down on us right now, five, six of 'em. ugh!" growled maurice. "i think you'll live to take that back, old fellow," chuckled thad, who seemed to be far less alarmed than he had been a brief time previously, though still excited. "what ails you?" asked the other, querulously. "look for yourself. are those chaps white men or coons?" "why, i reckon they all seem to be white, so far as i can see--oh! i declare, i remember now--" "the storekeeper told us those bad men were niggers!" "right; that's what he said. still, these may be another lot, connected with your friend with the sorrel-top!" declared maurice, who died hard. "rats! you know now just as well as i do that yonder is the sheriff and his posse! perhaps they think we're some of the riffraff they've been chasing, and that's why they keep aiming their blamed old guns at us that way. hadn't we better hold up our arms, maurice, and give 'em to understand that we surrender? some fool might think it fine to take a snapshot at us and explain afterwards he thought we meant to fight!" "that's right, thad; a clever idea. so up you go, my boy." maurice, as he spoke, allowed the gun to fall at his feet, and elevated both hands as high as he could get them. thad hastened to follow suit, and it might be he unconsciously cast his eyes upward at the same instant, as though eager to see just how his chum held his. a sudden spasm seemed to shoot through the frame of thad, and his companion heard him give utterance to an exclamation; but being so intensely interested in the coming of the runners, who were now very close, he made no comment, nor did he ask questions. the men quickly closed in around them. maurice realized that what his chum had guessed must surely be the truth. he even decided which of the six was the sheriff; for the storekeeper at morehead landing had described this individual to him, so that he might know him if they ever met. "hello, mr. jerrold! glad to meet up with you, sir. mr. stallings told us you were out after some game. but he said it was black meat you wanted, not white," sang out maurice, cheerily; and when he chose to make himself agreeable the young kentuckian could win over nearly any man. "seems like yuh know me, youngster. who-all be yuh, anyhow, and what yuh doin' thisaways. i'd like tuh know right well?" but the sheriff had at the same time made a motion to his men, and all show of weapons vanished. he knew that there was no need of violence in this case. maurice quickly told him who they were, and that, desiring to see george stormway, bearing good news from the north, they had been directed along the road by the friendly storekeeper. "don't s'pose now, boys, yuh seen anything o' a pair o' black sheep? we done skeered 'em up outen the swamp, an' when our dawgs gits heah we s'pect tuh track 'em down once foh all," observed the sheriff, now apparently ready to shake hands with the two voyagers. "no; we haven't met a single person, black or white, on the trail; but we have reason to believe that there's a man hiding around here who wanted to waylay us and rob us." thereupon, as the sheriff asked the reason he had for believing such a thing, maurice started in to explain. he told of finding something of value on the boat that belonged to george stormway's wife, bunny badgeley that was--how the man with the red-top had tried to steal the packet and was baffled by reason of thad's cunning trick; how his chum had seen him just outside the hamlet of morehead landing, the tracks on the road, and finally the figure seen by the clump of bushes. "yes," broke in thad just then, and his chum saw that an expansive grin covered his face as he spoke, "and if the gentlemen will only take a squint up over their heads they will see the party in question squattin' on that limb right above us, where he hid himself, i reckon, thinkin' to just drop down on whichever held the gun!" then there was an immediate craning of necks; and loud laughs from the members of the mississippi sheriff's posse attested to the fact that they had discovered what strange fruit that live oak bore. chapter xviii. the great good news. "it's a big fat 'possom!" shouted one of the posse, swinging his gun upward, as though getting ready to shoot." "you're away off, dexter; look closer and you can see the ringed tail of a 'coon!" jeered a second. "if we had the dawgs hyah we'd have a heap o' sport, gents; but as it is, i reckon as how we'll jest have tuh fill him full o' lead, an' let her go at that!" exclaimed a third member of the party. these various remarks, while evidently spoken in a spirit of levity, aroused strenuous opposition above. there was an immediate movement of the object straddling the limb. then two arms waved vigorously, and a high-pitched voice sounded: "hold on, thar, yo-uns! i ain't a 'coon, but i'm acomin' down right smart, all the samee. don't let loose on me, boys; i ain't wuth the powder. i jest wants some un tuh kick me for bein' sech a fool as tuh think you-uns was thet bunch o' swamp-hiders!" the speaker slid along the limb to the body of the tree and began to make his way toward the ground. maurice looked at thad, and there was perplexity in his eyes. he understood the sly tactics of the red-headed man, and wondered whether they would succeed in hoodwinking the sheriff and his posse. the question was soon answered, for hardly had the cracker reached the ground than sheriff jerrold stepped up to him, that piercing eye fastened on the ugly face of the climber. "yer under arrest, jeff corbley!" he said, making a motion to one of the others to bind the fellow. "me? what fur, sheriff? i declar i jest clim' thet tree 'cause i was skeered. i hed a squint o' yer crowd acomin' over the rise, an' i spected 'twar them coons hustling out fur grub. they got it in fur me, an' i jest het up ther tree quicker nor lightnin'." but the sheriff was not so easily deceived. "what's this yer grippin' in yer hand, jeff? a rock big enough to knock a man silly. thought tuh drap in down on the head o' this hyah youngster, didn't yuh? easy way tuh git the upper hand o' him, yuh spected. shucks! don't yuh open that mouth o' yourn tuh say another word. we been watchin' yuh a long time, jeff, an' this time yah make tracks outen the county, or pay the freight!" the sheriff made a suggestive motion with his hand in the direction of his neck. evidently the red-headed man understood. "oh, i'll go, all right, sheriff. i kinder hed a sneakin' notion fur a long time thet yuh hed it in fur me. how long do i git?" he whined, as his hands were bound fast behind his back. "we'll give yuh jest twelve hours arter we git tuh morehead. ef so be yuh ain't outen the county by then it's touch an' go with yuh. a hundred dollars tuh the man as draps yuh," remarked the official, with a dreadful calmness. "twelve hours is a might short time tuh do it hin, sheriff; but i'll make the try, sho. i'm sick o' this place, anyway." "and the place are sure sick o' you, jeff; so it's even all 'round," replied the sheriff, turning his back on jeff. the two boys had listened to these little pleasantries with mingled feelings. it was really the first time they had ever been so close to a possible tragedy, and when they found that these grim men did not mean to hang the wretched jeff both breathed easier. he had been something of a thorn in their flesh and doubtless was an evil bird whichever way he might be looked at; still, they had no desire to see him meet such a terrible end. "i heard the dawgs along over there, kurnel," remarked one of the posse, just about this time. the sheriff brightened up immediately. he had evidently set his mind on the job of cleaning up the band of black thieves who had for so long a time sheltered themselves in the swamp, and preyed upon the neighboring planters; and the coming of the dogs promised to add to the chances of ultimate success. "then we must be hiking, boys. glad tuh have met you both, an' wish yuh all success. if so be as yuh say, theys some good news foh george, jest congratulate him foh me, will yuh? he's a good feller, george is, an' has heaps o' friends hyahabouts." he shook hands gravely with each of the boys, after which sheriff jerrold started along the dimly defined road. the prisoner, jeff, was in the middle of the squad, and did not manifest any great enthusiasm about hastening away; but being a victim of circumstances he just had to run when his captors chose. maurice looked at his chum and laughed. "say, wasn't that the funniest thing ever?" he exclaimed. "just to think of that scamp settling himself up there among the leaves of that tree, intending to jump us unawares!" "yes," observed thad, with a shrug of his shoulders, "and he meant to drop that big dornick on your head, because you had the gun. then, while i was stunned with surprise, i reckon he expected to let go and jump me. i'm not a bit sorry that jeff is going to get his medicine. if ever a man's face told his character his does. and ten to one he's a big bully, and a wife beater, at home." "but how did you happen to get on to his trick, for it was you who first discovered him sitting there, and told the rest?" "well," said thad, reflectively. it just happened, that's all. when you said how we ought to hold up our hands--" "hold on; it was you spoke about that same thing first," corrected his chum. "well, you were the first to do it, and when i followed suit, seemed as if my eyes followed my hands up like i wanted to see that i did it the same as you. that was the luckiest thing ever, for you see i just happened to spy him move his leg. looked like he was kind of afraid that he might be seen, and was hitchin' along to get behind more leaves." "but you didn't say anything right away, thad?" "just couldn't, that's why; i was so knocked slabwise and full of laugh. but i knew i ought to let that sheriff into the secret, 'cause he was so mighty anxious to grab some feller. so i opened up. my! but didn't jeff come down quick?" and now thad chuckled over the recollection of that hurried descent. "he just had to; because, you see, he was afraid all the time one of the boys might take a notion to shoot. but as the thing is all over, suppose we shove along," suggested maurice. "good. my mind is easy now, with that sneaker out of the way. what d'ye suppose jeff meant to do?" asked the other, as he fell in at the side of his chum when maurice started off. "rob us, that's clear. he saw that money, all right, when he peeked in at the window of the shanty-boat, and was wild to get it. then, after his bully little rush when we were ashore, to find that he had been fooled made him madder than a wet hen; and this time he wanted to make sure." thad drew a long sigh, but made no answer. his thoughts were doubtless serious enough, as he recollected that heavy stone which jeff had not dared drop while descending from the tree; also the ugly look of the desperado's face. just as maurice had predicted, the country began to assume a more cheerful appearance after they had left the swamp behind. it was not long before they came to a cabin, where the smoke was rising above the low roof and several dirty-faced children played before the door, where several lean hogs were grunting in the mud. "is this george's place?" queried thad, in some dismay; for somehow he had been mentally picturing a far different scene. "i reckon not. i was told that his wife was a superior woman, who once on a time used to teach school. she wouldn't be apt to let her youngsters look like this, even if money was scarce. wait up, and i'll put the question." maurice approached the door. a yellow dog began to bark furiously, the three children ran like frightened sheep, since they seldom saw strangers there, and immediately a slatternly looking woman with the customary thin face of the "poor white trash" of the south made her appearance at the door. "there's a snuff-dipper for you," said maurice in a whisper to his chum, as he noted the signs about the mouth of the squatter's wife. the woman was surveying them with wonder, and not a little awe. "we want to find george stormway's place; can you tell us how far along it lies?" asked the boy, politely. it was wonderful how her tired face brightened up. perhaps she had not heard such a pleasant voice for ages; and dim echoes of some far off past had been awakened. "sho i kin, stranger. it be the second house 'long. hyah, danny, yuh gwine tuh show these hyah gentlemen the stormway place. git a move on yuh, now, er i'll peel the hide from yuh back, sho. yuh see," she added, turning once more to the visitors, "danny, he's ben over tuh take his lesson from missus stormway once a week. he kin read tuh beat the band. git erlong, danny, an' yuh 'member what i sez!" of course there was no necessity for a guide, since they were so near their destination. maurice believed he could understand the motive that influenced the woman of the house--she hoped these strangers might be liberal enough to bestow a nickel upon danny for his services; and possibly her stock of snuff was running low. but they were so glad to know that the journey was nearly over that they made no objection. maurice believed he could spare a nickel to square accounts. danny trotted on ahead. he was a shy little chap, barefooted, of course, and with a ragged shirt and baggy trousers that had evidently been made from a gunny-sack. maurice happened to have an old newspaper in his pocket, which contained a few illustrations. it might serve the budding genius as a means for advancing his reading abilities; and so he called danny back, to present it to him, at the same time also handing over the coveted coin. for they had passed another shack, where the squalor was even more positive than in the former case, and come in sight of george's home. "bully!" thad could not help saying, as soon as his eager eyes alighted on the little cabin. maurice understood just how he felt; indeed, he was experiencing the same sense of relief; for the sight of filth and poverty combined is a terrible thing. but the stormway cabin was different. everywhere could be seen evidences of a woman's hand. flowers adorned the beds in front, and in the rear there were vegetables calculated to give the family many a meal. here, as everywhere, a couple of dogs barked in noisy greeting; but to the boys even these yellow curs seemed of a different breed from those guarding other shacks where poverty abounded. and while the three children playing before the door were barefooted and had soiled faces, still, as thad expressed it, this was "clean dirt," by which he meant that they undoubtedly must have accumulated it inside of an hour or two, for there was abundant evidence that water was freely used at this place. eagerly the boys waited to see what the daughter of old the. badgeley looked like. no woman could stand such a life of care and want without showing the lines on her face; but when she came to the door to see what all the racket meant, thad just threw up his hat and let out a genuine whoop, he was so glad. even in her cheap calico dress the woman showed her caliber. dirt and mrs. stormway evidently were at daggers' points, and could not live peaceably together under the same roof. it was a relief just to look at her face, after what they had recently seen. and when she talked, while there was the southern accent to some extent, they missed that twang and peculiar type of expression so common among the poor whites. "this is mrs. stormway, i reckon?" said maurice, as he came up. "yes, that is my name, sir," she replied, while her face lighted up with some sort of expectancy. "my name is thad tucker, and i'm from kentucky, ma'am!" "oh! thad tucker! then you are the boy father used to write about? what on earth brings you away down here? have you come to see me?" she was holding his hand now, plainly excited. a man had followed her to the door. he was white and thin, but had a face that maurice liked at first sight. if this was george, as he believed, then it was worth while that they go to all this trouble to bring him good news. "this is my friend, maurice pemberton. he's from old kentucky, too. you see," said thad, hardly able to phrase a connected story in his excitement, "the folks he was livin' with broke up, and he was left with nary a home. now, i'd been keepin' house on the shanty-boat old the.--i mean your father, give me when he was carried off to the hospital. maurice he got a letter from his uncle ambrose, telling him to be in new orleans in february, and he'd give him a berth on the big tramp steamer he's captain of. so maurice and me we made up our minds to drift down south on our shanty-boat." "and on your way you determined to stop over and see me. how good of you, thad tucker. oh, i am so glad to see you! now i can hear about my poor father's passing. all i know was contained in a short letter from the authorities of the hospital, saying he had been taken there and died. there was money enough found on his person to pay for burying him, but that was all. come here, george, i want you to meet my father's young friend, thad tucker. you remember reading about him." the thin man advanced with rather tottering steps, but a pleasant smile on his face. maurice wondered whether what kim. stallings had said would prove true; and if this man, racked by malaria, could regain his health if he changed his home to higher ground. "but you see i didn't know where you were all this time, only that it was somewhere down south. it was only the other day that, just by some luck, i happened to be hunting a lost trap, when i found something that told us where you lived," explained thad, fumbling in his pocket. "and," went on maurice, taking up the story where his chum faltered, "as we were only a short distance up the river from morehead, we made up our minds that we must meet with bunny." "and give her this," with which words thad fished out the packet and thrust it hurriedly into the woman's hands. "oh, what is it?" she asked, beginning to tremble, not with fear, but delicious eagerness and anticipation. "something your dad wanted to get to you. he tried to tell me about it just when he was took, but i couldn't understand him. it was lyin' in a hole back of the lining of the boat, and just where he kept the few muskrat traps he owned," finished thad. mrs. stormway began to undo the string, though her hands trembled so she could hardly make much progress. finally george himself had to take possession and cut the cord with a knife. when he opened the little rusty covered diary and those beautiful yellowback government gold notes fluttered to the ground there was a tense silence. both george and his wife could not believe their eyes. perhaps, to tell the truth, they had never before seen even one yellowback note, and hardly understood what they were. "there's just three hundred and thirty dollars, all in good gold bills issued by the united states government. and he meant it for you, ma'am, 'cause he says so in his diary. i reckon he wanted to fetch it down when he came in the winter; but he never made the ripple." while thad was explaining in this manner george and maurice were picking up the precious bills. the man was so excited he could hardly speak; but when he stood there with the little book in his hand, he looked at his wife and she at him. then they rushed into each others' arms, while the boys winked hard to keep the tears from flowing. it was an affecting sight, indeed. "now we can get away from here. now we can go on a farm in the uplands, where you will get strong and well, george. oh, i am so happy i hardly know what to do! and to think that father saved all this money for me! and that you brought it to us, just when it looked so dark that even i was beginning to be afraid!" before thad knew what she meant to do george's wife was kissing him, and george shaking his hand furiously. maurice came in for a second edition of the grateful couple's thanksgiving; but on the whole both boys stood the ordeal fairly well. "come in and rest yourselves, my dear boys. you have brought me blessed news today, and i shall never forget it; never. you must stay over night with us, because there is so much i want to know about him. we haven't much to offer you in the way of food, but george here can borrow captain peek's mule and go to the store for things." "not for us," said maurice, decidedly; "we will be only too glad to stop over with you one night, since you insist, for, of course, there is lots my chum can tell you. and, by the way, mr. stallings sent this package to mrs. stormway. i think it's got some coffee in anyhow, for we smelled it. he knew we had some good news for you, and wanted to say that he was mighty glad george would have a chance to pull up stakes and get out of this lowland." the package did contain several articles in the line of groceries, which the good-hearted storekeeper judged the stormways would be out of, and when she saw this evidence of his thoughtfulness the eyes of george's wife filled with tears, even though she laughed and appeared light-hearted. chapter xix. once more afloat. the balance of that day and the evening would long be remembered by the boys. maurice found the three children bright and interesting; nor was that to be wondered at when they had so intelligent a mother to guide them along the way. george had considered the future so often, in case he ever had the chance to get on an upland farm, that he had his plans all laid out. he looked ten per cent better by the time night settled in around that little shack in the wilderness, and even doubting thad made up his mind that george was going to get well. and that night was one of pleasant intercourse. there were scant rations in the cabin, but then bunny knew how to cook, and what they had was a treat to the boys, accustomed to looking after themselves so long. the hoe cake was browned just right and tasted better than anything the boys had eaten for a long while, and somehow the coffee was better than they had been able to brew. in the morning george took the boys aside. "i'm agoin' to ask you boys to do me a great favor," he said, mysteriously. maurice looked at thad and the latter turned white. he feared that george meant to insist upon their sharing his little pile, and neither of them would have touched one cent on any account. "yes, what's that, george?" asked maurice, who on second thought remembered that that subject had been threshed over on the preceding night, when the good woman had tried to make them accept a gift to help them along and they had firmly declined. "why, you see, i'm that afraid of bein' robbed now that it worried me a heap. suppose i jest hold out that odd thirty and let you take the three hundred over to kim stallings to keep for me till i want it? i'd be mighty much easier in my mind, boys, if you would oblige." thad waited for his chum to say, for in a ease of this kind he always deferred to maurice as being better able to decide. "to be sure, we will, george; i didn't want to mention it to you, but was a little afraid something might happen to the money. are you able to leave home today? could you borrow that mule you spoke of and go with us to morehead? it would be better to get some paper from kim to secure you?" george thought he could make the journey, especially with the mule. and besides, there were some things he would dearly love to fetch back with him--things that bunny had long gone without, for the boys had seen that she was barefooted. so it was arranged, to the delight of the good woman and the three young stormways. this had been a great event in the lives of the boy and two girls, and they never wearied of hanging about the young fellow who had known "mon's daddy." the mule was borrowed from the obliging neighbor, and about nine in the morning they started for morehead, george being mounted on the back of the animal, though he tried to insist upon their taking turns. but at this both boys laughed in scorn. why, that five miles would only be a "flea bite," as thad declared, to them; and they really needed the exercise, after being cooped up so long aboard the little old tramp, bunny saw them depart with considerable emotion. thad was afraid she would insist on kissing him again, but the good woman contented herself with squeezing his hands and telling him once more what a blessing he had brought to her poor little home. george was interested in the tree that had contained such queer fruit, and as they halted under its branches for a brief spell the boys had to relate the story over again. they had reached a point nearly two-thirds of the way to the river hamlet when they heard a great barking and baying of dogs. the sound appeared to come from over beyond the big timber. "seeds like the sheriff he's barking up the tree at last. i jedge he's got them coons separated from ther hook in the swamp, an' if that's so they ain't agoin' to 'scape him this time," remarked george, as they stopped to listen. the sounds grew fainter, however, showing that the chase must be leading away from the road they followed. "i'm right glad of that," remarked thad, "for d'ye know, maurice, i'd sure hate to see any more prisoners in the hands of that posse." "reckon there wouldn't be much danger o' that," remarked george, with a significant nod, which maurice took to mean that if caught those black criminals might meet with a short shrift. he could hardly believe that, however, since sheriff jerrold was a duly authorized officer of the law and sworn to see it carried out in the proper manner. they arrived at the river before noon. "there she is!" exclaimed thad, eagerly pointing, and george saw that it was a little squatty shanty-boat he meant. "why, i hope you didn't think anybody would be so mean as to steal our tramp?" demanded maurice, although he, too, experienced more or less lively satisfaction to once more set eyes on the clumsy craft that had so long been their home. "well, down in this country nobody can tell. they say that if a man does anything wrong his first idea is to hook a boat, no matter what kind, the nearest he can lay hands on, and cut downstream. but the sheriff is stirring things up just now, and bad men must lie low. anyhow, there's our bully old tramp, right side up with care." kim stallings was glad to see george again, and when he heard what glorious luck had befallen him, there was genuine warmth in the handshake he thrust upon the weak man. of course, he was only too willing to act as custodian for the three hundred dollars, and gave george a receipt for the money. when he had settled on the upland farm he meant to rent, he could easily get what the store-keeper was holding for him. and now it was high time our boys once more started on their voyage. hundreds of miles still separated them from their destination, and no one could prophesy what difficulties must be faced and overcome before they eventually brought up in new orleans. it was just noon when they let go and pushed out upon the friendly bosom of the mighty mississippi. kim and george gave them a parting salute, which the voyagers sent back with a good will. then shortly a bend cut them off from view, and the little episode was numbered with the past. "anyhow, it was a bully time we had there," said thad, as he started to knock some sort of lunch together, while his chum looked after piloting the boat. "you bet it was, and neither of us will ever forget it. when bunny and greorge saw that bunch of yellow boys, didn't they stare though? i came near blubbering myself, honest, thad, i was that worked up," confessed maurice, frankly. "oh! i slobbered right over, only you didn't see me, because i got behind. i'm right glad we did it; and wasn't that a hunky-dory find, though? every time i set eyes on that hole i'll just have to think of the great luck we had." the old life was taken up again. borne along on the rapid current of the powerful river, they made mile after mile as the day wore on. nothing of moment occurred to disturb the serenity of the scene, and as evening approached they hunted as usual for a good place where the shanty-boat could be tied up for the night. once they thought this had been found when what seemed to be the mouth of a stream was sighted ahead; but as they pushed in it was only to find that another floating family had pre-empted the place. the boys might have even remained had they seemed to be anything like bob archiable, for instance, the clock mender of earlier days, but the looks of the three men they saw quite discouraged them. "out we go again," muttered maurice, as they cleared the mouth of the creek, followed by shouts from the owners of the other craft, who called to them to pull in and "have a good time." our boys knew only too well what that implied, for liquor and cards must form the sum total of what these rough characters called a "good time," and they wanted none of that. so it was just about dark before they found a chance to tie up to a friendly tree that chanced to be close enough to the edge of the bank to take their short cable. supper was prepared as usual. the provisions secured from the warm-hearted storekeeper of morehead landing enabled them to spread themselves to some extent. and thad declared that life was worth living again, as he sat there after eating, and lighted his pipe for a smoke. "what so sober about, thad?" asked the other, when he had been watching his chum's face for some little time. thad looked up, and grinned in his usual happy way. "oh! it ain't that i'm feeling bad, for i reckon if any feller has a right to call himself lucky that's me. where would i be now if it hadn't been for you inviting me to make this cruise--" "here, don't you get to harping along like that again, my boy. didn't you promise to call it square? and do you suppose for one little minute that i'd be here unless you were? why, in the first place the boat belonged to you. i didn't have half enough money to take me all the way to orleans; and i just reckon i'd had a tough deal trying to negotiate more, the way things went at our home town. now, just what were you thinking about? i bet i can give a guess." "well, what?" demanded thad, quickly. "it wasn't about george and bunny, because then you'd have had a smile on that face of yours. seems to me you must have been wondering if they got 'em!" "meanin' the coons of the swamp? yes, that's what i had on my mind. i never saw one of 'em, and yet somehow i keep a-wonderin' whether they had a square show. oh! well, it ain't any of our business; and i reckon they must've been a bad lot, from what kim said. but i'm right glad they didn't get 'em while we happened to be there, maurice." "that's me, every time. but forget it, and let's talk about what we expect to do down below. here's the charts, such as they are, and none too reliable at the best. we ought to study 'em time and again, because we may want to take a cut-off and save twenty miles or more." "don't they say that's dangerous work?" asked thad. "well, yes, it is, sometimes; but there are several places where all the drifters pass through. you know our bully good friend. bob archiable, marked two on the map. he's used 'em several years in succession, he said." "yes, that's so; but seems to me he said we'd better keep our eyes and ears open all the way down, and ask questions. sometimes these cut-offs fill up, and then a shanty-boat gets lost in a heap of cross canals. he says they're like hen tracks sometimes." "well," remarked maurice, thoughtfully, "it would be a pretty tough deal if we ever got mixed up in one of those puzzles. we're short of grub, and there's only a few dozen shells left. yes, i reckon we will go mighty slow about leaving the old creek and dipping into any of these tempting canals." so they chatted and exchanged views as they sat there until both grew sleepy, when the cozy bunks coaxed them into retiring. nothing occurred to annoy them during the night; though once thad awoke suddenly and sat up with a low cry on his lips. maurice never heard what the nature of his dream might be; but he could give a good guess and felt that it must in some way be connected with those fugitive blacks of the swamp, and the coming of that sheriff's posse with the fierce dogs. in the morning they were early astir. it seemed as though they had been away from home a long time after that one night spent with the stormways. thad remarked how natural it was to get breakfast again; and maurice said something along the same lines as he went ashore to gather up a supply of firewood for future use. again they moved with the current, always heading south. every mile passed over counted, since it took them nearer the point for which they were aiming. thus several days glided along. bad weather alternated with good, but they were wise enough to prepare in peace for war; and thus did not get caught napping when trouble descended upon them. as the days passed they talked less and less of what had gone by, and began to take a keener interest in what lay ahead. now and then the little old marlin was called on to supply them with a game supper; and never did it fail to do its duty when the chances were right; so that, on the whole, they fared pretty well, and had no complaint coming. when two weeks had passed since that night with george stormways and his family, they were down in the neighborhood made famous during the civil war; for vicksburg lay not more than ten miles ahead. they had been wonderfully favored during this time, and no accident had occurred to mar the run, the weather being on the whole fair, though one cold storm caught them unprepared and gave them a bad night. that was a time when thad's prophecies failed to save them from inconvenience; but those who endeavor to read the weather are not bothered by an occasional upset in their calculations, and on the very next occasion he came to time just as smiling as ever. the river seemed to be growing with each passing day, and stretched so far into the west that there were times when they could dimly see the opposite bank, which maurice declared must be ten miles distant; though again it would not be anything like that to the arkansas shore. but they had now passed the southern border of the state, and he announced that the land they were gazing at far over the tumbling waters was that of louisiana, the very state for which they were bound. from this time on they could not expect to make such good progress, because of the unusual care that must be taken in order to keep them from losing themselves in one of the false channels. again and again would they be tempted to shorten their day's trip by cutting into one of these enticing necks; but maurice had resolved that he would not allow such a thing, and in the end it proved a wise precaution. he believed that an ounce of prevention was better than a pound of cure, as it certainly is under all circumstances, and especially during a water voyage down such a treacherous stream as the mississippi. they began to have adventures with strolling darkies who visited them after they had tied up for the night; and once when a noisy crowd had threatened to do them bodily harm because the boys had declined to make them a present of tobacco and strong drink, both of them had to do guard duty during the night for fear of an attack. all these things told them that they were now getting down into the sunny south, and that they would meet with disappointments there as well as in other places, for true it is things seem more alluring at a distance. but both boys were sturdy in body and determined in spirit, so that they were not apt to be discouraged by a few backsets of this character. chapter xx. on a plantation in dixie land. once below vicksburg and the two boys felt that they were doing well. true, many difficulties had arisen to give them a chance to show their grit and backbone. maurice was of the opinion that they had come out of these conflicts with flying colors, and each victory seemed to renew their self confidence, as though that were the true reason for the encounter. there was no lack of shooting in this region, for ducks traded between the river and adjacent lagoons at all hours of the day, and many times maurice was able to bring down a feathered pilgrim of the air with a shot from the deck of the shanty-boat itself, retrieving the same with a nail fastened to the end of one of the poles. what interested the boys most were the cotton fields that they began to see. of course, both were familiar with cotton: in many of its aspects, having been born and brought up close to the kentucky border; but these big fields where they could see myriads of the open bolls not yet culled, late as the season was, caused them much pleasure. and the negroes became more jovial the farther south they went. it seemed as if the black man in migrating north left his natural condition behind, and assumed many of the cares of the white man. down in the cotton country he was at his best, full of laughter, careless of tomorrow so long as he had a dime in his ragged trousers, and of course light-fingered when he saw a chance to lift anything and no one appeared to be looking. the boys had a lot of fun with some of these good natured darkies who came about the fire they were accustomed to starting on shore when the occasion allowed. sometimes they bribed them to dance a hoedown, or sing songs as the spirit moved. maurice was surprised to find that they favored the sentimental songs of the day, such as were being sung in the north. he wondered so at this that finally he asked one fellow, a grayheaded old chap, what had become of the negro melodies once so famous, and now so seldom heard. then he learned that the negro of the south had reached a stage of progress wherein he did not wish to be reminded of the fact that he was once a slave and the property of a white master; and as most of those dear old songs are along that line he gives them the go-by when choosing his minstrel lays. but by a little species of bribery they managed to induce some of their visitors to sing the "s'wanee ribber," "massa's in de cold, cold groun'," "black joe," and others of a similar nature. "dear ole hom'ny corn" seemed to be a prime favorite among them, and the boys themselves never tired of joining in the chorus. after they had lost several articles from some of these blacks pilfering they learned to keep the cabin door locked when going ashore. if bent on stealing, the southern negro can accomplish his purpose in spite of watchful eyes, since there will come a moment when attention is directed in another quarter, and like a shadow he will creep aboard and accomplish his end. another thing began to trouble them about now, and this was the fact that their slender stock of money had entirely given out, with some weeks ahead before uncle ambrose could be expected to come to the rescue. hence it became necessary that they find some means of earning something. thad could fall back upon his experience as a carpenter, and if he could get employment now and then might bring in enough of the needful to supply them with the necessities of life. maurice on his part would only too willingly have done anything in his line if he could find a chance. he was a pretty fair bookkeeper, but it did not seem likely that he would run across any one in this part of the country who wanted his books balanced. still both of them began to be on the lookout for opportunities, determined to do whatever their hand came in contact with. it was at gibson's landing that thad struck his first chance. things were getting rather low, and they had not enjoyed a cup of coffee for two days, on account of a lack of supplies or the wherewithal to purchase the same. maurice was cleaning some fish they had taken that day when he saw thad coming at an unusually swift pace, and a look on his face that spoke volumes. "and now what!?" he demanded, as his partner sprang aboard. "bully news--i've struck a job. last a week or so, and give us enough cash to carry us through with careful nursing. and that ain't the whole of it, either," was the way he broke loose. "it's good as far as you've gone; now what else can there be to make you feel so fine!" demanded maurice. "mr. simon buckley--" "who's mr. simon buckley?" "why, i was just going to tell you--he's a rich planter back here a bit. i happened to mention the fact that i was a carpenter looking for a job and he jumped on to me and said he was looking for just such a man." "hurrah!" broke in the other, his face full of smiles. "then we got to talking," thad continued, "and i told him all about what we were trying to do, and he seemed interested and asked questions, principally about you. what d'ye think; he knows your uncle ambrose; why once, many years ago they were together in cuba? and he wants both of us to come with him tomorrow when he starts back to his home; because he says he's got his books in a terrible muss, and would be mighty glad to have you straighten 'em out; and what d'ye think of all that, eh!" maurice smiled at his enthusiasm, but was certainly feeling a bit the same way himself. "why, all i can say is what you're so fond of shouting whenever any good luck floats our way--bully, bully, bully all around! i felt sure we'd strike something before the worst came; and as usual it was you who had to run across it. but how are we going to leave our floating home while we pay this week's visit to the plantation of mr. buckleyl" "i thought of that when he said you must come, too, and when i spoke of it to him he told me of a man he knew living on the river--that's his shanty you see below there, with the chimney on the outside--who would look after the boat and dixie for a dollar and be glad of the chance. it's all fixed, my boy, and you needn't worry a bit. we'll be sure of our grub for a week, see something of a simon-true southern plantation, earn twenty dollars between us, and get in great shape for business. say, is it all right?" maurice, of course, declared that it was, and thereupon thad did one of his regular hornpipes, to the amusement of some darkies on the shore, who began mocking him, but in a way that did not give offense. so that night they made arrangement with the man mr. buckley recommended to have him keep their boat in his care, along with the yellow dog. in the morning they again bade farewell to their comfortable floating home for a brief time, and meeting the planter, joined him in a ride to the interior where his plantation was located. mr. simon buckley was a character very interesting to maurice. he had been something of a soldier of fortune since the civil war and drifted pretty much around the whole world, so that he was a walking encyclopedia of knowledge upon almost any subject. what interested maurice most of all was his association with uncle ambrose in cuba many years before. it was with considerable surprise that the lad learned how his steady-going relative had once upon a time been a wild blade, an adventurer as it were, ready to take up with anything that promised excitement, and a hope of gain in a fairly decent way. simon buckley had been very fond of anthony, it would seem, and his delight at running across a nephew of his old comrade was unmistakable. the voyagers had never met with a luckier bit of fortune than when thad chanced to interview this veteran. mr. buckley had long ago settled down to a humdrum life as a planter, having wedded the daughter of a big man in the parish. when the old spirit of turbulence grew too strong within him to resist lie had to work it off by a bear hunt in the mississippi canebrakes, or perhaps a lynching bee--he did not state this latter positively, but there was something in the wink he gave the boys while speaking of such things that told them the truth. they were too wise to think of starting an argument with a southern man upon a subject of which they had a very small amount of information, and which entered upon his daily life, so they said nothing while he was present. that ride was one long to be remembered, for they saw things that might never have come under their observation otherwise. various plantations were passed, and collections of negro cabins, around which hosts of youngsters were playing, as free from care as the rabbit that ran across the road--indeed, much more so, for bunny had to look sharp lest he afford a meal for one of his many enemies, while these pickaninnies had their daily wants supplied, and grew up like so many puppies. along about noon they reached their destination. the buckley plantation was well known in that section as one of the best in western mississippi. of course, the main staple was cotton, king of the south; but there were various other products that the owner raised. he had a grinding mill and produced a large amount of sugar and molasses in season. then on some lowlands he grew rice of a superior quality. his ambition being to constantly improve on what had been produced the preceding season, his experience all over the world proved of value to him now, when he could calmly review what he had seen and profit by it. the place seemed an ideal southern plantation to maurice, and he soon wished he had a camera along with which to secure some views that he could carry with him wherever he went. as the owner had a weakness that way, the want was supplied before they had been there two days, and when the tune came to depart, lo, maurice had a dozen or two pictures in his possession to show "old ambrose," as the planter said. indeed, it took maurice just two days to straighten the books out, and then mr. buckley kept him busy with that camera; for he had had miserable success himself in handling it, and was just hoping some one would come along with a better knowledge of such things than himself. chapter xxi. a night hunt for coons. "what do you think," said thad, one afternoon, after they had been nearly a week at the plantation, "tonight the major's going to take us out on a regular old 'coon hunt. i've tried to get 'coons that way lots of times up home, but never had the right kind of dog. but that yellow spider of his is the best in the county, he says, while crusoe is a good second." "that sounds fine, and i sure will be glad to go along. but is it robinson crusoe he means when he calls that poor white dub?" asked maurice, looking up from the book he was reading after work hours. "yes; you see he found the poor chap with a broken leg on an island in the swamp. he would have starved to death only mr. buckley happened along in a canoe. and so he named him crusoe. they make a splendid pair for the business, he says," went on the excited thad. "who says--crusoe?" asked the other. "oh, shucks! you know i mean the major. now, there's his bear dogs, they're a different proposition, eh; all of 'em big and fierce, just like you'd expect to find when it comes to stopping a black bear in the canebrake. and he says we might try a chance with him tomorrow after bruin. he's got a rifle to loan us apiece!" "i suppose you mean the major has, and not the bear. all right, i'm in anything like that. never saw a wild bear in my life, and perhaps i'll be so scared that i won't know which end of the gun to aim at him; but i'm game to try, thad; just let him give me a chance." "here he comes now," declared thad. "good gracious! the bear?" cried his chum, in pretended alarm. "rats! major buckley, of course." the planter was never tired of the company of the two boys. he had no children of his own and enjoyed the coming of these two bright lads so much that he declared it was quite a revelation to him. "i don't see how i'm going to stand it after you leave here, boys, he said, as he came up; "i never before realized what it meant to have young blood around. tell you what i proposed to the missus last night after you went to bed. i've got some nephews and nieces down in natchez, children of my younger brother, larry. don't believe they're getting along as well as they might since poor larry lost his life while out duck hunting in a bayou four years back. i'm thinking seriously of running down to see my kith and kin, and, if i fancy 'em as much as i think i will from the pictures they sent me awhile back, i'm going to bring 'em here, bag and baggage, to make their home with us. and that's what comes of knowing you two lads. they'll have to thank you for their good fortune." "but we never even heard of them, major," protested maurice. "that's so, my lad, but you've made such an impression on my old heart that my eyes are opened, and i see it isn't right for us to live on in this fine place while poor old larry's children and widow are possibly in want. my mind is quite made up on that score, and if they don't come it won't be my fault," the planter went on. "then i'm glad for one that we visited your plantation," asserted maurice. "here, too," echoed his chum, immediately. then they fell to talking of the anticipated night's sport with the 'coon pack in the woods. "it's late for the best hunting in that line," remarked the owner of crusoe and spider; "you see the 'coons are fattest along about the ripe corn full moon, and that's when we go after 'em most. still, i reckon we can scare up a few, though our way of finding 'em may be off color a bit. but i thought you wouldn't mind that, so long as you saw how it was done." both boys immediately declared that they were indebted to him for thinking so much about their pleasure. "humbug!" said the gentleman, vigorously; "why, your coming has given me more pleasure than i could ever return. it's wakened me up, my wife says, and given me a new lease of life. why, just to meet one of old ambrose's nephews has been a tonic for me. haven't i spent nearly every evening in retailing old stories of our doings over on that blessed island of cuba, when we were with the insurrectos and fighting against the power of spain? no, i just couldn't do too much for such fine lads as you are." such talk was enough to make both boys blush. but they were growing to like major buckley more and more with each passing day, and the recollection of their delightful experiences while his guests would always remain as a happy era in their southward voyage. "no use going out right after supper, boys. better wait a little. it's true that the half moon will have about set by then, but we can use torches just as well. besides, i always think they add to the picturesque character of the hunt. i've had them all prepared of pitch pine, full of resin, and able to give us all the light we want." of course, both boys knew considerable about 'coon hunting at night--they would not have been true sons of old kentucky otherwise. but it happened that neither had ever been fortunate enough to participate in a genuine chase, and the chance appealed to them vigorously. about nine o'clock the major announced that it was time to make a start. the barking of the eager dogs that scented the coming fun told that time was passing slowly for them as well. soon the little party had assembled and started for the edge of the big cornfield. here several shocks of the white corn had been left as a tempting bait for a late hunt, and it was at such a point they anticipated having the dogs pick up the scent. besides the major and the boys there were three colored brothers. one of these was named black joe, and he was a faithful old whiteheaded negro, who had served the major's father through the civil war. when buckley married and settled down, ms first act had been to hunt up old joe and bring him to his plantation as a sort of major-domo or general overseer, and joe made good every time. he was a quaint darky, with a fund of original observations that sometimes made it hard for the boys to keep straight faces. besides, this black joe could quote scripture by the yard, and nothing ever happened but what he had a verse ready. why, one day when thad was walking with him over some newly cleared ground, old joe suddenly clutched his arm, drawing him back and pointing to a little but ugly ground adder that lay in the path, instantly said: "man mus' watch as well as pray!" and no one could manage the 'coon pack as well as black joe. when the excitement raged, and the best trained dogs were frantic, the master might command without obtaining obedience; but let old joe tell a dog to stop barking, or to get out of sight, and it was simply wonderful how his words bore fruit. a trail was immediately struck by the first shock of corn--this was the flint variety, and as such generally used for hominy throughout the entire south. away went the pack with a chorus of eager yelps, while the hunters trailed after them. "no hurry, boys," said the major, leisurely; "when they get him treed they'll let us know. then's the time for us to get near and decide whether the tree shall be chopped or a nigger climb up to knock the critter down to the dogs. we never shoot a 'coon 'less the dogs prove unable to master him." "then that does sometimes happen, sir?" questioned thad. "occasionally, but not often. a big 'coon may have unusually sharp claws and tear the dogs bad. then he jumps another tree before they can stop him. after that we think it best to knock him down, rather than risk the lives of the dogs. they's plenty of 'coons, you see, but mighty few good dogs," maurice smiled at the sentiment expressed, and yet it covered the ground from the standpoint of the man. the 'coon's opinion was not worth asking, it seemed. suddenly the yelping changed its tenor. "does that mean that the 'coon has got away?" asked maurice. "not by a jug full. he's taken to a tree. i reckon they hit it up so fast after him he couldn't reach his own tree, so he bounced up the nearest one. we'll soon see," said the major, as they moved in the direction of the clamor. "what if he gets to his home tree?" continued thad, who wanted to know it all, even though not from missouri. "that we call good luck, because, you see, boys, sometimes we get three or four varmints out of the one stand. why, i remember once we kept smoking 'em out till nine had been shook by the dogs. it was what i called the colony tree," laughed the planter. presently they drew close to the spot where the racket was being maintained by the dogs. the 'coon was silent, but doubtless his eyes glowed maliciously as he squatted on a limb or in'a fork and surveyed the yelping crew below. "i sees 'im!" exclaimed one of the negroes, pointing upward, 'right on dat 'ere limb nigh whar it fo'ks, sah. dat mistah coon, foh suah, 'deed it am!" exclaimed the discoverer. "you're right, klem," said the major, upon looking closely; "see, boys, you can detect the yellow gleam of his eyes as he watches us; but not a blessed movement does he make. hey, klem, you saw him first, and it's your chance to climb up and knock him out." the negro hardly waited for permission, knowing the rules under which his master usually hunted at night. he had a club in his hand, which he transferred to his teeth as he started to climb. the tree was rather large and would have taken too much time to fell for one coon; so another method was resorted to in order to get the animal down to where the eager dogs could pounce upon him. "look at the dogs!" said maurice to his chum, while the climber was cautiously approaching the animal on the limb, so as to prevent it from ascending higher into the tree. they were almost frantic, licking their chops, whining and actually shivering with eagerness. well did they know that presently there would come to the ground a furry mass with sharp claws and teeth, on which they were expected to leap and finish with a few bites directed either at the throat or the backbone. "watch out dar!" came in a thrilling tone from above. klem was now close upon the coon, which had retreated further out on the limb. when the negro climber had gone as far as he dared he suddenly gave a shake that sent the wretched animal in a struggling heap down through space. the dogs were waiting. they saw the coon coming and were on the spot ere he landed, so that almost before he could attempt any resistance both crusoe and spider were at his throat. there was a short, if furious, tussle, for a coon is gifted with considerable strength and agility, though seldom a match for the right, kind of a dog. then it was all over. the major lifted the still quivering animal. "pretty fat critter. a few more like him will pay us for coming out, boys," he declared. then they once more returned to the cornfield, where the keen nosed dogs speedily caught up another scent. again the party followed leisurely until the signal came that the quarry had been safely treed. this time they found that it was only a small tree, so it was cut down. "i want you to see all the phases of coon hunting, boys," explained the planter, while the chips were flying under the axes of klein and cudjo. of course, the instant the swaying tree commenced to topple the animal made a frantic leap; but those sharp eyes of the dogs had never once lost track of the quarry, and they were quickly after the coon, which, unable to scurry up another tree, had to turn at bay. it was soon over, and a second victim had been added to the score, much to the delight of the blacks, who knew they would surely have their share of the spoils of the night hunt. the next coon turned out to be a fat 'possum, and loud were the exclamations of joy on the part of klem and his comrades when this fact was made plain. indeed, maurice believed he would not have taken any great stock in this method of hunting, which seemed so unfair to the game, only on account of the chances it gave the negroes for a square meal in the line of the greatest delicacies they knew. so the hunt went on for several hours. when about midnight they concluded to return to the house, seven coons and two 'possums were loaded upon the shoulders of the three attendants. and the dogs lagged behind, quite tired out with their exertions; though ready to prick up their ears at ike slightest suspicious sound from the gloomy woods around them. "how did you like it, maurice," asked thad later on, as they were getting ready for bed. "oh, it was an interesting experience," returned the other; "but i don't know that i'd give much to repeat the dose." and thad was of the same mind. "but that bear hunt will be something different, you bet," he observed. it was. chapter xxii shipmates for a round the world cruise each passing day presented some new and attractive feature along the banks of the great river; and under other conditions maurice would have been delighted to go ashore and witness the operation of grinding sugarcane, or baling cotton where the cotton gin worked. but these things would have to keep until another occasion, for destiny now beckoned to the two lads, and they felt that their fortunes were wrapped up in this anticipated meeting with the old sailor. on the twelfth of february, at two in the afternoon, they arrived at the upper stretch of the river metropolis, and from that time on they kept fully on the alert so as to avoid a collision with some passing boat. at the same time they were also looking for a certain boatyard, to which they had been recommended by mr. buckley, who knew the proprietor well, and for whom a letter was reposing in the pocket of maurice's coat. luckily this boatyard was near the upper part of the city, so that they did not have to pass along the entire water front, in constant danger of a spill from the many vessels moving about, great tows of coal barges such as they had seen on the river many times, ocean steamers, ferry boats, sailboats and numerous other river craft propelled by steam, gasoline or sails. the proprietor of the boatyard looked at them a bit suspiciously as they drew the ungainly craft that had served them as a home during the long cruise, into his "pocket;" but upon reading the letter maurice presented his face changed in its expression and he shook hands with both lads heartily. and thus early in their experience in the world our boys realized what a splendid thing it is at any and all times to have a friend at court, ready to speak a good work in one's favor. they could tie up in the yard, and he would see to keeping the shanty-boat with some things aboard, to be given to their friend, bob archiable, when he arrived. and yet maurice and his friend looked at the tramp with regret in their eyes when they were saying good-by to the craft; for they had enjoyed many good times aboard the faithful little floating home since leaving the indiana town, and would have many pleasant memories in the dim future to look back upon. mr. buckley had insisted upon maurice taking the little snapshot camera along with him when he departed, saying that he had ordered a larger and more expensive one; and that it was worth it to be shown how to develop and print in the clever manner maurice had done. so, as there was a roll of film in the camera, maurice had used it in taking pictures of the boat and dixie while they were floating downstream; and if these turned out well they would always have a reminder of their staunch craft and the little yellow cur that had helped to brighten the voyage, now given over to the friendly boat builder, who had conceived a fancy for him. but that night they spent in their old quarters, getting things in shape for a move in the morning, when they expected to find some boarding place where they could put up until the arrival of the campertown. it was one of the worst nights of the trip, for the sounds that came to them from the city streets were so strange to their ears that, as thad declared, they seemed to be near some boiler factory. of course this was mostly because they had been off by themselves for months, and the night meant a time of solemn silence, save for the murmur of the wind through the trees, or the splash of the waves upon the shore, or against the side of the boat. when day came both boys felt a bit rocky, having rested wretchedly; but after fixing up and sallying forth they found a restaurant where the demands of the inner man could be satisfied, and then things began to assume a brighter aspect in their eyes. maurice purchased a paper and looked up the nautical news to see whether the steamer of his uncle had arrived, or was spoken outside the mouth of the river. to his delight he discovered that she was expected on the following morning, and during the day he and thad found their way to the identical spot where the campertown would be apt to lay up when releasing her cargo and taking on another. they spent the better part of the day in seeing the city, now in holiday attire, for it was the last of the mardi gras festivities, as lent was close at hand. that night was a banner one to the two lads, who had never been in a great city before, and especially at a time when the whole population seemed to have given itself up to gaiety. they spent the time upon the streets until past midnight, watching the floats go by in gorgeous procession, and mixing up with the festive maskers bent upon having all the fun possible, since tomorrow they must begin to mourn. thoroughly tired out, our boys finally said good-by to these riotous sounds and hied away to the quiet house where they had a room. once abed there was no need on this night to toss and turn, for they hardly hit the pillow before they lost all track of time and were sound asleep. another dawn found them up and eager to get down to the river. they could hardly wait to get their breakfast before putting out at full speed. the steamer had come in during the night, and with emotions that would be indeed difficult to define they read the word campertown. how big she looked to them--for they had never seen anything larger than a river steamboat until the preceding day; and to think that this palatial vessel (for such the tramp appeared in their eyes) might be their home for months, yes, years to come. maurice boldly asked for the captain, and was told that he was asleep, and on no condition could he be seen until ten; so they had to content themselves with wandering around and talking about what the chances were for success. thad was very nervous, for it must be understood that as yet good uncle ambrose did not even know that such a fellow existed on earth, and his future was, to say the least, uncertain. the possibility of being separated by a cruel fate from this chum whom he loved so well was beginning to give thad a heartache; and his hands trembled in spite of his smiling face, every time he looked at maurice. the time that elapsed until the hour of ten arrived was about as weary a stretch as either of our lads ever knew; indeed, thad afterward declared that it was worse than on the occasion when they had to put in an hour of dreadful suspense in the cabin of the shanty-boat while the storm raged on the river, and it was doubtful whether they would ever see daylight again. but finally the time came for them to go aboard; and mustering their courage to the fore they went up the gang plank. a sailor directed them to the captain's room and here maurice discovered a big man in a uniform, whose bearded face had a kindly look, and who at his entrance jumped up, stared at him a couple of seconds and then pounced upon him like a great grizzly bear, grasping both his hands and roaring: "jim's boy for all the world--he very image of his dad as i remember him, i'm mighty glad to see you, maurice, and at first sight i know we're going to get on fine together. and you're come down to go with old uncle ambrose to foreign ports, eh? that's great. i tell you this does me good, just to see you, lad. i've been getting kind of homesick lately--ought to have been ashamed of myself for not looking you up sooner; but a fellow who's in all parts of the world loses his grip on things sometimes; but never mind, i'm going to make it up to you from now on. but who's this with you, son?" that made the desired opening; so thad was introduced as the finest fellow in all the world, and before maurice knew it he had launched out on a narrative of their long cruise down the great river, in which thad had borne himself as a true american boy should, always ready to take his turn at duty, never shirking peril or stress, and cooking the most delightful meals that anybody ever ate. captain haddon's eyes gleamed with humor as he heard the virtues of the modest thad thus extolled to the skies; he knew what was coming, but it pleased him to keep the boys on the anxious seat a while, for this was a every amusing happening to the old salt. and then, when they told how they had spent a week and more with his old "bunky" simon buckley, he was intensely interested; whereupon maurice saw fit to bring out the letter of recommendation wherein the said simon declared that thad was certainly a good, conscientious carpenter, and he could wager his old friend would never regret it if he saw fit to give the lad a chance on board his vessel. then the captain looked at thad, sizing him up from the crown of his head to his toes, after which he thrust out his hand and said heartily: "tip us your fin, thad, my lad. it would be cruelty to separate two such good shanty-boat mates as you. i'll find something for you to do aboard, and by thunder you'll see the world together. that cruise was immense, and i'd have enjoyed nothing better myself than to have been along with you. i expect to hear many a yarn concerning those happenings as we sail across the big pond; for our next port call is going to be liverpool, where we take on a cargo for australia, and then to japan, so you see before you're a year older both of you may have gone almost around the world; for we're likely to bring up at 'frisco. thad, consider that you're as good as booked for the trip. and now go about your business for a time. here, maurice, take this little amount for expenses, and be back on board by evening. tomorrow i'll start you in at your work under my present man, who is quitting us by the time we leave orleans." maurice could hardly find words to thank him, and thad was in the same boat; but then the old sea-dog understood boys, and he knew just how they felt, so that as each of them shook hands with him and looked mutely in his face he only grinned and nodded and said: "i know all about it, lads, how you feel. but you've made me happier than you are yourselves. i was beginning to get into a rut, and seemed to have nothing to live for. the sight of you, my boy, has made me ten years younger. bun along now, and don't get into any mischief; but i can see with one eye that neither of you have any use for grog, and there's little chance for trouble when that is avoided." they went ashore with light hearts; indeed, it seemed as though they must be treading on air, and they could hardly refrain from hugging each other, the world looked so bright in their eyes. it was a ten dollar bill the rugged old captain had thrust into the hand of maurice; and one of the first things he did was to go to a photographer and have some prints made of the films exposed during the latter part of the voyage; for already he was feeling some signs of homesickness in connection with the poor old tramp, and desirous of showing his uncle what a "bully old floater" she was, as thad said. what they did not do the balance of the day would be easier to tell than any attempt to describe the many things they saw and experienced; but taken in all it was a red letter time, never to be forgotten. the future beckoned with enticing fingers, and the horizon looked red with the glowing promise of hope; but at the same time as they glanced backward they would always have tender feelings for every memory connected with that river trip, and the shanty-boat on which the voyage had been made. the end. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 20737-h.htm or 20737-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/7/3/20737/20737-h/20737-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/7/3/20737/20737-h.zip) madge morton's secret by amy d. v. chalmers author of madge morton, captain of the merry maid; madge morton's trust, madge morton's victory. [illustration: the girl in the apple tree read on. _frontispiece._] philadelphia henry altemus company copyright, 1914, by howard e. altemus contents chapter. page. i. the interrupted story 7 ii. what madge found in the attic 18 iii. an unexpected meeting 35 iv. the challenge 46 v. the mysterious box 57 vi. flora betrays a state secret 66 vii. awarding the prizes 76 viii. the hour of triumph 95 ix. madge morton's secret 102 x. adrift on chesapeake bay 108 xi. the awakening 120 xii. a deserted island 132 xiii. life in the woods 142 xiv. caught in a stampede 152 xv. behind closed doors 165 xvi. the disappointed knights 173 xvii. can we go to the rescue? 183 xviii. a new use for a kite 193 xix. the impossible happens 201 xx. the recognition 212 xxi. back to the "merry maid" 219 xxii. the stars and stripes forever 226 xxiii. the surprise 237 xxiv. the telling of the secret 248 madge morton's secret chapter i the interrupted story a girl in a green gown was cosily ensconced among the spreading branches of an old apple tree. she was reading, and she never stirred except to turn the pages of her book or to reach out for another red apple after dropping the core of the previous one. it was a glorious morning in early september, and the old virginia orchard was sweet with the odor of ripening apples. a press under a tree still dripped with the juices of yesterday's cider-making. the bees and flies buzzed lazily about it. there was no one but the girl in sight. some distance to the left was a red brick house, separated from the orchard by a low stone fence and the length of the kitchen garden. it had a big, white colonnaded balcony in front and a smaller veranda in the rear. the girl in the apple tree read on, unaware that a carriage had driven up to the front of this house and that a woman and a young man were alighting from it. a few moments later a girl came out on the back veranda. she put her hands to her lips and hallooed. she whistled and called. then she ran up and down the garden, searching everywhere. "madge, madge! where are you?" she cried. "oh, do answer me in a hurry! i have something so important to tell you!" the girl in the apple tree did not stir. she was oblivious to everything except her story. her cousin, eleanor, called and called again, then ran to the stables. pompey, the colored boy, declared that he had not seen miss madge all morning. once eleanor leaned over the orchard fence. the green of madge's frock was too near the color of the foliage to show through the trees. eleanor gave up her search in despair. "all right, madge morton," she murmured, "if you will go off by yourself without telling a soul where you are going, you must take the consequences--though i am so sorry," added eleanor. "poor madge will be so disappointed." an hour later a book dropped from the apple tree to the ground, bringing a scurry of leaves with it. madge morton descended after her book, swinging herself down without a thought of her dignity. "oh, dear me!" she exclaimed. "why did i have to drop my book when i had only a few more pages to read? i suppose it is nearly luncheon time now, and i ought to see what has become of nellie." madge strolled lazily along under the fruit trees. now and then she stopped to look critically at the heavily-laden branches. mr. william butler, her uncle, owned a fruit farm, consequently the girl was interested in their autumn and winter crop of apples. at the gate of the orchard she paused to peep at her book for another stolen moment and came face to face with her cousin. although it was not yet midday, eleanor butler had on a white company frock and her hair had been freshly braided. madge did not see her cousin at first. nellie eyed her sympathetically, but at the same time her face wore an expression of disapproval. "where have you been, madge?" she demanded. "you've gone and done it this time, i can tell you; i have been looking for you for more than an hour." "sorry, coz," returned madge lightly. "did aunt sue want me? i have been reading in the orchard. but why are you dressed so bravely? we can't be having a party at this early hour of the day." nellie looked serious. "we have not had a party," she returned, "but we have had some visitors. we had iced tea and cakes on the front porch, too." "lucky me, to have escaped the company, eleanor. it is much too warm for morning callers, even if it is september," declared madge indifferently. "i'll wager that they talked gossip and bored you and auntie dreadfully." "they did no such thing," replied eleanor, nettled by her cousin's bantering tone. "if you'll stop talking a minute, i'll tell you who our visitors were. you'd never be able to guess in a thousand years. our old friends, mrs. curtis and tom, have been to 'forest house' to see us. they were passing through the town on their way to richmond and stopped over between trains." "take me to them, take me to them!" cried madge, setting off for the house on a run, closing the orchard gate behind her with a force that caused it to shut with a resounding bang. nellie followed her tempestuous relative, calling, "you can't see them. that is just the trouble. mrs. curtis and tom drove away about a quarter of an hour ago. i am so sorry, but i did look for you everywhere; so did pompey. we called and called you. mrs. curtis and tom were dreadfully disappointed. they were afraid to wait any longer for fear they would miss their train. they left a great deal of love for you. mrs. curtis was charmed with 'forest house.' you may see them soon again. mrs. curtis wants us----" "oh, i am so sorry i missed them," lamented madge. "when does mrs. curtis's train go?" "at one o'clock," answered eleanor. "mother wished them to stay to luncheon, but they had hired such a slow old horse at the station that they thought it wisest to leave in time." "and they have been on the way only a quarter of an hour?" questioned madge. "i know what i am going to do: i am going to ride dixie down to the station. i know i can overtake tom and mrs. curtis before their train leaves the station. i may be able to get just a peep at them. here, take my book, please, nellie. make it all right with uncle william and aunt sue. i am sure to be late for luncheon." madge was off across the fields, running as though her life depended on it. readers of "madge morton, captain of the 'merry maid'" already know the story of how four girls, with more enthusiasm than money, found and transformed a dilapidated old canal boat into the pretty floating summer home which they christened the "merry maid" and launched on a quiet shore of chesapeake bay. their subsequent meeting with a mrs. curtis and her son, tom, persons of wealth and social position, who were summering at one of the fashionable hotels along the shore of the bay, prepared the way for a series of eventful happenings in which the crew of the "merry maid" amply proved their mettle. it was through the efforts of madge morton and phyllis alden that a young woman was rescued from the clutches of a family of rough and uncouth fisher folk, and taken aboard the "merry maid," where it developed that she was none other than the daughter of mrs. curtis who had been lost at sea twelve years previously. after a succession of happy weeks on the houseboat, the girls repaired to their various homes to spend the remainder of their vacations with their families. they had promised mrs. curtis, however, that for two weeks before returning to school they would be her guests on their own houseboat, which she had arranged to have removed from pleasure bay, where it still lay, to a spot opposite old point comfort, where she and her son and daughter were spending a few weeks before returning to new york city. madge knew without being told that the time for their happy holiday had come. still, it was not of this she was thinking as she raced across the fields. she had missed mrs. curtis more than she could say, and her sole desire was to see the woman who had done so much to add to their pleasure on their previous trip. in a nearby meadow dixie, madge's fat black pony, was lazily eating grass. her mistress called to her coaxingly as she ran toward the enclosure. but the pony was bent on a frolic. she heard madge, saw her approaching, and, eager for a game, the pony kicked her heels together and trotted off across the field at a lively pace. madge was in despair. every moment was precious. why should dixie choose this time of all others to refuse to come when she called to her? with a sudden thought madge reached into her pocket. there, to her joy, she discovered an uneaten red apple. madge held it out invitingly, standing perfectly still, as though she had no intention of stirring. the pony threw back her head, neighed softly, then came trotting over to her mistress and appropriated the apple; but the next instant madge's hand was in her mane, and she vaulted lightly on dixie's slippery back, still keeping a tight hold. "nellie," she called, as she cantered past her cousin, "tell aunt sue she must forgive my riding bareback this time. i never will again. but i simply couldn't wait to put a saddle on dixie. i might miss seeing mrs. curtis and tom. no; they won't be shocked. they'll know it is only madge!" she rode swiftly away, sitting on the pony's uncovered back as easily as though she had been riding in the most comfortable of saddles. it was three miles down the pike to the railway station nearest to the old butler homestead. madge knew that her friends had hired a carriage at the depot, and that her pony was capable of making twice the speed of any horse that they had been able to hire. but the day was warm. it was near dixie's feeding time, and the animal saw no reason for making unnecessary haste. madge coaxed and urged her pet to do her best. if she could only overtake her friends in their journey to the station! but the pony would not hurry. at last madge stopped under a big maple tree, breaking off a switch. a few mild cuts from an unaccustomed whip made dixie leap ahead. the pike followed the railroad track for a mile. at the end of the mile, at a sharp curve, the track crossed the road. there was no watchman stationed at the crossing to give the signal, not even a red flag to tell of danger, only a great sign, printed in huge, black letters: "look out for the locomotive. stop. look. listen." a hundred times mr. butler had warned eleanor and madge of this dangerous point in the road. almost every day they crossed this track, driving back and forth from the village and they had always heeded mr. butler's warning. to-day, just as reckless madge neared this point in her journey, she saw a rickety carriage drive over this crossing about a hundred yards ahead of her. "wait, mrs. curtis! stop, tom!" cried madge joyfully. her blue eyes were shining, her cheeks were flushed. madge's old-time heedlessness was upon her. she gave no thought to her promise to her uncle, to the chance of the oncoming trains. madge-fashion, she saw only the goal ahead of her. "go it, dixie, darling!" she entreated, touching her pony sharply with her maple switch. at the girl's first call tom curtis had reined in the old horse he was driving. his mother leaned out of the carriage to look back. "madge!" she cried sharply. at the same instant madge plunged recklessly toward the railroad crossing. it was too late to rein in her pony. she and dixie dared not take that risk. she saw a huge monster bearing down upon her. a shriek from the engine, a hoarse call from the engineer as he swept around the curve and saw the pretty figure on the track so close to his train. madge felt the wave of heat from the locomotive. it seemed almost to scorch her, it was so near. she felt her fingers stiffen with fear; her hold on her pony's mane relaxed. she knew she was slipping off her horse's back and down on the track. but she was country born and bred. she had ridden horseback all her life. in that moment of terror she flung herself forward, with both arms about her pony's neck. dixie gave a single, frightened leap. she cleared the track just as the train raced by. then madge slid limply to the ground, while her pony stood by her shivering with fear. "don't scold me, and don't tell uncle," she pleaded as mrs. curtis and tom climbed hurriedly from the wagon and came back to her. "i know it was dreadful of me, and uncle would never have forgiven me if i had killed myself." at this characteristic speech both madge and her friends laughed. madge kissed mrs. curtis affectionately. then, holding out her hand to tom, she said, "do you think i could let you get away without seeing you for a minute at least? perhaps you had better go on to the station. i will follow you on dixie. we can talk after we reach there." the carriage, closely followed by madge on her pony, reached the little station at least ten minutes before the time for the curtis's train. madge could not leave dixie to walk to the front of the station, so mrs. curtis and her son walked to the road where madge had alighted and stood waiting for them, one hand in her pony's mane. tom thought he had never seen her look so pretty, but he was too wise to say so. he had learned by embarrassing experience that mistress madge frowned disapprovingly at the slightest intimation of a compliment. "tom and i stopped at 'forest house' to tell you that we are ready for you. we wish you four girls to be our guests as soon as you can make ready to come to us. your uncle and aunt have given their consent to the arrangement. we leave it to you and nellie to communicate with lillian, phil, and miss jenny ann. you must rally the houseboat party. write to madeleine and me and tell us anything you think you would like to do. we are at old point comfort. good-bye, dear; here comes our train. don't disappoint us." mrs. curtis and tom boarded their train, leaving madge staring after it in happy anticipation of the good times that were sure to be theirs when once more aboard the "merry maid." chapter ii what madge found in the attic "aunt sue," declared madge gravely, wrinkling her straight, dark eyebrows into a solemn frown, "there is only one thing that worries me about our second houseboat party: nellie and i haven't enough pretty clothes." mrs. butler looked as though she quite agreed with her niece. it was the day after mrs. curtis's hurried call. "you see, it is this way, auntie. on our first trip our houseboat was anchored in a quiet, out-of-the-way place. we met mrs. curtis only by accident and had a few parties at the belleview hotel. this time we are to be mrs. curtis's guests. although the houseboat won't be on the virginia side of the bay, because the water is much too rough there, we shall probably be crossing over to fortress monroe and old point and all the lovely places near. mrs. curtis will be sure to get up parties for us. we may even look on at some of the dances at fortress monroe. so nellie and i ought each to have a new evening gown, besides our white silk gowns. don't you think so?" aunt sue sighed in answer to madge's question. "i don't see where new party gowns are to come from, dear. even if i felt we could afford them, i simply haven't time to go to town to get the material for them. it has taken a great deal to get you and nellie ready for school, since you will go directly to miss tolliver's when your houseboat party is over. fortunately, your new school clothes will be suitable for most occasions, as the weather will probably be cool. somehow i feel uneasy about this second houseboat party. i have a premonition that something will happen to you girls. your uncle thinks i am absurd. he says you are very fortunate to have made a friend like mrs. curtis, and to have another opportunity to enjoy your houseboat. i suppose i am foolish." mrs. butler smiled nervously. "you know i am rather given to having premonitions, so don't concern yourself about anything i have said to you." mrs. butler was a delicate, high-bred looking woman, with soft blue eyes and brown hair lightly streaked with gray, who was quite likely to be influenced by her wilful niece's opinions. it was in her uncle william that madge met her match. "nellie!" called madge when her aunt had finished speaking, "please come in here. i want to persuade auntie to do something that i am going to ask of her, and i wish you to help me." nellie appeared at the dining room door, her fingers stained with grape-juice. she was determined to help her mother with the jelly before she and her cousin left for their second houseboat holiday. "you don't need any one's help when it comes to having your own way," retorted mrs. butler. "what do you wish this time?" madge lowered her voice. "auntie, you know that upstairs in mother's old trunk there are two rolls of silk--a roll of rose-color and one of turquoise blue. you have always said that father brought them home to mother from china just after i was born, and that mother never had them made into dresses, because she died soon afterward, when father failed to return from his trip." mrs. butler bowed her head quietly. she looked away from her niece. "yes, that is what i have told you. i am saving the silks until you are older. you have very little else of your mother's except her jewelry." madge clasped her hands together pleadingly. "o aunt sue! why must i wait until i am grown for those silks? i wish you to give them to nellie and me now. please, please do. i am sure we are old enough to appreciate them. nellie would be a perfect dream in the pink silk, and i should dearly love to have the blue. we never, never can need the dresses more than we do _now_! why, in two or three years nellie and i may be rich! who knows? what is the use in keeping them for some future time, when nellie and i need them at the present moment? you know we ought to have one handsome gown apiece, auntie. mrs. curtis and madeleine are always beautifully dressed." "yes, mother, please let madge have her way," entreated nellie. "but i can't accept one of the frocks. i wouldn't take it away from you for the world." "very well, auntie," replied madge, with a little choke in her voice. "i am sorry i mentioned the subject to you. i don't care for the silks, then. i won't even look at them, unless nellie will take one of them." "silly madge!" remonstrated eleanor, coming up behind her cousin and tweaking a loose curl of her auburn hair. "i know you wish me to share everything with you, and i thank you just the same. but, madge, i can't accept one of those dresses. don't you see, they were your mother's, and that makes all the difference in the world." "i can't see what difference it makes if i wish to do it. you always divide everything you have with me, and i don't see why you can't let me be generous for once." madge's eyes were misty. the thought of her mother and father made it hard for her to speak without emotion. "besides," she added, smiling in her charming fashion, "i will never wear a pink gown. no one need try to persuade me. it wouldn't be in keeping with my red hair!" eleanor put her arm around her cousin. she understood the little quaver in madge's laughing voice. "of course i will have the dress, if you feel that way about it," she said gently. "and i shall adore it. why, i can see myself in it this minute, with a pink rose fastened in my hair. but all this time you and i have been arguing mother has not yet said that you could use the silks. please consent, mother; there's a dear." mrs. butler looked grave. "i suppose it is all right," she hesitated. "the silks belong to madge and she is old enough to decide what she wishes to do with them. look in my left-hand bureau drawer, madge; you will find the key to your mother's trunk there. the silks are in the bottom of the trunk, wrapped in a piece of old, yellow muslin. we might as well find out whether the material is still good before we decide what we will do about it. i must go back now to my jelly; it must be nearly done." "come up to the attic with me, won't you, eleanor?" invited madge. eleanor shook her head. she knew her cousin liked best to make these visits to her mother's trunk alone. "no," she answered, "i must help mother with the jelly." nellie slipped quietly away and left madge looking dreamily out on the elm-shaded lawn, her thoughts busy with the story of her own past and the little she knew of her father. he had been a captain in the united states navy, and one of the youngest officers in the service. the mortons were an old virginia family, and after robert morton's graduation from annapolis he was rapidly promoted in the service. he had married mrs. butler's only sister, eleanor, for whom nellie was named. two months after madge's birth, while her husband was away on a cruise, madge's mother died at her sister's home, and, as her father never came back to claim her, she had been brought up by her uncle and aunt. this was all she had been told of the story of her mother and father. it made her aunt unhappy to talk of them, so madge had asked few questions as she grew to young womanhood. but to-day she felt that she would like to know whether her father had died and been buried at sea--she always thought of him as dead--or whether a tablet had ever been erected to his memory at annapolis. she had never been to annapolis, although it was not a great distance from miss tolliver's school, but she knew that the government often honored its brave officers and sailors with these memorials. she was thinking of these things as she left the dining room and climbed the steep, ladder-like stairs that led to the attic. the attic of "forest house" was worth a longer journey than madge had to make. it was built of solid cedar wood, with beams a foot thick over head, and put together with great cedar pegs. the attic was a long, low-ceilinged room, dark and fragrant with the odor of the cedar. it was lit by four big, old-fashioned dormer windows in the front and four in the rear. her mother's trunk was kept in one corner of the attic behind an old oak chest. mrs. butler did not wish to be haunted by sad memories when she made her frequent trips to her attic to look after the family clothing and bedding, so she had partly hidden her sister's trunk. madge opened the trunk in the half light. on top of everything was a pile of her first baby dresses. farther down she came upon a sandalwood box containing her mother's jewelry. the box contained a beautiful and unusual collection of rare stones. captain morton had brought many of the jewels back from the orient as presents to his wife. madge picked up a necklace of uncut turquoises, set in links of curiously carved dull gold. for an instant she looked at it, then slipped it over her head. there was also a tortoise-shell comb of wonderful beauty to match the necklace. the crown of the comb was formed of turquoises and pearls. just in the center of the comb was a tiny scarab made of turquoises. the scarab madge knew to be a beetle sacred to the egyptians. she wondered if the beautiful set of jewelry had an unusual history. madge put the comb in her hair, then plunged deeper into the lavender-scented trunk. under a pile of old-fashioned gowns she found the bundle that she desired, tied up in yellow muslin just as her aunt had described it. tucking it under her arm she hurried to the front windows and sat down turk fashion on the floor. she wished to examine carefully the well-remembered silks. it had been several years since she had seen them, yet how well she recalled them! she and nellie had never grown tired of marveling at the beautiful fabrics when, as little girls, they were allowed to glance at the silks by way of a special treat. the young girl untied her precious bundle slowly. she gently unrolled the pink silk. it was a wonderful rose color, a pure chinese silk, as light and soft as a butterfly's wing. madge saw a vision of nellie in this dress. it must be trimmed with an old collar of venetian point lace, which was one of mrs. butler's heirlooms. then she unrolled the blue silk. the material to be used for her frock was a japanese crepe. it had a border of shaded blue and silver threads forming a design of orchids. it was too beautiful a costume for a young girl, madge thought. she held her breath as she looked at it. would her aunt allow her to use it? spying a broken mirror on an old bureau in the attic, she brought it over to the light and propped it against the back of a worn-out chair. then she wrapped the blue silk about her shoulders and stared at herself in the mirror. madge was an exceedingly pretty young girl. this afternoon her face showed a promise of the unusual beauty that was to come to her later in life, when she had learned many things. there was a hint of tragedy in her charming, wayward nature. the friends who loved her knew that her path through life would not follow an easy and untroubled road. she could never do anything in a half-way fashion, whether it were to love or to hate, to be happy or to be miserable. to-day her blue eyes were dark with wonder at her own appearance and with the memory of her dead mother and father. with the strange jewels in her hair and about her throat, the beautiful blue robe around her shoulders, little country-bred madge looked as though she might have been a beautiful princess of the long ago. being free from vanity, however, she calmly folded up her silks, took off her jewels, and turned from the window to go downstairs to show her cousin her treasures. at the door of the attic she paused and glanced back at the open trunk, then, walking slowly toward it, deposited her jewel box and armful of silks on the top of the old cedar chest and sat down before the trunk. what strange influence drew her back to it that day madge could never explain. she knew only that the longing for the love of the father she had never seen, and the mother she could not remember, was strong within her. "what made you leave me when i needed you so?" she murmured, half under her breath. then she bowed her head on the edge of the trunk and her tears dropped on a little, old-fashioned black velvet coat that had been her mother's. impulsively madge caught it up and pressed it to her lips. after a long moment she laid it across her lap and began smoothing it with loving hands, tenderly tracing its lines with her forefinger. as she was about to fold it and lay it in its accustomed place her hand came in contact with something hard in the cuff of one sleeve between the velvet and the satin lining. "what can it be?" she wondered, as she fingered it through the cloth. "it feels like a key. if i break two or three stitches, i can pull it out." it was at least five minutes before she managed to make an opening large enough to admit the working out of the little hard object. as she had guessed, it was a small brass key with a bit of faded violet ribbon attached to it. madge looked curiously at it as it lay in her hand. to whom did the key belong? what did it unlock? why had her mother sewed it into the sleeve of the black velvet coat? or had her mother placed it there? the little captain sighed. she could ask endless questions concerning her find, but she could answer none of them. "there may be a box in the trunk which i have overlooked," she reflected. "i never do things thoroughly." springing from the floor, madge ran across the attic to where her aunt always kept a pile of brown wrapping paper. tearing off a strip she carried it to her corner and, laying it on the floor at one side of her mother's trunk, sat down beside it. one by one, with reverent hands, she lifted the various garments from it, piling them over one another on the paper. but when the trunk, bereft of its last article, stood empty before her, she stared in disappointment at the pile of articles at her side. there was nothing in it that bore the slightest resemblance to a box. "it's like 'hunting for a needle in a haystack,'" she mourned. "this key might fit a lock thousands of miles from here. it can't be the key to the trunk; it is too small." she bent forward to examine the lock. "no, the key to this trunk is ever so much larger. perhaps the trunk has a false bottom!" this being a positive inspiration, madge set to work on the bottom of the trunk, her investigations meeting with no success. she was more disheartened than she cared to admit, even to herself, as she replaced the contents of the trunk and, reluctantly shutting down the lid, gathered up her treasures and went down the stairs with dragging feet. her pleasure in the beautiful fabrics had vanished, and the longing to probe into the past of her dear ones was uppermost in her mind. her first impulse on entering the kitchen, where eleanor and her mother still labored with the jelly, was to show them the little key. then the same strange influence which had forced her to return to the trunk kept her silent. the finding of the little key should be her secret. mrs. butler and eleanor exclaimed admiringly over the silks. it was as though they were seeing them for the first time. eleanor was delighted with the prospect of possessing an evening gown of the rose color, and the two girls were soon deep in planning the way in which they intended having their frocks made. "may i keep mother's jewel box with me, aunt sue?" asked madge an hour later, as she rose to go to her room, her roll of blue silk tucked under one arm, the sandalwood box in her hand. "of course you may, my dear. as long as you are going to use the silks you might as well take the jewels too," sighed mrs. butler. "thank you," returned her niece, bending to kiss the older woman's cheek, then she walked quietly from the room, her cheerful face unusually sober. "madge is always sad after a visit to her mother's trunk," remarked eleanor, after her cousin had gone. mrs. butler nodded, her own face saddened as she went back over the years. some day she would tell madge the truth concerning her father and why he had never returned to the homestead, but not now. she did not wish to cast the slightest shadow upon her niece's joyous anticipations of the coming trip. once in her room madge took the little key from the pocket of her middy blouse and laid it on her dressing table. drawing up a chair, she sat down, and opening the jewel box, began taking out the ornaments, spreading them on the table before her. to her eyes, unaccustomed to the sight of jewelry, they made an imposing array. when the last trinket was out she turned her attention to the box itself. empty, it was larger and deeper than she supposed. despite the fact that the jewelry had been removed it was still heavy. "it must be the weight of the wood that makes it feel heavy," she reflected. "why, it has a keyhole! i never noticed that before, it is so far down, and, besides, the box has been unlocked ever since i can remember." she carefully examined the keyhole, then, with a swift rush of disappointment, came the thought that the mysterious key was merely that of the sandalwood box. to be sure, there were two little brass catches which fastened the box tightly together. the lock had been put on, no doubt, as an extra security, and rarely, if ever, used. but if such were the case, why had the key been secreted in the sleeve of the black velvet coat? after all, it might not fit the lock on the box. if it did, then her secret was not really a secret after all. madge reached for the object of her cogitations and inserted it in the lock. it fitted. she gave it one quick turn, then endeavored to pull it out. it stuck. madge held the back of the box with one hand to keep it from slipping and pulled hard. she felt the box itself give. then to her astonishment she saw that the lower part of the box formed a drawer, the existence of which was cunningly hidden by the carving, and it now stood open before her. in it lay a small black leather book, and under the book was a single envelope addressed to her mother. with wondering eyes the girl peered into the envelope. her hands shook as she drew forth several closely written sheets of paper. unfolding them she saw only the salutation, "beloved"; then she turned to the signature. it read, "your devoted husband, robert morton." madge gazed in fascination at her father's clear, bold handwriting. if it were in the least indicative of character, her father must have been a good man and true. undoubtedly he had proved himself an honor to the navy and the flag he had sworn to serve. she experienced a curious thrill of satisfaction at this thought. tearing her eyes from the beloved name, she went back to the first page of the letter and began to read, but when she reached the end of the second page she cried out in anguish, and, laying her curly head on the dressing table, sobbed heart-brokenly. "i can't bear it!" she wailed. "o father, father! how could they be so cruel?" after a few moments she raised her head with a long, quivering sigh, and went on with the letter. when she had finished it, she took up the little black book. her tears fell fast as she perused its pages. it was her father's log book and contained, besides the notes concerning his last fateful voyage as a naval officer, memoranda of his personal life aboard ship as well. over the last half dozen pages--the record ended abruptly--madge's grief burst forth anew. after she had finished she sat for a long time holding the little book against her cheek. the distant ringing of the supper bell brought her to a realization of her surroundings. tenderly she laid the book and the letter in the secret drawer that had held them so faithfully, inviolate from the eyes of the world; then, locking the drawer she withdrew the key, and, taking from a box on the dressing table a slender gold chain, her only bit of ornament outside her mother's jewelry, madge opened the catch and hung the key upon it. "it will be safe there," she said half aloud. "but now i have a secret worth keeping until i find the man who spoiled my father's life. and when i do"--madge's red lips set in a determined line--"i'll make him tell the truth about father to the whole world." chapter iii an unexpected meeting although the prospect of the coming visit to old point comfort filled madge and eleanor with a delightful sense of their own importance, they still had certain misgivings as to what might be expected of them as the guests of mrs. curtis. she had written them that as long as they were to be anchored near fortress monroe, she hoped to show them the social side of the army and navy life centered there. to the two country girls the idea of "society" was a trifle appalling. phyllis alden had also written them that she knew nothing of society and was almost afraid to venture into that awe-inspiring realm, while miss jenny ann at first refused to consider the idea, but finally relented and made her preparations to join the girls in anything but a joyous frame of mind. lillian seldon was the only one of the little company who took the prospect of balls and parties and meeting hosts of new people quite calmly. she had two older sisters, who had made their entrance into philadelphia society, and lillian had been allowed to be present at their coming-out parties. mrs. seldon, lillian's mother, was devoted to society, while mrs. butler cared for nothing outside her own home interests, and mrs. alden was too busy taking care of a large family on a small income to think of anything else. phil's life had been largely centered in her school. eleanor and madge had divided their allegiance between miss tolliver's and "forest house" until their houseboat had opened a new world to them. after a long talk with eleanor, madge finally wrote mrs. curtis, confessing that they were rather afraid to venture into the social life of the point. in reply mrs. curtis only made light of their fears and misgivings and insisted that they should come. tom, who had undertaken the duty of finding a landing for the houseboat, announced that it was safely sheltered near the southern end of cape charles; it was too rough to anchor the boat on the virginia side of the shore. besides, tom was camping with some college friends on the shore of the cape, and had arranged that the houseboat should be no great distance from his camp. the houseboat party could cross over to old point, or any of the resorts on the opposite beach, in a small steamboat that made its way back and forth from one coast to the other, or in tom's new motor launch, which would be always at their disposal. the careful way in which the curtises had arranged for the comfort of their young guests finally conquered the last faint objection on their part, and when on the morning of the day appointed, escorted by mrs. curtis and tom, the four girls and miss jenny ann boarded the "merry maid" for their two weeks' stay, their former fears and misgivings were entirely forgotten. they remembered only that they had come into their own again through the generosity of mrs. curtis, and for her sake were willing to brave even "society." * * * * * the ballroom of the great hotel at old point comfort was crowded with dancers. it was an official military ball. the army officers were in full-dress uniforms. the midshipmen from the fleet were in white. there was a large sprinkling of naval officers from the battleships in the harbor at hampton roads. many of them were foreigners, as there were several ships of other nations anchored there. there were beautiful women in beautiful gowns and wonderful jewels. altogether it was a scene calculated to make a lively impression upon madge and her friends, and it was with rapidly beating hearts that, in company with mrs. curtis, madeleine and tom, they entered the brilliantly lighted ballroom which contained for them no familiar faces. "oh, dear, miss jenny ann," whispered eleanor, keeping close to her chaperon's side, "why did we ever imagine we could appear at home in a place like this? i wish we had not come." her distress looked out from her brown eyes as she watched the throng of fashionably dressed women and uniformed men swaying and gliding in the figures of one of the new dances that had taken society by storm. "don't be afraid, nell," returned phil, fighting down her self-consciousness, "they are just mere men and women. besides, they are too busy to think of us." just then an elderly man in uniform, accompanied by a woman of about his own age, stepped forward and claimed the attention of the curtises. for the moment the girls, who were following their friends, became separated from them by the dancers. realizing that they were too near the center of the ballroom for comfort, the little party stepped back, edging nearer the wall. madge, too fully absorbed in the gay scene before her to see just where she was going, collided with a young woman, who, accompanied by two young men, was coming from the opposite direction. before she could apologize an unpleasant voice broke upon the ears of the houseboat party with disconcerting distinctness. "oh, dear, let us move out of the way, if we can. it is quite evident that certain other persons have no intention of doing so. such stupidity! still, what can one expect from a crowd of country folks? i wonder how they happened to be here? i doubt if they were invited. it is a pity we can't keep tiresome nobodies from spoiling our hops here at the hotel." a moment later the owner of the voice, a young woman of perhaps twenty years, had the grace to blush under the battery of five pairs of indignant eyes that was turned upon her. miss jenny ann, lillian and eleanor looked cold astonishment at the rude speaker. it was plain to be seen that phyllis was very angry. to madge, however, was left the "retort courteous," and before miss jenny ann could lay a restraining hand lightly upon her arm, the little captain said in a sweet, clear voice: "we are so sorry to be thought stupid. it is very unfortunate that we stepped in your way. as you remarked, we are from the country, but, at least, we have been taught that courtesy is a most desirable virtue. rest assured we would not be here without an invitation. mrs. curtis is our hostess. it is possible you may know her." madge's tones were freighted with such unmistakable sarcasm that the rude young woman was too thoroughly taken aback to reply. she had fully intended her ill-bred speech to be overheard, but she had not for a moment imagined that one of these apparently shy newcomers would fling back an answer. the two young men with whom she had been talking looked very uncomfortable. there was an instant's strained silence, then the ill-bred young woman found her voice. "i did not think you would hear what i said." she turned haughtily to madge. "as you did hear me, i suppose i owe you an apology. i am one of the hostesses here to-night, as my father is an officer at fortress monroe. i know mrs. curtis and also her son and daughter." madge acknowledged the grudging apology with the merest inclination of her head. she was too angry to trust her voice. she turned away, and the little party was about to move on when tom curtis hurried to her side. "how did you become separated from us?" he asked. "mother thought you were directly behind her. why, good evening, flora," his eyes happened to rest on the disagreeable young woman, "you are just in time to meet mother's guests." tom proceeded to introduce the houseboat party to her. "i am sure you will be pleased to know miss harris," he declared innocently. then he presented the two young men respectively as lieutenant lawton and mr. thornton. miss harris acknowledged the introduction with far more graciousness than she had previously exhibited. it was evident to the girls that she did not wish tom curtis to know how rudely she had treated his friends. the young man introduced as mr. thornton addressed madge with a view toward being gracious, but she replied briefly and turned her attention to tom. far from being dismayed with the rebuff, he tried again. "i am over in camp with your friend, mr. curtis," he volunteered. "are you?" rejoined madge indifferently. "yes," he went on, unabashed. "i came over to the dance to-night because miss harris is a great friend of mine. don't hold that rude speech of hers against us; she did not imagine you would overhear it. mr. lawton and i were awfully cut up over it." he was doing his best to melt the snow image he was addressing. madge showed no sign of relenting. "do you golf?" he questioned, hurriedly changing the subject. madge shrugged her pretty shoulders. "not well enough to count," she answered. "do you swim?" was his next question. receiving no answer, he continued: "it is getting rather late in the year for sea bathing. the water is too cold for comfort." "i like to swim in cold water," commented madge stiffly. then, taking pity on the discomfited young man, she smiled faintly and said, "i should not blame you for your friend's rude remarks, but i am still very angry with her. her conduct was insufferable." "she didn't mean what she said," defended alfred thornton. "i can't understand why flora spoke as she did. she is a splendid girl. i've known her for a long time. she is the daughter of an officer whose father is a retired admiral in the navy and a favorite socially at old point." "that is very nice for her," returned madge without enthusiasm. in the face of the discourtesy which miss harris had just exhibited she thought mr. thornton's eloquent defence in rather bad taste. she was about to retort that her father, too, had been an officer in the navy; then, remembering, her face flushed and she compressed her red lips. not yet. not until she had found the man she sought and cleared her father's name. suddenly the thought came: "suppose i were to hear news of him while at old point? suppose he were known to some of the officers whose ships are stationed here? perhaps it was fate that sent us to visit mrs. curtis." "have you decided to be angry, after all?" alfred thornton's voice recalled madge to her surroundings. "i am not angry," replied madge. "to tell you the truth, i was not thinking of my own grievances." "sorry to interrupt conversation, thornton," broke in tom curtis, "but there is a whole line of midshipmen waiting to be introduced to my friends." "i hope you will give me a dance, miss morton," said alfred thornton. madge assented, although she felt more inclined to refuse. she was not in the least certain that she liked this dark, thin-faced young man. when he talked he had a peculiar trick of turning his eyes away from the person with whom he was talking that did not please her. "come on over in that corner, girls," invited tom. "there we shall be out of the way of the dancers and you can hold court. just wait until you see that line of midshipmen!" keeping out of the way of the dancers, the party moved toward the corner designated by tom. there he left them, returning shortly with several young men in the midshipmen's uniform, who seemed not only willing, but eager, to have the pleasure of dancing with the four girls. miss jenny ann, who looked very handsome in a pretty gown of black net over white silk, came in for a full share of attention, and was not a little worried as to whether as chaperon she ought to sit quietly and watch her charges or dance. she confided this to madge, who merely laughed, told her that she looked "too sweet for anything" and to "go ahead and have a good time." whereupon miss jenny ann sank her last scruples and proceeded to enjoy herself as much as did the four girls, who did not miss a dance. they were showered with attentions from not only the midshipmen, but the old officers as well asked the privilege of a dance. pretty lillian seldon was in her element. this was her first real ball and she was delighted with the opportunity it afforded to play "grown up." she wore her golden hair piled high on her shapely head, and as her white silk evening gown was the longest frock she owned she felt at least twenty, which to her seemed very old indeed. phil danced for the pure love of dancing. she was more level-headed than lillian and was less likely to be carried away by pleasure. still, she felt as though she would like to go on dancing forever with lieutenant james lawton, who she decided was the nicest young man she had ever met. undoubtedly it was the excitement of the dance that appealed most strongly to madge. the music, the flowers, the beautiful gowns worn by the women, the subdued murmur of laughing voices, stirred her imaginative temperament as the sunshine awakens flowers. the earlier thought of her father that had threatened to cloud her pleasure disappeared and she gave herself up to the enticement of the gay scene and the invitation of the music. it was after midnight before the ball ended. tom's car was at the hotel entrance to take the tired but enthusiastic girls and their chaperon down to the landing where the launch lay ready to take them to the "merry maid." "i've had the most glorious time," exulted lillian. "and i," was the chorus. "it was too delightful for words," declared madge, with shining eyes. then the light suddenly left them and she became strangely silent. "i forgot you, father," she said under her breath. "i was so busy having a good time i didn't ask a single officer if he knew that dreadful man. but another time i'll not forget. i'll find out where he is before we leave here if there is any possible way to do it." chapter iv the challenge "i declare, miss jenny ann," declared madge fervently, "i believe i was born to live on a houseboat, i feel so perfectly at home. do you think i care so much for the sea because my father was a sailor?" "i suppose you do, my dear," returned the chaperon, who sat listening to madge's animated chatter with an indulgent smile. several days had passed since the ball, and the girls had settled down to a thorough enjoyment of their floating home. madge, who was looking particularly pretty in her sailor suit of blue serge, had been energetically sweeping the decks. now she paused for a moment to lean on her broom and survey miss jenny ann reflectively. the "merry maid" now lay at anchor along a stretch of sandy beach, in a cove formed by a point of land that jutted out into the bay. it was the quietest spot tom curtis could find in the vicinity. but the landing was so near the mouth of the great chesapeake bay that, should a storm blow in from the atlantic ocean, the houseboat would probably be lashed by the waves. there was no shade along the beach, so mrs. curtis had transformed the houseboat into a charming japanese pagoda. mammoth japanese umbrellas were swung above the decks. the latter were covered with pretty straw mats. there was a dainty green tea table securely fastened near the stern, with half a dozen green chairs near it. the window boxes around the upper deck of the boat had been refilled with bright scarlet geraniums and nasturtiums, as they would bloom until late in the autumn. fresh draperies hung at the little cabin windows. wrought-iron lamps, holding beautiful yellow-tinted glass globes, were attached to the outside cabin walls, so the entire deck of the houseboat could be lighted at night. indeed, "the merry maid" presented a far more elaborate appearance than she had worn during the first of the houseboat vacations. it was small wonder that the four girls sighed from pure content. mrs. curtis had not spent a great deal of money in re-decorating the little boat, she did not wish her guests to feel under any obligation to her, but she had made their holiday craft as attractive as possible, and had stored their small larder with all the good things she could find to eat. "miss jenny ann!" exclaimed madge impulsively for the second time in five minutes, "do you think it is wrong to dislike people very, very much?" the little captain's expression had entirely changed. she was frowning as though recalling something unpleasant. "i suppose it is," answered miss jones gravely. she knew that madge's likes and dislikes were not unimportant--they were so intense that they were likely to change not only the course of the girl's whole life but to influence the circumstances of the people about her. "i am sorry," answered madge, "because i have taken a dreadful dislike to that flora harris whom we met at the ball the other night. i wish that tom had not asked us to invite her to the houseboat this afternoon. i did not like to refuse him, but i wish that i never had to see her again." madge returned to her sweeping with redoubled ardor. she acted as though she were trying to sweep the objectionable miss harris off of the houseboat. "don't take a rude speech so to heart, my dear," remonstrated miss jenny ann. "really, miss harris isn't worth it. it's dreadful to have a long list of grudges; it only hurts one to remember them." madge listened politely, though she didn't appear convinced by their chaperon's remarks. wilful madge was never convinced except by experience. "i don't hate the harris girl just because she made one rude speech, miss jenny ann," she returned; "i hate her because she is hateful! she was impolite to us, and a sneak not to tell tom curtis what she had said about us. then she is very haughty and proud because her father is a prominent officer at fortress monroe. she treated us as though we were nobodies from nowhere!" "here, here, madge!" cried phyllis alden, appearing suddenly with the bread knife--she had been making sandwiches for their party--"them's my sentiments to a t! i'll cut off miss harris's head with the carving knife if you say so." madge laughed. "oh, no, phil, i suppose we shall have to be as sweet as cream to her because her friends are our mrs. curtis's friends. miss harris will probably be invited to all the parties we have while we are here." "lieutenant lawton is nice and interesting, at any rate," interposed phil. "don't think that he talked to me about himself. he only said that he was in the navy. but tom told me that lieutenant lawton was working on a wonderful invention. i think it is something about a torpedo-boat destroyer that will go twice as fast as any other torpedo boat," phil went on vaguely. "lieutenant lawton has a work-shop near fortress monroe. it is kept absolutely private through fear that some one will steal the model for the boat before lieutenant lawton has completed it." "you became very well acquainted with this young lieutenant, phil," teased madge. "i suppose he will be rich if he succeeds with his invention." phil shook her dark head enthusiastically. "no; that is why i think he is so splendid," she argued. "he will make no money, unless our government chooses to make him a gift, or to give him a higher rank in the navy. tom says that several foreign countries have offered lieutenant lawton thousands of dollars for his invention. there are american ship-building companies, too, that would give him a great deal of money for it. two men are at old point now trying to tempt lieutenant lawton to sell his secret. but tom says nothing will influence him; he is such a patriot!" "girls, it is time to dress for your tea-party," announced miss jenny ann. for an instant she experienced a vague regret that her girls were about to come in contact with so many fashionable people. she wished that she could transplant them to the free outdoor life that had characterized their first houseboat holiday. here was sensible phil, her head filled with stories of wonderful secret inventions and young inventors. and phil had been the most dependable of her charges. but miss jenny ann was looking in the wrong direction for trouble. she should have concerned herself with the naughty plan that was forming in madge's mind. it had never been worth while to pretend that the little captain was always noble and high-minded. she was capable of generous impulses and she loved her friends so dearly that she would do anything in the world for them. but she was proud and a trifle vain. she hated to be snubbed and treated as though she were absolutely of no importance. so she had quite made up her mind to be revenged on flora harris. just at the time she could think of no better way than to make friends with flora's particular admirer, alfred thornton. he was an extremely wealthy young man in prospect, his father being a pittsburg millionaire. flora was a snob; she was only seventeen, but her mother was a foolish, flighty woman, who allowed her daughter to think that she was already grown-up. although flora was not out of school, her mother never ceased to preach to her that she was not to marry a poor army officer, so the young girl was pleased to have a wealthy young man as one of her admirers. madge knew that alfred thornton was snobbish and mean-spirited. she did not like him. she decided that on the night of the ball. she had seen him exchanging smiles with miss harris behind their backs before tom curtis had introduced him as his friend. this merely confirmed her bad opinion of him. but she realized that young thornton had been attracted by her, and she naughtily resolved to turn his attentions from the elegant miss harris to herself. when she went into her cabin to dress for their tea-party it was with the determination to teach the girl she disliked that madge morton, country-bred though she might be, was a force yet to be reckoned with. at two o'clock that afternoon miss jenny ann and the four girls received their guests, and a little later tea was served on the deck at the dainty tea table under the big japanese umbrellas. madge, looking radiant in a little frock of white organdie dotted with tiny green leaves, poured the tea. tom curtis had brought with him four or five young men from the camp. flora harris, looking utterly bored, a faint smile of cynical amusement on her face, accompanied by her cousin, alice paine, had crossed the bay in a steam launch with jimmie lawton. never before had the houseboat held so many visitors, and the young hostesses did all in their power to entertain their guests. * * * * * "we have had a delightful afternoon," smiled alice paine as, later, the two young women declared that they must go back to old point. "i think the 'merry maid' is lovely, don't you, flora?" "the _boat_? oh, yes," drawled flora. then with a touch of malice she added, "you told me you made your houseboat from an old canal boat, didn't you, miss morton?" "yes," returned the little captain briefly; then, as though unconscious of any malice aforethought on the part of the other girl, she continued a laughing conversation with tom curtis and alfred thornton. "i should have guessed it," commented flora harris, shrugging her shoulders. she frowned as she noted that alfred thornton appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. furthermore, no one had paid the slightest attention to her malicious little thrust. madge had answered her without seeming to realize the insult her words contained. madge had fully realized, however, the hidden insolence of flora harris's reply, but she would have died rather than allow the other girl to know it. "did you say i didn't dare, tom?" she exclaimed in answer to a laughing remark on the part of the young man. "i don't see anything very daring about your proposal. o phil!" she turned to phyllis, "tom and mr. thornton dare us to row against them in the camp regatta next week. will you do it?" "of course," agreed phyllis, who would have cheerfully acquiesced to almost anything madge saw fit to propose. "we are likely to come in last, but never mind a little thing like that. we are out of practice though. i wonder if we can't persuade a number of other girls to enter the race too?" flora harris glanced disdainfully at madge and phyllis. she and alice had lived near salt water all their lives, and had been taught to row by experts. it was too absurd to think of these two country girls rowing against them! as for entering a racing contest with boys from the camp--surely they were joking! but if they meant it seriously, she and alice were ready for them. "oh, yes, we will enter the race," she answered with a kind of amused indifference. "i suppose alice and i can row as well as your other friends. but we really must be getting back to the point. lieutenant jimmy, we are sorry to interrupt you, but we have a long trip ahead of us." her significant tone caused phyllis and that young man to flush. it was quite true that lieutenant jimmy had devoted himself exclusively to phyllis, and that she had forgotten every one else in listening to the stories of naval life which he had been relating to her. still, flora harris need not have directed the attention of the others to their absorption in each other. the young lieutenant looked rather sulky as he bade good-bye to his hostesses, with his eyes on phil, and helped miss harris and miss paine into the motor boat. alfred thornton and tom curtis left the "merry maid" soon after lieutenant lawton's launch steamed away, and when the five young women were alone they looked at one another in silence. each one of them was possessed of the same thought. it was phyllis who voiced it. "i quite agree with you, madge," she said, a note of anger in her voice. "i think that miss harris is detestable. one thing is certain, we must outrow those two girls in the race. i couldn't endure seeing them win." "nor i, phil," returned madge. "we'll win that race just to spite that hateful miss harris. i despise her snobbishness." "that is a very ignoble spirit in which to enter it," reproved miss jenny ann. "remember, we are to race with a very ignoble person," retorted madge. chapter v the mysterious box after the tea-party a variety of things came up to engage the attention of the "merry maid's" crew. for the first time since they had banded themselves together their interests lay apart. phyllis alden was so deeply impressed with the fact that lieutenant james lawton had chosen her as a confidante and insisted on telling her all his aims and aspirations, that she had thought of little else except him. lillian seldon was experiencing her first taste of society and it had gone to her head. the young officers at fortress monroe and the midshipmen vied with one another in paying her devoted attention, and she reveled in the knowledge that she was pretty and a favorite. madge's sole idea in life seemed to consist in annoying flora harris, and with this intent she deliberately encouraged the attentions of alfred thornton, thus arousing the lasting resentment of that young woman, who looked upon young thornton as her own particular cavalier. secretly madge despised him, nevertheless she concealed her dislike under a gay, gracious manner that she used continually to draw him away from the girl whom she had resolved to annoy and tease on every occasion. only eleanor and miss jenny ann remained unchanged. both women loved the quiet of the "merry maid" far better than they did society, and while madge, phil and lillian flitted here and there like gay young butterflies, the chaperon and the little brown-haired daughter of virginia kept the boat ship-shape and looked after the wants of the others. they were by no means stay-at-homes, however. mrs. curtis had arranged all sorts of good times in which the five young women took part. one of her latest ideas was that her young guests should give a play. she had engaged the private ballroom of the hotel for a certain evening, and had arranged for the erection of a temporary stage on the day previous to the evening on which the play was to be given. she and madeleine had invited a number of their friends and there would be a supper and dance afterward. madeleine, who had developed into a veritable bookworm, had, after considerable hunting, found a story called "the decision," which she had arranged as a play. there were but five characters in the play, which was the story of a girl who, holding a position as private secretary in the home of a man of wealth, discovers that his daughter, a girl about her own age, has been unduly extravagant and, needing money, has forged a check in her father's name. while she deliberates as to what is to be done, the father discovers the forgery, and taxing his daughter with it, she becomes panic-stricken and lays the forgery at the door of the private secretary. her employer, a hard man, brings the two girls together, declaring that if his daughter is at fault he will turn her from his home and utterly repudiate her. a struggle begins in the secretary's mind. she realizes that if she confesses falsely to the forgery, it means not only the loss of her own position but her good name as well, whereas if she makes the daughter of her employer admit her fault, it means that, driven from home, the girl whose weakness has brought about this distressful situation stands little or no chance of redeeming her error if thrust upon the mercy of the world. in the end the secretary shoulders the daughter's guilt and is about to leave her employer's house forever, he having declined to prosecute her, when his daughter, aroused to latent remorse by the nobility of spirit of the girl she has wronged, confesses the truth, and is forgiven by her father solely on account of the earnest pleading of the other girl. madge had been chosen to play the secretary, flora harris the daughter. tom curtis was to portray the role of the stern father, while lillian seldon played a pert maid and alfred thornton an inquisitive footman. flora harris was secretly chagrined when she discovered that the role of heroine had fallen to madge. although the part of the erring daughter furnished plenty of opportunity for acting, the honors of the play fell to madge. flora was far too clever to show by any outward sign that she was not pleased with the part assigned to her, but privately she registered another grievance against the little captain, and the determination to lower madge's pride to the dust was never long out of her thoughts. just how this was to be done she could not yet see, but she felt that sooner or later the opportunity was sure to present itself. of one thing she was certain, madge morton and phyllis alden should not win the boat race. she did not believe there was much possibility of their winning. she had watched them rowing about in the "water witch" and had decided that they possessed neither skill nor speed. she knew that since their agreement to enter the race the two girls had been practising diligently during the mornings on their side of the bay. she and her cousin alice had not been idle. they had done considerable rowing in the mornings, also, and confidently expected to carry off the prize, whatever it might be. as for madge and phyllis, they entertained little idea of winning the race. it was not to be expected, considering the fact that they were competing with boys. still, they hoped to make as good a showing as flora harris and alice paine. they devoted their morning hours to their practice, for the rehearsals of the play occupied madge's afternoons, and it must be confessed that lieutenant james lawton took up the greater part of phil's evenings. but whatever may have been his failings in this direction, he was proving himself to be an efficient coach. his two pupils had placed themselves entirely under his training and, according to his enthusiastic commendation, were improving rapidly. "you girls are doing better with every minute!" was his lively praise one morning as they rowed the "water witch" toward the houseboat. their practice was over for the day, and lieutenant jimmy was to take luncheon with them. it had been a particularly interesting morning. madge felt more drawn toward the young lieutenant than on any previous occasion. he had been telling her and phyllis of his life in the navy, his hopes and aspirations, and phyllis had purposely drawn him into describing his invention. he had just completed a model of his torpedo-boat destroyer and expected to take it to washington within a few days. he was to show his model boat to a committee of naval experts, who were to decide whether his invention were of value. aside from the pleasure it gave him to tell the girls of his invention he had another graver reason for doing so. he had decided to ask phyllis to do him a great favor. from the beginning of their acquaintance the young man had been impressed with phil's sterling qualities. she was loyal to her friends and absolutely dependable. he felt certain that she would respect a confidence and keep a secret. he believed her to be the one person he could trust absolutely. yet he did not wish to draw her into a promise without the knowledge of at least one of her friends. for this reason he had chosen to make madge his confidante also. just how to begin he hardly knew, and it was not until they had rowed within close range of the houseboat, where tom curtis and alfred thornton stood waving from the deck, that he said nervously: "won't you and miss morton stop rowing for a moment, miss alden? i wouldn't have bored you with the story of my invention, except that i wish to ask you a strange favor. if i go away in a few days, of course my work-shop will be closely watched and guarded. yet i shall not feel it to be perfectly safe. i alone know that i am being spied upon, that certain men are shadowing me ready to report every movement that i make. if, after leaving here, i should fall ill unexpectedly, or--disappear suddenly, the secret of my invention might never be known. so i wish to ask you, miss alden, to keep a small, square box, which i shall give you before i leave. i shall ask you not to examine its contents unless some unusual circumstance should develop, when you feel obliged to ascertain what the box contains. you may think it strange that i do not ask one of my men friends to do this favor for me. but i have a special reason for desiring to place the box in the care of some one who will never be suspected of having it. will you keep it for me, say for a week, or until i ask you or write to you for it?" the skiff had nearly reached the houseboat. madge and phyllis were allowing the "water witch" to drift in. their friends on board had seen them and were signaling for them to come aboard. madge's usually sunny face was clouded with disapproval. why should lieutenant lawton wish a young girl like phyllis, a mere acquaintance, to guard a mysterious box for him? what could possibly happen to him when he went to washington! it was all too vague and too absurd. she decided that she and phyllis would have nothing to do with lieutenant lawton's invention. "i don't believe, phil, that you and i ought to do what lieutenant lawton asks unless he takes us fully into his confidence," she protested. phyllis closed her lips with an expression of quiet resolution. "i will take care of the box for you while you are away, lieutenant lawton," she declared. "if madge doesn't wish to have anything to do with it, she will keep your secret, at any rate. i know it will be all right, madge; i am sure you will agree with me," she ended coaxingly, turning to her chum. "we could not refuse to do such a simple favor for a friend. and i think lieutenant lawton is a true patriot to give his invention to his country, instead of selling it to make a fortune, as so many other men would do, and i am proud to aid him in even the smallest way." lieutenant lawton blushed. it occurred to madge that she and phyllis knew little of the young officer's real character. suppose, after all, he did not intend to present his discovery to his government? were she and phil to be used as dupes? a long, searching look into the young man's earnest face seemed to reassure her. "when do you wish to give phil the box, mr. lawton?" she said slowly. "to-night, when you come to mrs. curtis's to rehearse for your play," replied lieutenant jimmy. "i shall want to see you and miss alden alone somewhere. it will only take a minute to hand you the box, but do not, for the world, let either tom curtis or alfred thornton know what i have asked of you." "we won't," promised phyllis readily. "then i can depend on you?" asked the young man anxiously. "you are certain that you are willing to stand by me, miss morton?" "yes." madge gave an emphatic nod. "i feel that you would not ask us to do anything unless you were sure that it was for the best. we will take care of the box for you and no one need suspect that we have it." "i thank you." lieutenant lawton shook hands with the two girls, and thus the compact, involving far more than either of the girls could possibly guess, was sealed. chapter vi flora betrays a state secret alfred thornton had not come to spend several weeks in camp with tom curtis and a dozen other of his acquaintances solely for the pleasure of the outdoor life and sports. he had a secret and far more important mission. his father was a steel magnate. he was also a silent but deeply interested partner in one of the largest ship-building concerns in the united states. the elder mr. thornton and his associates had heard rumors of lieutenant lawton's probable invention. if the young officer could be induced to sell the model of his destroyer to their concern, it would mean millions of dollars. if their company alone could make the fastest torpedo-boat destroyer in the world, not only would the united states government be forced to buy such boats from them, but every government in europe would have to seek them to find out the secret of the highest speed ever attained by such a craft. alfred thornton had been appointed to watch lieutenant jimmy lawton. he was to make him an offer for his patent, if it could be managed without the knowledge of the government authorities. in any case, he was to wire his father the moment he believed lieutenant lawton had completed the model of his boat. it was easy, therefore, to see why alfred thornton had cultivated the friendship of flora harris. he wished to be about fortress monroe in order to hear the gossip of the army and navy people, to see lieutenant lawton, yet never in any way to be suspected of spying upon him. for this reason alfred had chosen to live over in the camp with tom curtis and his friends, rather than to be any nearer the scene of action. it occurred to the young man on the night of the first rehearsal of their play in mrs. curtis's private drawing room that he had been paying too much attention to madge. he did not wish to estrange flora harris. he must be more careful. for this one evening, at least, he would leave madge to herself. had madge been able to read his thoughts she would not have been disturbed at his decision. she was growing tired of her new acquaintance. she thought him dull and too curious about other people's affairs. he was too fond of referring to phil's friendship for lieutenant lawton in a joking manner. for the moment lieutenant lawton and the mysterious box occupied her thoughts so completely that she forgot alfred thornton's existence. she saw lieutenant lawton come into the drawing room, watched him as he explained his unexpected appearance to mrs. curtis. then, looking pale and worried, he took his seat next to phyllis, though he did not have a chance to say a word to her that would not be overheard. for once miss jenny ann jones, who had always been the most lenient of chaperons, determined to play the part of a stern dragon. she decided that, of late, the young man had been altogether too attentive to phyllis. she sat on the girl's side and took part in the conversation between her and the young lieutenant. when he proposed that miss alden walk with him in the hotel garden, miss jones quietly rose and went out with them. lieutenant lawton was desperate. he must give phyllis the box which he desired her to keep for him before the evening was over. yet how could he appoint the time and place where she could receive it if he never had a moment with her in private? miss jenny ann entered first the revolving door that formed the ladies' entrance to mrs. curtis's hotel. before the door swung around again lieutenant lawton had time to whisper: "you and miss morton meet me, if you can, by the tree on the south side of the hotel porch just before you start for the houseboat." phil had just time to nod in reply when she caught miss jenny ann gazing at her reproachfully through the glass of the door. if phyllis had not thought lieutenant jimmy lawton a patriot and a genius, she would never have undertaken to help him without being allowed to confide her part in the affair to her chaperon. but if madge were romantic in her way, phil was equally so in hers. while madge dreamed of lovely ladies and romantic knights in the days of chivalry, phyllis had visions of the glory of self-sacrifice, of patriotism, of doing great deeds for other people. she wanted to study medicine because she thought some day she might be able to go as a hospital nurse on the field of battle. to be able to help lieutenant lawton in even the smallest way to do a service for his country was a source of great delight to phil. she was actually thrilled by it. madge, who had been watching her friend, wished that she would not show her feelings so plainly. across the room she could see that phyllis was pale and restless. once or twice madge saw alfred thornton staring at phyllis; then he turned to hold a whispered conversation with flora harris. early in the evening lieutenant lawton disappeared from the drawing room. as soon as the rehearsal of their play was over alfred thornton made his escape. lieutenant jimmy did not go to his work-shop; he went to his quarters. half an hour later he returned with a square box in his hand, which looked like a five-pound box of candy. instead of returning to the room where mrs. curtis and her guests were, he strolled nervously about the grounds of the hotel. it was dark under the tree where he had asked phil and madge to meet him. about ten minutes before he could look for them he went cautiously toward this tree and waited with his back close against it. a figure, coming up behind him suddenly, startled him. the man had time only to lean over and say, "two hundred thousand dollars!" when a sound of voices was heard at the southern end of the hotel veranda. phyllis also had found it difficult to have a private word with madge, but toward the close of the evening she did have time to whisper the account of her appointment. when miss jenny ann suggested that it was time to leave for their houseboat, madge and phyllis went hurriedly, ahead of the others, into mrs. curtis's dressing room. they slipped into their evening coats, and, taking their pink and blue chiffon scarfs in their hands, they reached the hotel veranda before any one missed them. there were few people staying in the big summer hotel, for it was late in the season. the night was cool and the big front porch was almost deserted. the two girls felt like conspirators. they were perfectly willing to keep lieutenant lawton's box for him. but why was he so mysterious? at the southern end of the long veranda they plainly espied the figure of a man walking slowly up and down in the darkness. it was too dark to distinguish lieutenant lawton's uniform. the girls called faintly to the man under the trees. he did not hear them, nor move in their direction. "come on, madge," whispered phyllis impatiently. "if we are going to help lieutenant lawton by taking care of his box for him, we may as well go out on the lawn to receive it. miss jenny ann will be after us in a minute, if we don't hurry. i believe she thinks i am getting into mischief. she told me yesterday that she thought we were all behaving in much too grown-up a fashion." they were talking as they walked toward the solitary figure they had seen standing under the tree. "lieutenant!" phyllis called softly. the young officer did not reply. the girls drew nearer. the man was not lieutenant lawton! alfred thornton was grinning maliciously. "were you looking for lieutenant lawton?" he inquired. "he was here a few minutes ago. he has gone back to his home. i can look him up for you if you are really anxious to see him, miss alden." phyllis turned pale with embarrassment. she made no reply. madge answered for her. "no, mr. thornton," she returned quietly, "it won't be necessary. we _did_ wish to see lieutenant lawton on a little matter of business. it was not important. we shall probably see him some other time. we are sorry to have disturbed you." madge spoke calmly, but her cheeks were flushed. it did look rather ridiculous for them to be searching the hotel grounds for a young man who had not even waited to see them. alfred thornton insisted on walking back to the hotel with phyllis and madge. he even accompanied them to the motor launch, but as the girls were going aboard he purposely dropped behind the party, apparently to talk to flora harris. he had seen lieutenant lawton reappear among the group of his friends. the young officer went straight up to phyllis, handing her the oblong box under the cover of the darkness. "here is the box," he whispered, when he caught miss jones looking directly at him. phil took the box. it was extremely heavy. she could scarcely hold it. but she never put it down until she had safely reached the shelter of the houseboat and had placed it at the bottom of her steamer trunk. alfred thornton did not cross to the camping grounds with tom curtis in his motor launch that night. he had decided, for reasons best known to himself, to spend the night on the virginia side of the bay. after seeing madge and phyllis to the launch, he returned to the hotel in time to walk home with flora harris. "by the way," she exclaimed, as they were about to say good night, "didn't you once ask me to tell you if i ever heard that lieutenant lawton were about to leave fortress monroe? why did you wish to know?" alfred thornton glanced sharply at his companion. his father had promised him ten thousand dollars if he managed his detective work successfully. was it possible that this girl possessed valuable information concerning the affairs of lieutenant lawton? "oh, i have a personal reason," he answered with an assumed carelessness. flora harris was not deceived. she had read eagerness in his quick glance. she therefore intended to tell him that which he wished to know, because she desired having him on her side if any difficulty should arise between herself and madge morton. "well," she continued, after a moment's pause, "i am telling you a state secret, and one i really have no right to know. i believe that lieutenant lawton leaves for washington within a few days. he has finished the model of that old torpedo-boat destroyer that everybody is making such a fuss about. it is a great secret, so don't let any one know that i have told you. lieutenant jimmy came to see father to-day and had a long talk with him. afterward i overheard father tell mother that things were o.k. with jimmy lawton, but she was not to mention the subject to a soul." flora laughed. she did not in the least realize the importance of the information she had just given. yet she did know enough to understand that she should never have repeated a word that she had heard within her father's house that in any way referred to government business. "oh, well, you needn't worry over having told me," assured alfred thornton. "as i am a friend of lawton's, naturally i am interested in anything pertaining to his invention. he has been so very stiff and close-mouthed about it, he would be rather surprised if he knew that i'd found out something about it, after all." "don't you dare let him know that i told you anything!" exclaimed flora in alarm. "if you do, it will go straight to father and then---i wish i hadn't told you," she concluded regretfully. flora's sudden change of mood caused alfred thornton to purposely look offended and say haughtily, "i am sorry you have such a bad opinion of my honor." flora, who had not intended to make the young man angry, tried instantly to apologize, and after a certain amount of sulky hesitation he condescended to accept her apology. if she had seen the expression of triumph that gleamed in his eyes as he turned from her door and strode down the walk, she would have been still more alarmed. that night alfred thornton sent a telegram to his father. it was written in a code that had been arranged between them. when the messenger boy departed the young man went to his room in the hotel with the air of one whose mission had been accomplished. chapter vii awarding the prizes the boat race between the four girls and six men at the camping grounds, which had begun as a joke, was really to take place. the boys had desired to do something for the entertainment of their friends on the houseboat at old point comfort. so the day of the boat race was to be turned into a long day of feasting and amusement. the summer camp was about to break up, and the young men who had been members of it were to return to their homes to get ready for the opening of college. the picnic at the camp was to be their swan song. the camp was composed of fourteen young men and two professors from columbia university. professor gordon looked after the athletics and professor gamage the general management of the camp. the men lived in three small, portable houses, which were set up along the shores of oyster sound, a little stretch of quiet water between the mainland and a small island. tom curtis and alfred thornton, insisting that they be allowed to act as masters of ceremony for the day's amusements, had arranged a regular programme for their guests. madge requested tom curtis to let their boat race take place first. she and phyllis were nervous and wished to have the race over in order that they might be free to enjoy the day's pleasures. but, for once in their acquaintance, tom was obdurate and would not agree either to madge's entreaties or to her commands. he had arranged his programme and would make no changes in it, he declared stubbornly. the guests were to arrive at the camp and eat their luncheon; an hour later the young men were to give an exhibition of wrestling and racing. as a last feature of the day the famous race was to take place between the boys and girls. the race was supposed to be rowed "just for fun," but mrs. curtis had secretly provided two silver cups. one was to be presented to the victors, the other was to be awarded to whichever of the two pairs of girls outrowed the other. madge and phyllis had no particularly pretty suits to wear in the coming race. the sailor suits they had worn on their first houseboat excursion were now quite shabby, but neither of them felt that they could afford to buy new ones. two days before the boat race miss jenny ann came to the rescue. she made two beautiful new blouses of white flannel with wide collars and cuffs of pale blue. upon the right sleeve of each blouse eleanor embroidered in a shade of blue that exactly matched their collars and cuffs the mysterious letters, m.m.m., which stood for "mates of the merry maid." these blouses worn with their dark blue serge skirts made very attractive rowing costumes. the time appointed for the boat race was at noon on saturday. the boys had worked manfully and the grounds looked as though they had been arranged for a fourth of july picnic. when the houseboat party arrived they were greeted with great cordiality by the young men of the camp. flora harris and alice paine did not put in an appearance until within five minutes of the starting time of the race. both young women were attired in expensive boating costumes of heavy cream-colored pongee. they wore white silk stockings and white buckskin shoes. their only touches of color were the scarfs of pale green crepe de chine which were passed under their sailor collars, and tied in a sailor knot at the open necks of their blouses. madge could not help feeling a tiny pang of envy as she gazed at her beautifully dressed rivals. it was only for a moment, however. she turned to tom curtis, who had hardly left her side since her arrival, and said, "i have one last particular favor to ask. will you ask your crew to come and stand in a line before me?" "certainly," agreed tom wonderingly. the next instant the six men stood in a line before her. they were tom curtis and alfred thornton, who were to pull together, harry sears and a maryland boy, named george robinson, and two brothers, peter and john simrall. the six youths had on their rowing costumes, with their sweaters over them. they looked like a row of good-natured giants as they smiled cheerfully down on madge. phyllis, eleanor and lillian were standing just behind her. flora harris and her cousin, alice paine, were not far away. flora harris and madge had barely spoken to each other all day. before she had an opportunity to explain what she wished of the young men, flora whispered to her cousin, so audibly that not only madge but her three friends heard "i suppose miss morton has arranged this tableau to make herself conspicuous, as usual." madge flushed hotly. a quick reply sprang to her lips. the three girls cast indignant glances at flora. madge shook her head slightly. she meant that they were to remain silent. she had determined not to lose her temper again with flora harris, no matter what the other girl said or did, and she did not wish her friends to fight her battles. then she turned to the boys, who stood in an expectant row. "gentlemen," she began solemnly, not a sign of laughter on her usually merry face, "before we begin our boat race, you will have to make us a solemn promise." she gazed searchingly at the six oarsmen. "you must promise us that you will play fair this afternoon in our rowing contest." "why, madge morton!" exclaimed tom, "what do you mean? do you take us for cheats?" madge smiled. "no, i don't take you for cheats. i am afraid that you are going to behave like knights of chivalry, and that you will not try to win the boat race, which you are to row against miss harris, miss paine, phil and me. so you must vow that you will row fairly and squarely and that you will not hold back or give us any unfair advantage." the young men hesitated, looking sheepishly at one another. how had madge guessed their plan? "we won't row with you unless you make us this promise," threatened phyllis. flora harris and alice paine also insisted that this promise be given, and after a good-natured protest on their part, the young men finally agreed to madge's demand. the five sculls were waiting out on the water. there was a sixth boat for the umpire, professor gordon, to follow the race. professor gamage was to act as judge at the finish. the girls got into their boats first, taking their station a hundred yards ahead of the three sculls to be pulled by the men. madge and phyllis, who were on the inside course, remembered every word of jimmy lawton's coaching. they had won the spring regatta at miss tolliver's school. but then they had rowed only against other girls. now, they were to enter into a different kind of contest. they did not even know how skilful their feminine competitors were. the boys, of course, had superior strength and training. lieutenant lawton had declared that the one chance for phyllis and madge lay in the start. if they could get away in good style, and make a spurt toward the goal, the fact of their hundred yards advantage and the shortness of the course would give them considerable chance of winning the race. the disadvantage under which madge and phil labored was that they had not been accustomed to rowing in anything but quiet waters. flora and alice were accustomed to rowing in the surf. the few days' practice on the bay under lieutenant jimmy's direction had helped the two girls. they had learned the advantage of the long stroke with the high "feather." phil was acting as stroke oar in their boat, madge as bowman; alice paine was stroke and flora bowman in the rival skiff. the four girls pulled gloriously. it was a lovely september day, and no time or strength was wasted in false starts. none of the girls dared to look back at the men when the signal to get away rang out. no cry of false start rang after them, and they saw that their masculine rivals were in close pursuit. at the beginning of the contest phyllis and madge made the best forward spurt. a moment later flora and alice brought their boat up bow and bow. neither madge nor phil glanced toward their opponents. their work lay plainly ahead of them. the girls sat squarely in their skiff, their bodies bending sharply forward, then back to recover. they held their oars firmly but lightly, and pulled for their lives. the four girls saw that the men were gaining on them. but they had already covered half of the course. none of them cared very much whether the boys were the victors. the two pairs of girls were intent only on outstripping each other. madge and phil knew they could not hold out long. but how they were pulling! they had never done such splendid work before in their lives. the boys were amazed. they were trying to keep their word to madge. now it struck them that, after all, they would have to make a real effort to win. the girls had made such a splendid advance that the men pulled a little harder at their oars. flora harris and alice paine gained a few feet on the other girls. the experience of the former pair in rough waters was beginning to show. determination to win made madge and phil redouble their efforts. their opponents were only a shade ahead of them now. the boats were keeping to their straight courses in the open sound. it is a first rule, in boat racing of any kind, that each boat shall keep to its own water throughout the race. flora harris, as bowman, was responsible for the steering of her boat. whether from accident or intention, just as the bow of the rival skiff came about midway the body of their shell flora harris pulled harder on her port oar. her boat swerved to the left. for a brief second the bow crossed directly in front of the skiff rowed by the "merry maid" girls. madge was taken completely off her guard. she had not time to call out to phil. phyllis, as stroke oar, was not expected to know what was happening. her duty was to row steadily ahead. her companion's sudden exclamation, the unexpected vision of the other boat in their course, confused phil. she lost her stroke. in the same second, flora harris and alice paine returned to their course and pulled triumphantly ahead. their mistake lost them first place. but they outclassed madge and phil. harry sears and george robinson swept past and came up to the stake. flora and alice were second. tom and alfred, the two simrall brothers, pulled past madge and phil. they had fulfilled phil's prediction and brought up the rear. professor gordon, who, as umpire, had been following the race, was worried. of course, he had seen the foul made by alice and flora. yet he did not know exactly what to do. it was possible that girls did not understand the rules of boat racing. this race was being rowed for pleasure. the girls were the guests of his boys at the camp. flora harris's father was an officer at fortress monroe. it would hardly do to accuse his daughter of cheating. he decided to allow the competitors to register a complaint. he would say nothing until the complaint was made to him. when madge and phyllis pulled in to the line of the other racing boats professor gamage, the judge at the finish, was about to announce the victors. phil's face was white. she looked tired and dispirited. madge's cheeks were flaming. every muscle in her body was tense. she did not appear to feel the slightest fatigue. "don't say anything, madge," pleaded phil, before they came up with the others. "if the umpire does not declare the race to be a foul, we must not mention it. we were rowing only for fun. we don't wish to make a scene. if we were to accuse alice and flora of committing a foul, they would be likely to deny it." "i must speak! i won't bear it!" breathed madge passionately. "why should i allow flora harris the use of what we have rightfully won? tom or alfred thornton ought to speak." phyllis had no chance for further argument with her friend. the announcements were being made. "sears and robinson, first place; miss harris and miss paine, second," the judge called out. "if you will row back to the starting place, i believe mrs. curtis has some prizes to award. we couldn't manage to transport our audience up here." the crews accepted the verdict in silence. harry sears and george robinson looked appealingly toward madge and phil, then toward their umpire. madge glanced at tom from under her long lashes. tom's face was flaming, yet he said nothing. during the short row back to the camping grounds the canoe crews were significantly silent. at the starting place mrs. curtis, madeleine, lillian and eleanor waited to greet them, their arms filled with flowers. before leaving for washington, lieutenant lawton had placed an order with a florist for two bouquets of red and white roses tied with blue ribbon, to be presented to madge and phil. when madeleine presented the bouquets the girls took their flowers with half-averted faces. the guests of the day, however, were eagerly watching mrs. curtis, who was holding two beautiful silver loving cups in her hands. professor gordon announced harry sears and george robinson as the winners of the race. they received the larger of the cups in rather an embarrassed fashion. "but i wish to know the girl winners," protested mrs. curtis, glancing about the group of young people. flora came toward her smiling in the superior manner that proud madge particularly disliked. "i believe we came next, mrs. curtis," she announced. [illustration: madge surprised the little company.] mrs. curtis had just opened her lips to congratulate the winners when a high, clear voice surprised the little company. "professor gordon, did you not, as umpire, see that miss harris and miss paine committed a foul which disqualified them in our boat race?" "o madge!" mrs. curtis spoke in a tone of intense displeasure. madeleine's lovely face flushed with embarrassment. lillian and eleanor felt the color rise to their own faces. miss jenny ann stepped to the side of impetuous madge, who had precipitated this awkward situation. flora harris paused with her hand lifted to receive the prize. her cousin, alice paine, looked as though she would like to sink through the earth. "does miss morton object to our receiving the prize?" flora queried icily. "then, please don't give it to us. i hardly thought miss morton could endure to see any one but herself as the winner. an army officer's daughter is not likely to receive a reward after she has been accused of cheating, nor will she ever overlook the insult." flora moved away from mrs. curtis, her head held high, her face white with anger. the sympathy of most of the onlookers was at present with flora and alice. phyllis said nothing, but she moved nearer to madge, her lips closed in the firm line which never meant retreat. "you should have made your complaint to me, miss morton, before we left the boats," answered professor gordon sternly. "don't you think it is too late, now that we have come ashore and the places have been awarded?" "it is not the prize that we wish," returned madge unsteadily. "it is only that i think it is dreadful to win anything unfairly. tom, you saw what happened. will you not speak?" "yes," began tom sturdily, determined to stand by madge, "i saw flora----" mrs. curtis laid her hand on her son's arm. with one appealing glance at his mother tom subsided. "i am sorry this error has occurred," she announced to the assembled guests. "i am sure that, if an error in the race were committed, it was not intentional. i insist on miss harris and miss paine accepting this cup. madge should not have made her accusation at such a time and place. i think that she owes her opponents an apology." mrs. curtis was gazing at madge with more disfavor than she had ever before shown her favorite. the little captain felt that she would like to put her arms about some one's neck and cry her heart out. she was sorry she had spoken, she was ashamed to have made such a scene and to have spoiled the boys' party, but she was not ready to apologize for having told the truth. now her eyes were flashing ominously and her red lips were curled in scorn. she had never looked prettier or more obstinate. "any apology i have to offer will have to be made to you, mrs. curtis," she answered between her teeth. "i can not apologize to miss harris or miss paine for having told the truth. of course, i accept the umpire's decision. i know that we should have entered our protest before we left our boat." madge walked proudly away from the group. her arms were full of flowers, but her heart was full of woe. why did she always seem to be in the wrong where flora harris was concerned? what a bad-tempered girl everyone must think her! phyllis turned to follow madge, nor would she desert her chum for a moment until the houseboat party left the camping grounds. mrs. curtis did not notice madge. she was thoroughly incensed. tom had only a chance to whisper: "course you were right, dear girl. flora harris and alice cheated abominably. it was my fault too. i should have spoken up at first. i let things go only because mother was set on it, and i didn't wish to see our party break up in a quarrel. all the fellows in the race are with you. they saw what happened. they were cowards, just as i was. they didn't want to raise a fuss with the girls." the rest of the day did not pass very pleasantly for madge. mrs. curtis could not forgive the little captain for what she considered her lack of diplomacy, and, knowing herself to be under the ban of her friend's displeasure, madge was singularly uncomfortable and ill at ease. miss jenny ann and the three "merry maid" girls could not help feeling that though madge had been somewhat hasty, still she had done nothing reprehensible, and that it looked as though mrs. curtis were almost taking sides with flora harris. it was with unmistakable relief that the houseboat party said good night to mrs. curtis and boarded tom curtis's launch for the ride back to the "merry maid." madge drew a little apart from the others, staring moodily out over the moonlit water. finally tom seated himself beside her and they talked impersonally. she was too proud to bring up the subject of what had occurred on shore, and tom's sense of delicacy prevented him from trying to discuss the disagreeable scene she had precipitated with her. once on board their boat the girls were unusually quiet, and preparations for bed that night were accompanied by little conversation. knowing madge's disposition, and that she was already suffering deeply from her too frank expression of opinion that afternoon, her friends had decided among themselves to allow the subject to rest. it was long after midnight, and the "merry maid" and her crew were supposedly deep in slumber when miss jenny ann was awakened by the sound of low sobbing from madge's berth. a moment later the chaperon was bending over the little captain. "madge, dear, what is the matter?" she asked in alarm. "o miss jenny ann!" wailed madge, "when shall i learn to keep my temper? phil told me to say nothing, and i did intend to hold my tongue. but when that harris girl stepped up so coolly to receive the prize, knowing what a cheat she was, the words rushed out before i knew they were coming. no one will ever forgive me for spoiling the day. i'll never forgive myself." "don't cry so, madge, dear," soothed miss jenny ann. "you mustn't blame yourself too severely. you had great provocation." "i am not a bit sorry for what i said." madge sat up in bed, a defiant gleam in her eyes. then her lips quivered and she said brokenly: "it--it's--mrs. curtis. i--am--sorry--she--is angry with--me." "you had better go over to the hotel and see mrs. curtis in the morning," advised miss jones, "then, if she decides it to be necessary, you must apologize to flora harris." "why should i apologize to her?" madge's eyes grew dark with anger. "she behaved very dishonorably." "but you precipitated a very disagreeable scene, which, as you yourself have said, spoiled the pleasure of the party for all mrs. curtis's guests," reminded her teacher. "i know that you were severely tried. my private opinion of flora harris is not a flattering one, but madge morton is too great of spirit not to admit her fault and apologize to miss harris for telling the brutal truth in a brutal manner." madge gazed almost sternly into the other woman's serious eyes. "i will apologize to miss harris on one condition only," her red lips took on an obstinate curve, "if mrs. curtis wishes me to do so." chapter viii the hour of triumph the morning after the boat race tom curtis came over to see the girls in the launch, and took madge back to old point with him to see his mother. mrs. curtis was not proof against madge's sincere apology. she had been very angry with her young friend until tom had privately assured her that madge's abrupt accusation was true. flora and alice had won the race unfairly. one pleading look from the little captain's blue eyes the next morning caused her to surrender. she was no longer sure that she wished madge to apologize to a girl who had been guilty of so dishonorable an action. "i am sorry that you and flora are not on friendly terms," she said regretfully. "i am afraid we can not give the play. flora harris will no doubt withdraw from the cast simply to complicate matters." "mrs. curtis," said madge with compelling directness, "would you rather i should apologize to flora harris?" mrs. curtis eyed madge reflectively. "i don't know, my dear," she hesitated. "i am going to do it!" cried madge, springing to her feet. "don't say a word; i'd rather make miss harris fifty apologies than spoil all your lovely plans." mrs. curtis insisted firmly on accompanying madge to flora harris's home. the little captain walked across the parade ground at fortress monroe to the house of colonel harris, her face very pale, her auburn head held high. they had been seated in the harris's drawing room for at least ten minutes before flora harris entered. she did not so much as glance at madge, although she greeted mrs. curtis rather effusively. if mrs. curtis could have signaled to madge, she would not have permitted her to humiliate herself by an apology to this ill-bred girl. she was extremely angry at flora's rudeness and regretted that she had held the slightest sympathy for her. but before she could catch madge's eye the little captain had begun her apology. "miss harris," she declared quietly, "i am very sorry to have created the scene that i did at the boat race yesterday. it was not very diplomatic in me, and i am afraid i destroyed everyone's pleasure in the party." flora harris favored madge with the merest fraction of a glance. "i thought you would soon see your mistake," she answered coolly. "my mistake?" for an instant madge's blue eyes glittered with anger. then, rallying her self-control, she said sweetly, "i suppose it _was_ a mistake to speak openly. it must have been very disagreeable for you. it would have been kinder to remain silent." flora harris turned scarlet. mrs. curtis bit her lips to keep from smiling. madge bowed distantly to flora. then she rose and said demurely: "are you ready to go, mrs. curtis? good afternoon, miss harris." there was a distinct note of constraint in mrs. curtis's voice as she said good-bye to flora harris. she was heartily disgusted with the cavalier manner which the officer's daughter had exhibited, and privately registered a vow that after the play she would invite miss harris to her hotel but little. madge stayed to luncheon with mrs. curtis and madeleine. in the afternoon tom came in with the news that the army headquarters at fortress monroe were ringing with the story of the disappearance of lieutenant jimmy lawton. it was rumored that he had started for washington, where he was to appear before a body of naval experts selected to judge the value of his invention. up to that time he had not arrived in washington. he had made no report in regard to his failure to appear. gossip was beginning to whisper that lieutenant jimmy was not such a patriot after all. possibly he had run away to a foreign country to sell his model to the highest bidder. he might never again be allowed to wear his uniform as an officer in the united states navy. madge wondered what she ought to tell phil in regard to the strange rumors. she was afraid phyllis would be grieved, and be sadly worried. what had the two girls concealed in the mysterious package left in their charge by the vanished officer, who had evidently foreseen that gossip would follow his mysterious departure? madge need not have troubled herself on phil's account. that young woman took the report of lieutenant jimmy's disappearance with perfect calmness. "he will be back very soon," she asserted to madge. "then he will be able to explain everything to everyone's satisfaction. lieutenant lawton is not a traitor. just you wait and see!" so phyllis continued to have faith in the young officer. she never reflected on what the box in her trunk contained, but she never left the trunk unlocked for a moment. nor did she ever fail to wear a small brass key about her person. on the evening appointed for the performance of "the decision" all personal differences were apparently forgotten. madge thought no more of her trouble with flora harris. she had tried to be as polite to her as possible and flora had appeared to accept her apology. flora harris had determined that it was the wisest thing that she could do to appear to be friendly with madge. it would make the revenge which she had planned against madge the more complete. then, if she let it be known that miss morton had withdrawn the accusation against herself and alice, no one could possibly believe there had been any truth in it in the beginning. her act would appear to be inspired only by her own chagrin over defeat in the race. the day of the play lillian and madge were radiant over the prospect of the evening's gayety. eleanor, phil and miss jenny ann were equally interested. the four girls sewed and talked the entire morning. they had not had such a good time together since the beginning of their second houseboat holiday. in a few days "the merry maid" would be sent up the bay to be looked after for the winter; the four comrades would return to miss tolliver's school; miss jenny ann would be turned from chaperon to teacher. the girls were enthusiastic about their winter. of course, they would study harder and accomplish more than they ever had before, they promised themselves. the private ballroom in her hotel, which mrs. curtis had engaged for the performance of the little drama, was delightfully arranged. a small stage was erected at one end of it, and low-growing flowers and palms banked about it. there was little light in the back of the room, where the audience sat, but the miniature stage was brilliant with the glow of delicately shaded electric lights. mrs. curtis had invited about fifty guests, her friends from the nearby hotels and cottages, and a number of army and navy officers with their families. the season was almost at an end. mrs. curtis, madeleine and tom would leave for new york in ten days. they wished their last entertainment to be a memorable one. miss jenny ann sat in one of the front row chairs with eleanor and phyllis. in their dressing room, madge was trying to comfort lillian, who had lost her courage at the eleventh hour. when the time came for her to go on, however, lillian forgot her stage fright and made her first entrance with the air of a seasoned trouper. the heavy work of the play lay between flora harris and madge, and in the enactment of the little drama that followed it was difficult to realize that neither of the two young women was a professional. "flora harris's part is pretty well suited to her," tom curtis had confided to madge at the dress rehearsal the day before. "i can imagine she would be quite likely to load the blame for her own misdeeds on the other girl's shoulders. she wouldn't experience a change of heart at the end of the stunt the way this girl did, either." and madge, being merely human, could not resist flashing him a glance which meant that she quite agreed with him. it was in the final scene, where the secretary makes her appeal to the father of the girl, that madge scored her greatest triumph. the rise and fall of her clear voice, that madeleine always asserted had "tears" in it, coupled with the intense earnestness with which she made her plea, called forth ungrudging applause, and when, after the cast had taken several encores the audience still kept up a steady clamor, she was obliged to appear between the silken curtains and make a little speech. it was indeed madge morton's hour of triumph. chapter ix madge morton's secret mrs. curtis had arranged that her younger guests should have refreshments served to them in the small private dining room as soon as their play was over. the older guests were to be served in another larger room which she had engaged for that purpose. in the middle of the dining room was a table decorated with a model houseboat made of crystal candy. there were flowers, fruits and candies on the table, which was lighted with candles. when madge, lillian, tom curtis and harry sears entered the room eleanor and phil were standing at one side of this table, talking to a group of their friends. directly after they took their places the two simrall boys and half a dozen other young people were ushered in, until the room was comfortably full. suddenly, as though drawn by a curious force, madge lifted her eyes. she saw the dining room door open and flora harris enter. she was followed by alfred thornton, whose face was a dull red and whose eyes were lowered. madge felt a premonition of disaster, an apprehensive shudder passed over her. flora continued to walk the entire length of the room, speaking to no one. when she came to madge she halted, staring at her through insolent, half-closed eyes. tom looked at flora harris in angry amazement. he knew she was about to make a disagreeable speech, but he wondered what had actuated her to do so. he frowned over the heads of the girls at alfred thornton. he tried to signal to him to steer miss harris in some safer direction, but alfred would not return his glance. "miss morton," began flora, in an unusually high voice, "i wish to congratulate you on your success to-night. there is no doubt about your talent as an actress." flora laid such stress on the word "actress" that madge blushed hotly. "thank you," she answered, fighting back her temper. alfred thornton leaned over to whisper to flora, "don't, flora, please, don't." flora harris tossed her head angrily. for some time she had been stealthily planning her revenge against madge. now that she had an unusually good opportunity to put her plan into action, she did not intend to allow the little captain to escape her unscathed. "it is a matter of surprise to me, miss morton, that you could have the temerity to come here to old point comfort, knowing it to be a military post," she continued. madge started slightly. the movement of her body was scarcely perceptible, yet flora saw it. "oh, i see you understand me," she sneered, "but as it is very bad form to exchange confidences when others are present, let us have done with confidences. i am sure everyone here will be deeply interested in my story, which is this: once upon a time there was an officer in the navy whose name was robert morton. he proved himself unworthy to be a naval officer and was dismissed from the service in disgrace and disappeared. miss morton will tell you the rest of the story. as robert morton was her father, it is just possible that she can tell us something further about him." flora's face shone with cruel triumph. madge looked at her tormentor with unseeing eyes. for the instant she was stunned by the blow. then reason returned. white to the lips, she fixed flora with the stern question, "where did you hear this story?" the others of the party sat staring in horrified silence. flora shrugged her shoulders. "anything to oblige you," she retorted, "but don't attempt to say the story isn't true. i know it to be true because my grandfather was your father's superior officer at the time." madge gave one sharp cry that brought the company to their feet in alarm. "your grandfather's name--tell me--i must know." "richard foster harris," replied flora, gazing at madge with a deep frown. what was the matter? her vengeful announcement was having an entirely different effect upon the girl she disliked than that which she had anticipated. "my grandfather is an admiral now. he was in line for promotion when your father was dismissed in disgrace." flora lingered over the word "disgrace." "your grandfather, richard foster harris," repeated madge brokenly. "then he is--he is--oh, i am not so cruel as you. i can not speak against----" "what do you mean?" almost screamed flora. "how dare you even insinuate anything against my grandfather? he is an admiral, do you understand, an _admiral_!" madge glanced about her, meeting the anxious, sympathetic faces of her friends. they were for the moment completely taken aback by this sudden turn in affairs. alfred thornton's eyes was the only pair which refused to meet hers. he averted his head. "i thought," she said, addressing miss harris with a gentle dignity that went straight to the hearts of her hearers, "that i could retaliate, that i could say to you words that would cut into your soul as deeply as your words have cut into mine, but there are strong reasons why i can't say them." "and i insist that you explain your insinuation," flung back flora. "do so at once, or i will send for mrs. curtis and force you to do as i say." "send for mrs. curtis if you wish." madge's face was a white mask lighted by the defiant gleam of eyes that seemed almost to flame. "do not imagine, however, that i shall either explain or retract what i have just said." letting her gaze wander from one to the other of her friends, she said with finality: "i can not even discuss the charge miss harris has made against my father. it is true that he was once in the navy, and that i once believed him to be dead. more than that i can not tell you. it is, and must forever be, my secret." turning to madeleine she said quietly, "will you forgive me for having been the cause of this scene and allow me to go?" for answer madeleine drew madge within the circle of her arm and kissed her tenderly. "good night." as one in a dream the little captain bowed to the company and walked to the door. tom curtis followed her, casting a wrathful glance at flora harris, who for once in her life could think of nothing to say. there was the sound of a closing door, then phil's voice rang out in tones of bitter denunciation: "miss harris, you are the cruelest, most despicable girl i have ever known. madge reverenced the memory of her father as something too sacred for discussion. i know that her greatest ambition in life was to find some one who had been his friend, some one who could tell her of him. happily for madge, i do not believe your accusation to be true. i am equally sure that her motive for silence is one you could never understand." with a stiff little nod to the others phil walked proudly to the door. she was followed by lillian and eleanor. three minutes later flora harris and alfred thornton stood alone in the pretty banqueting room. her revenge had cost her far more dearly than she had anticipated. chapter x adrift on chesapeake bay "alfred thornton, you must do it." flora harris spoke under her breath. half an hour had passed since she and alfred thornton had left the hotel. the young man was about to say good night to her at her gate after having stubbornly refused to execute a certain commission for her. "i can't do it," he protested. "if i were you, i'd let madge morton and her crowd alone. i did not believe to-night, until the last minute, that you would do as you had threatened. you didn't distinguish yourself by it." flora harris shrugged her thin shoulders in the darkness. "don't pretend to be shocked," she sneered, "and never mind lecturing me. are you going to help me or are you going to play the coward at the last moment?" "i have given you my answer. i'm not going to change it, either," repeated the youth sullenly, edging away from miss harris. "i think miss morton and her friends have had trouble enough. i don't wish to do anything that might possibly endanger their safety." "oh, very well," rejoined flora angrily. "you know the alternative. if you won't do what i ask of you, i shall tell my father that you have been down here as a hired spy to find out about jimmy lawton's invention. i shall tell him that you offered jimmy thousands of dollars for his patent, and advised him to sell out to you, and then to tell the government that he had failed with his model. it would ruin not only your reputation, alfred thornton, for me to tell this story about you, it would probably do your father a great deal of harm. it would be a serious thing for your father if certain persons were to find out that he was trying to steal a valuable invention from his own country." "you wouldn't tell, would you, flora?" alfred thornton wiped his forehead nervously with his handkerchief, though it was a cool night. "whew, if only i'd never let you find out what i was after!" "you couldn't help yourself," retorted flora airily. "you needed me. i would have done a great deal more for you, too, if you had not developed such a liking for madge morton. you thought you were managing so cleverly that i would not notice. of course, i am not angry with you, but i think you ought to do something to make amends for being so deceitful." alfred thornton flushed and hesitated. "you see, alfred, it is like this," went on flora, taking advantage of his hesitation. "you must help me get the 'merry maid' away from our neighborhood. i believe i told the truth about madge morton's father. but if my father or grandfather ever learn of what happened to-night, they will be furious with me. i overheard my grandfather telling the story to my father the other night. when he mentioned the name of captain robert morton, i remembered hearing miss butler telling mrs. curtis when the 'merry maid' girls were here before that miss morton's father had been an officer in the navy, and that his name was captain robert morton. miss butler is miss morton's cousin, you know. they live in the same house. when i heard that i put two and two together and took a chance on saying what i did. now that you know the whole story you can easily see why i am anxious to have the 'merry maid' anchored as far from me as possible. if you will cut the rope of the houseboat and let the silly old craft drift away somewhere, the girls will be so busy with getting it back here that by the time they have done that their vacation will be over, and in the hurry of packing they won't have much chance to make a scene. i think my scheme is very clever." alfred thornton looked overhead. it was a dark night. the stars had disappeared. black clouds were gathering in the east. the young man realized that he could do as flora harris demanded of him with very little danger of detection. the houseboat was moored along the beach by means of a heavy anchor tied with a thick rope. as an additional safeguard the stern hawser had been hitched about a post several yards up the beach out of the line of the tide. it would take a very few minutes to cut these ropes. what took place afterward he would not wait to see. he therefore reluctantly gave flora the desired promise. when the houseboat party boarded tom's motor launch for the ride to the "merry maid" after madge's tragic scene in the dining room they were strangely silent. even miss jenny ann, who had not been with the girls, did not know what had happened. a glance at madge's face was enough to reveal to her that it had been serious. the little captain sat white and cold as a statue. she looked like the ghost of the radiant girl who had crossed the bay a few hours before. she shed no tears, and seemed rather to resent any expression of sympathy. when eleanor took her cousin's cold hand, madge held it loosely for a minute, then allowed it slowly to slide from the grasp of her icy fingers. when tom curtis helped her out of his launch he had the courage to whisper: "of course, dear girl, we are all with you. don't you worry. just leave matters to me. i'll see that flora harris doesn't escape censure. i am going to inform her father of her conduct to-night." madge smiled a faint good night to tom when he took her limp hand in his own. once the girls were on the deck of their own boat she turned quietly to their chaperon. "miss jenny ann," she murmured, "the girls will tell you what happened to-night. i can't talk of it now. may i lie down on the couch in the living room? will every one please leave me alone?" the three other girls and miss jenny ann sat for a while on the deck of their pretty boat. eleanor kept her head buried in her chaperon's lap. she cried a little, partly from sympathy with madge and partly from amazement and horror at the story she had just heard. very quietly lillian told what had happened. "madge is right," miss jenny ann concluded at the end of lillian's recital. "we must not talk to her of this insult to her father. it is enough to let her know we do not believe it." the little party did not linger out on deck after the story had been told. it was midnight and chilly. the wind was blowing over the water, lashing the waves to a white foam. as miss jenny ann retired to her cabin the thought came to her that they had lingered too long aboard their houseboat. it was getting late in september. any day they might be overtaken by an equinoctial storm. she wished that they had brought more coal and fresh water aboard the houseboat, and that the provisions in the larder had not run so low. she wondered if the boy who attended to their marketing, and carried things to and from the shore, would come down to them in a heavy rain. miss jenny ann did not attempt to go to sleep. she put on her dressing gown and lay down in her berth to think over their situation and decide what had best be done. the other girls were soon asleep. but in a little while miss jones heard a faint sound. it came from their sitting room. some one called her name. it was madge. miss jenny ann went softly in, to find madge still lying on the sofa, a little leather book clasped in her hands. "i wish to tell you a story, miss jenny ann," began madge solemnly. "i have never told it to any one else, but i have come to the place where i feel that i ought to talk things over with some one i can trust. i know of no one else, not even phil, to whom i would rather tell it. would you like to hear it?" "my dear, my dear," said miss jenny ann tremulously, "i know of no one else whose confidence i should so prize as yours. but are you sure that you wish to tell me?" madge nodded. the hands of the two met in a strong, steady clasp, then madge began the story of her discovery in the attic of the secret drawer and its contents, and of how the vow she had made that day had been broken in what promised to be the hour of its fulfillment. after she had finished she lay back on the couch, staring out the cabin window. knowing madge as she did, the chaperon still sat beside her in sympathetic silence. she recognized the nobility of madge's sacrifice. the girl's words: "he is an old man. i can not bring this humiliation upon him. my father would not wish it," rang in her ears. "i think you are right, madge," miss jenny ann said at last. "in fact, i am sure you are. but it is very bitter for you." "but don't you believe my father would wish me to keep his secret?" asked madge anxiously. "yes, i believe he would," responded the chaperon, after a brief hesitation. "and i shall do it," vowed madge. "but some day, miss jenny ann, perhaps the man who is really to blame for all my father's suffering will come to a realization of his own unworthiness and clear my father's name. i can't believe that father is dead. i always think of him as being alive, and that some day i shall see him." "i hope with all my heart that you will," said miss jenny ann fervently. "now you mustn't grieve any more, dear. you must go to sleep. it is long after midnight." the chaperon bent down to kiss madge good night. "good night, miss jenny ann," said madge. "i shall go to see mrs. curtis in the morning and apologize to her for leaving the party so suddenly. i seem destined always to be making apologies." but for reasons which she could not foresee, madge's apology was to be delayed indefinitely. * * * * * the night had grown pitch dark when alfred thornton crossed the bay. he had engaged a fast-going sea launch for his use during the evening of their play, and as his boat rushed along through the sea, which was rapidly growing rougher, he debated in his mind as to whether he was acting wisely. alfred thornton was not a high-minded youth. he was often dishonorable and unscrupulous in his dealings with men, but he thoroughly disliked the hateful task ahead of him. yet he moved doggedly toward it. he must save his own and his father's reputation, perhaps his fortune! there was no reason for him to believe that flora harris would spare him unless he did what she had demanded. he had that evening seen how far the spirit of revenge could lead her. while alfred thornton was on his way to the houseboat tom curtis lay awake on his camp cot thinking of madge and of what he could do to disprove the cruel story that flora harris had told. of course, it must be false. yet the girl would hardly have dared to tell such a tale unless a grain of truth had been hidden in it somewhere. poor madge! tom wondered how her proud, passionate spirit would bear up under the shadow of such a sorrow. in the meantime alfred thornton brought his launch in to the shore. he landed about a mile below the houseboat. the "merry maid" was anchored near a point of land known as wayside point. alfred left his shoes in his launch, walking up the beach in his stocking feet. he waded in the water the greater part of the time, so as not to leave the imprint of his feet in the sand. a storm was blowing in from the ocean. the singing sound of the wind came over the face of the waters. alfred knew that the night was working with him. if he could accomplish his secret design without being discovered in the act, the houseboat party and their friends would believe that the houseboat had been torn from her moorings by the force of the september gale. he reached the neighborhood of the boat without meeting any one. it was an ideal night for prowling along the beach. the "merry maid" lay quietly at anchor, although the waves were beginning to lash against her sides with more than their accustomed energy. the youth was guided toward her by the golden lights that shone through the yellow lamps outside her cabin. there was absolute silence aboard the little boat; not a sight or a sound of any one stirring inside the cabin. alfred thornton pulled a large clasp knife from his pocket, then sawed savagely at the heavy rope that secured the anchor. it was the work of a moment to sever it. next he pulled the divided ends into strands, hoping that the rope would look as though it had broken apart. there still remained the second rope that was twisted around the stake. alfred crept cautiously out of the water up the little stretch of beach. this was his moment of danger. any one looking through one of the cabin windows might see his dark figure. yet thornton hesitated. the wind was blowing strongly. surely the pretty houseboat would not drift out into dangerous waters. surely she would come aground a few miles further down the shore. the minutes were precious. alfred thornton quickly cut the second rope. then, without glancing behind him to see the result of his deed, he ran with all speed to his own motor launch. "i know i am late," thornton muttered to tom curtis as he crept into the cot alongside of tom's. "i had to take that harris girl home. she kept me talking on her porch for ages. a storm was coming up and it was hard to get across the bay. i shall be glad when this foolishness is over and we break camp and get back home again." when the ropes of the "merry maid" were cut she did not drift at once from the shore and in adventurous fashion, make use of her new freedom. the way outside was strange and uncertain. the "merry maid" had never traveled from a safe anchorage except when she was under escort and protection. now she lingered, drifting uncertainly, but keeping close to the shore and moving very slowly. half an hour after midnight the tide changed. the water ran away from the shore. the wind rose to a shrieking gale. but the "merry maid" was not unstable. the bottom of the boat was flat, she was broad and roomy. she did not pitch and roll, as a lighter craft would have done; she simply moved quietly away from the shore, borne by the wind and the tide. the houseboat had been anchored for two weeks along the southwest shore of cape charles, not many miles from where the great atlantic ocean enters the chesapeake bay. slowly but steadily the "merry maid" drifted down the maryland coast. once out on the deep waters the pretty toy boat moved on and on. in the cabin miss jenny ann and the girls slept peacefully, unconscious of danger. soon the lights in the yellow-shaded lamps went out. the boat was in utter darkness. if there had been lights aboard the "merry maid," if early in her perilous voyage cries for help had sounded from her deck, the little boat would soon have been rescued. but with no lights and no sounds aboard, the houseboat passed on her way, and purely by chance her course did not cross the line of another craft. chapter xi the awakening it was about an hour before dawn when phyllis alden awoke with an odd sensation. she had dreamed that she had been traveling in an airship and had grown seasick from the motion. she heard a sound of wind and pouring rain, and a far-off muffled roar of thunder. a storm had come up, of this phyllis was sure. but why did she continue to feel seasick? how the wind and the waves were rocking the poor "merry maid"! the boat lurched a little. phil clutched at the side of her berth. by this time she was wider awake. "what a terrific storm!" she thought to herself. "i hope we won't be blown away." phil turned over on her pillow. it was incredible that everybody else should be asleep when the wind made such a noise. besides, the boat was moving; phil felt sure of it. she sat up in her berth. at this moment a heavy wave struck the "merry maid" on her port side. phil rolled out of bed and ran to the tiny cabin window. the rain was coming down so hard and fast that, try as she might, she could not see the familiar line of the shore. once phil's feet were on the floor she realized that their boat was actually moving. seizing her dressing-gown, without calling to one of the other girls, she rushed out on the rain-swept deck. for a moment the rain filled her eyes and blinded her. her breath left her. she clung to the railing outside the cabin. far off, back of them, a single, far-reaching light shone on the water. to the right a dimmer glow burned. but everything else was a blank waste of water. she stood, a white and terror-stricken figure, realizing in the instant their great disaster. "miss jenny ann! madge!" she shouted, going back into the cabin. "wake up, won't you? put something warm around you and come out on the deck with me. i am afraid the houseboat has broken from her anchorage and drifted some distance from the shore." miss jenny ann sprang up at once. for some time she had been conscious of the storm. the peculiar sound of the lashing waves and the movement under her she had ascribed to the gale. once on her feet, she, too, realized that the boat was rocking violently. they must be at the mercy of the heavy seas. it was unbelievable that they had not awakened when the houseboat had first slipped from her moorings. of course, miss jenny ann and the girls still thought that they had floated out from wayside point only a short time before. the storm was so heavy--that must explain why they could see no land. "put on your heaviest clothes, girls, and your raincoats," miss jenny ann ordered bravely, trying to keep her own consternation out of her voice. "we must light the lamps that should hang at the bow and stern of our boat, and any others that will not be blown out by the wind. to think that last night was the first time that we forgot to put out our signal lanterns! we forgot everything in the excitement of the play." the four girls slipped quietly into their clothes. they followed their chaperon out on the deck. there they found her seated, flat on the deck so as not to be thrown off her feet by the wind. beaten and buffeted by the storm, madge and phyllis finally managed to hang their lanterns in the prow and stern of the houseboat. then the five of them sat down together. "what do you think we had better do?" phil asked, as cheerily as possible. "there is nothing to do but to stay aboard until we are taken off by some other boat," answered miss jones. "we shall have to call out for help." how black and deep the water looked, how unlike the quiet channels in which the houseboat had previously rested. "what time is it, madge?" inquired their chaperon unexpectedly. madge fought her way into the cabin. "it is nearly five o'clock," she called. "the dawn will come within the hour." it was difficult to keep a light burning, the wind blew so fiercely, the rain poured down in such heavy sheets. the houseboat party dared not go inside their cabin. they must stay on deck to watch for an approaching boat to tow them safely back to land. they sat in a huddled group, their arms about each other. the gay japanese parasols, the pretty decorations of the houseboat, had long since blown away. half a dozen chairs romped and rioted about the deck, turning somersaults, now and then hurling themselves against the railing or the sides of the cabin. the girls could only faintly see one another's faces. phil had a small fog horn, through which she blew as long as her breath held out. then she passed it to lillian and so down the line. the five women sat with their backs to the cabin wall for the sake of the scanty shelter. eleanor rang a large dinner bell, which she had used on other occasions to summon the houseboat party to their meals. for an hour they waited, in silence save for sounds made by the bell and the horn. now and then one of the girls cried out for help. but most of the time they stared out on the water, hoping, expecting every instant to see some other craft. the dawn was long in breaking because of the fury of the storm. miss jenny ann began to think that the houseboat had drifted a much longer time than she had at first supposed. they were certainly in dangerous waters. never in her life had she seen the breakers roll so high. it was a marvel that the "merry maid" did not capsize. she and the girls fully realized their danger. yet no one of them made any outcry. the girls were growing very tired. now and then one of them fell asleep for a brief instant. over and over again in madge's head, as she sat among her friends, so pale and silent, came the sound of the congregation singing in the little stone church near "forest house": "oh, hear us, when we call to thee, for those in peril on the sea!" the words brought comfort to her now. when dawn came the storm abated. but with the passing of the storm came another and a greater danger to the "merry maid." a heavy fog settled down on the water. it was hardly possible to see more than a few feet ahead. no ship's crew could discover the poorly lighted craft in such a thick, impenetrable fog. phyllis owned a small compass. she could tell that their boat was moving southeast. the wind was at their back. it was strange that they had been able to signal no other ships. it could not be possible that they had been blown out to sea! it must have been nearly eight o'clock when miss jenny ann went into the cabin, leaving the four girls to keep the watch. they were sick and faint. presently the delicious aroma of boiling coffee floated out on the fog-laden atmosphere. miss jenny ann summoned the girls indoors, two at a time. the coffee, toast and bacon brought fresh courage. she made them change their wet clothing for that which was warm and dry. they kept the fire burning in the kitchen stove. after a while their fate did not seem so hopeless. the girls were frightened, of course. they wished a ship would hurry along to pick them up. but there was something deliciously thrilling in the idea that the "merry maid" was voyaging alone on a--to them--unknown sea, and that they were the first mariners who had ever drifted on such a boat. all day long the lights were kept burning on the houseboat. there was nothing else to do, although there was the possibility that their oil might give out; they had not a large supply on board. but there was no other way to attract attention. the fog never lifted. if a large boat should bear down upon them, without seeing their lights, the "merry maid" would go to the bottom of the sea. the houseboat no longer rocked violently. the water had become smoother, as is always the case in a fog. now and then, during the long day, one of the girls would attempt to go about some accustomed duty. lillian and eleanor made up the berths in the cabin. madge and phyllis rescued the chairs that were being blown about the deck and lashed them down securely. but after a time the little company would unconsciously creep together to continue their silent staring. in the afternoon miss jenny stationed two girls at the forward watch. she stood in the stern. madge and lillian went on the upper deck of their little cabin for a further range of vision. far out on the water madge saw two great, curling columns of smoke. "look, lillian!" she cried hopelessly, "there goes an ocean liner. we must be far from shore. how can we signal her?" five tired voices took up a shrill call. two white sheets fluttered dismally. but the great steamer, on her way to baltimore, neither heard the sound nor saw the white signals of distress. it was ten times more dismal when the friendly smoke had dissolved in the heavy atmosphere! another two hours went by. madge wondered if it could have been only last night when flora harris had so cruelly insulted her. yet how little madge had thought of her trouble to-day! how far away it seemed, like a sorrow that had come to her years before. just before sunset the fog lifted as though by magic. madge and phyllis were together on the cabin deck when a deep rose flush appeared in the western sky. instead of a line of sea and sky, some distance ahead of the houseboat, just under the horizon, a faint, dark streak showed itself. "madge, what is that over there?" phil asked sharply, pointing ahead. madge shook her head. "i am not sure," she answered. another fifteen minutes passed. the "merry maid" kept a straight course. phil clutched madge by the sleeve. "if i am not mistaken, there is land over there. our houseboat is being carried straight toward it." the girls called down their discovery to miss jenny ann, but the watchers below had also been conscious of a change in the horizon. miss jenny ann feared that she had seen a mirage, she had gazed so long at the water. "i know it is land, miss jenny ann," phyllis insisted, with the assurance that made her such a comfort to her friends in times of difficulty. but would the houseboat ever drift near enough to shore to allow them to be seen from the land? very slowly the "merry maid" now glided on. she was in quieter water. there was little wind, but a surer force drew her toward the land. the tide was running in. after a time the houseboat party realized this. there was nothing to do but to wait and see how far in their boat would drift. after a time they could see the outline of a sandy shore, with thick woods behind it. but there was no house, no human being in sight. at twilight the "merry maid" was not more than a mile from land, and still creeping toward it. madge's fighting blood returned to her. the troubles of the past had vanished. what, after all, was the idle insult of a cruel girl? she must now do what she could to save her friends and herself. madge felt she had not been as courageous as the others during the day's trial. she had thought too much of her own grievances. "miss jenny ann," she announced determinedly, "i can't bear this slowness and uncertainty any longer. it looks as though the 'merry maid' were going near enough to the shore for us to be able to attract some one's attention in a little while; but if night comes before we reach the shore, it will be much more difficult. the beach does not look as though there were many people about." "what would you have us do?" asked the chaperon. "there is our very long clothes line on board," suggested madge. the girls gazed at her in astonishment. what had their clothes line to do with the situation? "i want you to knot it around my waist," she continued, "and let me swim in to the shore." miss jones shook her head. the other girls protested. "you are tired, madge, and the water is too cold. it wouldn't be safe." "but, miss jenny ann--girls," pleaded madge, "has it ever struck you that we do not know the time of the tide? at any moment it may turn and we shall be carried out on the ocean beyond to spend another dreadful night." at first the little party were silent. madge was right, yet they could not bear to think of her risking her life for them. her persuasions finally won the day. the houseboat was now only a little more than a quarter of a mile from the beach. but they had not been observed. there were no boats in sight. phil insisted on swimming in with madge. she was not quite as much at home in the water, but she was a strong, steady swimmer, and it seemed safer for the two girls to make the effort together. the clothes line was knotted about madge's waist. it was then tied to the cleat, from which a short end of rope dangled that had been cut the night before. after the first plunge into the cold water the swim ashore was delicious. when the two girls finally got into the shallow water they tugged at the rope, madge keeping it around her waist, so as to pull with greater force. they worked very carefully. their rope was slender, but fairly strong. this helped them to draw their boat in closer, and they managed to get the "merry maid" half aground on a shelf of sand. it was now possible to wade from the boat to the land, with the water coming up no higher than the waist. miss jenny ann climbed off the boat and made her way to the shore, followed by lillian and eleanor. at last the five women, wet but thankful, stood safe on land. blankly they surveyed each other and the empty beach. then they gazed at their pretty toy boat, that had borne so staunchly the vicissitudes of its dangerous voyage. it was almost night. the shipwrecked mariners were very tired and the beach was curiously lonely. but the strain was over. madge began to laugh first. her laugh was always infectious. the others followed suit. "here we are, the latest thing in 'swiss family robinson'," she announced cheerfully. "now, let us proceed to stir up some people and ask them to give us some dry clothes and a night's lodging. come on. let us explore our island." chapter xii a deserted island the houseboat party did not penetrate very far up the shore. all were too utterly worn out. they walked for a mile or more, and, when they found no sign of life, came back to their landing place. "there is nothing for us, children, but to sleep here on the beach to-night, or go back to our houseboat," declared miss jenny ann. "we are perfectly safe, as there are no other human beings anywhere about." "no more houseboat for me," rejoined eleanor firmly. "think of the size of the rope that held our anchor and now the boat is secured by a clothes line! i'll walk up and down on the beach all night, but i'll not set foot on the 'merry maid'." "but, eleanor," protested lillian, "we are so wet and cold. and it's so dark and lonely." "i know," agreed miss jenny ann, "yet i feel a good deal as nellie does." "we'll freeze to death, or have pneumonia, then," put in lillian plaintively. phil and madge were talking together in low tones. madge nodded her head wisely. "it's worth trying," declared phil stoutly. turning to the chaperon, she said: "miss jenny ann, madge and i are going back to the boat. we will get our steamer blankets and some matches. if you and the girls will find some wood we will make a fire on the beach. we can dry ourselves, and our fire may be observed in this forsaken place." "you'll get the blankets wet bringing them here, madge," remonstrated lillian. "if only we had not left the 'water witch' up at tom's camp, what a help it would be now!" "don't worry," laughed madge, "just wait and see what phil and i are going to do." a light soon shone on the houseboat. strange sounds of hammering were heard. miss jenny ann, lillian and eleanor would have grown impatient if it had not been such slow work to find wood in the forest at night. but they came back to the beach with their arms full several times before a halloo from the houseboat indicated the return of the excursionists. a heavy something fell plunk! over the side of the houseboat. two figures scrambled after it. in a minute or two it was possible to see madge and phyllis pushing a large barrel in to shore. the barrel had originally been filled with potatoes, which the girls had dumped on the kitchen floor of the houseboat. the barrel held several steamer blankets, dry shoes and stockings all around, matches, and a few pieces of kindling wood. madge and phil made several trips before they concluded their work for the night. besides covering, they brought to the shore their cherished coffee pot and provisions for breakfast in the morning. in the meantime their chaperon and the other two girls had made a glorious fire. by ten o'clock the entire party was sound asleep. miss jenny ann had not meant to sleep. she had intended to watch the fire all night. but such an overpowering drowsiness crept over her that she rose and piled all the wood they had left with them on the fire at once. then she, too, gave herself up to slumber. madge awoke first in the morning. she leaned over to see if her cousin, nellie, were all right. nellie's brown eyes smiled back at her. the two girls rose softly and ran lightly back into the forest for more wood for their fire, of which a few faint embers were still burning. the forest was very dense. there were no paths through it from the side at which the girls penetrated. there were oak, walnut and beech trees growing in primeval beauty. great clusters of wild grape vines, loaded with ripe fruit, climbed the trunks of the trees and swung from their branches. the bittersweet black haws were ripe. they were easy to gather from the low limbs of the small trees. madge and eleanor found quantities of twigs and small logs. when they had piled up the wood near their sleeping friends they went back to the forest and returned with plenty of grape leaves for plates, and as much of the wild fruit as they could carry. it added greatly to their breakfast, and immediately after the houseboat party started on an exploring expedition. they must surely find some one to help them. at first the little clan of girls kept near to the beach, expecting to find a fisherman's cottage or a boat. they were afraid to go too far back in the woods on account of the danger of losing their way. they had had no fresh water since the day before, except the small amount that madge and phil brought from the houseboat for use in their coffee. all were growing very thirsty, and apparently there was no one to aid them on the beach. miss jenny ann began to think that they had landed on an island. it was altogether uninhabited and so could not be any part of a main shore. madge led the way when they entered the woods. she traveled slowly ahead, forcing her path through the tangled underbrush. they must surely find a house on the other side of the woodland. now they listened eagerly for the sound of a stream of running water. they had walked until afternoon before they came to a clearing in the forest. they had dropped down to rest, when phil heard a longed-for murmur. it tinkled and splashed and gurgled. phil was on her feet again in an instant, running toward the noise, her companions close after her. there, in an open space, lay a pool of clear water, fed by a little stream that ran down a small embankment. at least it was a place of hope and refreshment, and they drank their fill of the clear, cold water. somewhere near they must come across a house. surely the island was not uninhabited. here the party divided, continuing the search in four directions. it was lillian's call that brought them together again. she stood in front of a small house. it was built of shingles, and the roof was made of cedar boughs. about a hundred feet off was another house of exactly the same kind. there was no sign of life anywhere about them. the paths in front of the doors were overgrown with weeds. the five women knocked timidly on the first door. no sound came from behind it. they knocked again, then crossed over to the second house. it, too, was deserted. there was nothing to do but push open the doors. the first rusty latch yielded easily. the house contained a single dirty room. there was no furniture, except one or two old chairs. the four corners of the room were filled with hemlock branches, which must once have served as beds. a rusty rifle leaned against the wall. beside it lay a box half filled with cartridges. an old iron pot rested on some burned-out ashes. the place did not appear to have been occupied for some time. the other lodge was furnished in much the same way. "what does it mean?" inquired miss jenny ann faintly, feeling her courage about to give out. "it can't be possible that we have come ashore on an untenanted island?" phyllis clapped her hands. "never you mind, miss jenny ann; here is our home in these little houses until some one comes to find us," she declared undaunted. "hurrah for phil!" cried madge, catching her chum's spirit. then, seeing the chaperon's expression, she went up to her and put her arms about her. "see here, miss jenny ann, you are not to worry over us. we are going to have a good time. as long as we have got into this scrape, let's make the best of it. don't you see it is rather a lark. of course, i am sorry that our families and friends will be so dreadfully worried about us. but some one is sure to rescue us in a few days. we can keep our signals of distress fastened on to the houseboat and move up here to live. i am beginning to believe that this is a small island that is used for duck shooting. we have run across two hunting lodges. the duck shooting begins the first week in november." "november!" cried miss jenny ann in horror. "why, children, we will starve to death unless we are rescued before that time." madge and eleanor laughed. "miss jenny ann does not know the woods at this time of the year, does she?" protested eleanor. "we can play at being squirrels and live on nuts as soon as a frost comes." "'there are as many fish in the sea as ever were caught'," quoted lillian gayly. "and crabs," added phil. "and rabbits and birds and goodness knows what-all in the woods. why, it is a perfectly wonderful adventure! suppose we are alone on this island? i'll wager you no american girls ever had an experience like this before." it was a weary trip back to the houseboat, but there were so many plans to be made for this pioneer existence. the girls decided that they intended to play at being their own great-great grandmothers. they were settlers who had just landed on the shores of a new country. they must prove that they had the old fighting blood of their ancestors. at the edge of the wood madge gallantly seized hold of a good-sized log, dragging it toward the shore in the direction of the houseboat. "what ho, my hearty?" questioned phil, coming to her assistance. "what do you intend to do with this tree?" "kindly refer to your 'robinson crusoe' and your 'swiss family robinson' and you will know. we must make a kind of raft, so that we can go back and forth to the houseboat without getting wet every time we go aboard." miss jones, lillian and eleanor managed to haul another log of nearly equal size. on the shore the girls lashed the two logs together with short ends of their precious clothes line. madge took off her shoes and stockings, pinned up her skirts, and, getting down on her knees, with a stick for a paddle, started forth on her raft. she claimed the honor of the first trip, since the idea had first been hers. the raft reached the "merry maid" in safety. she rose to wave her hands in triumph, but she rested too much of her weight at one end of the logs. the raft tipped gently and she plunged head first into the sea. "splendid way to keep from getting wet, madge!" sang out phil. however, after a time, the raft did help. there were a hatchet, a hammer and some nails on the houseboat; a few odd lengths of rope and heavy twine, as well as the straps from the trunks. by nightfall the girls had made a raft of some pretensions. it served to bring more of their grocery supplies to the land. by wading on either side of it to keep it from tipping, madge and phil managed to steer one of their trunks to the shore. at eleanor's suggestion a few extra sheets were carried off the houseboat. then miss jenny ann and nellie set themselves seriously to work to make a cable for the "merry maid." they divided their sheets into good, broad strips; using six, instead of three strands, they plaited them into a fairly strong rope. they must run no risk of losing the houseboat. it must not be allowed to drift away for the second time. the girls were tired and hungry at bedtime, though not one whit discouraged. it would take some time to move what they needed from the houseboat to the lodge in the wood. but they were equal to the task, and found it good sport. miss jenny ann continued to worry over the prospect ahead of them. would they be forced to spend the winter on this deserted island? how could they? they would perish from hunger and cold. would their families give them up for lost? how would miss tolliver ever open her school at harborpoint without her four favorite pupils and one of her teachers? for a few days these dreadful ideas continued to haunt miss jones. the girls may have thought of them, but they did not talk of them. indeed, they were far too busy. pioneer life was strenuous. they found little time for fretting. chapter xiii life in the woods it was wonderful how quickly they adapted themselves to their new mode of life. a few days later phyllis, with a rifle slung over one shoulder and a dead rabbit over the other, was striding along through a dense thicket of trees. her face was tanned, her cheeks were crimson. she was whistling cheerily. "won't madge be proud of me?" she murmured half aloud. "ten days ago i had never fired a gun in my life. now i have killed this poor little bunny. beg your pardon, bunny, i never would have shot you, but we really had to have something to eat for dinner to-night. it was your life or ours." the woods were brown and gold. a heavy frost had fallen early in the autumn. the little spot of earth through which phyllis alden wandered was empty of other human beings; it looked as though it might have been created for her alone. a sudden sound in the underbrush startled phyllis. she clutched her rifle and brought it to position. there was no further movement. "i ought not to have come so deep into the woods alone," she thought. "i believe i am beginning to suppose that we are living in the garden of eden, and that there is no one alive in the world except miss jenny ann and we four girls." phil moved on. something stirred again. phil felt her gaze drawn by a pair of big, soft, brown eyes that surveyed her with a fixed stare of horror. it was a wistful, penetrating gaze. phil had never seen anything like it before. "who's there?" called phil. there was no answer, and no movement in the underbrush. phil moved cautiously toward the pair of eyes, that never ceased to stare at her. still the figure back of them made no movement. the underbrush was so thick that phyllis could not possibly see what she was approaching. when she was within a short distance of it the little creature collapsed and dropped with a soft flop on the ground at her feet. it was a tiny baby fawn. "you poor, pretty thing!" exclaimed phil impulsively, stooping to look more closely at the fawn, which was shivering with terror and hunger. then phil, in spite of her lately acquired skill with the rifle, looked fearfully about her. the girls in their long rambles through the woods had observed several times, from afar, the antlers of a red deer, with her hind grazing quietly beside her. they had never gone near enough to be in any danger. and they had seen no other animals in the woods in the daytime except the wild hare and the squirrels. only at night the screech of the wildcats in the forests had penetrated behind the closed doors of their sleeping lodge. phyllis knew that a deer will seldom risk an attack, but that it will make a tremendous fight in defence of its young. phil had no idea of being sacrificed, so she edged carefully away, gazing in every direction through the trees. there was no sign of any other deer. by some chance the mother deer must have wandered off in the forest after food and died. nothing else could have made her leave her fawn long enough to cause it so nearly to perish from cold and hunger. what could phil do? she was afraid to pick the fawn up for fear she had been mistaken in her surmise. yet it seemed too cruel to leave the beautiful little creature to perish. if phil wished to save it, how could she manage it? she already carried their beloved rifle, which, with a supply of ammunition, had been their lucky discovery in the hunting lodge. bunny was not to be thrown away. he meant dinner for the houseboat party. the deer was small and thin, yet it was a good armful. phil might have shot the tiny fawn and so spared it the misery of slowly starving to death. hunters, who care little for the lives of the creatures in the woods, declare that it is difficult to shoot a deer, once it has gazed with its wistful, trusting look into one's eyes. what chance had tender-hearted phil, with her dread of having anything in the world suffer, against the appeal of the forsaken creature? "oh, me, oh, my! i suppose i must take you home to our lodge to take care of," relented phil, "though i am sure that miss jenny ann will not rejoice at another mouth to feed." phil carefully emptied the barrels of her rifle so as not to endanger her own life. she took some stout twine out of her pocket and swung her rabbit around her neck. she fastened her gun to her side in awkward fashion with another piece of cord, so as to leave both arms almost free. then phil stooped and picked up the poor little fawn. it struggled at first and kicked its feeble legs. but after a little it was too weak and feeble for further resistance. it lay quite still. in spite of this, phil's return home began to grow difficult. she had never carried such an uncomfortable baby before. yet she had often shouldered the twins at home, and had borne them both, kicking and wriggling with delight, about the garden. but this burden was such an odd and unaccustomed shape! phyllis sat down on a log under a chestnut tree and regaled herself with chestnuts while she rested. she was beginning to be afraid she would be late for luncheon at their lodge and she was ravenously hungry. perhaps one of the girls would come out to look for her. miss jenny ann and her girls had been living an enchanted life for the past fortnight. not a single human being had they seen since their strange arrival on the unknown island. they had been deep into the woods on both sides of their lodges. they had wandered up and down the shore that sheltered their deserted "merry maid." but they had not yet crossed to the opposite side of the island. the way was jungle-like and untrodden. miss jenny ann feared that, once lost, they would never find their way back to their shelter again. so far she hoped for rescue from a ship that must some day pass within range of the island. she believed the other shore to be as deserted as the one on which the "merry maid" had landed. "madge and lillian must have finished with their fishing hours ago," reflected phil. "i must not be so lazy; i must hurry along home." phyllis had placed her burden on the ground. she leaned over to pick it up. a sound of human voices smote her ear. the voices were not those of any member of the houseboat party. they were the voices of men. phil was startled--the sound was so unexpected and surprising. without an instant's hesitation she slipped behind the giant chestnut tree and crouched low on the ground. the men were coming nearer. she had not been dreaming. it occurred to phyllis at once that these men must be game-keepers, who had been sent to explore the island to see if any one had been shooting the game before the hunting season opened. and here was phyllis alden with a dead rabbit swung over one shoulder and a live fawn in her arms! had phil stopped to consider she might have known that she could easily explain her presence to the men. but she did not stop to think, for she was much too frightened. one of the men had a dark, uncompromising face. the other phil did not see distinctly. the men evidently believed the island as deserted as phyllis had thought it before their appearance. "it's a forsaken hole," one of the men said to the other. "for my part, i'll be glad when we are through with this business. i've no taste for it. i wish it were finished." "oh, the job's easy, if it is slow," the other man answered. "you ain't used to the things i am." the men tramped on without dreaming of phil or of her hiding place. once they were out of sight, phyllis realized how foolish she had been. she called after them, but they were now out of hearing. phil felt ashamed of herself. why had she been afraid of these two men? could she go to the lodge and say to miss jenny ann that she had let a possible chance of rescue pass by them? phil decided to linger in the woods no longer. no matter if her arms and her back did ache she must hurry back to tell madge of the apparition she had seen. "phil alden! phil alden!" phyllis heard a clear voice calling to her. then she heard the violent ringing of their cherished dinner-bell. "here i am to the left," she shouted back. "come here and help me carry these things." madge pushed her way through the bushes, radiant and glowing with health. "for mercy's sake, phil alden, what have you there?" she demanded, taking phil's rifle and the dead rabbit, but looking askance at her live offering. "i am ashamed of myself," apologized phil, "but i found this beautiful little thing starving to death, in the woods. do you think miss jenny ann will mind if i take care of it and feed it until it is old enough to look after itself?" "of course not, phil. but what do you expect to feed your adopted deer on? it seems to me that a little fawn like that must prefer milk as an article of diet, and we have found no cows on the island--up to the present." madge patted the top of the fawn's soft head while she teased her chum. phil was thrown into consternation. "gracious, madge, you are right!" she agreed. "i never thought of it. but you know we are still having oatmeal for our breakfast. i'll ask miss jenny ann to let me give my share to the fawn. before the porridge gives out i expect we shall be rescued, or my baby will be grown-up enough to take care of itself." phil pronounced the word "rescued" in such fashion that madge stopped in her forward march to question her. "out with it, phil! you have something on your mind," she declared. "you might as well tell me." after phil had finished her story of seeing the men the two girls agreed not to mention phil's encounter in the woods to miss jenny ann or to the other two girls until they had had more time to think things over. "i love our woods and sometimes i think i would like to live here always, phil," returned madge, "but it is our duty to get away when we can. it may be best for you and me to search over this whole island until we find those two men again." the door of one of the hunting lodges stood wide open. phil put down her fawn on a mound of soft grass and flashed cheerfully in. "here i am at last, hungry as a bear!" she exclaimed. "i'm so glad to be at home again." eleanor and miss jenny ann were bending over the fireplace, stirring something savory in a big iron pot. lillian was putting the finishing touches to the small kitchen table, which had been transferred from the houseboat to the center of one of the cabin rooms. in the middle she had placed a great bunch of scarlet berries and wild sumach leaves. at one end was a dish of roasted chestnuts, cracked hickory nuts and walnuts. on the other, piled on a plate of leaves, were a few wild fruits that eleanor had been able to find that morning. the single dirty room which the houseboat party discovered had now been transformed. this lodge was now used for the living quarters of the houseboat derelicts, the other little house for their sleeping apartment. the hemlock beds had been swept away, and the whole place scrubbed as clean as possible. the room was bright with the october sunlight. the walls were hung with trophies of the woods, branches of scarlet leaves and vines of wild clematis. in one corner of the room the big wood basket was filled with nuts of every kind, gathered after the first frost, the girls' sole provision against the winter. a string of fresh fish, madge's and lillian's morning catch, was floating about in a bucket of fresh water. the girls gathered around the table. miss jenny ann lifted up the great iron pot and poured a savory stew into a great bowl. "guess what it is, phil?" cried madge. the dish was filled with potatoes, brought over from the houseboat larder, and big pieces of a dark, rich looking meat. phil shook her head. "i can't guess. i'd rather eat," she replied. "it's old 'marse terrapin.' don't you remember him in the story of uncle remus? lillian and i found him strolling along the shore. who says we are not full-fledged crusoes?" chapter xiv caught in a stampede "good-bye, madge, dear!" sighed eleanor mournfully. "say 'au revoir,' but not 'good-bye,' sweet coz," sang madge lightly. she was strapping her school satchel across her back like a knapsack. the girls were attired in their shortest, darkest gowns, and ready for the road. miss jenny ann hovered near, her face very white and her eyes swollen. "i feel i am very wrong in letting you girls attempt it alone," she protested. "to think that i should have been overtaken with an attack of influenza just as we were about to cross the island is too awful! don't you think you had better wait until i am well enough to go with you?" madge shook her bronze head firmly; phil's black head followed suit. "my dear miss jenny ann," protested madge, "the men phil saw may have come onto this island simply to stay only a day or so. unless we go in search of them at once, they may escape us altogether." "don't let anybody worry about us," phil urged. "madge and i will be as right as right can be. suppose we find the island so large that we can not get to the other side and back in one day, what's the difference? we will hang our hammock in a tree and sleep like the birds of the air." with a solemn face, that she tried to make smiling, eleanor extracted a pale blue ribbon from her pocket and tied it around madge's arm. lillian, with set lips, performed the same service for phil, except that her ribbon was red. when the two girls had finished their tasks madge and phil dropped to their knees and kissed the hands of their ladies. "behold, miss jenny ann, two true knights!" laughed madge. "phil and i are going out in search of assistance for our ladies, who are held prisoners by the waves on the shores of a desert island. don't you mind; we are going to have a perfectly lovely time." madge and phil were enchanted over the prospect of their adventure. they had had a long talk with miss jenny ann about the two men whom phil had seen in the woods. the houseboat party had reached a united decision. the men must be found. they must be asked to help the girls and their chaperon to find their way home again; or, at least, to tell them how they could manage to communicate with their friends. madge, phil and miss jenny ann decided to make the trip together. miss jenny ann felt as though she would have liked to be twins. one of her could then have stayed at home with lillian and eleanor, to help them guard their little home; the other could have gone forth on the expedition through the woods with the two more venturesome girls. the five young women presumed that the men whom phil had seen must have come ashore within a short time, or else that they lived on the other side of the island. it was possible that there might be a small settlement of people somewhere near the farther shore. in any case the houseboat crew must find out. they must try to get away from their island before winter came. madge and phyllis had a glorious morning in the woods, one that neither of them would ever forget. [illustration: madge and phil set forth on their expedition.] the girls set out to travel directly south, guided by phil's small compass. they turned aside only when the underbrush was too thick to allow them to pass through it. madge had stuck her soft felt hat in her pocket. she had crowned herself with a wreath of red-brown leaves and sprays of goldenrod. she looked like a figure from the canvas of a great artist. phil, who was darker than madge, might easily have passed for a gypsy. she was deeply tanned by her outdoor life, and her lips were stained with the nuts and berries that she had eaten in their journey through the woods. madge had not spoken of the scene with flora harris in mrs. curtis's dining room since she had landed on the island. phyllis sometimes wondered if the cruel impression had faded from her friend's mind, but she never mentioned the subject to madge. that morning, after the two friends had chatted of many things, all at once madge grew strangely silent. "phil!" she queried abruptly, "do you remember what flora harris said to me the night before our shipwreck?" "why, of course," answered phil in surprise, "i could not forget. but i hope you have not been letting your mind dwell on such foolishness." "i have never stopped thinking of it a minute, day or night," returned madge quietly. "i don't mean that i have just thought about the insult to my father. flora harris told me that after my father was dismissed from the navy in disgrace he went somewhere. she did not speak as though he had died. do you know, phil"--madge spoke in low, hushed tones, though there was no one in the woods to hear her--"i have always thought of my father as dead. i know that aunt sue has always led me, perhaps unconsciously, to think so. but now i can not recall that she has ever really told me that he was dead. phil, dear, do you think it possible that my father is alive?" phil was silent. what could she say? if she should agree, saying that madge's father might be alive, it was to confess that captain morton had really suffered disgrace. else why would he have disappeared and deserted his baby daughter? "i don't know," was all she managed to falter. madge walked on quietly, with her proud little head held high. "if my father is alive, phil, i don't care where he is, i shall find him, even if i have to look the wide world over. i know that he is innocent, but i can't tell you how i came by the knowledge. it is my secret." phil reached for her friend's hand, giving it a warm, firm pressure, then they walked on in silence. all morning they had been tramping through woodlands. at noon they came to the edge of one wood. a clearing stretched ahead of them. on the edge of this clearing they sat down to their luncheon. while the two chums were eating they heard the strangest and most peculiar noise either of them had ever listened to in their lives. it was the tramping and rushing of many feet, like a charge of cavalry. once or twice before, since they had taken up their abode on the island, the girls had caught a faint, far-off echo of just such a sound. to-day it sounded much nearer. "what was that?" demanded phil quickly, raising her hand. "it sounds like a cavalry charge," returned madge, trying to smile, though feeling vaguely alarmed. the noise swept nearer, like the rush of the wind. then it stopped as abruptly as it had begun. neither girl offered to stir from under the tree where they had halted in order to go on with their pilgrimage. the mystery of the noise that they had just heard made their adventure seem far more perilous. what on earth was it? what did it mean? the atmosphere was clear. the travelers guessed they must have come to about the center of the island. it was a broad, open plateau, covered with grasses and wild flowers. neither of the girls thought of how curious it was to find the grass cropped as close to its roots as though it had been cut down by a mowing machine. phil was walking slowly ahead. there was an opening through a double avenue of trees, and phil wanted to find out whether they could get through the woods by this cut. for the moment madge's back was turned to phil. she was reaching up for a particularly splendid bunch of virginia creeper that clung to a branch over her head. like a roll of thunder from a clear sky, or the rumble of heavy artillery, came the noise that they had heard before. it was indeed the rushing of many feet and it was coming nearer. phil ran toward a low-branched tree. "climb the tree, madge!" she cried. but madge only stared intently ahead of her. some distance ahead a single dark object made its appearance. it walked on four feet, had a thick, shaggy mane, and its long black tail swept the ground in a proud arch. its coat was rough---madge clapped her hands. to phil's horror her chum started to run forward, instead of taking refuge in a tree. "it's only a strange-looking horse!" she cried in relief. madge had never in her life seen a horse of which she felt afraid. at almost the same instant, back of the single horse, which was plainly the leader of a drove, appeared another, then a dozen, twenty or thirty more horses. the entire drove was galloping recklessly ahead. it was the noise of their charge that had indeed sounded like a rush of cavalry. the leader of the horses caught sight of madge. what must it have thought? a human being had appeared out of nowhere in the midst of its haunts. the wild horse stopped short for an instant, then gave a long neigh to its companions. the other horses ceased their charge; they, too, sniffed the air with the same attitude of surprise and hesitation. some of them pawed the ground in front of them. phil, from her position in the tree, could see everything that happened. she thought she was experiencing a nightmare, or else that she had beheld an apparition which had come out of the pages of her ancient mythology. to phil's amazement, madge stood still during the brief instant when the horses hesitated. it was then she might have saved herself, but she lingered for an instant, then turned to run. the leader of the drove of horses had made up his mind that he had nothing to fear from the wood-nymph that had tried to block his path. he tossed his shaggy head, giving the signal to his company. the entire troop started on a wild gallop through the avenue of trees. madge was directly in front of their charge. blind fear overtook her. she ran without seeing where she was going. she knew she was about to be run down by a stampede of wild horses, and in her terror she stumbled, then fell headlong. she could hear the horses galloping straight on. there was no time for her to struggle to her feet. she lay face downward, expecting each moment to be trampled to death. phyllis took in the whole situation. from her safe vantage in the tree, even more certainly than madge, she realized the fate that must soon overtake her chum. phil's tree was only a few yards from the place where madge had fallen. without an instant's hesitation phyllis alden dropped to the ground. she must have made one flying leap, for she landed in front of the little captain's prostrate body. if madge were to be trampled to death, that fate should not come to her alone. phil had marvelous presence of mind. what she did she must have done by instinct. there was no time to think. she saw the flecks of white foam between the teeth of the horse that was leading the charge. as it bore down upon her phyllis lifted up both arms. she gave a wild and unexpected shout, waving both arms frantically before the horse's face. the horse paused for the fraction of a moment. phil waved more violently than ever, shouting hoarsely and in more commanding tones. the horse was startled. he looked at phil with his ears erect and his eyes restless. then he deliberately swerved from the path that would have led straight over the bodies of the two girls, made a sweep to the right, and thundered on, followed by his drove of wild horses. from her position, face downward on the ground, madge had been acutely conscious of everything that had occurred. she seemed to have seen with her ears rather than her eyes. she knew that phil had risked her own life to save hers, and that phil's presence of mind had saved them both. "it's all right, dear," remarked phil coolly, when the horses had passed out of sight. but the hand she reached out to madge to help lift her from the ground was trembling. once she was on her feet the little captain caught tight hold of phil's arm. "it was real, wasn't it, phil? we _did_ see a drove of wild horses dash by us?" phil nodded calmly. "it was much too real for a few seconds," she rejoined. "now i understand the far-off noise of the tramping of many feet that we have heard before. these horses must always stay herded together. when they are weary of grazing they make these wild rushes. how do you suppose they ever came on this island?" madge shook her head. she had no possible guess that she dared to make. there is a story, which the girls heard long afterward, about this drove of wild horses, that even at the present time lives on an island not far from the chesapeake bay. many years ago a spanish family had their estate on this now deserted island. when they moved away they left their horses alone on the island. forsaken by man, these horses returned to the wild, free state in which they lived before they were haltered, harnessed and trained by human beings to become their beasts of burden. chapter xv behind closed doors it was late afternoon of the same day. the two girls had made their way across the greater part of the island without finding a human habitation or seeing another human being. what had become of the men that phil had seen in the woods? how far the girls had traveled they did not know. the way may have seemed long, because there were no paths and they were entirely unfamiliar with the country. but madge and phil had made up their minds that there was nothing else for them to do. they must spend the night in the woods. it was out of the question for them to attempt to recross the island before daylight. perhaps on their way home the next day they might have better luck in discovering the aid they sought. though neither of them would have cared to confess it to the other, they were tired. they had been walking steadily since early morning, and they had carried what were, to them, heavy packs. phil had a light woven-grass hammock in her bundle that had once been swung across the deck of the "merry maid." madge carried a light, rubber-proof blanket, which was their sole protection against rain. of course, the girls divided the burden of the food supply for their two days' march. at last, out of sheer weariness, they dropped their packs under a tree and sat down to rest. they had hoped to have the satisfaction of reaching the opposite side of the island before nightfall. they longed to know if land could be seen from that side, or if passing ships could be hailed from the beach. madge's head was resting in phil's lap when she heard a peculiar buzzing in her ears, which she thought must come from weariness. she sat up with a jerk. "don't stir," begged phil. "you and i are too tired to move on now. i am sure i hear the noise of the ocean. we can't be very far from a beach. surely, surely, we will find something, or somebody, on this shore." madge lay down again and for a few minutes neither girl spoke. phyllis was thinking of home. she was also wondering what young lieutenant lawton must have thought of her disappearance with his box. the mysterious box was in the bottom of her trunk in their lodge in the woods. what a time she had had, dragging the trunk ashore, and then, piece by piece, carrying its contents to the lodge! phil laughed. if jimmy lawton wanted his box kept safe, he had certainly given it to the right person. but if he happened to need the contents on land, at the present time, he would have to cry for it. phil gave madge a little shake. "come on," she commanded. "i have an idea that we had better go to the beach. i can't wait another second. i somehow feel as though we would find friends there. i can't believe that we are the only persons on this island." phil's hopefulness was inspiring. madge sprang to her feet and the two girls hurried ahead, leaving their bundles under the tree. the booming of the surf soon smote their ears, then the welcome splash and murmur of the waves. like two little girls, madge and phil joined hands and ran down to the open shore. far and wide was a waste of water and a pebbly beach. it was lonely, far lonelier than their own shore. the "merry maid," riding out on the waves near the spot where they had first found refuge, had given their shore almost a homelikeness. this beach was dreadful! besides, it was getting so late. phil's black eyes suddenly brimmed with tears of disappointment. madge slipped her arm in phil's and the two forlorn girls walked up and down the shore, looking in every possible direction for some sign of life. a fish-hawk rose suddenly from the waves and wheeled over their heads. it uttered a hoarse cry of fright and dropped a good sized fish at the girls' feet. the fish had been too large for the bird to carry. madge picked up the fish, which had just been freshly caught out of the sea. "phil," she said, smiling bravely, "if we are deserted by human beings, we are being fed from heaven. let us cook this for our supper. come, let us go back to the woods, swing our hammock and prepare to make a night of it." "let's look just a little farther along," phyllis begged. the girls went a quarter of a mile farther up the silent shore, then turned into the woods. madge, who was a few rods in advance, gave a sharp cry of surprise. there, ahead of her, appeared most unexpectedly a small house, not a great deal larger than their own lodge. but it was very differently built. the door of this house had great bars across it; the windows were securely fastened. the walls were fortified with heavy beams of wood. the house looked deserted. yet in front of the barred door stood a bucket of fresh water and an ax lay on the ground, with some chips of freshly hewn wood near it. also the girls noticed that the way up to the door had lately been trodden by heavy feet. without asking anybody's permission the girls drank long and deeply of the fresh water. then they knocked on the fast-locked door. there was no answer. they banged again. madge tried to shake the door. a heavy chain rattled on the inside. "the house must be empty, phil," she suggested. "the men you saw must have been here and gone away again. perhaps they will be back soon. we had better return in the morning to see." phil gave a farewell shake to the door. a voice called out unexpectedly: "stop shaking that door and come in. what is the use of your trifling with me? have you lost the key, so that you can't get in? it would be good of you to leave me here to starve." madge and phil felt their knees shaking in sudden terror. "we are strangers; we haven't the key to your house," answered phil. "we wished to ask you for help." a dreary laugh answered the girls. "you must be joking," the voice said. "but if you are human, you will help me get out of this hole. i have been imprisoned for i don't know how long. oh, it is a long story. once i am out, i can explain everything to you. i promise not to harm you." "why do you wish to get out?" demanded madge, trying to gain time until she could master her amazement. the voice inside laughed less hoarsely. "oh, i want to get out to breathe, to get away from this beastly hole and to attend to my own affairs. i could go on giving you reasons all night. but please hurry. batter down the door! i don't see how the house has ever happened to be left unguarded so long. you are young boys, i suppose. your voices sound like it. if you'll let me out, i'll do anything in the world for you," continued the prisoner, "only, make haste!" "what shall we do?" whispered phil. "i don't know," returned madge. "i am afraid there is a crazy person shut up in this house. perhaps the men you saw were his keepers." "but he talks as though he were sane," argued phil. "crazy people often do," retorted madge. "i've read _that_!" "madge, let's open the door," entreated phil. "the voice doesn't sound as if the man were crazy. think how dreadful if some one is really shut up here on this deserted island against his will!" madge hesitated. "it will be dreadfully foolish of us, phil, to open the door. there is no telling what trouble we may bring on ourselves." "for the love of heaven, please open the door. i swear to you that there is no reason in the world why i should be kept imprisoned here. if you will only help me to get away, i can prove it to you." this time the voice pleaded desperately. phil seized the ax. "we can run for our lives once the door is open. i believe we have been sent to save this person." "all right, phil. i won't turn coward unless you do." madge picked up a sharp stick to pry under the door. phil had struck her first blow when madge, whose ears were open to every sound, cried sharply: "stop! there is some one coming. do let's run!" phil dropped her axe as softly as possible. then she and madge took to their heels. they ran through the thicket of trees, back behind a dense growth of underbrush. they had never run so fleetly or so silently before. a single glance had revealed the figures of two men approaching the prison-house from the beach. not for worlds would the girls have been discovered hammering at their door. they had crossed the island to ask for succor. they needed friends. suppose these men had seen them trying to break into their house? they might have been taken for common thieves. madge and phil were quick to repent of their foolishness. they had not come forth on their long pilgrimage to save a man locked up in a hut; they had come to find aid for miss jenny ann and the other girls. it was almost dark when they made their way back to their packs, which they had left under a tree. they made a fire, fried their fish, and ate their supper. then they swung their hammock in the branches of a great, low-armed sycamore tree. neither was afraid, though the night was dark and they were far from their lodge, which to-night seemed like home. they were too weary to lie awake. by the time the stars were out they had crawled into their hammock together and covered themselves with their blanket. all night long they slept serenely, the good fairies keeping watch over them. chapter xvi the disappointed knights not long after daylight the two girls were out of their hammock bed. but they waited until a reasonable hour before they approached the house in the woods to ask for assistance. then they walked back to the place cautiously and quietly. to their relief they saw an old gypsy woman stirring something in a pot by an open fire. a young boy was busily cleaning some fish. the explorers walked directly up to the boy, who did not turn or take the slightest interest in their approach. but when phyllis touched him on the arm he whirled about, dropped his fishing knife, and gave a queer, guttural call. the old gypsy woman came toward madge and phil, looking alarmed, but brandishing a long stick. "i don't wonder you are surprised," apologized phil. "but, really, we are not ghosts; we are human beings. we have been shipwrecked on this island for two weeks and you are the first human beings we have seen. can you tell us how we can get away?" still the boy stared and the gypsy woman made menacing gestures. the boy was about sixteen. he had handsome features and wavy black hair, but a strange, half-stupid expression. "why don't one of you speak?" demanded madge in her impatient fashion. "we wish to know who lives in that house over there? go and tell them we wish to speak to them." the boy put his fingers on his lips, moving his hand curiously in the air. then the girls understood. the gypsy boy was deaf and dumb. it was vexatious to have struggled across the whole island, to have been nearly trampled to death by a drove of wild horses, only to discover a crazy person shut up in an old house, a deaf and dumb boy and a stupid old woman keeping guard. madge's sense of humor came to their rescue. she threw back her head and laughed. as her merry laugh rang out the back door of the house was burst suddenly open. a savage-looking man dashed out. "who's there?" he demanded angrily. "i thought i heard strange voices." the man ran down the few steps that led to the yard, staring at the newcomers as though he had seen an apparition. phyllis bowed to the man politely. madge smiled at him with engaging frankness. but he paid no attention to their friendly overtures. he raged, stormed and talked to himself. neither would he listen to madge's explanation of their appearance. "won't you please be good enough to tell us how we can get away from this island?" madge finally demanded in desperation. "we are very anxious to get back to the mainland, so that we can let our friends know where we are." "i'll tell you how you can get away from this house in double-quick time. be off with you!" roared the man. "what do you mean by turning up here and scaring a man out of his wits? we thought this island didn't have a soul on it but us." "what are you doing here?" asked phil quietly. the man turned red and stammered. he was too stupid to think of a prompt answer. at this moment a man who had all the appearance of a gentleman appeared at one side of the house. he bowed pleasantly to madge and phil, but did not try to conceal his amazement at seeing them. the girls were equally nonplussed. they certainly had not been prepared to meet a gentleman in this oddly assorted company. "i overheard your story," he remarked pleasantly. "you will forgive the surprise of my servants at your unexpected presence. we presumed we were alone on the island. it is supposed to be entirely uninhabited, except in the hunting season. the place is so desolate that i brought this gypsy lad and his mother over to look after my man and me. i am sorry that i can not offer you any assistance in returning to your homes at present. my boat brought me to this island and left me, as i wish to be entirely alone." "how funny!" exclaimed matter-of-fact phil. "i should think you would be awfully lonely." "i am--i am recovering from an attack of the nerves, due to overwork," replied the stranger suavely. "and are you all alone in the house, except for your servants?" questioned madge, with her most innocent, far-away expression. "yes," replied the man in the same moment, fixing his cold, blue eyes on madge and phil. "i am entirely alone in the house except for my man. the gypsy woman and her boy jeff live in a tent a little distance off. i am sorry you have had your long journey across the island for nothing. the boy will show you a shorter way back. rest assured that as soon as my boat comes for me, i will communicate with you. until then it is wisest for you not to return to this side of the island." the stranger spoke to them with perfect courtesy, but they knew that he would admit of no trifling. if they had heard a sound in the house that was not meant for their ears, they must pretend to be deaf. the man summoned the deaf and dumb lad by a gesture. he talked to him on his fingers for a few minutes. the boy grinned and nodded, as though he thoroughly understood. "i have told this fellow to show you a short cut across the island," the stranger said politely, turning to the girls. "he is ready to start--at once." the man's eyes narrowed. there was no mistaking his meaning. it was in vain that madge and phil insisted that they could find their way home without assistance. the obstinate man declared that they would be safer with an escort. what could the girls do? nothing but make a foolish scene, and they were too wise for that. before phyllis turned to leave the place she took one long, intense stare at the house ahead of her, which, she was now convinced, imprisoned some innocent person. she said nothing to the man in charge of it. but, in phil-fashion, she set her lips firmly together. if the man had known phyllis alden better, he would not have smiled in such a relieved fashion when his unwelcome visitors disappeared. with their backs to the ill-omened house, and their faces set toward the lodge, madge and phil felt their hearts lighten. so far they had failed miserably in their quest for help, but now these pretended knights were to return to their ladies and make their report. what bliss to be in their own little snug harbor again! "snug harbor" was phil's name for their lodge in the woods. the girls walked on happily. they could talk as they chose, with a deaf and dumb boy for a guide. "who do you suppose is hidden in that house?" asked phil nervously. she could not get the subject off her mind. madge was far less interested, so she smiled. "you have always thought that i had an excellent imagination," she teased, "but, really, this is asking too much of me! perhaps the man in the house is crazy; perhaps he is heir to a large fortune, and the other wretch is trying to keep him out of it. there may be a thousand reasons for his being there. oh, dear me, i am tired! if only this boy weren't deaf and dumb we might get some information out of him. i am glad that we are going home by a shorter route." "i hope it is shorter," interrupted phil. "certainly it is entirely different from the direction we took yesterday. we have not passed a single familiar object since we started." so far the girls had meekly and unquestioningly followed their guide. now a doubt assailed both of them at the same time. could it be possible that the lad had been sent to lead them out of their way? it dawned on phil that the boy had probably been told to take them home by some route that would confuse them in case they ever desired to return to the secluded house. but it was perfectly hopeless to try to argue with a deaf and dumb boy. the lad traveled at such a pace through the woods that the two girls had difficulty in keeping up with him. madge now ran ahead, catching the boy by the sleeve. she tried to spell the word, "home," on her fingers. then she shouted at the top of her lungs, "are you taking us home the right way?" the boy grinned and bowed his head. he shot his fingers in the air and began a rapid-fire conversation. madge and phil watched him, feeling utterly helpless. the sign language had not been included in their education. there was nothing for them to do but continue to follow their leader. two hours more of travel and the wayfarers did not seem to be any nearer home. not a solitary familiar tree or bush appeared to welcome them. the knights were weary and disappointed. with what high hopes they had set out on their travels! with what low spirits they returned home! they were too tired to see where they were going, and they stumbled blindly on, over tangled roots, around clumps of trees, through open bits of woodland, too fatigued to protest or to ask questions. phil stole a look at her compass. it pointed southeast. phil recalled that she and madge had traveled almost due south the day before in order to reach the opposite side of the island. they should now be going north. there was now no possible doubt. they had been led astray. phil would have liked to burst out crying. instead, she declared miserably, without the least attempt at cheerfulness: "we are lost madge! we have been fooled and tricked. the boy is not taking us across the island. he has been leading us on a wild-goose chase all day. i am not going to follow him another step." "i am afraid we are too tired, now, phil, to find our way home by ourselves. yet think how terrified miss jenny ann and the girls will be if another night passes and we do not return!" madge happened to glance up. the deaf and dumb boy was grinning at them with an expression of utter derision. he stuck out his tongue. the little captain's cheeks flamed. as usual, anger inspired her to action. she sprang to her feet. "don't you worry, phil alden," blazed madge. "this wretch of a boy is going to lead us home by the very quickest route--and don't you forget it." "what are you going to do?" queried phil languidly. madge marched directly over to the boy; seizing him by both shoulders, she shook him with all her might. the boy submitted. but when madge had finished he refused to stir. he picked up a stick from the ground and began to whittle it calmly, emitting a guttural, choking laugh. madge struck the lad sharply with a little stick she had picked up. at least he would understand what she meant by that kind of conversation. still the youth whittled serenely. then she put her hand in her back coat pocket, taking out a small, dark object. it was a small pistol. very quietly she opened and loaded it. then, with her pistol primed, she pointed it at the obstinate boy. "forward, march!" she commanded. the lad's glance shifted. he started to run. madge shot into the air. the boy hesitated. then he raised both hands. he had given up. a minute later he set off, beckoning to madge and phyllis to follow him. he had decided to take them home by the right path. "i did not know you had your pistol, madge," gasped phil, as the two friends journeyed on together again. madge nodded. "oh, yes," she explained. "we could not very well have come on such a journey without it. miss jenny ann knew that i carried it." for twenty-four hours, at odd intervals of time, miss jenny ann, lillian and eleanor had walked up and down in front of their lodge, hoping and praying for the return of the wanderers. what did it matter if they stayed all the rest of their lives on the deserted island, if only madge and phyllis were with them! about eight o'clock in the evening miss jenny ann, who was patroling the woods near by, heard a faint halloo. a few minutes later two homesick and footsore girls stumbled into her arms. chapter xvii can we go to the rescue? several days had passed since madge and phil had returned. a big fire roared up the chimney. madge lay on a blanket spread over some hemlock boughs in one corner of the room. phil sat near her, feeding the fawn from a cup with a spoon. miss jenny ann had an open book in her lap, while eleanor peered over her shoulder. a single candle burned near them. lillian sat by the fire. every now and then she threw an armful of pine cones on the fire to make more light in the room. miss jenny ann was trying to instruct four of her pupils from "miss tolliver's select school for girls" in the intricacies of algebraical problems. since the disappointing trip to the opposite shore of the island madge had not been well. the sunshine had faded. the cold autumn rains had begun. the food in the larder, supplied from the houseboat, had grown perilously low. it was hard work to spend many hours in hunting or in fishing in such weather. nuts had commenced to pall as an article of daily diet. fight as they might, the spirit of the houseboat party had begun to sink toward zero. suppose, after all, thought they, that they should not be rescued, even by the first monday in november, when madge assured them the duck shooting began? perhaps there would not be any ducks this year, or else no one would come to shoot them? there was nothing too dreadful to imagine! instead of being comforted by madge's and phil's report that they were not alone on the island, miss jenny ann was the more uneasy. she did not believe that such a man as the girls had seen would help them to leave this island. miss jenny ann had been trying to beguile the tedium of the stormy days by interesting the girls in the lessons they would even now have been studying at miss tolliver's school if their houseboat had not sailed away from her anchorage. all the old school books had been brought up from the "merry maid." at first the girls were much pleased with miss jenny ann's idea. eleanor declared that it would be splendid not to be behind their classes when they returned to school that fall. to-night, however, it was quite impossible to take a proper interest in algebraical problems, when each member of the little group had such a serious individual problem staring her in the face. it did not look as though they were likely to return to miss tolliver's in the immediate future. "a penny for your thoughts, girls," remarked miss jenny ann suddenly. "eleanor, dear, i am going to begin with you. we are all in the dumps to-night. perhaps it will cheer us up to tell one another our thoughts." eleanor shook her head. she had been pretending to look over miss jones's shoulder, but her eyes were really full of tears. "don't begin with me," she pleaded. "my thoughts wouldn't cheer anybody up." but the girls were firm. eleanor must tell them. "oh, very well," she agreed. "i was thinking of 'forest house' and mother and father. i could smell aunt dinah's light rolls browning in the kitchen oven, and the ham broiling, and----" "oh, please stop, nellie!" begged madge huskily. but eleanor would not stop. "i was wondering if mother and father believed now that madge and i were drowned!" eleanor dropped her head. there was a dreadful silence in the room that made miss jenny ann realize that the girls were near to breaking down. "what were you thinking of, madge?" she demanded in desperation. madge could usually be depended on to cheer the other girls. the little captain shook her head despondently. "i was thinking of my father," she answered, almost under her breath. "i was wishing that i could find him, and that he would take me home." "lillian, what are you dreaming about to-night?" miss jones questioned next. lillian glanced plaintively into the fire. she popped a particularly fat kernel of a walnut in her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully before she replied. then, still picking at her nuts with a hairpin, she confessed: "i was thinking, miss jenny ann, that, if once i got back home, i would never, never eat another nut, not even at christmas." the girls forgot their woes and shouted with laughter. phil stroked her little fawn gently. she glanced up and surveyed her four friends squarely. her face wore its most serious and determined expression. "i have been thinking, miss jenny ann, that it is about time for us to leave the island," she announced. "my dear phil, how original you are!" broke in eleanor, with a pettish gesture. but miss jenny ann looked straight at phyllis. she knew that phil meant something more than mere idle talk by her speech. evidently she had been considering the situation. "you see, we have had a wonderful time. except for our worry about our families we have had the very jolliest lark of our lives. but now we must go back home." phil clasped her hands together and closed her lips. "i mean that we must spend every single minute of our time and thought in arranging to get away from here." "what are we to do, phil?" asked madge. "we have already tried every method." "for one thing, we must find some better way to signal passing ships at sea. they must be going by this island constantly, only they do not come near enough to see us. sometimes i believe we will just have to go aboard the 'merry maid' again and drift out from shore," concluded phil. eleanor shivered. "we would be taking too great a chance." "i wasn't advising it, nellie. i was just thinking that we might have to do it, if we can't get away by any other means. we would be almost sure to meet a ship. of course, we could never be on the water as long a time as we were before without being seen. the other time it was just a strange accident, due to the storm and the fog, i suppose." the girls and miss jenny ann frowned thoughtfully. somehow phil's idea did not seem to be very pleasing. it was just such a night as the one on which the pretty houseboat had been cut adrift. the room was still, except for the crackling of the fire. the noises were all on the outside. the owls hooted dismally in the near-by trees. farther off in the forest sounded the screech of a wildcat. the rain poured down. a sudden, violent knocking began on the front door of the lodge. it was uncanny--terrifying. not a single time since the houseboat party came to the lodge in the woods had a hand knocked at their door. to-night, in the heart of a storm, the sound of the blows upon the door filled them with dread. miss jenny ann rose with shaking knees. instead of opening the door she quietly pushed her chair against it. it was a feeble barrier. the door was closed only by a wooden latch, which phil had made. the banging continued. "who's there?" miss jenny ann demanded. there was no reply. phil came over and stood by her chaperon's side. "tell us who it is at the door and we will open to you. we can not open to a stranger," she declared. still the stupid beating on the door with no response to the questioning. phyllis stood close to the door. "come here, madge," she whispered. "now listen." the two girls were quiet as mice. one nodded to the other. they had each heard a curious guttural sound outside their lodge door. "it's the deaf and dumb boy, miss jenny ann. shall we let him come in?" asked madge. miss jones nodded, and phil unlatched the door. in the same instant madge slipped her revolver into her hand, but she kept it hidden behind her skirts. the boy came slowly into the room, blinking at the light after the darkness of the woods outside. he was wet to the skin and shaking with cold. he gave a grunt of delight at the sight of the fire, then crossed and stood before it, warming his outstretched hands. as though frightened, the lad looked furtively from one young woman to the other. five minutes passed. the deaf and dumb lad made no explanation of his surprising visit. it was impossible to ask him why he had come. the houseboat party stared at him in perplexity. the boy stared back again. he was completely fascinated by the beauty of the room and the circle of pretty girls. he had apparently forgotten his errand. finally madge grew tired of waiting for him to make a sign. surely this wild gypsy boy had not come to their lodge on such a night just to make them a social call. how could she get any information out of him? with a sudden inspiration she handed the lad a pencil and a piece of paper. perhaps the boy had some education. madge printed in large letters the simple words, "what do you want?" she handed the slip to the youth. he puzzled over it for a moment. then his face lit up happily. he pulled out of his pocket a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to madge. madge surveyed it gingerly, turning the paper first on one side, then on the other. "the boy is an idiot," she announced positively. "else why should he have come over here on such a night with this dirty scrap of paper? it hasn't a word written on it." madge tossed the paper to the ground contemptuously. the lad made a rush for it. this time he passed it to phil. he ran his finger along some smudges on the paper. "wait, phil," miss jenny ann suggested, coming toward her with the candle. phil held up the paper and miss jenny ann put the candle close to it. five pairs of eyes surveyed it at different ranges. written apparently with the finger, in coffee, was the solitary word, "help." below were some indefinite initials, a j, and an n, and a t. this call out of the darkness was uncanny. from whom could it have come? madge and phyllis knew that it must have been sent by the man who was shut up in the house on the farther side of the island. the girls looked at one another questioningly. "what can we do, miss jenny ann?" asked phil anxiously. "nothing," miss jenny ann responded in a tone that was final. "please allow us to write a note, then, and send it back by this boy?" pleaded madge. "think how dreadful to be shut up somewhere without a sign from the outside world. i'll just say that we are sorry we can not come to rescue this person, as we have no way of helping him, and that we don't know who he is. it wouldn't be any harm to say that we hope some one else will come to save him, would it, phil?" miss jenny ann smiled over madge's letter, but offered no objection to it. the boy seemed quite satisfied. just as he turned to leave, phyllis called him back. it occurred to her that she might ask the lad some questions about the mysterious prisoner whom he was trying to befriend, probably at the risk of his own life. phil wrote the word, "man?" the boy nodded. then she put down, "old?" the youth shook his head violently. "ask the boy if the man is crazy, phil." phil printed the word, "crazy," but the boy did not understand. the word was too large to be included in his vocabulary. she tried, "mad," and he bowed his head repeatedly. he frowned, walked up and down the room and stamped his foot. even miss jenny ann smiled. "i am afraid we do not know whether the prisoner is insane or just very angry," she said. "but, whoever he is, we certainly have no concern with him. i don't wish to be unkind, but, children, it seems to me that at present we have troubles enough of our own." and so the strange messenger was sent back to the unknown prisoner with nothing save the regrets of the houseboat party. chapter xviii a new use for a kite a few days afterward miss jenny ann concluded that she must pay a visit to the men who had been so disagreeable to phyllis and madge. she was an older woman, and one not to be trifled with. the man whom the two girls imagined to be in authority over the group of people whom they had seen had promised to come to them as soon as he could help them. he had not come. miss jones wished to know why. miss jenny ann jones was growing into a very determined character. you would never have known her for the once pale, awkward, embarrassed teacher at miss tolliver's school. her shoulders had broadened, her cheeks were ruddy, her sandy hair was burned to gold. miss jenny's muscles were hard and her step vigorous. she had become a hewer of wood and a drawer of water. pioneer life had certainly agreed with her. she could walk as far and endure as much as phyllis alden herself, who was the hardiest of the four girls. phyllis and madge were enraptured with their chaperon's suggestion that they make a second trip across the island. they had never ceased to think and to talk of the poor fellow who had sent out his cry for help to them. lillian and eleanor stayed at home to take care of the lodge. madge, phil and their chaperon crossed the island without any special difficulty, and found the secluded house as before; the deaf and dumb boy sat outside on guard. a few rods off the gypsy woman worked near her tent. miss jenny ann went directly up to her and inquired for her master. the gypsy woman made no answer, except to shake her fist and utter unintelligible threats. she commanded her son to drive the intruders away, but jeff, the gypsy lad, never stirred. "i insist on knowing if your master is in his house, or, if he has gone away, when he will return," demanded miss jones. the gypsy's answer was to pick up a huge stone and hurl it at madge's head. at this miss jenny ann, a few weeks before the most timid of women, seized the gypsy by the shoulders and pushed her inside her tent. "don't come out again," ordered miss jenny. "we intend to wait here until your master comes to speak to us. i don't suppose he will be absent any length of time." "he ain't going to be back until just before night," the gypsy muttered. but she made no effort, at first, to come out of her tent. miss jenny ann took up her position on a log half-way between the house and the tent. she insisted that her companions rest near her. it was early afternoon. now that they knew their way, the trip across the island had occupied only half the length of time that it had taken when madge and phil crossed. madge and phil craned their necks and stared at the house. the deaf and dumb boy grinned cheerfully at them. except for his presence the house looked silent and deserted. perhaps the prisoner had been taken away. "miss jenny ann, do you remember the story of richard, the lion-hearted, and blondel?" asked phil plaintively. miss jones was thinking of something else. "what was it, phyllis?" she asked abstractedly. "once when richard coeur de leon was on his way home to england from one of his crusades in the holy land, he was cast into prison. there he stayed a long, long time," narrated phil mournfully, as though the story of the unfortunate king weighed on her mind. "blondel, richard's faithful servant and friend, wandered all over the world looking for his master. one day he came outside the very prison that held his king. he began to sing an old song that he and king richard had sung together many times. richard coeur de leon recognized the song and knew that blondel waited outside the fortress to save him. he managed to let blondel know where he was, and the loyal servant helped his friend and king to make his escape." madge guessed what phil's story meant, but miss jenny ann refused to see it. "do you think, miss jenny ann," phil inquired after a pause, "that it would do any harm if madge and i were to sing outside this prison house to-day? surely it would be a comfort to the poor man inside to hear the sound of friendly voices!" miss jones frowned. "perhaps it would not do any harm, phil, but it certainly would not do the prisoner any good. you have promised me not to try to interfere with this stranger's troubles." then miss jenny ann's soft heart relented. "sing, if you like, phil. i shall be glad to hear you. it will help make the time pass more quickly." "what shall we sing, phil?" demanded madge. phil thought for a while. "'america'," she suggested. "if i were put in prison unfairly, i would like to think that i was an american and should some day have my liberty again." "all right," agreed madge. "let's begin." sitting on the ground at miss jenny ann's feet the girls sang the splendid song. they forgot the story that had suggested their music. their voices rang true and sweet. madge sang the soprano part and phil the alto. the tune inspired the two girls and gave miss jenny ann fresh courage for the unpleasant interview which she thought lay ahead of her. it was good for the lost travelers to believe that they were still under the protection of the american flag. the "merry maid" had certainly not drifted away from the stars and stripes. phil wanted a drink of water at the close of the song. she went up near the house to get it. the bucket stood under a tree a little to one side of the house, out of the vision of madge and miss jenny ann. phil was a long time in drinking the water. distinctly she heard some one inside the house. he was pacing up and down like a frenzied creature. phyllis was disobedient. as she passed by the deaf and dumb boy, whose name was jeff, who still sat at his post of duty, she whisked out a paper and pencil and handed them to him. she pointed to the barred door, and indicated that she wished the paper and pencil carried to the man imprisoned in the house. jeff took the things, but he shook his head and made many gestures. he wished phyllis to understand that he had no way of breaking into the prison house when his master was away. he was left to guard the outside of the dwelling. his master carried the key. phyllis went back to her seat near madge and miss jenny ann. her face was flushed. she looked miserable and uncomfortable. a few minutes later phil saw jeff leave his position in front of the place he was set to guard. he jumped up and ran to the tent, where he and his mother slept. a short time after he danced out of the tent, carrying a kite with a long tail made of strips of cloth. the boy closed the opening to the tent securely. he hoped to keep his gypsy parent inside. as jeff ran by the girls, letting his kite fly high in the air, he gave the two girls a significant wink. "what is the boy going to do?" asked miss jenny ann. "he is just like a child! i wish he could tell us when those two tiresome men intend to return to this spot." jeff disappeared around the back of the wooden house. in a few moments the lad reappeared on top of the sloping roof. he had his kite tied to one of the buttons of his coat. he climbed cautiously up the roof until he came to the ledge. then he sat astride it, with his feet nearly touching the chimney that rose out of the roof. he looked furtively about. the girls watched the lad in fascination. what was he about to do? the boy deliberately waved to them. next he took out the paper and pencil phil had presented to him. he unwound the kite string from his button, got a small stone out of his pocket and placed it inside the paper. then he tied the pencil and the paper, with the weight in it, to the end of his kite string. what the boy was going to do phil was beginning to guess. she was gratified at the success of her ruse, but she felt very guilty and ashamed of herself. madge and miss jenny ann were wholly unaware that phil had had anything to do with the deaf and dumb boy's peculiar actions. but phil could stand it no longer. suddenly she broke out: "miss jenny ann, madge! i have a confession to make to you!" phil's face was red with embarrassment. "i gave jeff a paper and pencil to take to the man inside that house," she went on bravely. "i suppose i ought not to have done it." miss jenny ann looked worried. "i am sorry, phil," she answered quietly. of course, phil was more unhappy at her chaperon's quiet speech than she would have been if miss jones had scolded her. not once before, in their two houseboat holidays, had phil given their teacher and friend any kind of trouble. it had been a point of honor with phil to help miss jenny ann all she could. now she had truly fallen from grace. but madge and miss jenny ann were so interested in watching the boy on the roof that they said nothing more. jeff had slid down the roof, and had twined his legs around the small brick chimney. he looked like a monkey as he sat there staring out across the landscape, to see if by any chance the men he feared could be returning. at last he rose to his feet, leaned against the brick chimney and dropped the tail of his kite straight down it. it had occurred to the boy that this chimney connected with the prisoner's room, and that the kite string would carry the paper and pencil down to him. chapter xix the impossible happens the girls and their chaperon continued their staring. jeff calmly waited on the roof, with his kite held in his hand. "i don't suppose there is any danger if the man inside the house simply writes to tell us why he is imprisoned there," protested madge, trying to help the situation for her chum. "i hope not," faltered miss jenny ann, "but you know it is very unfortunate for us to make enemies of the men whom we intend to ask to help us by interfering with their prisoner. what possible business have we with the misfortunes of this total stranger?" "i know, miss jenny ann," agreed phil, "but if the man tells us who he is, and why he is imprisoned in this place, we can tell his friends of his sad fate after we get away from the island." jeff was seen drawing up the tail of his kite with excited jerks. he slid off the roof and came hurrying toward the three women. he motioned to phil to come away with him to receive the message he had for her. but phil pointed to their chaperon and signified that she had been taken into the secret. then phil untied the piece of paper from the tail of the deaf and dumb boy's kite. the most impossible things in this world are the things that actually happen. nothing in fiction is so strange as the facts that take place every day before our eyes. miracles occur every hour and moment. phil opened the note slowly. she passed it to miss jenny ann, but her chaperon insisted that phil read it first. the note was written in a firm, bold hand. "boys, can't you help a fellow in distress?" the note began. "you must mean to try to aid me, or you would not have sung outside my prison house, or sent me this paper and pencil. i am afraid you are very young. your voices sounded so. i don't wish to get you into trouble, but if you can think of any way to get me out of this hole, i will defend you with my life against the men who are keeping me a prisoner. i have done no wrong. i am perfectly sane. the people who have imprisoned me wish to keep me out of the world until they have a chance to steal my work. i have been kept here so long that i have been growing desperate. but to know that there is some one interested in my fate has cheered me. i will stick it out now. can you let me know your names, and where on the face of the earth i am kept a prisoner? if you are not strong enough to get me out of this place, will you, in heaven's name, telegraph to the navy department in washington for me? say that lieutenant james lawton is being held as a prisoner. say that he is not a traitor and that he has not run away from his country to sell his invention to a foreign government. tell the authorities to send troops, or a battleship, if it is necessary, to get me away from this place. yours truly, lieutenant james m. lawton, u.s.n." phil turned white. she was sick and faint with surprise. one look at her friend was enough. madge ran for a dipper of cold water. phil had just handed her note to miss jenny ann when madge flung the water in her face. phil gasped and sputtered indignantly. but she could not speak on the instant. when miss jenny ann read the note madge wished she had saved half her dipper of water for her chaperon. miss jenny ann turned as red as phil did white. "it's quite impossible!" she ejaculated. "i can not believe it is true." "have you both gone crazy?" demanded madge excitedly. "please let me see the letter that has affected you both so dreadfully." madge took the note from her chaperon's limp hand. then she dropped down on the ground. "jimmy lawton!" she muttered in confusion. "is it the same young man we met at fortress monroe? he simply can't be imprisoned on this ridiculous out-of-the-world island with us!" the three dazed women said nothing more for a few seconds. they gazed stupidly ahead of them. "what ought we to do?" asked phil finally. "get lieutenant lawton out," answered madge promptly. "but, children, we shall be murdered if we make the attempt," faltered miss jones. "not if we can manage to get lieutenant lawton out of that place before his jailers return," declared madge calmly. miss jenny ann jones felt the situation slipping out of her fingers. she was ardently anxious to help jimmy lawton, if it were possible to aid him without bringing trouble on her girls. she felt suddenly drawn toward jimmy. here was a friend on the deserted island. she felt a curious intimacy and sympathy for him. she knew the young officer would help them to make their escape if only he were free. "how can we ever get into that house?" questioned phil. "the front and back doors are strengthened with heavy beams. we can't beat them down." madge shook her head. "even if we make our way through one of those doors, we would still not have found the prisoner. he must be locked in an inside room." the three young women sat in gloomy silence. the gypsy woman peered out of her tent. the intruders seemed to be in no mischief. she could safely leave her master to attend to them. jeff, the deaf and dumb boy, had taken up his position as guard outside the front door of the house. he gave the impression of a sentry who had never left his post. could any situation be more hopelessly difficult? phyllis, madge and miss jenny ann were within a few yards of their friend, whom they had every disposition in the world to help out of his prison house. but how were three girls, without a single tool of any kind, to break open a house that had been strongly fortified with heavy beams to resist any attack from the inside or outside. "phil," breathed madge at last, "i believe i have thought of a scheme to rescue jimmy lawton. you and miss jenny ann may think it a perfectly mad one. it is pretty daring, and lieutenant lawton will run the risk of losing his life. but if he has the courage----" "lieutenant lawton is a sailor. i don't believe he will be afraid of anything," declared phil. "but what do you mean? i can't think of any plan by which we can get him out of that place before those wicked men return to stop us." madge slipped her hand inside the pocket of her sweater. she brought out a box of safety matches. "i thought we could set fire to the house and burn down the outside door," she proposed. "i suppose i am silly to speak of it." she read blank disapproval in the face of miss jenny ann. phil did not wait to discuss the idea with either of them, but leaped to her feet. she rushed around the far side of the house. the biggest stone she could lift, she hurled into the side of the house. "lieutenant lawton!" she shouted. "we are your friends. your jailers are away. we are going to try to help you out now if we can. we shall set fire to the house and batter in the front door. you may run the risk of being burned up inside the house, but are you willing to take the chance?" phil's voice sounded as though it came from a great distance off. still, the young man inside the house heard her words. the house that kept him prisoner was built of wood, but iron bars had been put up across the windows, and heavy logs were jammed against the doors. it had been utterly impossible for lieutenant lawton to make his escape without help from the outside. he had made a friend of the deaf and dumb boy, but the latter had neither the courage nor the skill to get the young man out alone. at phil's words lieutenant lawton cried out in rapture: "willing to take a chance? i should say i am! make your fire in a hurry. but i say, boys, if you see my jailers coming while you are at work, take to the woods. hide there. once you get this beastly place afire, i will manage to make my way out. all i ask is a fighting chance." madge came up with her precious matches. miss jenny ann stationed herself to watch for the return of the two men they feared. phil, madge and jeff gathered a pile of light, dry wood and placed it just in front of the heavy log door. jeff brought the ax which he used for his wood-chopping and laid it at phil's feet. it was difficult work to get the wood ablaze without paper. finally a few tiny sticks caught and blazed up. a moment later they died down into a little heap of embers, without even faintly scorching the wooden door that they were expecting to set on fire. a few moments of hope, then nothing but burnt-out ashes. the situation looked desperate. the girls had plenty of matches, yet they could not start a blaze without paper. it would take so long to coax the great logs to kindle from the bits of trash. and jeff dared not go inside the tent for paper and kindling, for fear his mother would discover what they were doing. miss jenny ann was growing more nervous every minute. "hurry!" she cried every few seconds. "i am sure those men will return before you ever get the wretched place afire. what is taking you so long?" "we have no paper to make the fire burn, miss jenny ann," cried phyllis in desperation. "paper!" returned their chaperon in disgust. "have you children lived for two weeks on a desert island without learning to make what you have serve for what you desire?" miss jenny ann slipped out of her white cotton petticoat and ran to the house to present it to phil. "here, use this for paper," she insisted. "i have on a heavy serge skirt and shall not miss it." cotton is almost as inflammable as paper. carefully, madge, phil and the deaf and dumb boy made another pile of little and big sticks just outside the door they desired to burn down. miss jenny ann's petticoat lay, as a sacrifice, underneath the pyre. the skirt started a splendid blaze. madge and phil fanned the flames gently toward the front door. the chips caught, then the larger sticks, at last one of the logs of the door smouldered and flamed. it took only a short time to get a fair fire started. but it seemed a long time to the workers--and a century to the man who waited inside. he said nothing, gave no directions. he only walked up and down the small room that held him fast like a caged lion. half of the lower log of the door burned away. phyllis seized the ax. it was easy to cut through the half burnt log. she made a hole large enough to crawl through. the flame was only flickering about its outside edges when she crept inside the house with her lap full of sticks, and madge's box of matches in her hand. madge saw her chum disappear into the house with horror. there was no danger at the time. the front of the wooden house was burning slowly. but if the entire front should blaze up, phil, as well as lieutenant lawton, might be imprisoned inside. phil was not in the least alarmed. once inside the dark house she found herself in a square room. a hall led out of it with a room on each side. there was no question about which room was jimmy lawton's prison. heavy logs were braced against this door and a big, iron chain fastened it on the outside. it was indeed a prison cell. phyllis dropped down in front of this door and made her second pyre. this time her own petticoat was used as a burnt offering. "the front of the house has begun to burn," she explained quietly to lieutenant lawton. she did not mention that a friend had come to his aid. this was no time for unnecessary explanations. "all right," the young man answered briefly. "don't you think you had better get out pretty soon? the fire will be creeping toward you." phil made no reply. she now saw that her second fire was beginning to catch. she must burn away this inside door, or else jimmy lawton would be caught in a trap. the door was chained and would not be easy to break down. phyllis alden had acquired one habit of a boy during her brief life in the woods. she always carried her pocket knife with her. to-day she was grateful for the habit. there was a small crack between two of the thick boards of the door. while she waited for her fire to burn phil whittled at this slit, until the opening was large enough to slip the knife through. "make the opening as large as you can," she suggested to the prisoner. for the first time during his weeks of imprisonment jimmy lawton had something with which to work for his freedom. he cut furiously at the door, while phil continued to fan the fire toward it with her skirt. both of them forgot, for the moment, what might be taking place on the outside of the house. they were intent only on demolishing the hateful door behind which lieutenant lawton had been forced to remain so long. chapter xx the recognition madge had kept guard before the flaming door, with jeff dancing about her, making frenzied gestures of excitement. miss jenny ann had been torn between the necessity for watching for the approach of their foes, and at the same time seeing what phyllis was doing inside the burning building. she darted from one place to the other, fairly beside herself with anxiety. but there was little work for madge to do now, except to watch and wait for phyllis. the little captain was growing worried. the flames, that had been so long in catching, were now spreading across the entire front of the house. "come out, phil!" she called. "you must not stay in the house any longer, you have done all you possibly can." she crept as near to the house as she could. the heat was scorching. she could just catch a glimpse of her chum at work on the inside. the wind was blowing so that the smoke poured into the house. the danger was not so much from the fire as that phil and lieutenant lawton would be stifled by the thick smoke. jimmy lawton could feel the waves of heat entering the house. "please clear out, young fellow," he urged phyllis. the idea that she was a girl had never dawned on him. in their few words of conversation he had been too excited to think of the girlish tones of her voice. "i am afraid you will be burnt in this place. you have done all you can for me. once this room is in flames i will fight my way out." phil's answer was to pick up the ax, which she had dragged into the house with her. lieutenant lawton had made a hole in the door large enough to thrust his hand through. phil handed him the ax. the young man pulled it through the door and gave a shout of triumph. "now run for your life, boy!" he commanded. "i'll be after you in a minute. we haven't a minute to lose." jimmy lawton's inside prison door was smoking; one end of it was in flames. phyllis recognized that there was no reason for her to wait any longer. she realized that she was nearly choked with the smoke. phyllis turned to fight her way to the hole through which she had come into the house. a solid wall of smoke met her gaze. the small room at the front of the house might have been any size or shape. it was impossible to see anything in it except the leaping tongues of flame in front. outside, madge called in terror, "phil! phil!" guided by the sound of her friend's voice, phil groped her way. she struck a chair in the way and fell on her knees. there was a noise behind her, and phyllis felt a man's hand grope for hers. he pulled her quickly to her feet. "close your eyes and keep your mouth shut," he ordered. "we will both be out of this in a moment." in one place the smoke was less dense and a faint breath of air penetrated the room. phil felt herself lifted off her feet and thrust through this opening almost into madge's arms. her skirt was on fire, but madge had beaten out the flames before jimmy lawton joined them. even now the young man did not recognize his rescuers. he was dazed, weak from his long confinement, and only anxious to be off. "let's get away from this place!" he cried. blindly he reached out for phil's hand the second time. madge seized hold of miss jenny ann. they started toward the thick woods on a run, forgetting their friend, jeff. so far they had not been interrupted by the men they feared. "look ahead!" called out madge sharply under her breath. her quick ears had caught the sound of footsteps approaching. "hide in the thicket," jimmy commanded. he pulled phil down behind a fallen log. madge and miss jenny ann crouched behind some thick bushes. they waited in absolute silence. now, for the first time, lieutenant james mandeville lawton opened his eyes and surveyed his deliverer! he stared and blinked, and stared and blinked again, until phil wanted to laugh aloud in spite of their danger, the young man's expression was so ludicrous. "great scott!" he muttered. "i never dreamed my rescuers were girls." phil put a warning finger on her lips. they waited until the noise they had heard had completely died away. then lieutenant lawton sprang to his feet, ran to miss jenny ann and took both her hands. "your appearing on this island is like a miracle!" he exclaimed. "tell me how you happen to be here? i would never, never have let you run the risk of trying to save me if i had known you were girls instead of boys." madge laughed. "mr. lawton, girls are equal, nowadays, to any situation that a boy can master." the little party had not gone on much farther before they heard the noise of swift feet in pursuit. instead of walking, as our party of friends had lately done, in order to rest, they broke into a run. still their pursuer gained on them. lieutenant lawton thrust the three women behind him. he stood at bay with a stick in his hand as his only weapon. a wild figure burst upon them. it was jeff, whom they had forgotten! the poor lad's clothes were torn, as though he had received a severe beating. jimmy lawton dropped his stick. he turned red with shame. "poor old jeff!" he cried. "we ought never to have run off without you. of course, you would get the blame of my escape." in the days of his imprisonment jimmy lawton had learned to understand a few words that the boy could spell on his fingers. jeff now managed to explain to them that lieutenant lawton's jailers had returned to the house a little while after they made their escape. they found the prison house in flames and their prisoner gone! the gypsy woman told the story of the appearance of the two girls and their chaperon, and the aid they had given to the prisoner. she made no accusation against her son. but the boy's master demanded to know in what direction his prisoner and the women had run. jeff would not tell. he had managed to escape from the angry men and, guided by some instinct, he had found his friends in the woods. "jeff declares he will show us a way through the island that no one will be able to follow," announced lieutenant lawton to miss jenny ann. "will you allow him to go on with us? the boy has been so good to me that i am going to look after him for the rest of my days." "have the men started after us?" inquired madge. it took lieutenant lawton some time to find out. at last jeff made him understand. the men had absolutely no idea of any difficulty in overtaking their prisoner and bringing him back to his late jail. they believed that he had no way of escaping from the island, no weapons and no friends except a company of young girls, who would be more of a hindrance to him than a help if he meant to resist recapture. jeff announced that he had left the men fighting the flames in the prison house. they meant to put out the fire before they followed the fugitives. it was now almost dark. the woods were thick with shadows. the party stumbled on. had it not been for jeff, they must have spent the night in the forest. but the deaf and dumb boy had the gift of remarkable sight. he could see almost as well by night as by day. no other mortal man could have traced the route by which he led his friends home. jeff was a creature of the out-doors. he knew his deserted island thoroughly. it was only a little after ten o'clock when the party of three women and two men arrived at the lodge. before they got inside the door they caught a whiff of a grateful odor. lillian and eleanor had put a great part of their last rations into a big kettle of soup. the last can of tomatoes had been sacrificed, the last half dozen potatoes. nothing remained but some musty corn meal, a few teaspoons of tea and a little sugar. unless relief came soon the houseboat party would truly have to be fed from heaven. chapter xxi back to the "merry maid" "rather than put you in this position i would have stayed ten years in that hole," groaned jimmy lawton. the group of young people were huddled close about their wood fire. it was a little past midnight. each moment they expected to hear a sound at the door that would mean a fight or else the surrender of their captive. the two men would come to the lodge when they found no sign of them in the woods. "i don't see how you can say you have got us into a scrape, lieutenant lawton," argued phyllis. "what did you have to do with cutting our houseboat adrift? it was fate that brought us to these shores. and jolly glad we were to get here! if the men come after you, there are only two of them and seven of us." "but you have no weapons," protested the young officer. "those fellows will be desperate. none of you must get hurt. if jeff and i find we can't settle the two men without bringing you into our trouble, you must let me pretend to go back with them. i'll finish my fight after we get away from the lodge." "here is something to help you out, lieutenant lawton," offered madge, bringing the young officer the small revolver that belonged to her and to her cousin eleanor. phil produced their cherished rifle. jeff seized hold of it with one of his queer grunts. the boy lay with his body across the door, like a faithful dog. the waiting grew very dull. no one came to disturb them. "ask lieutenant jimmy what happened to him after he left old point, phil?" whispered eleanor. "i am just dying to know." in the flickering light of the fire the young officer told his curious story. he had left for washington, carrying with him the finished model of his famous torpedo-boat destroyer, the little boat that was to bring him fame and glory. on the train, while he was eating his luncheon, two men took seats opposite him at the same table and, ordering their luncheon, fell into conversation with him. lieutenant jimmy remembered that when he rose to leave the dining car his head was swimming strangely. his food had in some mysterious way been drugged. he knew nothing more until he woke up some time later. he was on a small boat, bound hand and foot, the model of his invention had disappeared, his pockets were stripped and he was being carried he knew not where. twelve hours may have passed, or twenty-four. then lieutenant lawton was brought on land and placed in the small fortified house where the girls discovered him. this was all the young officer knew. but he had guessed a number of other things. there was a moment of sympathetic silence when the young man finished his story. then madge turned on him, with her eyes flashing indignantly. "have you any idea who stole your invention, and why they should wish to keep you locked up?" she demanded. lieutenant lawton nodded. "i have my suspicions. i can be sure of nothing until i get back home. i am afraid i may be too late then. but the firm of ship-builders, of whom alfred thornton's father is a member, offered me two hundred thousand dollars to sell the secret of my torpedo-boat destroyer to them, instead of giving it to my government. a short time before i left old point i refused their offer, made through alfred thornton. i am sure that the men on the train drugged me, assured the conductor that they were my friends and that i had been taken ill. they were allowed to take me off the train. of course, the rest of their work was easy." "but i don't see what good the little model of your boat could do any one," said madge. jimmy smiled rather grimly. "it is hard to understand, i know," he agreed. "you are awfully good to let me tell you my troubles. but don't you see that the ship-building firm might, by fraud, get out a patent on my little boat and build dozens of them before i am heard from. once they have patented my invention it would be difficult, indeed, to get it away from them. even with the government to back me it would take years of fighting. and i don't know how long it may take me to build another model." eleanor felt dreadfully sorry. she did not understand the lieutenant's explanation. but patents and inventions and any other kind of business discussion were a mystery to her. madge and miss jenny ann tried to look very wise. phil slipped quietly over to a far corner of the room. lillian was half asleep. "if you could get to washington in time, with another model of your boat, before that wicked business firm gets out its patent on the stolen model, you might be able to prevent their securing the patent after all, lieutenant jimmy?" questioned madge earnestly, bringing her brows together in a serious frown. "yes, if i were on the spot with the model, and the description of my beautiful little boat, i think i could make things hum for the other fellows," jimmy agreed mournfully. phil came out of the dark corner that held her cherished trunk. she had a box in her arms about a foot and a half long. it looked like a huge box of candy, although it must have been very heavy from the way phil held it. she put the box down before lieutenant jimmy. "here is the box you gave me to keep for you," she announced gravely. "i am still willing to take care of it for you, but i wished you to know i still have it." "great scott!" cried jimmy lawton for the second time that evening. "do you mean you have kept this box for me through shipwreck and every other kind of disaster? what a girl you are, miss alden! i never meant to speak of it to you." with shaking hands the young man opened the box. inside the pasteboard box was a wooden one. lieutenant jimmy lifted out as perfect a little toy boat as ever was seen. it was complete in every detail. lieutenant jimmy was not ashamed of the fact that his eyes were full of tears as he looked gratefully at phil. "it is the exact copy of the model of the torpedo-boat destroyer that was stolen from me," he explained to the girls. "i gave it to miss alden to keep for me, because i feared foul play." jimmy hugged his tiny boat as though it were his baby. then he replaced it carefully in its accustomed box. for a time the little party had forgotten that they were waiting to be attacked by two angry men. when jimmy put his boat away the thought rushed over them again: if only the men would hurry on! anything was better than this waiting. lillian must have been half asleep. she started from her chair with a little cry. miss jenny ann touched her gently. "i thought some one knocked on the door, miss jenny ann," faltered lillian. "it frightened me. i wish we were at home. doesn't every one of us in this little lodge to-night wish we were safely away from here?" "yes, lillian," answered miss jones gently. "don't we wish that we never had seen those wicked men who held lieutenant lawton a prisoner?" she went on. the other girls were now gazing at lillian as though they suspected that she had suddenly lost her mind. "lieutenant lawton, wouldn't you give most anything, run nearly any chance, if you could get back to washington in a few days?" she persisted. jimmy nodded, feeling sure that lillian was less clever than her friends. "very well," continued lillian, "then i, for one, vote that we follow phil's idea, and leave this place the first thing in the morning." "but how, child," demanded madge impatiently. she had completely forgotten phil's suggestion of a few evenings before. "why, embark on the 'merry maid' again, drift out to sea and trust to a ship's picking us up. the tide goes out at five. we had better go out with it. we shall starve to death if we stay here much longer. we have not even enough to eat for breakfast." lieutenant lawton gazed at phil, without making any effort to conceal his admiration for her idea. put to vote, every one of the little islanders voted to trust their fates once more to the "merry maid." they would sink or swim with her. chapter xxii the stars and stripes forever through the darkness until early dawn a strange procession wended its way from the lodge in the woods to the decks of the long-deserted houseboat. jeff stood at the door of their house, like a faithful sentry, to warn them if danger approached. but the men who had been jimmy's jailers must have concluded to wait until dawn before coming for their prisoner. they were so sure that he could not escape them. all the most cherished possessions of the houseboat that had been transferred to the little lodge were now transported to the "merry maid" again. a few of their larger articles of furniture were left behind as a thank-offering to the little lodge for the shelter it had afforded them. not long before daylight seven wanderers crept down the path that had been worn by the passing of the feet of the stranded girls. they marched out into the shallow water and climbed up the side of the houseboat. phyllis alden brought up the rear. she was half-leading, half-pulling along the little fawn she had rescued in the woods. at the last moment phil had not been able to make up her mind to leave her pet behind. the little creature had grown so used to her care that she was afraid it would die without her. madge watched phil's struggle, her eyes dancing with amusement. at the edge of the water the deer stood stock still. phyllis and jimmy had to drag the animal on to the boat. "phyllis had a little lamb, little lamb," sang madge derisively. when the first rosy streak of dawn shone in the sky the "merry maid" was well away from land again. again the tide bore her on its breast. but how different the time and conditions! soon the sun rose gloriously, the blue waters danced and sparkled. the atmosphere was clear as crystal. the little band of voyagers watched the slowly receding shores of their isle. they threw kisses across the water. as the land faded from sight all their difficulties faded with it. the weeks on the deserted island became the jolliest lark of their lives. it took its place at the top of their list of happy memories. no one on board the "merry maid" seemed to feel any fear for their adventurous voyage. the morning spelled hope and good-luck. a returning ship would bear them shoreward soon. "isn't the world lovely, nellie?" asked madge almost wistfully, as the two cousins watched the sun change from a golden ball to an all-enveloping light. "i feel that we will soon be home again and our experiences will fade from us like a dream. i wonder if mrs. curtis and tom are still at old point comfort? how they must have searched for us! as for uncle and aunt, i can't bear to think of them." lieutenant jimmy, phil, miss jenny ann, lillian and jeff were eagerly scanning the water. if a ship should appear, it could be seen many miles off on such a gloriously bright morning. lieutenant jimmy had the precious rifle in his hand. in his pocket were their last few rounds of ammunition. lieutenant lawton's face was as radiant as though he were aboard one of uncle sam's own battleships. he was free! the blue waters rolled beneath his feet. what did it matter to a sailor the kind of a ship he sailed? phyllis alden stood next to him. her black eyes were bright with courage and enthusiasm. together they saw first a great, gray cloud of smoke. it was too dark and too low to be a part of the sky on such a morning. then, moving slowly toward them, still many miles away, appeared the dim outline of a magnificent gray bulk of a ship. jimmy lawton's face, which was white and thin from its long imprisonment, flushed deeply. his voice shook when he turned to phil. "miss alden," he whispered quietly, "i am afraid to say so, but i believe i see a man-of-war coming this way. it must be going in to hampton roads. if it only comes near enough to hear us, i mean to fire a signal of distress with this rifle." the next quarter of an hour was a strenuous one for every passenger on board the "merry maid." [illustration: the battleship drew nearer.] slowly the majestic, gray craft drew nearer to the little houseboat. the party crowded forward. no one spoke. nailed to their flagstaff, two torn and ragged sheets that had so long appealed in vain for rescue flapped and rustled in the wind. the women and jeff saw lieutenant lawton raise the rifle to position. still he waited five, ten minutes. all this time the beautiful battleship steamed nearer. now her prow was just across the line of the stern of the houseboat. the houseboat party could see the stars and stripes floating gloriously in the breeze. while it was easy for the passengers of the "merry maid" to behold an immense battleship it was another matter for the crew on the man-of-war to discover the small pleasure craft adrift on the waters. jimmy lawton fired his rifle. the signal of distress rang sharp and true. the clear air carried the sound magnificently. at first there was no response from the battleship. "she has not heard us!" exclaimed impatient madge in despair. "wait!" commanded the young lieutenant. a splendid boom broke on the air. it was the answering salute from the war vessel. she had heeded the call of the "merry maid." jimmy repeated his signal of distress. a few moments after the great battleship slowed down. a small boat was dropped over her side. a boat's crew in their blue uniforms rowed swiftly out to the houseboat. a voice called up: "who's there, and what can we do for you?" "lieutenant james m. lawton, u.s.n., with six friends, five of them women," returned jimmy lawton. "we have drifted from land in a houseboat and ask you to take us aboard." soon after miss jenny ann and the girls were safe on board a battleship belonging to the american navy. the officer in command gave them his hand of welcome. a group of sailors, their faces beaming with curiosity and kindness, crowded as near them as discipline would permit. the man-of-war took on headway again. her engines thumped. the superb ship began to move. the houseboat party knew that their peril was over. home and friends lay safe ahead of them. yet neither miss jenny ann nor one of her four girls looked perfectly happy. "won't you let me show you to your cabins?" one of the officers suggested. reluctantly the five women turned away. but they could not help letting their glances linger with mournful affection on the departing ghost of the poor "merry maid." the little boat rocked forlornly on the waves, once more deserted by her friends and owners. lieutenant lawton whispered to madge and phyllis: "as soon as we get into hampton roads i promise you to send out a schooner to search these waters until she finds your houseboat. the 'merry maid' will be lonely without her passengers, i've no doubt. but i do not believe that any harm will come to her." the man-of-war was expected to enter the harbor of hampton roads some time during the afternoon. the girls sat on deck with the captain, who showed them the distant lightship on cape charles, and finally the point of land along the virginia coast where the first english settlers landed in america, on april 26, 1607. captain moore was tremendously interested in the girls and their adventures and experiences. when the ramparts of fortress monroe lay off the quarter he reluctantly said good-bye. but he beckoned madge away from the other chums and walked with her slowly to the prow of his great ship. "miss morton," he said kindly, "i want to talk to you alone. your chaperon has told me something of your history. your father was a classmate of mine at annapolis, and one of the best friends i ever had." madge choked and was silent. she did not know what to say, what questions to ask. "i know that in after years your father got into serious trouble. he was court-martialed because of cruelty to a subordinate," captain moore went on. he shook his head gravely. "i never understood it. robert morton was one of the kindest and tenderest of men. he was rash and quick-tempered, but he never did a cruel trick as a boy, and a lad shows the stuff the man is made of." "captain moore!" madge's voice shook, she was obliged to keep a tight hold on the railing of the ship to steady herself, but she looked her new friend squarely in the face, her own white with pain, "do you know if my father is alive?" captain moore was startled. "it can't be that you don't know that, child?" he protested. "but i don't," she said bravely. "i have always just taken it for granted that he died when i was a baby, because i never saw him nor heard from him. lately i have had reason to think that he may just have disappeared after his trouble. it has been so long that perhaps he may have died since." captain moore took her hand in his. he looked at her earnestly. she was like the boy he remembered in the olden days, the same deep-toned auburn hair, the same clear blue eyes and skin that flushed and paled so readily, the same proud spirit. "i do not know whether your father is dead or alive, child. i, too, took it for granted that he was out of the world, as we saw him no more. but i want to promise you one thing. from now on i will look for him whether i am on land or on sea. some day, somewhere, i shall hear news of him. i wish you to remember that if ever you need a friend, you have only to let me know. i am ashamed to think that i have let this strange freak of circumstance find robert morton's daughter for me. i should have looked you up years ago. do you know what a fellow's chum means to him when he is a boy at school?" captain moore queried, less seriously. "don't you think a man ought to wish to do something for that fellow's little girl?" madge smiled. she knew that men hated tears. "perhaps i shall ask you to help me some day," she said. "i thank you for your interest and for the splendid things you have said of my father. it is good to know that some of his brother officers believe in him, and because you have had faith in him i will tell you this much: my father was not guilty of the charges laid at his door. in being true to his own code of honor he lost his good name. there is only one person in the world who can give it back to him, and because i respect my father's wishes my lips are also sealed. but, alive or dead, captain robert morton was or is innocent." chapter xxiii the surprise up and down, up and down the old wharf, with his eyes turned ever toward the sea, a young man walked. his face was tanned, but it had a haggard look under the sun-burn. tom curtis, alone among all the friends and relatives, believed that news might yet be heard of the lost girls. that day he had crossed over to portsmouth to receive the report from a boat that had been specially sent out with a dredging machine to drag the bottom of the bay near the spot where the houseboat had been anchored. the report received was--no news! no news was good news--from such a source. the houseboat party had hardly realized the tremendous anxiety and excitement that their mysterious disappearance off the face of the waters had caused. mr. and mrs. butler had come from their home to devote every hour of the day and night to searching for the lost girls. mr. and mrs. seldon had only gone back to philadelphia the day before, as tom had promised to telegraph them the moment that any news was received. dr. alden had left his patients to take care of themselves while he endeavored to trace the whereabouts of his beloved phil. even miss matilda tolliver, principal and proprietor of the select seminary for girls at harborpoint, maryland, had departed from her school for the space of forty-eight hours to make the proper personal investigations for her four lost pupils and her teacher. until she appeared on the scene herself, she felt sure no really intelligent effort had been made to find them. mrs. curtis was still at old point comfort with tom. madeleine had gone back to new york. mrs. curtis felt herself to be responsible for the whole disaster of the lost houseboat. if she had not invited the girls to anchor in such dangerous waters, their boat would never have torn loose from its moorings. tom was idling on the dock, simply because there was nothing else to do, no place to go, except to return to his mother with the report from the dredging crew. he took no special interest in the slow approach of another great battleship from the waters of hampton roads. although it was usually good fun to watch the sailors come ashore after they had been away on a long cruise, to-day nothing was worth while. his thoughts were on the lost girls. just before the boat got in he concluded that he was bored with fooling around the wharf; he would take a walk through the town. he turned his back on his friends and deliberately strolled away from the water. once tom curtis did turn his head. he had heard an unusual stir behind him. the sailors, who were lined up preparatory to going ashore, had given the houseboat party a rousing cheer as they left the ship. but even with this chance for discovering his friends, tom was blind. the crowd hid the little party of women from view, and tom strode on faster than ever up the river bank toward one of the narrow streets of the town. "o miss jenny ann!" pleaded madge as soon as her feet touched land, "i saw tom curtis leave the pier just a second ago. he can't be very far away. won't you let me run after him? i will find him and bring him back in a minute." without waiting to hear her chaperon's reply madge darted up the street at full speed. run as hard as she would, madge could not catch up with tom. every time she arrived at one end of a street tom was about in the act of crossing over to the next one. she could keep him in sight, but she could not reach him. she forgot that miss jenny ann and the rest of her party were waiting for her, and that she really ought to have given up her chase, remembered nothing but the fact that she must see tom. as she plunged recklessly across a side street, an automobile whirled into it. at the opposite end of the square tom curtis's attention was arrested sharply. he heard the shrill, harsh protest from an automobile horn, then a cry of terror from a girl's throat. her cry was taken up by half a dozen voices. there was no need to ask questions. he knew what had happened. an automobile had run down a young girl. it took but a minute for tom to run back the entire length of the block. but before he got to the spot where the accident had occurred a crowd had risen up as though by magic. it was impossible to see at once who had been hurt. tom pushed his way through the outer fringe of the crowd. there was a woman in tears, offering her bottle of smelling salts to a girl. a flushed man was bending over the same girl, entreating her forgiveness. a fat policeman was demanding everybody's name. tom heard the girl say: "i am not hurt a bit, thank you. i was frightened; that was why i screamed. the front of your car just grazed me, but you stopped it in time. no, policeman, i don't wish to have anybody arrested. please let me go. i was trying to catch up with a friend. he will be out of sight if i don't hurry." and it was thus that tom beheld madge, whom, a minute before, in his gloomy reverie, he had given up for lost! "o tom!" she cried joyously as he hurried toward her, "i did make you look around, after all. we were not drowned. aren't you glad to see me?" tom held madge's small brown hands in his. "madge!" was all he found words for. tom curtis was not ashamed of the tears in his eyes as he looked at madge. the first moment he had feared that she was an apparition that might vanish while he gazed upon it. "i'm real, tom; please don't look at me like that," faltered madge, feeling her own eyes fill with tears. "we have been lost on a desert island, and a battleship brought us home to-day. why did you run away from me when i tried so hard to catch up with you? i am sure it does not become a young woman to go dashing through the streets after a man who won't even glance back her way." madge spoke in this flippant fashion to hide the real emotion she felt in seeing her friend again. "but, tom, we must hurry back to the wharf. miss jenny ann and the girls promised to wait on the dock for me until i brought you back. i am afraid they will think i have been gone an awfully long time. let's go at once." madge was amazed to discover how far she had followed tom when they turned back. she tried to make tom understand the story as they hurried along. but tom simply couldn't take in all the facts. he knew that madge and the houseboat party were alive and well, and, for the time being, this was news enough. it took them nearly twenty minutes to get back to the spot where madge had told miss jenny ann to wait for her. when they reached the end of the pier there was no chaperon, no lieutenant lawton, no jeff! the place was almost entirely deserted. madge's chase through the street, her automobile accident, her conversation with tom, and their return had occupied nearly three-quarters of an hour. when first they came ashore, phil, lillian and eleanor had waited patiently for the return of their companion. five minutes passed, then ten, soon fifteen. the girls were thinking of their fathers and mothers and the telegrams that should be sent. at last phil turned to lieutenant lawton. "lieutenant jimmy, won't you take me to the nearest telegraph station?" she demanded. "i am sorry not to wait for madge and tom, but i must telegraph to my father." lillian and eleanor were in the same state of mind. they also went along with lieutenant lawton. it was arranged that miss jenny ann and jeff should wait for the truant. they would then bring madge and tom to the hotel at portsmouth where they arranged to have dinner. miss jones and jeff lingered in the same place for half an hour. miss jenny ann then concluded to walk up the river bank to the square to inquire if an accident had happened to the run-away. she must have been in the square when madge and tom passed without seeing her. a few minutes later miss jenny ann concluded to go on up to the hotel, where the other girls were expecting her. she thought that tom and madge must have met the rest of the party and gone on to the hotel with them. she would find them there. tom and madge searched everywhere along the wharf. they stopped half a dozen people to inquire for a party of four women and two men. no one had seen any such group. "does everyone in the houseboat crowd look as well as you do?" asked tom, as they hurried along the street. "if they do, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. here we have been grieving ourselves to death, believing you were lost, and you have been having the jolliest kind of a lark on a little robinson crusoe island. you watch me go duck shooting there some day." but after half an hour of vain inquiry for her friends madge grew impatient. "i don't see why the girls didn't wait for me. they went away without letting me know where they were going," she scolded. "won't you please take me to your mother, tom? i suppose miss jenny ann will come to old point some time to-night." there had been no plan made, before madge went away, for spending the night in portsmouth. tom was only too happy to be the little captain's escort. he liked to think of his mother's joy at seeing her. they had a jolly supper on the big, comfortable steamer that travels between portsmouth and fortress monroe, arriving at old point a little after dusk. the streets were almost deserted. it was cool enough for fires, and there was little lingering outdoors. madge sat down on a bench in a small park, while tom went to the nearest drug-store to telephone to his mother. he thought it wise to break the news of the discovery of the houseboat party by degrees. also he wished to know if his mother had yet heard from miss jenny ann and knew where she was. madge felt a grateful sense of happiness steal over her as she waited for tom's return. it was, indeed, pleasant to be with her old friends who cared so much for her. to-day fortress monroe did not frown down upon the little home-comer from its stern battlements. the old fort seemed to offer her protection against her enemies. a few soldiers on leave of absence from their barracks passed her in groups of twos and threes. but no one else appeared for several minutes. tom was taking some time with his telephoning. finally an old man and a young girl came down the street in madge's direction. the old man leaned heavily on the girl's arm. in the half light she could see that they were talking very earnestly and not looking about them. when they were close to her madge morton discovered them to be flora harris and her grandfather, admiral gifford. madge turned away her head. she hoped that she would not be observed. a few minutes before she had been so happy and so content. why should the first person she saw at old point comfort be the only person in the world who would take some of the pleasure away from her home-coming? if only they would pass without seeing her! it was almost dark, and she was not even supposed to be in the land of the living, so she sat absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe. neither the old admiral, whose eyes were dimmed with age, nor his grand-daughter, saw the little figure on the bench as they walked toward it. they passed close by her. some unseen force must have made flora harris turn her head as she came directly opposite madge. flora gave one terrified scream, then began shaking as though with a chill. "what is it, flora?" her grandfather demanded. "are you ill?" flora pointed a trembling finger at the other girl. the old gentleman turned in confusion to glance at madge. he saw only a young girl sitting quietly on a bench. he could not connect her with flora's unexpected outcry. the admiral was not familiar with madge's appearance. he had seen her only a few times, and he had not remembered her face. flora was now crying bitterly. she did not cease to stare at madge, yet she did not speak. the little captain sprang to her feet. "don't be frightened, miss harris," she said quietly. "i am sorry i startled you. i hope you don't take me for a ghost. we have been shipwrecked for several weeks and only got in this afternoon----" "then i haven't murdered you!" flora sobbed, running forward and flinging her arms about the other girl's neck. "i know that i am hateful and snobbish, and that i like to make other people uncomfortable, but i didn't mean any real harm to come to the houseboat when i asked alfred thornton to cut her loose from her moorings. i just wanted you not to come back here again. and i have not let alfred thornton confess that he cut your boat away from the anchor, because i was afraid we would both be put in jail." tom curtis had come upon the little scene and stood listening in silence to flora's surprising confession. he put his arm through madge's and drew her quietly away from flora's embrace. "it is too late to confess this dreadful story to-night, miss harris," he declared coolly. "miss morton has just arrived, and i am taking her to my mother. her friends are spending the night at portsmouth. my mother has just told me they have telegraphed her that they will be here to-morrow. if you will come to see us in the morning we can talk matters over more quietly; the street is not the place for this discussion." flora bowed humbly to tom's verdict. "i'll come at eleven," she answered. the girl seemed so happy to know that the girls had not been drowned that she did not seem to care what punishment or disgrace might be in store for her. chapter xxiv the telling of the secret "must we see flora harris and her grandfather, tom?" asked madge the next morning. "we are having such a jolly time together. they will spoil everything." the little captain was standing with her arm about mrs. curtis, her curly head close to her friend's beautiful white one. the room was filled with the re-united houseboat party, miss jenny ann, lillian, phil and eleanor, also lieutenant jimmy lawton and his shadow, jeff, the deaf and dumb boy. a little table in the center of the sitting room was piled with happy telegrams from fathers, mothers, sisters, cousins and aunts. the news that the houseboat party was really safe had spread everywhere. "i think we had better let them come in and have it over with," tom replied to madge's questioning. "an act such as flora harris confessed ought not to go unpunished." tom spoke like a man. even his mother accepted his judgment without hesitation. when flora entered the room, her hand in her grandfather's, she was pale but self-possessed. she told almost exactly the same story that she had revealed to tom and madge the evening before. flora brought with her a telegram from alfred thornton, confessing his part in the houseboat crime. he made no reference to lieutenant lawton. indeed, alfred thornton did not know that the young officer was at fortress monroe. when flora finished there was an absolute silence in the room. what was there to be said? the five girls looked at miss jenny ann, who appealed to mrs. curtis. "i am willing to make any reparation i can," added flora. "you can do anything you like to me, i'm so glad you are safe." still no one spoke. "grandfather?" flora turned appealingly to the old admiral, who seemed white and shaken. he was plainly suffering more than was his granddaughter. the young people were quiet for his sake. "won't you let me tell miss morton what you told father and me. i think you and i both owe it to her." the old man bowed his head. "you tell them, child; i can't," he said. flora grew very white, but her voice never faltered. "madge morton," she began, "you remember that one night before a group of mrs. curtis's friends i insulted the memory of your father. i told you that he had been disgraced and turned out of the navy, and you asked me my grandfather's name, and said you could not speak against him. i did not in the least understand what you meant, but i knew that you were deeply in earnest and i felt afraid of you. "afterward, when i went home, my grandfather learned of what i had said to you. at first he was very angry. he said that i had no right to revive an old trouble. later on he confessed to my father and to me that your father was dismissed from the navy for doing an act that my grandfather, as his superior officer, had commanded him to do." flora looked at the old admiral. "go on," he remarked quietly. "you see," flora explained, "by the code of the navy, captain morton felt that he could not accuse his superior officer. he bore the disgrace and went away, disappearing soon afterward. if your father had not disappeared, my grandfather would not have continued to let captain morton suffer for his superior's fault. but later he heard that your father was dead, so he lost the courage to bring up the old story and clear your father's name. "then"--for the first time flora faltered--"i tried to disgrace you by bringing up the past, and i am punished for it instead of you. grandfather now says he is willing to take the blame of your father's disgrace upon himself and confess everything to the naval authorities. whether your father is alive or dead, he will clear his name and yours." the tears of age were streaming down the old man's face. he was seventy-five years old and had already been retired from the navy. there was a brief instant of hesitation on madge's part, then she marched straight to admiral gifford and took his hand. "thank you," she simply said to him and to flora. "it is wonderful for you to tell this, after all these years, for my father's and my sake. i can see why you never told of your command to my father when he disappeared and you believed that no one would be hurt by your silence. admiral gifford, in these last few weeks since i have been here near fortress monroe i have come to know what an officer's reputation means to him. if my father is dead, i shall ask you never to tell what you have just told us, but, if he is alive and we find him, admiral gifford, you will have to do as your conscience dictates. on the night when miss harris denounced my father i declared that i could retaliate. i knew at that time what you have just told me. a few days before we came to old point i was going through my mother's trunk. in a secret compartment of her jewel box i found a letter in my father's handwriting addressed to her, and a little black log book. the book told the story of my father's dark hour, the letter to my mother was the out-pouring of his tortured heart. through it i learned the name of the man whose reputation he saved at the cost of his own honor. i made a vow, then, that i would find this man and force him to clear my father's name, but when i learned on that bitter night that it was an old man, who had been considered worthy of an admiralship, i weakened. i felt that my father would not wish such retaliation even to bring back his good name. that was my secret. i am glad i did not tell. now everything has worked out beautifully. oh, yes, there is just one thing more. we will never tell just how the houseboat happened to break away from her moorings." "right you are, little captain," said phyllis, saluting. the others echoed phyllis's sentiments. flora harris was deeply touched; as for her grandfather, he placed his hands on madge's shoulders and, looking down into her eyes of true blue, kissed the loyal little captain almost reverently on her white forehead. "god bless you, my dear," he said solemnly. "you are robert morton's own daughter." after flora and her grandfather had gone the girls spent the time until luncheon relating their further island adventures to mrs. curtis and tom. it had been decided that they take the train for miss tolliver's the following afternoon, and after remaining to luncheon with the curtises they were to go down to the wharf to find out whether their houseboat had been picked up and towed to a landing near them. when they reached the dock at a little after two o'clock it was to find the "merry maid" bobbing listlessly at the end of a strong rope cable. tom curtis had sent out a swift sea-going launch which had sighted her and picked her up within a few hours after it had started out. "hurrah for the 'merry maid'!" sang out madge. "you can't lose her." "hurrah for the little captain!" cried phyllis. "we can't get along without her." "hurrah for a hard afternoon's work," reminded lillian. "fall to, my hearties." "aye, aye, sir," sounded the chorus, and the crew of the "merry maid" "fell to." * * * * * "miss phyllis alden, miss madge morton, miss lillian seldon and miss eleanor butler, there is an express package downstairs for you as big as i don't know what!" announced the little maid at miss tolliver's select seminary for girls in breathless excitement. "i saw it marked quite plain underneath your name. 'for the captain and mates of the "merry maid."'" the little maid ran down the steps as quickly as she had traveled up. "it is study hour and we are not supposed to leave our rooms. do you think we dare go down to the library?" inquired the obedient eleanor. but the other three girls were already disappearing from the room and were making for the library. just outside the library door phil paused. "i'll go and find miss tolliver," she said. "do come and see us open a big box that has just come for us, miss tolliver," she begged a moment later, happening to meet the principal in the hall. nellie had already run off to find miss jenny ann. the express package was long and quite narrow, and miss tolliver insisted that a sheet be spread out to protect the library floor. joseph, the houseman, was sent for to open the box. he hammered and pried out a dozen or more nails. inside the wooden box was a pasteboard one of exactly the same shape. phyllis lifted the lid and gave a sharp cry. she and miss matilda tolliver were standing nearest to the box. miss tolliver repeated phil's cry in shriller and more terrified tones. "be calm, girls, be calm," she commanded the next moment as she dropped into a chair. "joseph, go for the police. some one has sent us a bomb to blow up the school." madge could not help peeping over into the box. phyllis was shaking with laughter. she had seen a white card sticking out of the funnel of an odd boat-shaped box. the card bore the name of lieutenant james mandeville lawton. "it isn't a bomb, miss matilda, it is only a pasteboard model of our friend lieutenant jimmy lawton's torpedo-boat destroyer. lieutenant lawton promised to let us hear if he were successful in preventing some people from stealing the patent on his boat. he has just taken this way to let us know he has won. it's awfully jolly!" explained phil. "i am so glad he remembered us." she picked up the miniature torpedo-boat destroyer and a shower of bonbons fell to the floor. every one laughed, including miss matilda tolliver. in the top of the box were two flags. one was a little silk flag of the united states navy. the other one was in blue and white. on it was inscribed: "long life to the 'merry maid' and her merry maidens." madge waved the blue flag triumphantly over her head. "them's my sentiments!" she announced. "aren't we glad that our little houseboat was found unharmed? sure and she is only waiting for us to take her into new waters." "it won't be very long till next summer," comforted phil. "and then we'll pull up anchor for new scenes." where they went and what happened to them the following summer is fully set forth in "madge morton's trust." those who have been interested in the little captain and her friends will find the history of their third houseboat voyage even more absorbing than either of their earlier trips on board the famous "merry maid." the end. * * * * * * henry altemus company's catalogue of the best and least expensive books for real boys and girls really good and new stories for boys and girls are not plentiful. many stories, too, are so highly improbable as to bring a grin of derision to the young reader's face before he has gone far. the name of altemus is a distinctive brand on the cover of a book, always ensuring the buyer of having a book that is up-to-date and fine throughout. no buyer of an altemus book is ever disappointed. many are the claims made as to the inexpensiveness of books. go into any bookstore and ask for an altemus book. compare the price charged you for altemus books with the price demanded for other juvenile books. you will at once discover that a given outlay of money will buy more of the altemus books than of those published by other houses. every dealer in books carries the altemus books. sold by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price henry altemus company 1326-1336 vine street, philadelphia the motor boat club series by h. irving hancock the keynote of these books is manliness. the stories are wonderfully entertaining, and they are at the same time sound and wholesome. no boy will willingly lay down an unfinished book in this series. 1 the motor boat club of the kennebec; or, the secret of smugglers' island. 2 the motor boat club at nantucket; or, the mystery of the dunstan heir. 3 the motor boat club off long island; or, a daring marine game at racing speed. 4 the motor boat club and the wireless; or, the dot, dash and dare cruise. 5 the motor boat club in florida; or, laying the ghost of alligator swamp. 6 the motor boat club at the golden gate; or, a thrilling capture in the great fog. 7 the motor boat club on the great lakes; or, the flying dutchman of the big fresh water. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * the range and grange hustlers by frank gee patchin have you any idea of the excitements, the glories of life on great ranches in the west? any bright boy will "devour" the books of this series, once he has made a start with the first volume. 1 the range and grange hustlers on the ranch; or, the boy shepherds of the great divide. 2 the range and grange hustlers' greatest round-up; or, pitting their wits against a packers' combine. 3 the range and grange hustlers on the plains; 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or, at railroad building in earnest. 2 the young engineers in arizona; or, laying tracks on the "man-killer" quicksand. 3 the young engineers in nevada; or, seeking fortune on the turn of a pick. 4 the young engineers in mexico; or, fighting the mine swindlers. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. boys of the army series by h. irving hancock these books breathe the life and spirit of the united states army of to-day, and the life, just as it is, is described by a master pen. 1 uncle sam's boys in the ranks; or, two recruits in the united states army. 2 uncle sam's boys on field duty; or, winning corporal's chevrons. 3 uncle sam's boys as sergeants; or, handling their first real commands. 4 uncle sam's boys in the philippines; or, following the flag against the moros. (_other volumes to follow rapidly._) cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * battleship boys series by frank gee patchin these stories throb with the life of young americans on to-day's huge drab dreadnaughts. 1 the battleship boys at sea; or, two apprentices in uncle sam's navy. 2 the battleship boys first step upward; or, winning their grades as petty officers. 3 the battleship boys in foreign service; or, earning new ratings in european seas. 4 the battleship boys in the tropics; or, upholding the american flag in a honduras revolution. (_other volumes to follow rapidly._) cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * the meadow-brook girls series by janet aldridge real live stories pulsing with the vibrant atmosphere of outdoor life. 1 the meadow-brook girls under canvas. 2 the meadow-brook girls across country. 3 the meadow-brook girls afloat. 4 the meadow-brook girls in the hills. 5 the meadow-brook girls by the sea. 6 the meadow-brook girls on the tennis courts. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. high school boys series by h. irving hancock in this series of bright, crisp books a new note has been struck. boys of every age under sixty will be interested in these fascinating volumes. 1 the high school freshmen; or, dick & co.'s first year pranks and sports. 2 the high school pitcher; or, dick & co. on the gridley diamond. 3 the high school left end; or, dick & co. grilling on the football gridiron. 4 the high school captain of the team; or, dick & co. leading the athletic vanguard. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * grammar school boys series by h. irving hancock this series of stories, based on the actual doings of grammar school boys, comes near to the heart of the average american boy. 1 the grammar school boys of gridley; or, dick & co. start things moving. 2 the grammar school boys snowbound; or, dick & co. at winter sports. 3 the grammar school boys in the woods; or, dick & co. trail fun and knowledge. 4 the grammar school boys in summer athletics; or, dick & co. make their fame secure. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * high school boys' vacation series by h. irving hancock "give us more dick prescott books!" this has been the burden of the cry from young readers of the country over. almost numberless letters have been received by the publishers, making this eager demand; for dick prescott, dave darrin, tom reade, and the other members of dick & co. are the most popular high school boys in the land. boys will alternately thrill and chuckle when reading these splendid narratives. 1 the high school boys' canoe club; or, dick & co.'s rivals on lake pleasant. 2 the high school boys in summer camp; or, the dick prescott six training for the gridley eleven. 3 the high school boys' fishing trip; or, dick & co. in the wilderness. 4 the high school boys' training hike; or, dick & co. making themselves "hard as nails." cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. the circus boys series by edgar b. p. darlington mr. darlington's books breathe forth every phase of an intensely interesting and exciting life. 1 the circus boys on the flying rings; or, making the start in the sawdust life. 2 the circus boys across the continent; or, winning new laurels on the tanbark. 3 the circus boys in dixie land; or, winning the plaudits of the sunny south. 4 the circus boys on the mississippi; or, afloat with the big show on the big river. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * the high school girls series by jessie graham flower, a.m. these breezy stories of the american high school girl take the reader fairly by storm. 1 grace harlowe's plebe year at high school; or, the merry doings of the oakdale freshman girls. 2 grace harlowe's sophomore year at high school; or, the record of the girl chums in work and athletics. 3 grace harlowe's junior year at high school; or, fast friends in the sororities. 4 grace harlowe's senior year at high school; or, the parting of the ways. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. * * * * * * the automobile girls series by laura dent crane no girl's library--no family book-case can be considered at all complete unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books. 1 the automobile girls at newport; or, watching the summer parade.--2 the automobile girls in the berkshires; or, the ghost of lost man's trail.--3 the automobile girls along the hudson; or, fighting fire in sleepy hollow.--4 the automobile girls at chicago; or, winning out against heavy odds.--5 the automobile girls at palm beach; or, proving their mettle under southern skies.--6 the automobile girls at washington; or, checkmating the plots of foreign spies. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. [illustration: "there they are!" cried ruth, clasping mr. howbridge's arm in her excitement. "the same two men!"] the corner house girls on a houseboat how they sailed away what happened on the voyage and what was discovered by grace brooks hill author of "the corner house girls," "the corner house girls snowbound," etc. _illustrated by_ _thelma gooch_ new york barse & hopkins publishers books for girls by grace brooks hill the corner house girls series 12mo. cloth. illustrated. the corner house girls the corner house girls at school the corner house girls under canvas the corner house girls in a play the corner house girls' odd find the corner house girls on a tour the corner house girls growing up the corner house girls snowbound the corner house girls on a houseboat barse & hopkins publishers, new york copyright, 1920, by barse & hopkins _the corner house girls on a houseboat_ printed in u. s. a. contents i. "what's that?" ii. neale has news iii. the elevator iv. an auto ride v. the houseboat vi. more news vii. making plans viii. the robbery ix. all aboard x. a stowaway xi. overboard xii. neale wonders xiii. the trick mule xiv. at the circus xv. real news at last xvi. ruth's alarm xvii. up the river xviii. the night alarm xix. on the lake xx. drifting xxi. the storm xxii. on the island xxiii. suspicions xxiv. closing in xxv. the capture illustrations "there they are!" cried ruth, clasping mr. howbridge's arm in the excitement. "the same two men!" _frontispiece._ "get us down!" cried dot and tess in a chorus, while mrs. maccall stood beneath them holding out her apron while dot and tess clung to one another, hank managed to fish up the "alice-doll" "you shouldn't have come here, aggie!" he cried above the noise of the storm the corner house girls on a houseboat chapter i "what's that?" delicious and appetizing odors filled the kitchen of the old corner house. they were wafted even to the attic, were those whiffs and fragrant zephyrs. some of them even escaped through the open windows, causing uncle rufus to cease his slow and laborious task of picking up some papers from the newly cut lawn. "dat suah smells mighty good--mighty good!" murmured the old darkey to himself, as he straightened up by the process of putting one hand to the small of his back and pressing there, as though a spring needed adjusting. "dat suah smells mighty good! mrs. mac mus' suah be out-doin' of herse'f dish yeah mawnin'!" he turned his wrinkled face toward the corner house, again sniffing deeply. a pleased and satisfied look came over his countenance as the cooking odors emanating from the kitchen became more pronounced. "dey's suah to be some left--dey suah is, 'cause hit's miss ruth's party, an' she's always gen'rus wif de eatin's. she suah is. dey's suah to be some left." he removed his hand from the small of his back, thereby allowing himself to fall forward again in the proper position for picking up papers, and went on with his work. inside the kitchen, where the odors were even more pronounced, as one might naturally expect to find them, two girls and a pleasant-faced woman were busy; though not more so than a fresh-appearing finnish maid, who hummed an air full of minor strains as she opened the oven door now and then, thereby letting out more odors which were piled upon, mingled with, and otherwise added to those already bringing such a delicious sensation to uncle rufus. "aren't you planning too much, ruth?" asked her sister agnes, as the girl addressed carefully placed a wondrously white napkin over a plate of freshly baked macaroons. "i mean the girls will never eat all this," and she waved her hand to include a side table on which were many more plates, some empty, awaiting their burden from the oven, while others were covered with white linen like some mysterious receptacles under a stage magician's serviette. "oh, don't worry about that!" laughed ruth. "my only worry is that i shall not have enough." "well, for the land's sake! how many do you expect?" demanded agnes kenway. "six. but there will be you and me and--" "then mr. howbridge _is_ coming!" cried agnes, as if there had been some question about it, though this was the first time his name had been mentioned that morning. "he _may_ come," answered ruth quietly. "he _may_! oh my stars! as if you didn't _know_ he was coming!" retorted agnes. "is it in--er--his official capacity?" "i asked mr. howbridge to come to advise us about forming the society," ruth said. "i thought it best to start right. if we are going to be of any use as a civic betterment club in milton we must be on a firm foundation, and--" "hear! hear!" interrupted agnes, banging on the table with an agate mixing spoon, and thereby bringing from a deep pantry the form and face of mrs. maccall, the sturdy scotch housekeeper. "please don't do that!" begged ruth. "hoots! whut's meanin' wi' the rattlin' an' thumpin'?" demanded mrs. maccall. "oh, some nonsense of agnes'," answered ruth. "i was just telling her that i had asked the girls to luncheon, to talk over the new civic betterment club, and that mr. howbridge is coming to advise us how to get a charter, or incorporate, or whatever is proper and--" "i was only applauding after the fashion in the english parliament," interrupted agnes. "they always say 'hear! hear!' away down in their throats." "well, they don't bang on tables with granite spoons," retorted ruth, as she handed a pie to linda, the humming finnish maid, who popped it into the oven, quickly shutting the door, to allow none of the heat to escape. "hoot! i would not put it past 'em, i would not!" murmured mrs. maccall. "what those english law makers do--i wouldna' put it past them!" and, shaking her head, she retired into the deep pantry again. "well, you're going to have enough of sweets, i should say;" observed agnes, "even as fond as mr. howbridge is of them. for the land's sake, aren't you going to stop?" she demanded, as ruth poured into a dish the cake batter she had begun to stir as soon as the pie was completed. "this is the last. you don't need to stay and help me any longer if you don't want to, dear. run out and play," urged ruth sweetly. "run out and play! as if i were dot or tess! i like that! why, i was thinking of asking you to let me join the society!" "oh, of course you may, agnes! i didn't think you'd care for it. why, certainly you may join! we want to get as many into it as we can. do come to the meeting this afternoon. mr. howbridge is going to explain everything, and i thought we might as well make it a little social affair. it was very good of you to help me with the baking." "oh, i like that. and i believe i will come to the meeting. now shall we clean up?" "i do him," interposed linda. "i wash him all up," and a sweep of her muscular arm indicated the pots, pans, dishes and all the odds and ends left from the rather wholesale baking. "oh, i shall be so glad if you will!" exclaimed ruth. "i want to go over the parlor and library again. and i wonder what has become of dot and tess. i asked them to get me some wild flowers, but they have been gone over an hour and--" the voice of mrs. maccall from the deep pantry interrupted. "hi, tess! hi, dot!" she called. "where ha' ye been? come ye here the noo, and be for me waukrife minnie." "what in the world does she mean?" asked agnes, for sometimes, well versed as she was in the scotch of the housekeeper, there were new words and phrases that needed translating. especially as it seemed to the girls that more and more mrs. maccall was falling back into her childhood speech as she grew older--a speech she had dropped during her younger life except in moments of excitement. this time, however, it was beyond even the "ken" of ruth, who rather prided herself on her highland knowledge. but mrs. maccall herself had heard the question. out she came from the pantry, smiling broadly. "ye no ken 'waukrife minnie'?" she asked. "ah, 'tis a pretty little verse o' rabbie burns. i'll call it o'er the noo." then she gave them, with all the burring of which her tongue was capable: "whare are you gaun, my bonnie lass, whare are you gaun, my hinnie? she answered me right saucilie, an errand for my minnie." coming down to earth again, mrs. maccall shot back into the pantry and from an open window in the rear that looked out in the orchard she called: "hi, tess! hi, dot! come ye here, and be for me the lassies that'll gang to the store." "are tess and dot there?" asked ruth. "i've been wondering where they had disappeared to." "they be coming the noo," answered mrs. maccall. "laden in their arms wi' all sorts of the trash." and then she sang again: "o fare thee well, my bonnie lass, o fare thee well, my hinnie! thou art a gay an' a bonnie lass, but thou has a waukrife minnie." "what in the world is a 'waukrife minnie'?" asked agnes, but there was no chance to answer, for in the kitchen, making it more busy than ever, trooped the two younger members of the corner house girls quartette--tess and dot. their arms were filled with blossoms of the woods and fields, and without more ado they tossed them to a cleared place on the table, whence linda had removed some of the pans and dishes. "oh, what a lovely lot of flowers!" cried ruth. "it's just darling of you to get them for me. now do you want to help me put them into vases in the library?" dot shook her head. "why not?" asked ruth gently. "i promised my alice-doll to take her down by the brook, and i just have to do it," answered dot. "and tess is going to help me; aren't you, tess?" she added. "yes," was the answer. "i'm going to take almira." "then you must take her kittens, too!" insisted dot. "she'll feel bad if you don't." "i won't take 'em all--i'll take one kitten," compromised tess. "there she is, now!" and tess darted from the room to pounce on the cat, which did not seem to mind very much being mauled by the children. "will ye gang a'wa' to the store the noo?" asked mrs. maccall, with a warm smile as she came from the pantry. "there's muckle we need an'--" "i'll go if you give me a cookie," promised dot. "so'll i," chimed in tess, coming in on the tribute. "we can take almira and your alice-doll when we come back," she confided to her sister. "yes, i think they'll wait. i know alice-doll will, but i'm not so sure about almira," and dot seemed rather in doubt. "she may take a notion to carry her kittens up in the bedroom--" "don't dare suggest such a thing!" cried ruth. "i'm to have company this afternoon, and if that cat and her kittens appear on the scene--" "oh, i wasn't going to carry them in!" interrupted dot, with an air of injured innocence. "they're almira's kittens, and she can do what she likes with them, i suppose," she added as an afterthought. "only i know that every once in a while she takes a notion to plant them in a new place. once uncle rufus found them in his rubber boots, and they scratched him like anything when he put his foot inside." "well, if you have to go to the store for mrs. maccall you won't have any time to help me arrange the flowers," observed ruth, anxious to put an end to the discussion about the family cat and kittens, for she knew dot had a fund of stories concerning them. "yes, traipse along now, my bonnie bairns," advised the scotch housekeeper, and, bribed by two cookies each, a special good measure on saturday, dot and tess were soon on their way, or at least it was so supposed. linda was helping mrs. maccall clear away the baking utensils, and ruth and agnes were in the parlor and library, tastefully arranging the wild flowers that dot and tess had gathered. "isn't dot queer to cling still to her dolls?" remarked agnes, as she stepped back to get the effect of a bunch of red flowers against a dark brown background in one corner of the room. "yes, she is a strange child. and poor almira! really i don't see how that cat stands it here, the way tess and dot maul her." "they aren't as bad as sammy pinkney. actually i caught him yesterday tying the poor creature to the back of billy bumps!" "not on the goat's back!" cried ruth. "really, he was. i sent him flying, though!" "what was his idea?" "oh, he said he'd heard neale tell how, in a circus, a little dog rode on a pony's back and sammy didn't see why a cat couldn't ride on a goat." "well, if he put it that way i suppose she could," assented ruth. "but almira seems to take herself very seriously with all those kittens. we really must get rid of them. vacation will soon be here, and with tess and dot around the house all day, instead of just saturdays, i don't know what we shall do." "have you made any vacation plans at all?" "not yet, agnes. i thought i'd wait until i saw mr. howbridge at the club meeting this afternoon." "what has he to do with our vacation--unless he's going along?" "oh, no, i didn't mean that, at all! but the financial question does enter into it; and as he is our guardian and has charge of our money, i want to know just how much we can count on spending." "why, have we lost any money?" "not that i know of. i hope not! but i always have consulted him before we made any summer plans, and i don't see why we should not now." "well, i suppose it's all right," assented agnes, as she took up another bunch of flowers. "but i wonder--" she never finished that sentence. from somewhere, inside or outside the house, a resounding crash sounded. it shook the walls and floors. "oh, my! what's that?" cried ruth, dropping the blossoms from her hands and hastening to the hall. chapter ii neale has news deep, and perhaps portentous, silence had succeeded the crash. but both ruth and agnes knew enough of the goings and comings in the corner house not to take this silence for serenity. it meant something, as the crash had. "what was it?" murmured ruth again, and she fairly ran out into the hall, followed by her sister. then came a series of bumps, as if something of no small size was rolling down the porch steps. by this time it was evident that the racket came from without and not from within. then a voice cried: "hold it! hold it! don't let it roll down!" "that's dot!" declared ruth. and then a despairing voice cried: "i can't! i can't hold it! look out!" once again the rumbling, rolling, bumping sound came, and with it was mingled the warning of the scotch housekeeper and the wail of dot who cried: "oh, she's dead! she's smashed!" "something really has happened this time!" exclaimed ruth, and her face became a little pale. "if only it isn't serious," burst out agnes. "oh, dear, what those youngsters don't think of for trouble!" "they don't mean to get into trouble, agnes. it's only their thoughtlessness." "well then, they ought to think more. oh, listen to that, will you!" agnes added, as another loud bumping reached the two sisters' ears. "it's something that's sure," cried ruth, and grew paler than ever. the happening was not really as tragic as it seemed, yet it was sufficiently momentous to cause a fright to the two older girls. especially to ruth, who felt herself to be, as she literally was, a mother to the other three; though now that agnes was putting up her hair and putting down her dresses a new element had come into the household. while yet in tender years the responsibilities of life had fallen on the shoulders of ruth kenway. in their former home--a city more pretentious in many ways than picturesque milton, their present home--the kenways had lived in what, literally, was a tenement house. their father and mother were dead, and the small pension granted mr. kenway, who had been a soldier in the spanish war, was hardly sufficient for the needs of four growing girls. then, almost providentially, it seemed, the stower estate had come to ruth, agnes, dot and tess. uncle peter stower had passed away, and mr. howbridge, the administrator of the estate, had discovered the four sisters as the next of kin, to use his legal phrase. uncle peter stower had lived for years in the "corner house" as it was called. the mansion stood opposite the parade ground in milton, and there uncle rufus, the colored servant of his crabbed master, had spent so many years that he regarded himself as a fixture--as much so as the roof. at first no will could be found, though mr. howbridge recalled having drawn one; but eventually all legal tangles were straightened out, and the four sisters came to live in milton, as related in the first book of the series, entitled "the corner house girls." there was ruth, the oldest and the "little mother," though she was not so very little now. in fact she had blossomed into a young lady, a fact of which mr. howbridge became increasingly aware each day. so the four girls had come to live at the corner house, and that was only the beginning of their adventures. in successive volumes are related the happenings when they went to school, when they had a jolly time under canvas, and when they took part in a school play. the odd find made in the garret of the corner house furnished material for a book in itself and paved the way for a rather remarkable tour in an auto. in those days the corner house girls became acquainted with a brother and sister, luke and cecile shepard. luke was a college youth, and the friendship between him and ruth presently ripened into a deep regard for each other. but luke had to go back to college, so ruth saw very little of him, though the young folks corresponded freely. all this was while the corner house girls were "growing up." in fact, it became necessary to tell of that in detail, so that the reason for many things that happened in the book immediately preceding this, which is called "the corner house girls snowbound," could be understood. in that volume the corner house girls become involved in the mysterious disappearance of two small twins, and after many exciting days spent in the vicinity of a lumber camp a clue to the mystery was hit upon. but now the memory of the blizzard days spent in the old lodge were forgotten. for summer had come, bringing with it new problems, not the least of which was to find a place where vacation days might be spent. ruth proposed to speak of that when her guardian called this saturday afternoon. as she had hinted to agnes, ruth had invited a number of girl friends to luncheon. it was the plan to form a sort of young people's civic club, to take up several town matters, and ruth was the moving spirit in this, for she loved to work toward some definite end. this saturday was no exception in being a busy one at the corner house. in pursuance of her plans she had enlisted the whole household in preparing for the event, from mrs. maccall, who looked after matters in general, linda, who helped with the baking, uncle rufus, who was cleaning the lawn, down to dot and tess, who had been sent for flowers. and then had come the bribing of dot and tess to go to the store and, following that, the crash. "what can it be?" murmured ruth, as she and agnes hastened on. "some one surely must be hurt." "i hope not," half whispered agnes. from the side porch came the sound of childish anguish. "she's all flatted out, that's what she is! she's all flatted out, my alice-doll is, and it's all your fault, tess kenway! why didn't you hold the barrel?" "i couldn't, i told you! it just rolled and it rolled. it's a good thing it didn't roll on almira!" "gracious! did you hear that?" cried agnes. "what can they have been doing?" the two older sisters reached the porch together, there to find mrs. maccall holding to tess, whom she was brushing off and murmuring to in a low voice, filled with much scotch burring. dot stood at the foot of the steps holding a rather crushed doll out at arm's length, for all who would to view. and stalking off over the lawn was almira, the cat, carrying in her mouth a wee kitten. uncle rufus was hobbling toward the scene of the excitement as fast as his rheumatism would allow. scattered on the ground at the foot of the steps was a collection of odds and ends--"trash" uncle rufus called it. the trash had come from an overturned barrel, and it was this barrel rolling down the steps and off the porch that had caused the noise. "what happened?" demanded ruth, breathing more easily when she saw that the casualty list was confined to the doll. "it was tess," declared dot. "she tipped the barrel over and it rolled on my alice-doll and now look at her." dot referred to the doll, not to her sister, though tess was rather a sight, for she was covered with feathers from an old pillow that had been thrown into the barrel and had burst open during the progress of the accident. at first tess had been rather inclined to cry, but finding, to her great relief, that she was unhurt, she changed her threatened tears into laughter and said: "ain't i funny looking? just like a duck!" "what were you trying to do, children?" asked ruth, trying to speak rather severely in her capacity as "mother." "i was trying to put almira and one of her kittens into the barrel," explained tess, now that mrs. maccall had got off most of the feathers. "i leaned over to put almira in the barrel, soft and easy like, down on the other pillow, and it upset--i mean the barrel did. it began to roll, and i couldn't stop it and it rolled right off the porch and--" "right over my alice-doll it rolled, and she's all squashed!" voiced dot. "oh, be quiet! she isn't hurt a bit," cried tess. "her nose was flat, anyhow." "did the barrel roll over you?" asked agnes, smiling now. "almost," said tess. "but i got out of the way in time, and almira grabbed up her kitten and ran. where is she?" she asked. "never mind the cat," advised ruth. "she's caused enough excitement for one saturday morning. why were you putting her in the barrel, anyhow, tess?" "so i'd know where she was when i came back. i wanted her and one kitten to play with if dot is going to play with her alice-doll when we get back from the store. but i guess i leaned too far over." "i guess you did," assented ruth. "well, i'm glad it was no worse. is your doll much damaged, dot?" "maybe i can put a little more sawdust or some rags in her and stuff her out. but she's awful flat. and look at her nose!" "her nose was flat, anyhow, before the barrel rolled over her," said tess. "but i'm sorry it happened. i guess almira was scared." "we were all frightened," said ruth. "it was a terrible racket. now let the poor cat alone, and run along to the store. oh, what a mess this is," and she looked at the refuse scattered from the trash barrel. "and just when i want things to look nice for the girls. it always seems to happen that way!" uncle rufus shuffled along. "doan you-all worry now, honey," he said, speaking to all the girls as one. "i'll clean up dish yeah trash in no time. i done got de lawn like a billiard table, an' i'll pick up dish yeah trash. de ash man ought to have been along early dis mawnin' fo' to get it. i set it dar fo' him." that explained the presence on the side porch of the barrel of odds and ends collected for the ash man to remove. he had not called, and seeing the receptacle there, with an old feather pillow among the other refuse, tess thought she had her opportunity. "run along now, my bonny bairns! run along!" counseled the old scotch woman. "'tis late it's getting, and the lassies will be here to lunch before we know it." "yes, do run along," begged ruth. "and then come back to be washed and have your hair combed. i want you to look nice if, accidentally, you appear on the scene." thus bidden, and fortified with another cookie each, tess and dot hurried on to the store, dot tenderly trying to pinch into shape the flattened nose of her alice-doll. rufus got a broom and began to clean the scattered trash to put back into the barrel, and mrs. maccall hurried into her kitchen, where linda was humming a finnish song as she clattered amid the pots and pans. "oh, we must finish the parlor and library," declared ruth. "do come and help, agnes." "coming, ruth. oh, here's neale!" she added, pausing to look toward the gate through which at that moment appeared a sturdy lad of pleasant countenance. "he acts as though he had something on his mind," went on agnes, as the youth broke into a run on seeing her and her sister on the steps. "wait a moment, ruth. he may have something to tell us." "the fates forbid that it is anything more about tess and dot!" murmured ruth, for the children had some minutes before disappeared down the street. "news!" cried neale o'neil, as he swung up the steps. "i've got such news for you! oh, it's great!" and his face fairly shone. chapter iii the elevator "just a minute now, neale," said ruth, in the quiet voice she sometimes had to use when tess and dot, either or both, were engaged in one of their many startling feats. "quiet down a bit, please, before you tell us." the boy had reached the porch, panting from his run, and he had been about to burst out with the news, which he could hardly contain, when ruth addressed him. "what's the matter? don't you want to hear it?" he asked, fanning himself vigorously with his hat. "oh, yes, it isn't that," said agnes, with a smile, which caused neale's lips to part in an answering one, showing his white teeth that made a contrast to his tanned face. "but we have just passed through rather a strenuous time, neale, and if you have anything more startling to tell us about tess and dot--" "oh, it isn't about them!" laughed neale o'neil. "they're all right. i just saw them going down the street." "thank goodness!" murmured ruth. "i thought they had got into more mischief. well, go on, neale, and tell us the news. is it good?" "the best ever," he answered, sobering down a little. "the only trouble is that there isn't very much of it. only a sort of rumor, so to speak." "sit down," said agnes, and she herself suited her action to the words. "uncle rufus has the spilled trash cleaned up now." "yes'm, it's done all cleaned up now," murmured the old colored servant as he departed, having made the side porch presentable again. "but i suah does wish dat trash man'd come 'roun' yeah befo' dem two chilluns come back. dey's gwine to upsot dat barrel ag'in, if dey gets a chanst; dey suah is!" and he departed, shaking his head woefully enough. "what happened?" asked neale. "an accident?" "you might call it that," assented ruth, sitting down beside her sister. "it was a combination of tess, dot, alice-doll and almira all rolled into one." "that's enough!" laughed the boy, to whom readers of the previous volumes of the series need no introduction. neale o'neil had once been in a circus. he was known as "master jakeway" and was the son of james o'neil. neale's uncle, william sorber, was the ringmaster and lion tamer in the show billed as "twomley & sorber's herculean circus and menagerie." some time before the opening of the present story, neale had left the circus and had come to milton to live, making his home with con murphy, the town cobbler. "well, go on with your news, neale," said ruth gently, as she gazed solicitously at the boy. she was beginning to have more and more something of a feeling of responsibility toward him. this was due to the fact that ruth was growing older, as has been evidenced, and also to the fact that neale was also, and at times, she thought, he showed the lack of the care of a loving mother. "yes, i want to hear it," interposed agnes. "and then we simply must get the house in shape, if the girls aren't to find us with smudges of dust on our noses." "is there anything i can do?" asked neale eagerly. "are you going to have a party?" "some of ruth's young ladies are coming to lunch," explained agnes. "i don't suppose i may be classed with them," and she looked shyly at her sister. "i don't see why not," came the retort from the oldest kenway girl. "i'd like to have you come to the meeting, agnes." "no, thank you, civics are not much in my line. i hated 'em in school. though maybe i'll come to the eats. but let's hear neale's news. it may spoil from being kept." "not much danger of that," said the boy, with another bright smile. "but are you sure there isn't anything i can do to help?" "perfectly sure, neale," answered ruth. "the two irrepressibles brought me the flowers i wanted to decorate with, and it only remains to put them in vases. but now i'm sure we have chattered enough about ourselves. let us hear about you." "it isn't so much about me; it's about--father," and neale's voice sank when he said that. he spoke in almost a reverent tone. and then his face lighted up again as he exclaimed: "i have some news about him! that's why i ran to tell you. i knew you'd be glad." "oh, neale, that's fine!" cried agnes, clasping him by the arm. "after all these years, really to have news of him! i'm so glad!" "is he really found?" asked ruth, who was of a less excitable type than her sister, though she could get sufficiently worked up when there was need for it. "no, he isn't exactly found," went on neale. "i only wish he were. but i just heard, in a roundabout way, that he may not be so very far from here." "that is good news," declared ruth. "how did you hear it?" "well, you know my father was what is called a rover," went on the boy. "i presume i don't need to tell you that. he wouldn't have been in the circus business with uncle bill, and he wouldn't have had me in the circus--along with the trick mules--unless he had loved to travel about and see the country." "that's a safe conclusion," remarked agnes. to her sister and herself neale's circus experiences were an old story. he had often told them how, when a small boy, he had performed in the sawdust ring. "yes, father was a rover," went on neale. "at least that's the conclusion i've come to of late. i really didn't know him very well. he left the circus when i was still small and told uncle bill to look after me. well, uncle bill did, i'll say that for him. he was as kind as any boy's uncle could be." "anyhow, as you know, father left the circus, gave me in charge of uncle bill, and went off to seek his fortune. i suppose he realized that i would be better off out of a circus, but he knew he had to live, and money is needed for that. so that's why he quit the ring, i imagine. he's been seeking his fortune for quite a while now, and--" "neale, do you mean to say he has come back?" cried agnes. "not exactly," was the answer. "at least if he has come back i haven't seen him. but i just met a man--a sort of tramp he is, to tell you the truth--and he says he knew a man who saw my father in the alaskan klondike, where father had a mine. and this man--this tramp--says my father started back to the states some time ago." "with a lot of gold?" asked ruth, her eyes gleaming with hope for neale. "this the man didn't know. all he knew was that there was a rumor that my father had struck it fairly rich and had started back toward civilization. but even that news makes me feel good. i'm going to see if i can find him. i always had an idea, and so did uncle bill, that it was to alaska father had gone, and this proves it." "but who is this man who gave you the news, and why doesn't he know where your father can be found?" asked ruth. "also is there anything we can do to help you, neale?" "what a lot of questions!" exclaimed agnes. "i think i can answer them," neale said. he was calmer now, but his face still shone and his eyes sparkled under the stress of the happy excitement. "the man, as i said, is a tramp. he asked me for some money. he was driving a team of mules on the canal towpath, and i happened to look at one of the animals. it reminded me of one we had in the circus--a trick mule--but it took only a look to show me it wasn't the same sort of kicker. i got to talking to the man, and he said he was broke--only had just taken the job and the boss wouldn't advance him a cent until the end of the week. i gave him a quarter, and we got to talking. then he told me he knew men who had been in the klondike, and, naturally, i asked him if he had ever heard of a man named o'neil. he said he had, and then the story came out." "but how can you be sure it was your father?" asked ruth, wisely not wanting false hopes to be raised. "that was easily proved when i mentioned circus," said neale. "this tramp, hank dayton, he said his name was, remembered the men speaking of my father talking about circuses, and saying that he had left me in one." "that does seem to establish an identity," ruth conceded. "where is this man dayton now, neale?" "he had to go on with the canal boat. but i learned from him all i could. it seems sure that my father is either back here, after some years spent in alaska, or that he will come here soon. he must have been writing to uncle bill, and so have learned that i came here to live. uncle bill knows where i am, but i don't know where he is at this moment, though i could get in touch with him. but i'll be glad to see my father again. oh, if i could only find him!" neale seemed to gaze afar off, over the fields and woods, as if he visualized his long-lost father coming toward him. his eyes had a dreamy look. "can't we do something to help you?" asked ruth. "that's what i came over about as soon as i had learned all the mule driver could tell me," went on the boy. "i thought maybe we could ask mr. howbridge, your guardian, how to go about finding lost persons. there are ways of advertising for people who have disappeared." "there is," said agnes. "i've often seen in the paper advertisements for missing persons who are wanted to enable an estate to be cleared up, and the last time i was in mr. howbridge's office i heard him telling one of the clerks to have such an advertisement prepared." "then that's what i've got to have done!" declared neale. "i've got some money, and i can get more from uncle bill if i can get in touch with him. i'm going to see mr. howbridge and start something!" he was about to leave the porch, to hasten away, when ruth interposed. "mr. howbridge is coming here this afternoon," said the girl. "you might stay and see him, if you like, neale." "what, with a whole civic betterment club of girls coming to the corner house! no, thank you," he laughed. "i'll see him afterward. but i have more hope now than i ever had before." "i'm very glad," murmured ruth. "mr. howbridge will give you any help possible, i'm sure. shall i speak to him about it when he comes to advise us how to form our civic betterment club?" "oh, i think not, thank you," answered neale. "he'll have enough to do this afternoon without taking on my affair. i can tell him later. but i couldn't wait to tell you." "of course you couldn't!" said agnes. "that would have been a fine way to treat me!" neale, who was agnes' special chum, in a way seemed like one of the family--at least as much so as mrs. maccall, the housekeeper, uncle rufus, or sammy pinkney, the little fellow who lived across willow street, on the opposite side from the corner house. "well, i feel almost like another fellow now," went on neale, as he started down the walk. "not knowing whether your father is alive or not isn't much fun." "i should say not!" agreed agnes. "i wish i could ask you to stay to lunch, neale, but--" "oh, gee, aggie!" the boy laughed, and off down the street he hastened, his step light and his cheery whistle ringing out. "isn't it wonderful!" exclaimed agnes, as she followed her sister into the house. "yes, if only it proves true," returned the older girl, more soberly. from the kitchen came the clatter of pans and dishes as linda disposed of the clutter incidental to making cakes and dainties for a bevy of girls. mrs. maccall could be heard humming a scotch song, and as tess and dot returned from the store she raised her voice in the refrain: "thou art a gay an' bonnie lass, but thou hast a waukrife minnie." "what in the world is a waukrife minnie?" demanded agnes again, pausing in her task. "it's 'wakeful mother,'" answered ruth. "i remember now. it's in burns' poem of that name. but do hurry, please, aggie, or the girls will be here before we can change our dresses!" "the fates forbid!" cried her sister, and she hastened to good advantage. the lunch was over and the "civic betterment league" was in process of embryo formation, under the advice of mr. howbridge, and ruth was earnestly presiding over the session of her girl friends in the library of the corner house, when, from the ample yard in the rear of the old mansion, came a series of startled cries. there was but one meaning to attach to them. the cries came from dot and tess, and mingled with them were the unmistakable yells of sammy pinkney. at the same time mrs. maccall added her remonstrances to something that was going on, while uncle rufus, tottering his way along the hall, tapped at the door of the library and said: "'scuse me, miss ruth, but de chiluns done got cotched in de elevator!" "the _elevator_!" agnes screamed. "what in the world do you mean?" "yas'um, dat's whut it is," said the old colored man. "tess an' dot done got cotched in de elevator!" chapter iv an auto ride mr. howbridge had been making an address to ruth's assembled girl chums when the interruption came. he had been telling them just how to go about it to organize the kind of society ruth had in mind. in spite of her half refusal to attend the session, agnes had decided to be present, and she was sitting near the door when uncle rufus made his statement about the two smallest kenways being "cotched." "but how can they be in an elevator?" demanded agnes. "we haven't an elevator on the place--there hardly is one in milton." "i don't know no mo' 'bout it dan jest dat!" declared the old colored man. "sammy he done say dey is cotched in de elevator an'--" "oh, sammy!" cried agnes. "if sammy has anything to do with it you might know--" she was interrupted by a further series of cries, unmistakably coming from tess and dot, and, mingled with their shouts of alarm, was the voice of mrs. maccall saying: "come along, ruth! oh, agnes! oh, the poor bairns! oh, the wee ones!" and then she lapsed into her broadest scotch so that none who heard understood. "something must have happened!" declared ruth. "it is very evident," added agnes, and the two sisters hurried out, brushing past uncle rufus in the hall. "can't we do something?" asked lucy poole, one of the guests. "yes, we must help," added grace watson. "i think perhaps it will be best if you remain here," said mr. howbridge. "i don't imagine anything very much out of the ordinary has happened, from what i know of the family," he said with a smile. "i'll go and see, and if any more help is needed i shall let you young ladies know. unless it is, the fewer on the scene the better, perhaps." "especially if any one is hurt," murmured clo baker. "i never could stand the sight of a child hurt." "they don't seem to have lost their voices, at any rate," remarked lucy. "listen:" as mr. howbridge followed agnes and ruth from the room, there was borne to the ears of the assembled guests a cry of: "let me down! do you hear, sammy pinkney! let me down!" and a voice, undoubtedly that of the sammy in question, answered: "i'm not doing anything! i can't get you down! it's billy bumps. he did it!" "two boys in mischief," murmured lucy. "no, billy is a goat, so i understand," said clo. "i hope he hasn't butted one of the children down the cistern." and while the guests were vainly wondering what had happened, ruth, agnes and mr. howbridge saw suspended in a large clothes basket, which was attached to a rope that ran over the high limb of a great oak tree in the back yard, tess and dot. they were in the clothes basket, dot with her alice-doll clasped in her hands; and both girls were looking over the side of the hamper. attached to the ground end of the rope, where it was run through a pulley block, was a large goat, now contentedly chewing grass, and near the animal, with a startled look on his face, was a small boy, who, when he felt like it, answered to the name sammy pinkney. "get us down! get us down!" cried dot and tess in a chorus, while mrs. maccall stood beneath them holding out her apron as if the two little girls were ripe apples ready to fall. "how did you get up there?" demanded ruth, her face paling as she saw the danger of her little sisters, for tess and dot were too high up for safety. [illustration: "get us down!" cried dot and tess in a chorus, while mrs. maccall stood beneath them holding out her apron.] "sammy elevatored us up," explained dot. "well, you wanted to go!" replied the small boy in self justification. the goat kept on eating grass, of which there was an ample supply in the yard of the corner house. "what shall we do?" cried agnes. "run into the house and get a strong blanket or quilt," advised mr. howbridge quickly, but in a quiet, insistent voice which seemed to calm the excitement of every one. "bring the blanket here. we will hold it beneath the basket like a fire net, though i do not believe there is any immediate danger of the children falling. the rope seems to be firmly caught in the pulley block." his quick eye had taken in this detail of the "elevator." the rope really had jammed in the block, and, as long as it held, the basket could not descend suddenly. even if the rope should be unexpectedly loosened, there would still be the weight of the attached goat to act as a drag on the end of the cable, thus counterbalancing, in a measure, the weight of the girls in the clothes basket. "but i don't want to take any chances," explained the lawyer. "we'll take hold and extend the blanket under them, in case they should fall." "i have my apron ready now!" cried mrs. maccall. "oh, the puir bairns! what ever possit it ye twa gang an' reesk their lives this way, ye tapetless one?" she cried to sammy angrily, suddenly, in her excitement, using the broadest of scotch. "well, they wanted to ride in an elevator, an' i--i made one," he declared. and that is just what he had done. whether it was his idea or that of tess and dot did not then develop. what sammy had done was to take the largest clothes basket, getting it unobserved when mrs. maccall and linda were busy over ruth's party. he had fastened the basket to a long rope, which had been thrown over the high limb of the oak tree. then sammy had passed the rope through a pulley block, obtained no one knew where, and had hitched to the cable the goat, billy bumps. by walking away from the tree billy had pulled on the rope. the straightaway pull was transformed, by virtue of the pulley, into an upward motion, and the basket ascended. it had formed the "elevator" to which uncle rufus alluded. and, really, it did elevate dot and tess. they had been pulled up and had descended as sammy made the goat back, thus releasing the pull on the rope. all had gone well for several trips until the rope jammed in the pulley, thus leaving the two girls suspended in the basket at the highest point. their screams, the fright of sammy, the alarms of uncle rufus and mrs. maccall had followed in quick succession. "here's the blanket!" cried agnes speeding to the scene with a large woolen square under her arm. "have they fallen yet?" behind her came stringing the guests. it had been impossible for them to remain in the library with their minds on civic betterment ideas when they heard what had happened. "well, did you ever!" cried one of the number in astonishment. "what can it mean?" burst out a second. "looks to me like an amateur circus," giggled a third. she was a lighthearted girl and had not taken much of an interest in the rather dry meeting. "those children will be hurt," cried a nervous lady. "oh, dear, why did they let them do such an awful thing as that?" "i think they did it on their own account," said another lady. "our tommy is just like that--into mischief the minute your back is turned." "i'm glad they came!" said mr. howbridge. "they may all take hold of the edges of the blanket and extend it as firemen do the life net. you may stand aside now, mrs. maccall, if you will," he told the scotch housekeeper, and not until then did she lower her apron and move out from under the swaying basket, murmuring as she did so something about sammy being a "tapetless gowk" who needed a "crummock" or a good "flyte," by which the girls understood that the boy in question was a senseless dolt who needed a severe whipping or a good scolding. ruth, agnes and the guests took hold of the heavy blanket and held it under the basket as directed by mr. howbridge. then, seeing there would be little danger to the children in case the basket should suddenly fall, the lawyer directed sammy to loosen the goat from the rope. "he'll run if i do," objected sammy. "let him run, you ninnie!" cried mrs. maccall. "an' if ever ye fetchet him yon again i'll--i'll--" but she could not call up a sufficiently severe punishment, and had to subside. meanwhile the mischievous boy had led billy bumps off to one side, by the simple process of loosening the rope from the wagon harness to which it was fastened. mr. howbridge then took a firm hold of the cable and, after loosening it from where it had jammed in the pulley block, he braced his feet in the earth, against the downward pull of the basket, and so gently lowered tess and dot to the ground. "i'm never going to play with you again, sammy pinkney!" cried tess, climbing out of the basket and shaking her finger at the boy. "nor me, either!" added dot, smoothing out the rumpled dress of her alice-doll. "well, you asked me to make some fun and i did," sammy defended himself. "yes, and you made a lot of excitement, too," added ruth. "you had better come into the house now, children," she went on. "and, sammy, please take billy away." "yes'm," he murmured. "but they asked me to elevator 'em up, an' i did!" "to which i shall bear witness," said mr. howbridge, laughing. mrs. maccall "shooed" tess and dot into the house, murmuring her thanks to providence over the escape, and, after a while, the excitement died away and ruth went on with her meeting. the civic betterment league was formed that afternoon and eventually, perhaps, did some good. but what this story is to concern itself with is the adventure on a houseboat of the corner house girls. meanwhile about a week went by. there had been no more elevator episodes, though this does not mean that sammy did not make mischief, nor that tess and dot kept out of it. far from that. one bright afternoon, when school was out and the pre-supper appetites of dot and tess had been appeased, the two came running into the room where ruth and agnes sat. "he's here! he's come!" gasped tess. "and he's got, oh, such a dandy!" echoed dot. "who's here, and what has he?" asked agnes, flying out of her chair. "you shouldn't say anything is a 'dandy,'" corrected ruth to her youngest sister. "well it is, and you told me always to tell the truth," was the retort. "it's mr. howbridge and he's out in front with a--the--er the beautifulest automobile!" cried tess. "it's all shiny an' it's got wheels, an'--an' everything! it's newer than our car." ruth was sufficiently interested in this news to look from the window. "it _is_ mr. howbridge," she murmured, as though there had been doubts on that point. "and he must have a new auto," added agnes. "oh, he has!" she cried. a moment later they were welcoming their guardian at the door, while the smaller children formed an eager and anxious background. "what has happened?" asked agnes, while ruth, remembering her position as head of the family, asked: "won't you come in?" "i'd much rather you would come out, miss ruth," the man responded. "it is just the sort of day to be out--not in." "especially in such a car as that!" exclaimed agnes. "it's a--" "be careful," murmured ruth, with an admonishing glance from agnes to the smaller girls. "little pitchers, you know--" "it's a wonderful car!" went on agnes. "is it yours?" "well, i sometimes doubt a little, when i recall what it cost me," her guardian answered with a laugh. "but i am supposed to be the owner, and i have come to take you for a ride." "oh, can't we go?" came in a chorus from tess and dot. "yes, all of you!" laughed mr. howbridge. "that's why i waited until school was out. they may come, may they not, miss ruth?" he asked. always he was thus deferential to her when a question of family policy came up. "yes, i think so," was the low-voiced answer. "but we planned to have an early tea and--" "oh, i promise to get you back home in plenty of time," the lawyer said, with a laugh. "and after that, if you like, we might take another ride." "how wonderful!" murmured agnes. "won't you stay to tea?" asked ruth. "i was waiting for that!" exclaimed mr. howbridge. "i shall be delighted. now then, youngsters, run out and hop in, but don't touch anything, or you may be in a worse predicament than when you were in the clothes basket elevator." "we won't!" cried tess and dot, running down the walk. "you must come back and be washed!" cried ruth. it was a standing order--that, and the two little girls knew better than to disobey. but first they inspected the new car, walking all around it, and breathing in, with the odor of gasoline, the awed remarks of some neighboring children. "that's part our car," dot told these envious ones, as she and tess started back toward the house. "we're going for a ride in it, and don't you dare touch anything on it or mr. howbridge'll be awful mad!" "um, oh, whut a lubly auto," murmured alfredia blossom, who had come on an errand to her grandfather, uncle rufus. "dat's jest de beatenistest one i eber see!" "yes, it is nice," conceded tess, proudly, airily and condescendingly. a little later the two younger children and agnes sat in the rear seat, while ruth was beside mr. howbridge at the steering wheel. then the big car purred off down the street, like a contented cat after a saucer of warm milk. "it was very good of you to come and get us," said ruth, when they were bowling along. "almost the christening trip of the car, too, isn't it?" she asked. "the very first trip i have made in it," was the answer. "i wanted it properly christened, you see. there is a method in my madness, too. i have an object in view, martha." sometimes he called ruth this, fancifully, with the thought in mind that she was "cumbered with many cares." again he would apply to her the nickname of "minerva," with its suggestion of wisdom. and ruth rather liked these fanciful appellations. "you have an object?" she repeated. "yes," he answered. "as usual, i want your advice." "as if it was really worth anything to you!" she countered. "it will be in this case, i fancy," he went on with a smile. "i want your opinion about a canal boat." chapter v the houseboat ruth stole a quick glance at the face of her guardian. there was a silence between them for a moment, broken only by the purr of the powerful machine and the suction of the rubber tires on the street. agnes, dot and tess were having a gay time behind the two figures on the front seat. "a canal boat?" murmured ruth, as if she had not heard aright. "perhaps i had better qualify that statement," went on mr. howbridge in his courtroom voice, "by saying that it is, at present, minerva, on the canal. and a boat on the canal is a canal boat, is it not? i ask for a ruling," and he laughed as he slowed down to round a corner. "i don't know anything about your legal phraseology," answered ruth, entering into the bantering spirit of the occasion, "but i don't see why a boat on the canal becomes a canal boat any more than a cottage pudding becomes a house. the pudding has no cottage in it any more than a club sandwich has a club in it and--" "i am completely at your mercy," mr. howbridge broke in with. "but, speaking seriously, this boat is on the canal, though strictly it is not a canal boat. you know what they are, i dare say?" "i used to have to take tess and dot down to the towpath to let them watch them often enough when we first came here," said ruth, with a laugh. "they used to think canal boats were the most wonderful objects in the world." "are we going on a canal boat?" asked tess, overhearing some of the talk on the front seat. "oh, are we?" "oh, i hope we are!" added dot. "my alice-doll just loves canal boats. and wouldn't it be splendiferous, tess, if we could have a little one all to ourselves and scalawag or maybe billy bumps to pull it instead of a mule?" "that would be a sight on the towpath!" cried agnes. "but what is this about canal boats, mr. howbridge?" "has some one opened a soda water store on board one?" asked dot suddenly. "not exactly. you'll see, presently. but i do want your opinion," he went on, speaking directly to ruth now, "and it has to do with a boat on a canal." "i still think you are joking," she told him. "and except for the fact that we have a canal here in milton i should think you were trying to fool me." "impossible, minerva," he replied, soberly enough. as ruth had said, milton was located on both the canal and a river, the two streams, if a canal can be called a stream, joining at a certain point, so that boats could go from one to the other. gentory river, which acted as a feeder to one section of the canal, also connected with lake macopic, a large body of water. the lake contained many islands. the automobile skirted the canal by a street running parallel to it, and then mr. howbridge turned down a rather narrow street, on which were situated several stores that sold supplies to the canal boats, and brought his machine to a stop on the bank of the waterway beside the towpath, as it is called from the fact that the mules or horses towing the boats walk along that level stretch of highway bordering the canal and forming part of the canal property. at this part of the canal, the stream widened and formed a sort of harbor for boats of various kinds. it was also a refitting station; a place where a captain might secure new mules, hire helpers, buy grain for his animals and also victuals for himself and family; for the owners of the canal boats often lived aboard them. this place, known locally as "henderson's cove," was headquarters for all the canal boatmen of the vicinity. "here is where we disembark, to use a nautical term," said mr. howbridge, with a smile at the younger children. "is this where we take the boat?" asked dot eagerly. "you might call it that," said mr. howbridge, with another genial smile. "and now, martha, to show that i was in earnest, there is the craft in question," and he pointed to an old hulk of a canal boat, which had seen its best days. "that! you want my opinion on _that_?" cried the girl, turning to her guardian in some surprise. "oh, no, the one next to it. the _bluebird_." ruth changed her view, and saw a craft which brought to her lips exclamations of delight, no less than to the lips of her sisters. for it was not a "rusty canaler" they beheld, but a trim craft, a typical houseboat, with a deck covered with a green striped awning and set with willow chairs, and a cabin, the windows of which, through their draped curtains, gave hint of delights within. "oh, how lovely!" murmured agnes. "a dream!" whispered ruth. "but why do you bring us here to show us this?" she asked with much interest. "because," began mr. howbridge, "i want to know if you would like--" just then an excited voice behind the little party burst out with: "oh, mr. howbridge, i've been looking everywhere for you!" neale o'neil came hurrying along the towpath, seemingly much excited. "i hope that supreme court decision hasn't gone against me," ruth heard her guardian murmur. "if that case is lost--" and then neale began to talk excitedly. chapter vi more news "they told me at your office you had come here, mr. howbridge," said neale. "and i hurried on as fast as i could." "did they send you here to find me?" asked the lawyer. "yes, sir." "with any message?" as mr. howbridge asked this ruth noticed that her guardian seemed very anxious about something. "yes, i have a message," went on neale. "it's about--" "the jackson case?" interrupted the lawyer. "is there a decision from the court and--" "oh, no, this isn't anything about the jackson case or any other," neale hastened to say. "it's about my father. and--" ruth and agnes could not help gasping in surprise. as for the two smaller kenway children all they had eyes for was the houseboat. "oh, your father!" repeated mr. howbridge. "have you found him, neale?" there was very evident relief in the lawyer's tone. "no, sir, i haven't found him. but you know you told me to come to you as soon as i had found that tramp mule driver again, and he's back in town once more. he just arrived at the lower lock with a grain boat, and i hurried to tell you." "yes, that was right, neale," said mr. howbridge. "excuse me, miss ruth," he went on, turning to the girl, "but i happen to be this young man's legal adviser, and while i planned this for a pleasure trip, it seems that business can not be kept out of it." "oh, we don't mind!" exclaimed ruth, with a smile at neale. "of course we know about this, and we'd be so glad if you could help find mr. o'neil." "all right then, if the young ladies have no objection," said the lawyer, "we'll combine business with pleasure. suppose we go aboard the _bluebird_. i want miss ruth's opinion of her and--" "i don't see why in the world you want _my_ opinion about this boat," said the puzzled girl. "i'm almost sure there's a joke in it, somewhere." "no, martha, no joke at all, i do assure you," answered her guardian. "you'll understand presently. now, neale, you say this mule driver has come back?" "yes, sir. you know i went to you as soon as he gave me a hint that my father might have returned from alaska, and you said to keep my eyes open for this man." "i did, neale, yes. you of course know this story, don't you, miss ruth?" he asked. "yes, i believe we were the first neale told about it." "well," went on mr. howbridge, while tess and dot showed signs of impatience to get on board the boat, "i told neale we must find out more from this hank dayton, the mule driver, before we could do anything, or start to advertise for mr. o'neil. and now, it seems, he is here again. at first, neale, when i saw you hurrying along, excited, i was afraid i had lost a very important law case. i am glad you did not bring bad news." ruth stole a glance at her guardian's face. he was more than usually quiet and anxious, she thought, though he tried to be gay and jolly. "we'll have a look at this boat," said mr. howbridge, as they advanced toward it. "i'll get minerva's opinion, and then we'll try to find hank dayton." "i know where to find him," said neale. "he's going to bunk down at the lower lock for a while. i made him promise to stay there until he could have a talk with you." "very good," announced the lawyer. "now come on, youngsters!" he cried with a gayer manner, and he caught dot up in his arms and carried her aboard the boat, neale, ruth and the others following. it was a typical houseboat. that is, it was a sort of small house built on what would otherwise have been a scow. the body of the boat was broad beamed forward and aft, as a sailor would say. that is, it was very wide, whereas most boats are pointed at the bow, and only a little less narrow at the stern. "it's like a small-sized canal boat, isn't it?" remarked agnes, as they went down into the cabin. "but ever so much nicer," said ruth. "oh, look at the cute little cupboards!" cried dot. "i could keep my dolls there." "and here's a sweet place for the cats!" added tess, raising the cover of a sort of box in a corner. "it would be a crib." "that's a locker," explained mr. howbridge, with a smile. "oh, i wouldn't want to lock almira in there!" exclaimed the little girl. "she might smother, and how could she get out to play with her kittens?" "oh, i don't mean that it can be locked," explained the lawyer. "it is just called that on a boat. cupboards on the wall and the window seats on the floor are generally called lockers on board a ship." "is this a ship?" asked dot. "well, enough like one to use some of the same words," replied mr. howbridge. "now let's look through it." this they did, and each step brought forth new delights. they had gone down a flight of steps and first entered a small cabin which was evidently intended for a living room. back of that was very plainly the dining room, for it contained a table and some chairs and on the wall were two cupboards, or "lockers" as the lawyer said they must be called. "and they have real dishes in them!" cried tess, flattening her nose against one of the glass doors. "don't do that, dear," said ruth in a low voice. "but i want to see," insisted tess. "so do i!" chimed in dot, and soon the two little sisters, side by side, with noses pressed flat against the doors, were taking in the sights of the dishes. mr. howbridge silently motioned to ruth to let them do as they pleased. "oh, what a lovely dolls' party we could have here!" sighed dot, as she turned away from the dish locker. "and couldn't almira come?" asked tess, appealing to agnes. "and bring one of her kittens?" "yes, we'll even allow you two kittens, for fear one would get lonesome," laughed mr. howbridge. "but come on. you haven't seen it all yet." there was a small kitchen back of the dining room, and both ruth and agnes were interested to see how conveniently everything was arranged. "it would be ever so much easier to get meals here than in the corner house," was ruth's opinion. "do you think so?" asked the lawyer. "yes, everything is so handy. you hardly have to take a step to reach anything," added agnes. "you only have to turn from the stove to the sink, and another turn and you have everything you want, from a toasting fork to an egg beater," and she indicated the different kitchen utensils hanging in a rack over the stove. "i'm glad you like it," said mr. howbridge, and ruth found herself wondering why he said that. they passed into the sleeping quarters where small bunks, almost like those in pullman cars, were neatly arranged, even to a white counterpane and pillow shams on each one. "oh, how lovely." "and how clean and neat!" "it's just like a sleeping car on the railroad." "yes, or one of those staterooms on some steamers." "a person could sleep as soundly here as in a bed at home," was ruth's comment. "yes, unless the houseboat rocked like a ship," said agnes. "i don't think it could rock much on the canal." "no, but it might on a river, or a lake. i guess a houseboat like this can go almost anywhere." there were two sets of sleeping rooms, one on either side of a middle hall or passageway. then came a small bathroom. and back of that was something that made neale cry out in delight. "why, the boat has an engine!" exclaimed the boy. "it runs by motor!" "yes, the _bluebird_ is a motor houseboat," said mr. howbridge, with a smile. "it really belongs on lake macopic, but to get it there through the canal mules will have to be used, as this boat has such a big propeller that it would wash away the canal banks. it is not allowed to move it through the canal under its own power." "that's a dandy engine all right!" exclaimed neale, and he knew something about them for one summer he had operated a small motor craft on the gentory river, as well as running the corner house girls' automobile for them. "i wish i could run this," he went on with a sigh, "but i don't suppose there's any chance." "i don't know about that," said the lawyer, musingly. "that is what i brought minerva here to talk about. let's go back to the main cabin and sit down." "i'm going to sit on one of the lockers!" cried tess, darting off ahead of the others. "i want to sit on it, too!" exclaimed dot. "there are two lockers on the floor--one for each," laughed mr. howbridge. as the little party moved into the main cabin, ruth found herself wondering more and more what mr. howbridge wanted her opinion on. she was not long, however, in learning. "here is the situation," began the lawyer, when they were all seated facing him. his tone reminded ruth of the time he had come to talk to them about their inheritance of the corner house. "this boat, the _bluebird_, belongs to an estate. the estate is being settled up, and the boat is going to be sold. a man living at the upper end of lake macopic has offered to buy it at a fair price if it is delivered to him in good condition before the end of summer. as the legal adviser of the estate i have undertaken to get this boat to the purchaser. and what i brought you here for, to-day, minerva," he said, smiling at ruth, "is to ask your opinion about the best way of getting the boat there." "do you really mean that?" asked the girl. "i certainly do." "well, i should say the best plan would be to start it going, and steer it up the canal to the river, through the river into the lake and up the lake to the place where it is to be delivered," ruth answered, smiling. "but mr. howbridge said the boat couldn't be moved by the motor on the canal," objected agnes. "well, have mules tow it, then," advised ruth. "that is very simple." "i am glad you think so," replied the lawyer. "and the next matter on which i wish your advice is whether to start the boat off alone on her trip, or just in charge of, say, the mule driver." "oh, i wouldn't want to trust a lovely houseboat like this to only a mule driver!" exclaimed ruth. "that's what i thought," went on her guardian, with another smile. "it needs some one on board to look after it, doesn't it?" "well, yes, i should say so." "then how would you like to take charge?" came the unexpected question. "me?" cried ruth. "_me?_" "you, and all of you!" went on the lawyer. "listen. here is the situation. i have to send this houseboat to lake macopic. you dwellers of the corner house need a vacation. you always have one every summer, and i generally advise you where to go. at least you always ask me, and sometimes you take my advice. "this time i advise you to take a houseboat trip. and i make this offer. i will provide the boat and all the needful food and supplies, such as gasoline and oil when you reach the river and lake. everything else is on board, from beds to dishes. i will also hire a mule driver and engage some mules for the canal trip. now, how does that suit you?" "oh! oh!" exclaimed agnes, and it seemed to be all she could say for a moment. she just looked at mr. howbridge with parted lips and sparkling eyes. "how wonderful!" murmured ruth. "can we go?" cried tess. "the whole family, including neale," said mr. howbridge. "oo-ee!" gasped dot, wide-eyed. agnes and neale stared entranced at each other, agnes, for once, speechless. "well, now i have made the offer, think it over, and while you are doing that i'll give a little attention to neale's case," went on mr. howbridge. "now, young man, suppose we go and find this mule driver who seems to know something of your father." "oh, wait! don't go away just yet!" begged ruth. "let's talk about the trip some more! do you really think we can go?" "i want you to go. it would be doing me a favor," said the lawyer. "i must get this boat to lake macopic somehow, and i don't know a better way than to have martha and her family take it," and he bowed formally to his ward. "and did you really mean i may go, too?" asked neale. "if you can arrange it, and miss ruth agrees." "of course i will! but, oh, there will be such a lot to do to get ready. we'd have to take mrs. maccall along, too," she added. "of course," assented mr. howbridge. "by all means!" "and would you go too?" asked ruth. "would you like me to?" the lawyer countered. "of course. we'd all like it." "i might manage to make at least part of the trip," was the reply. "then you have decided to take my offer?" "oh, i think it's perfectly _wonderful_!" burst out agnes. as for tess and dot, it could be told what they thought by just looking at them. "very well then," said the guardian, "we'll consider it settled. i'll have to see about mules and a driver for the canal part of the trip and--" an exclamation from neale interrupted him. "what is it?" asked the lawyer. "why couldn't we hire hank dayton for a mule driver?" neale asked. "he's rough, but i think he's a decent man and honest, and he knows a lot about the canal and boats and mules." "it might not be a bad idea," assented mr. howbridge. "we'll find him and ask him, neale. and it would be killing two birds with one stone. he could help you in your search for your father. yes, i think that will be a good plan. girls, i'll leave you here to look over the _bluebird_ at your leisure while neale and i go to interview the mule driver." "and i hope he will be able to tell you how to find your father, neale," said agnes, in a low voice. "i hope so, too," added the boy. "you don't know, aggie, how much i've wanted to find father." "of course i do, neale. and you'll find him, too!" neale went on with mr. howbridge, somewhat cheered by agnes' sympathy. chapter vii making plans left to themselves on the _bluebird_, ruth, agnes, dot and tess went over every part of it again, from the engine room to the complete kitchen and living apartments. "neale will just love fussing around that motor," said agnes. "you speak as if we had already decided to make the trip," remarked ruth, with a bright glance at her sister. "why, yes, haven't you?" agnes countered. "i thought you and mr. howbridge had fixed it up between you when you were chatting up on the front seat of the auto." "he never said a word to me about it," declared ruth. "he must have said something," insisted her sister. "oh, of course we talked, but not about _this_," and ruth swept her hands about to indicate the _bluebird_. "i was as much surprised as you to have him ask us if we would take her up to the lake." "well, it will be delightful, don't you think?" "yes, i think it will. but of course it depends on mrs. maccall." "i don't see why!" exclaimed agnes quickly and reproachfully. "of course you do. she'll have to go along to act as chaperone and all that. we may have to tie up at night in lonely places along the canal or river and--" "we'll have neale and mr. howbridge! and how about asking luke shepard and his sister cecile?" went on agnes. ruth flushed a little. "i don't believe cecile and luke can go," she replied slowly. "cecile has got to go home to take care of her aunt lorena, who is sick, and luke wrote me that he had a position offered to him as a clerk in a summer hotel down on the coast, and it is to pay so well that he would not dream of letting the opportunity pass." "oh, that's too bad, ruth. you won't see much of him." "i am not sure i'll see anything of him." and ruth's face clouded a little. "well, anyway, as i said before, we'll have neale and mr. howbridge," continued agnes. "neale. but mr. howbridge is not sure he can go--at least all the way. however, we'll ask mrs. maccall." "i think she'll be just crazy to go!" declared agnes. "come on, let's go right away and find out." "but we must wait for mr. howbridge to come back. he told us to." "well, then we'll say we're already living on board," said agnes. "oh, won't it be fun to eat on a houseboat!" and she danced off to the dining room, took her seat at the table, and exclaimed: "i'll have a steak, rare, with french fried potatoes, plenty of gravy and a cup of tea and don't forget the pie _ã  la mode_." tess and dot laughed and ruth smiled. they then went all over the boat again, with the result that they grew more and more enthusiastic about the trip. and when mr. howbridge and neale came back in the automobile a little later, beaming faces met them. "well, what about it, minerva?" mr. howbridge asked ruth. "are you going to act as caretakers for the boat to help me settle the estate?" "since you put it that way, as a favor, i can not refuse," she answered, giving him a swift smile. "but, as i told the girls, it will depend on mrs. maccall." "you leave her to me," laughed the lawyer. "i'll recite one of bobby burns' poems, and if that doesn't win her over nothing will. neale, do you think you can manage that motor?" "i'm sure of it," said the boy. "it isn't the same kind i had to run before, but i can get the hang of it all right." "is there any news about your father?" asked ruth, glancing from her guardian to the boy. "nothing very definite," answered the lawyer. "we found hank dayton, and in spite of his rough and ragged clothes i discovered him to be a reliable fellow. he told us all he knew about the rumor of mr. o'neil having returned from the klondike, and i am going to start an inquiry, with newspaper advertising and all that. and i may as well tell you that i have engaged this same hank dayton to drive the mules that will draw the _bluebird_ on the canal part of the trip." "oh!" exclaimed agnes. "i thought neale said this man was a tramp!" "he is, in appearance," said mr. howbridge, with a smile. "a person can not wear an evening suit and drive canal mules. but hank seems to be a sterling chap at the bottom, and with neale and mrs. maccall to keep him straight, you will have no trouble. "it is really necessary," he went on, "to have some man who understands the canal, the mules, and the locks to look after the boat, and i think this dayton will answer. he has just finished a trip, and so neale and i hired him. it will be well for neale to keep in touch with him, too, for through hank we may get more news of mr. o'neil. and now, if you have sufficiently looked over the _bluebird_, we may as well go back." "it would be a good while before i could see enough of her!" exclaimed agnes. "i'm just in love with the craft, and i know we shall have a delightful summer on her. only the trip will be over too soon, i'm afraid." "there is no necessity for haste," the lawyer assured her. "the purchaser of the boat does not want her until fall, and you may linger as long as you like on the trip." "good!" exclaimed agnes. a family council was held the next day at which mr. howbridge laid all the facts before mrs. maccall. at first the scotch housekeeper would not listen to any proposal for the trip on the water. but when ruth and agnes had spoken of the delights of the boat, and when the housekeeper had personally inspected the _bluebird_, she changed her mind. "though i never thought, in my old age, i'd come to bein' a houseboat keeper," she chuckled. "but 'tis all in the day's work. i'll gang with ye ma lassies. a canal boat is certainly more staid than an ice-boat, and i went alang with ye on that." "hurray!" cried agnes, unable to restrain her joy. "all aboard for lake macopic!" the door opened and aunt sarah maltby came in. "i thought i heard some one calling," she said anxiously. "it was agnes," explained ruth. "she's so excited about the trip." "fish? what fish? it isn't friday, is it?" asked the old lady, who was getting rather deaf. "no, auntie dear, i didn't say _fish_--i said _trip_." and ruth spoke more loudly. "we are going to make a trip on a houseboat for our summer vacation. would you like to come along?" aunt sarah maltby shook her head, as tess pulled out a chair for her. "i'm getting too old, my dear, to go traipsing off over the country in one of those flying machines." "it's a houseboat--not a flying machine," agnes explained. "well, it's about the same, i reckon," returned the old lady. "no, i'll stay at home and look after things at the corner house. it'll need somebody." "yes, there's no doubt of that," ruth said. so it was arranged. aunt sarah maltby would stay at home with linda and uncle rufus, while mrs. maccall accompanied the corner house girls on the houseboat. there was much to be done before the trip could be undertaken, and many business details to arrange, for, as inheritors of the stower estate, ruth and her sisters received rents from a number of tenants, some of them in not very good circumstances. "and we must see that they will want nothing while we are gone," ruth had said. it was part of her self-imposed duties to play lady bountiful to some of the poorer persons who rented uncle peter stower's tenements. "well, as long as you don't go to buying 'dangly jet eawin's' for olga pederman it will be all right," said agnes, and they laughed at this remembrance of the girl who, when ill with diphtheria, had asked for these ornaments when ruth called to see what she most wanted. eventually all the many details were arranged and taken care of. a mechanic had gone over the motor of the _bluebird_ and pronounced it in perfect running order, a fact which neale verified for himself. he had made all his plans for going on the trip, and between that and eagerly waiting for any news of his missing father, his days were busy ones. mr. howbridge had closely questioned hank dayton and had learned all that rover could tell, which was not much. but it seemed certain that mr. o'neil had started from alaska for the states. that he had not, even on his arrival, written to neale, was probably due to the fact that the man did not know where his son was. his uncle bill sorber, of course, knew neale's address, but the trouble was that the circus, which was not a very large affair, traveled about so, on no well-kept scheduled route, that mr. sorber was difficult to find. letters had been addressed to him at several places where it was thought his show might be, but, so far, no answer had been received. he was asked to send a message to mr. howbridge as soon as any word came from mr. o'neil. to hank dayton was left the task of picking out some mules to tow the houseboat through the stretch of canal. about a week, or perhaps longer, would be consumed on this trip, as there was no hurry. where the voyage is kept up for any length of time, two sets of mules or horses are used in towing canal boats. when one team is wearied it is put in the stable, which is on board the canal boat, and the other team is led out over a bridge, or gangplank, specially made for the purpose, on to the towpath. but on the _bluebird_ there were no provisions for the animals, so it was planned to buy only one team of mules, drive the animals at a leisurely pace through the day and let them rest at night either in the open, along the canal towpath, or in some of the canal barns that would be come upon on the trip. at the end of the trip the animals would be sold. mr. howbridge had decided that this was the best plan to follow, though there was a towing company operating on the canal for such boat owners as did not possess their own animals. as mr. howbridge had shrewdly guessed, the rough clothes of hank dayton held a fairly good man. he had been in poor luck, but he was not dissipated, and even mrs. maccall approved of him when he had been shaved, a shave being something he had lacked when neale first saw him. then, indeed, he had looked like a veritable tramp. gradually all that was to be done was accomplished, and the day came when ruth and agnes could say: "to-morrow we start on our wonderful trip. oh, i'm so happy!" "what about your civic betterment club?" asked agnes of her sister. "that will have to keep until i come back. really no one wants to undertake any municipal reforms in the summer." "oh, my! the political airs we put on!" laughed agnes. "well, i'm glad you are going to have a good time. you need it." "yes, i think the change will be good for all of us," murmured ruth. "tess and dot seem delighted, and--" she stopped suddenly, for from the floor above came a cry of alarm followed by one of distress. "what's that?" gasped ruth. "dot or tess, i should say," was the opinion of agnes. "they must have started in to get some of their change already. oh, gee!" "agnes!" ruth took time to protest, for she very much objected to agnes' slang. a moment later dot came bursting into the room, crying: "oh, she's in! she's in! and it isn't holding her up at all! come on, quick. both of you! tess is in!" chapter viii the robbery dot kenway stood in the middle of the room, dancing up and down, fluttering her hands and crying over and over again: "she's in! she's in! and it isn't holding her up! oh, come quick!" with a bound ruth was at her sister's side. she grasped dot by the arm and held her still. "be quiet, honey, and tell me what the matter is," ruth demanded. "oh, she's in! she's in! and it isn't holding her up!" dot repeated. "we'd better go and see what it is," suggested agnes. "tess may merely have fallen out of bed." "fallen out of bed--this time of day?" cried ruth. "impossible!" but she let go of dot and sped up the stairs whence floated down a series of startled cries. agnes followed, while dot called after them: "look in the bathroom! she's in! it isn't holding her up!" to the bathroom rushed ruth and agnes, there to behold a sight which first made them gasp and then, instantly, started them into energetic action. for tess was floundering about in the tub, full of water, with part of her bathing suit on and something bulky tied around her waist. she was clinging to the edge of the tub with both hands and trying to get to her feet. the tub was filled with water, and much of it was splashing over the side. fortunately the floor of the bathroom was tiled. "oh, tess! what are you doing?" cried agnes, as she and ruth pulled the small girl to her feet. tess was gasping for breath, and had evidently swallowed some water. "i--i--er--gug--i--was--" that was all tess could say for a while. "you poor child!" exclaimed ruth, reaching for a towel, to dry the dripping face. "did you fall in? and what possessed you to put on your bathing suit?" "and what _have_ you got around your waist?" cried agnes. "that--that--that's my--my _life preserver_!" exploded tess. "if--if you'll take the towel out of my moo-oo-oo-uth i'll t-t-tell--you!" she stammered. "yes, do let's let her tell, for mercy's sake!" exclaimed ruth. "did your head go under, tessie, dear?" tess nodded. it was easier than speaking, especially as she had not yet quite got her breath back. the two older sisters dried her partly on the towel, the little girl raising her hands to keep her sisters from stuffing any more of the turkish towel into her mouth, and then dot came up the stairs. "is she--is she drowned?" was the awed whisper. "no, but she might have been," answered ruth. "what were you two doing? this is worse than the clothes basket elevator. what were you doing?" "i was making a life preserver," volunteered tess, when she had been helped out of the bathtub and was standing on a big mat that absorbed the little rivulets of water streaming from her. "a life preserver?" questioned agnes. "yes," tess nodded. "i thought maybe i might fall off the houseboat and i didn't see any life preservers on it, so i made one." "out of the hot water bag," put in dot. "she tied it around her waist and she wanted me to tie one on me and make believe we fell into the bathtub. but i wouldn't, and she got in, and it didn't hold her up." "i should say it didn't!" cried agnes. "how could you expect a rubber bag full of water to hold you up? it couldn't hold itself up." "it wasn't full of water. i blew it up full of air just as sammy pinkney blows up his football," said tess. "and that floats in water, 'cause i saw it." "a hot water bag is different," returned ruth. "yes, she has one on," she added, as she and agnes unwrapped from their sister some folds of cloth by which the partly inflated hot-water bag had been fastened around tess's waist. "don't you ever do anything like that again!" scolded dot, as tess was sent to her room to dress while linda came up to mop the floor. "well, what am i to do if i fall overboard off the _bluebird_, i'm asking you?" called tess, turning back, and holding her bath robe around her slim form. "there aren't any life preservers on it!" "we will provide some if they are needed," said ruth, laughing. just then aunt sarah maltby came in and heard the story from agnes. "just think, dot and tess, one of you might have been drowned," she said severely. "if that bag had got around your feet, and the winding strips had tangled, your feet might have been held up and your head down. you might easily have been drowned in the bathtub." "not me--i wouldn't!" declared dot. "why not?" agnes wanted to know. "'cause i wouldn't get in it! i told tess maybe it was dangerous." "well, it wouldn't have been if i'd had more air in the bag," called tess from the half-open door of her room. "that was the matter." mrs. maccall shook her head when she heard what had happened. "i ha me doots about them on the boat," she said. "if they cut up such didoes here, what'll they do then?" "oh, i think we shall manage somehow," said ruth with cheerful philosophy. "we're used to mishaps." by dint of hard work the final preparations for the houseboat trip were made. the _bluebird_ was got in shape for the first part of the trip through the canal. hank dayton had been "slicked up," and had his two sturdy mules in readiness. neale had tested the motor again. a supply of food had been put on board, together with gasoline to use as soon as the transition from the canal to the river should have taken place. mr. howbridge had arranged his plans so as to start with the girls, and mrs. maccall had her small trunk packed and in readiness. all that was possible had been done to get into communication with neale's father, and all that could be done was to await word from him, or from mr. sorber, who might be the first to hear, that the missing klondike explorer had returned. and at last the morning of the start arrived. "oh, it's going to rain!" cried tess as she arose early and ran to the window to look out. "i don't care. we can take umbrellas, and the boat has a roof on it," said dot. "my alice-doll has been wet before." "but almira doesn't like rain, and her kittens might get cold," objected tess. "we can't take almira!" said ruth in a voice that tess knew it was useless to appeal from. "the poor cat wouldn't have a good time, tessie, and she'd be in the way with her kittens." "she could catch mice," suggested tess, as a sort of last hope. "there are mice on canal boats. i heard hank dayton say so," put in dot, seeking to strengthen tess's position. "we'll get a cat later if we need it," compromised ruth. "don't think of bringing almira." "all right!" assented dot, and then tess called: "there's sammy, and he's got billy bumps. let's go down and tell them good-by!" "can't sammy come with us?" asked dot, turning to ruth. "no indeed, nor the goat either! so don't ask him and make him feel bad when i have to refuse him." "all right," sighed dot. then she and tess finished dressing and went out to greet sammy, who was paying one of his early morning calls. "want me to do any errands for you, ruth?" he politely asked when he had refused an invitation to breakfast, saying he had already eaten. "no, thank you, sammy," was the answer. "i could go quick--hitch billy to the wagon and get anything you wanted from the village," he went on. ruth shook her head, and then had to hurry away to see about one of the many last-minute details. "well, good-by, then," said sammy to the other sisters, as he prepared to depart. "i wish i was going! we could take billy bumps." "but if they wouldn't let me take a cat on the boat i don't suppose they'd want a goat," put in tess. "i don't guess so," said sammy, more meekly than he usually spoke. "well, good-by!" and down the street he went, taking billy bumps, who belonged to tess and dot, with him. "it does look like rain," said agnes, when it was almost time for mr. howbridge to call for them in his machine to take them and their baggage to the houseboat. "it may hold off until we get on board," said ruth. she gave a sudden start. "oh, agnes! our jewelry! we forgot to take it to the bank!" "that's so! i knew we'd forget something! well, haven't we time to run down with it now before mr. howbridge comes?" ruth looked at her wrist watch. "just about," was her decision. "come on. you and i can take the package down and then hurry back." "you'd best take an umbrella, ma dearies!" cautioned mrs. maccall. "'tis showery goin' to be this day!" "we'll take one," assented ruth. she and agnes had planned to leave their jewelry and some other articles of value in their safe deposit box, but had forgotten it until now. the two older girls sallied forth with a large umbrella, which agnes carried, while ruth had the package of jewelry. they were half way to the bank, no great distance from home, when suddenly a downpour began with the usual quickness of a summer shower. "hurry! raise the umbrella!" cried ruth. "i'm getting drenched!" "isn't it terrible!" gasped agnes. she and her sister stepped into the shelter of the nearest doorway for a moment. something was wrong with the catch of the umbrella. ruth was just going to help her sister raise it when suddenly two rough-looking men rushed from the hall back of the doorway in which the girls had taken shelter. one of the men rudely brushed past ruth, and, as he did so, he made a grab for the packet of jewelry, snatching it from her. "oh!" screamed the girl. "stop! oh! oh, agnes!" the other man turned and pushed agnes back as she leaned forward to help ruth. then, as the rain came down harder than ever, the men sped up the street, leaving the two horror-stricken girls breathless in the doorway. chapter ix all aboard for a moment after the robbery neither ruth nor agnes felt capable of saying anything or doing anything. ruth, it is true, had cried out as the burly ruffian had snatched the packet of jewelry from her, and then fear seemed to paralyze her. but this was only for a moment. in few seconds both she and agnes became their energetic selves, as befitted the characters of corner house girls. "oh, agnes! did you see? he has the jewelry!" cried ruth. "yes, i saw! he pushed me back or i'd have grabbed it away again! we must take after them!" the girls started to leave, having managed to get the umbrella up, but at that instant there came such a fierce blast of wind and such a blinding downpour of rain that they were fairly forced back into the doorway. and, more than this, their umbrella was turned inside out and sent flapping in their faces by the erratic wind, so that they could not see what they were doing. "this is awful!" exclaimed agnes, and she was near to crying. "we must call for help," said ruth, but they would have needed to shout very loud indeed to be heard above the racket made by the wind and rain. a momentary glimpse up and down the street, when a view of it could be had amid the sheets of rain, showed no one in sight. "what shall we do?" cried ruth, vainly trying to get the umbrella to its proper shape. at that moment the door behind them opened. the girls turned, fearing a further attack, but they saw myra stetson, whose father kept a grocery, and it was in the doorway adjoining the store that the corner house girls had taken refuge. "what is the matter?" asked myra, when she saw who it was. "i heard the door blow open and i came down to shut it." the stetson family lived up over the grocery, where there were two flats. "what has happened?" went on the grocer's daughter. she was rather more friendly with agnes than with ruth, but knew both sisters, and, indeed, ruth was planning to have myra on one of the civic betterment committees. there had been some little differences of opinion between myra and agnes, but these had been smoothed out and the girls were now good friends. "we've been robbed! at least ruth has!" exclaimed agnes. "a ruffian took our jewelry box!" "you don't mean it!" cried myra. "i only wish i didn't," said ruth brokenly. "oh, my lovely rings!" "and my pins!" added agnes. "tell me about it," begged myra, and, rather breathlessly, the corner house girls told the story of the assault of the two burly men in the doorway. "they ran off down the street with the box of jewelry we were taking to the bank," explained ruth. "then you'd better tell the police at once," advised myra. "come on up into our flat and you can telephone from there. mr. buckley is a special officer and he has a telephone. father will send for him. do come up!" "yes, i think we had better," agreed ruth. "and we must notify mr. howbridge. that is, if he hasn't left his office." "if he has we can get him at our house," said agnes. "we were just going to start on a houseboat trip when this terrible thing happened," she explained to myra. "isn't it too bad!" said the grocer's daughter. "but do come upstairs. did you say the man came out of our hallway?" "yes," answered ruth. "we stepped into the doorway to be out of the rain for a moment and to raise the umbrella, the catch of which had been caught in some way, when they both rushed past us, one of them grabbing the box from under my arm." "and one gave me a shove," added agnes. "that's the most amazing thing i ever heard of!" declared myra. "those men must have been hiding in there waiting for you." "but how did they know we were coming?" asked ruth. "we didn't think of going to the bank with the jewelry ourselves until a few minutes ago. those men couldn't have known about it." "then it's very strange," said myra. "i must tell father about it. there may be more of them hiding upstairs." "do you mean in your house?" asked agnes, for they were now ascending the stairs, the refractory umbrella having at last been subdued and turned right side out. "i mean in the vacant flat above ours," went on myra. "it's to let, you know, and two men were in to look at it yesterday. they said they were from the klondike." "from the klondike!" exclaimed ruth, and she and agnes exchanged significant glances. "yes. that's in alaska where they dig gold, you know," explained myra. "i didn't see the men. father said they came to look at the flat, and one of them remarked they had just come back from the gold regions. they didn't rent it though, as far as i know." "isn't that strange?" said agnes slowly. "very," agreed ruth, and, by a look, she warned her sister not to say any more just then. they were ushered into the stetson living apartment over the store and mr. and mrs. stetson were soon listening to the story. "the idea of any men daring to use our hallway to commit a robbery!" cried mrs. stetson. "father, you'd better see if any more of the villains are hiding. i'm sure i'll not sleep a wink this night." "i'll take a look," said the grocer. "that hall door often blows open, though. the lock needs fixing. it would be easy for any one to slip into the lower hall from the street and wait there." "that's what they probably did," said agnes. "and it was just by accident that we went up to the doorway to raise the umbrella. the men must have seen us, and, though they couldn't have known what was in the box, they took it anyhow. oh, it's too bad! our trip is spoiled now!" and she was on the verge of tears. "don't worry, my dear," advised mrs. stetson. "we'll get the police after them. father, you must telephone at once. and you must have a look in those vacant rooms upstairs." "i will," promised the grocer, and then began a period of activity. a clerk and a porter from the grocery downstairs made a careful examination of the upper premises, but, of course, discovered no more thieves. and, naturally, there were no traces of the men who had robbed ruth and agnes. the telephone soon put the police authorities of milton in possession of the facts, and special officer buckley, was soon "on the job," as he expressed it. he came, a burly figure in rubber boots and a glistening rubber coat, to the stetson apartment, there to hear the story first-hand from ruth and agnes. with him also came jimmy dale, a reporter from the milton _morning post_. jimmy had been at the police headquarters when word of the robbery was telephoned in, and he, too, "got on the job." all the description ruth and agnes could give of the men was that they were rough and burly and not very well dressed. but it had all taken place so quickly and in such obscurity amid the mist of the rain that it was difficult for either girl to be accurate. then as much as was possible was done. several other special officers were notified of the occurrence, and the regular police force of milton, no very large aggregation, was instructed to "pick up" any suspicious characters about town. mr. stetson confirmed the statement made by myra that two men who claimed to have recently returned from the klondike had been to look at the vacant flat the day before. in appearance they were rather rough, the grocer said, though he would not call them tramps by any means. there might be a possible connection between the two, it was agreed. mr. howbridge was notified by telephone, and called in his automobile for the two girls, who, after some tea, felt a little more composed. "but, oh my lovely jewelry!" exclaimed agnes. "it's gone!" "and mine," added ruth. "there were some things of dot's and tessie's in the box, too, and mother's wedding ring," and ruth sighed. "the police may recover it," said the lawyer. "i am glad neither of you was harmed," and his gaze rested anxiously on his wards. "no, they barely touched me," said the older girl. "one of them just grabbed the box and ran." "the other one gave me a shove," declared agnes. "if i had known what he was up to he wouldn't have got away so easily. i haven't been playing basket ball for nothing!" she boasted. "well, i think there is nothing more to be done," said their guardian. "while there is no great rush, i think the sooner we get started on our houseboat trip the better. so if you'll come with me, i'll take you home, we can gather up the last of the baggage and make a quick trip to the _bluebird_. i have the side curtains up and the rain is stopping, i think." "oh, are we going on the trip--_now_--after the robbery?" asked ruth doubtfully. "yes. why not?" inquired the lawyer, with a smile. "you can do nothing by staying here, and if the men should be arrested i can arrange to bring you back to identify them. i know how bad you feel, but the trip will be the best thing in the world for you, for it will take your mind from your loss." "yes, ruth, it will!" agreed agnes, for she saw that her sister was much affected. "well, we'll go back home, anyhow," assented ruth. and after they had thanked the stetson's for their hospitality the two sisters left in charge of mr. howbridge. as he had said, the rain was stopping, and when they reached the corner house the sun was out again, glistening on the green leaves of the trees. "it's a good omen," declared agnes. of course there was consternation at the corner house when the story of the robbery was told. but even aunt sarah maltby agreed with mr. howbridge that it would do ruth and agnes good to make the houseboat trip. accordingly, after the two robbed ones had calmed down a little more, the last belongings were gathered together, dot and tess, who had considerably mussed their clothes playing tag around the furniture, were straightened out, good-bys were said over and over again, and then, in mr. howbridge's automobile, the little party started for the _bluebird_. "where's neale?" asked agnes, as they neared the canal. "he'll meet us at the boat," said the lawyer. "i just received a letter from his uncle, the circus man, which contains a little information about the boy's father." "has he really returned from the klondike?" asked ruth. "i believe he has. but whether he has money or is as poor as when he started off to seek his fortune, i don't know. time will tell. but i am glad the sun is out. it would have been rather gloomy to start in the rain." "if it had not rained those men never would have gotten our jewel box!" declared agnes. "it was only because we were confused by the umbrella in the hard shower that they dared take it." "don't think about it!" advised mr. howbridge. they reached the _bluebird_, to find neale waiting for them with smiling face. "i only wish we could start under gasoline instead of mule power!" he cried gayly. "time enough for that!" said mr. howbridge, with a smile. "is hank on hand?" "he's bringing out the hee-haws now," said neale, pointing down the towpath, while dot and tess laughed at his descriptive name for the mules. the driver was leading them from the stable where they had taken shelter from the downpour, and they were soon hitched to the long towing rope. "it 'minds me of the time i came from scotland," murmured mrs. maccall as she went up the "bridge," as the gangplank of a canal boat is sometimes called. "all aboard!" cried neale, and they took their places on the _bluebird_. mr. howbridge had arranged for one of his men to come and drive back the automobile, and there was nothing further to be looked after. "shall i start?" called hank, from his station near the mules, after he had helped neale haul up the gangplank which had connected the houseboat with the towpath. "give 'em gas!" shouted the boy through his hands held in trumpet fashion. the animals leaned forward in their collars, the rope tauted, pulling with a swishing sound up from the water into which it had dropped. the _bluebird_ began slowly to move, and at last they were on their way. ruth, agnes and the others remained on deck for a while, and then the older folk, including neale, went below to get things "shipshape and bristol fashion." dot and tess remained on deck under the awning. "don't fall overboard!" cautioned mrs. maccall to the small sisters. "we won't!" they promised. it was about ten minutes later, during which time the _bluebird_ was progressing slowly through the quiet waters of the canal, that agnes heard shouts on deck. "hark!" she exclaimed, for they were all moving about, getting matters to rights in the cabins. "what is it?" asked ruth. "i thought i heard tess calling," went on agnes. there was no mistake about it. down the stairway that led from the upper deck to the cabin came the cry of: "oh, come here! come here quick! one of the mules is acting awful funny! i think he's trying to kick mr. hank into the canal!" chapter x a stowaway ruth dropped some of the garments she was unpacking from her trunk. agnes came from the dining room, where she was setting the table for the first meal on the craft. neale and mr. howbridge ran from the motor compartment in the lower hold of the boat. mrs. maccall raised her hands and began to murmur in her broadest scotch so that no one knew what she was saying. and from the upper deck of the boat, where they had been left sitting on camp stools under the green striped awning, came the chorused cries of tess and dot: "oh, come on up! come on up!" "something must have happened!" exclaimed ruth. "but the girls are all right, thank goodness!" added agnes. together all four of them, with mrs. maccall bringing up the rear, ascended to the upper deck. there they saw dot and tess pointing down the towpath. hank dayton was, indeed, having trouble with the mules. and tess had not exaggerated when she said that one of the animals was trying to kick the driver into the canal. "oh! oh!" screamed ruth and agnes, as the flying heels barely missed the man's head. "i'll go and give him a hand!" exclaimed neale, and before any one knew what his intention was he ran down the stairs, out to the lower forward deck of the craft, and leaped across the intervening water to the towpath, an easy feat for a lad as agile as neale o'neil. "what's the matter, hank?" those on the _bluebird_ could hear neale ask the driver. "oh, arabella is feeling rather frisky, i guess," was the answer. "she hasn't had much work to do lately, and she's showing off!" arabella was the name of one of the mules. neale, born in a circus, knew a good deal about animals, and it did not take him and hank dayton long to subdue the fractious arabella. after she had kicked up her heels a few more times, just to show her contempt for the authority of the whiffle-tree and the traces, she quieted down. the other mule, a more sedate animal, looked at his companion in what might have been disgust mingled with distrust. "are they all right now?" asked ruth, as neale leaped aboard the boat again. "oh, yes. hank can manage 'em all right. he just had to let arabella have her kick out. she's all right now. isn't this fun, though?" and neale breathed in deeply of the fresh air. "oh, neale, it's glorious!" and agnes' eyes sparkled. the day had turned out a lovely one after the hard shower, and everything was fresh and green. they had reached the outskirts of milton by this time, and were approaching the open country through which the canal meandered before joining the river. on either side of the towpath were farms and gardens, with a house set here and there amid the green fields or orchards. now and then other boats were passed. at such times one of the craft would have to slow up to let the tow-rope sink into the canal, so the other boat might pass over it. the mules hee-hawed to each other as they met, and hank exchanged salutations with the other drivers. "i think it's just the loveliest way to spend a vacation that ever could be thought of," said agnes to mr. howbridge. "i hope you all like it," he remarked. "oh, yes, it's going to be perfect," said the older kenway girl. "if only--" "you are thinking of your jewelry," interrupted her guardian. "please don't! it will be recovered by the police." "i don't believe so," said ruth. "i don't care so much about our things. we can buy more. but mother's wedding ring can never be replaced nor, i fear, found. i believe those klondikers will dispose of it in some way. they'll never be caught." "klondikers!" cried neale, coming into the main cabin just then. "did you say klondikers?" and it was plain to be seen that he was thinking of his father. "yes. there is a suspicion that the men who robbed ruth were two men who the day before looked at the stetson flat," explained agnes. "they said they were klondike miners." "klondike miners!" murmured neale. "i wonder if they knew my father or if he knew them. i don't mean the robbers," he added quickly. "i mean the men who came to rent the flat. i wish i had a chance to speak to them." "so do i," said mr. howbridge. "i have hardly yet had a chance to tell you, neale, but i have a letter from your uncle bill." "does he know about father?" asked the boy quickly. "no. this letter was written before he received mine asking for your father's last known address. but it may be possible for you to meet your uncle during this trip." "how?" asked neale. "he tells me in his letter the names of the places where the circus will show in the next month. and one place is not far from a town we pass on the canal." "then i'm going to see him!" cried neale joyfully. "i'll be glad to meet him again. he may know something of my father. i wonder if they have any new animals since last summer. they ought to have a pony to take scalawag's place. "he didn't say," remarked the lawyer. "but i thought you'd be glad to know that your uncle was in this vicinity." "i am," said the boy. "this trip is going to be better than i thought. now, if he only has word of my father!" "we'll find him, sooner or later," declared the guardian of the corner house girls. "but now, since the mules seem to be doing their duty, suppose we take account of stock and see if we need anything. if we do, we ought to stop and get it at one of the places through which we pass, because we may tie up at night near some small village where they don't keep hair pins and--er--whatever else you young ladies need," and he smiled quizzically at ruth. "thank you! we brought all the hairpins we need!" agnes informed him. "and i think we have enough to eat," added ruth. "at least mrs. mac is busy in the kitchen, and something smells mighty good." indeed appetizing odors were permeating the interior of the _bluebird_, and a little later the company were sitting down to a most delightful meal. dot and tess could hardly be induced to come down off the upper deck long enough to eat, so fascinated were they with the things they saw along the canal. "isn't hank going to eat, and the mules, too?" asked dot, as she finished and took her "alice-doll" up, ready to resume her station under the awning. "oh, yes. mrs. maccall will see that he gets what he needs, and hank, as you call him, will feed the mules," said mr. howbridge. "do you think we ought to call him hank?" asked tess. "it seems so familiar." "he's used to it," answered neale. "everybody along the canal calls him that. he's been a driver for years, before he went to traveling around, and met men who knew my father." "hum! that just reminds me," said the lawyer musingly, as dot and tess hurried from the table. "perhaps i ought to question hank about the two klondikers who inquired about the stetson flat. he may know of them. well, it will do to-night after we have tied up." "where is hank going to sleep?" asked ruth, who, filling the rã´le of housekeeper, thought she must carry out her duties even on the _bluebird_. "he will sleep on the upper deck. i have a cot for him," said the lawyer. "the mules will be tethered on the towpath. it is warm now, and they won't need shelter. they are even used to being out in the rain." the afternoon was drawing to a close, matters aboard the houseboat had been arranged to satisfy even the critical taste of ruth, and mrs. maccall was beginning to put her mind on the preparation of supper when dot, who had come below to get a new dress for her "alice-doll," ran from the storeroom where the trunks and valises had been put. "oh! oh, ruth!" gasped the little girl. "somebody's in there!" "in where?" asked ruth, who was writing a letter at the living-room table. "in there!" and dot pointed toward the storeroom, which was at the stern of the boat under the stairs that led up on deck. "some one in there?" repeated ruth. "well, that's very possible. mrs. mac may be there, or neale or--" "no, it isn't any of them!" insisted dot. "i saw everybody that belongs to us. it's somebody else! he's in the storeroom, and he sneezed and made a noise like a goat." "you ridiculous child! what do you mean?" exclaimed agnes, who was just passing through the room and heard what dot said. "you probably heard one of hank's mules hee-hawing," said ruth, getting up from her chair. "mules don't sneeze!" declared dot with conviction. ruth had to admit the truth of this. "you come and see!" urged dot, and, clasping her sister's hand, she led her into the storeroom, agnes following. "what's up?" asked mr. howbridge, coming along just then. "oh, dot imagines she heard some unusual noise," explained ruth. "i did hear it!" insisted the younger girl. "it was a sneeze and a bleat like a goat and it smells like a goat, too. smell it!" she cried, vigorously sniffing the air as she paused on the threshold of the storeroom. "don't you smell it?" just then the silence was shattered by a vigorous sneeze, followed by the unmistakable bleating of a goat, and out of a closet came fairly tumbling--a stowaway! chapter xi overboard "there! what did i tell you!" cried dot, pointing a finger at the strange sight. "i heard a noise, and then it was a sneeze and then it was a bleat and then i _smelled_ a goat. i knew it was a goat, and it is, and it's sammy pinkney, too!" and, surely enough, it was. tousled and disheveled, dirty and with his clothes awry, there stood the urchin who was, it seemed, continually getting into mischief at or around the corner house. but if sammy was mussed up because of having been hidden in a small closet, the goat did not appear to be any the worse for his misadventure. billy bumps was as fresh as a daisy, and suddenly he lowered his head and made a dive for mr. howbridge. "oh!" cried ruth. "look out!" "hold him!" yelled agnes. neale, who had joined the wondering throng now gazing at the stowaway, caught the goat by the animal's collar just in time, and held him back from butting the lawyer. "he--he's just a little excited like," sammy explained. "well, i should think he would be!" declared ruth, taking command of the situation, as she often had to do where sammy was concerned. "and now what do you mean, hiding yourself and billy bumps on the boat?" she demanded. "why did you do it? and why, above all things, bring the goat?" "'cause i knew you wouldn't let me come any other way," sammy answered. "i wanted to go houseboating awful bad, but i didn't think you'd take me and billy. so this morning, when you was packing up, me and him came down here and we got on board. i hid us in a closet, and we was going to stay there until night and then maybe you'd be so far away you couldn't send us back. but something tickled my nose and i sneezed, and i guess billy thought i was sneezing at him, for he bleated and then he butted his head against the door and it came open and--and--" but sammy really had to stop--he was out of breath. "well, of all things!" cried agnes. "it is rather remarkable," agreed mr. howbridge. "i don't know that i ever before had to deal with a stowaway. the question that's puzzling me is, what shall we do with him?" "can't me and billy stay?" asked sammy, catching drift of an objection to his presence on board. "of course not!" voiced ruth. "what would your mother and father say?" "oh, they wouldn't care," sammy said, easily enough and brightening visibly at the question. "they let me stay when i went with you on our auto tour." "they surely did," remarked agnes dryly. "and billy's strong, too!" went on sammy eagerly. "if one of the mules got sick he could help pull the boat." "the idea!" exclaimed agnes. "oh, hello, sammy!" called tess, who had just heard of the discovery of the stowaway. "hello," sammy returned. "i'm here!" they all laughed. "well," said mr. howbridge at length, as the houseboat was slowly pulled along the canal by the mules driven by hank, "we must get sammy home somehow, though how is puzzling me." "oh, please can't i stay?" begged the boy. "you can send billy home, of course. i don't know why i brought him. but let me stay. i'm going to be a canal mule driver when i grow up, and i could begin now if you wanted me to." "aren't you going to be a pirate?" asked agnes, for such had been sammy's desire for years. "yes, of course. but i'm going to be a canal mule driver first." "it's out of the question," said ruth firmly. "it was very wrong of you to hide away on board, sammy. very wrong indeed! and it is going to be a great bother for us to send you and billy bumps back home, as we must do. twice for the same trick is too often." "aw, say, ruthie, you might turn billy bumps loose here on the bank and let me stay," pleaded sammy. "billy can take care of himself well enough." "sammy pinkney!" exclaimed tess, her eyes blazing. "turn our goat loose just because you brought him along when you know you had no business to do that! sammy pinkney, you are the very worst boy i ever heard of!" sammy looked rather frightened for the first time since being found on the boat, for, after all, he had an immense respect for the usually gentle tess, and cared more for her good opinion than he did for that of her elders. "i didn't mean to be bad," he whined. "i wanted to go along, that's all." "but you wasn't asked," tess insisted, pouting. "but i wasn't asked on that auto tour," went on sammy hopefully. "well, that was--was different," stammered tess. "anyway, you had no right to talk about turning our goat loose. why, somebody might steal him!" "what shall we do?" ruth appealed to mr. howbridge. "can a boat turn around in the canal?" "not wide enough here," volunteered neale, looking from a window. "but we can when we get to the big waters, about five miles farther along." "it will not be necessary to turn about and go back," said the lawyer. "i'll have to make arrangements for some one either to take charge of our stowaway at the next large town, and keep him there until his father can come for him, or else i may see some one going back to milton by whom we can return our interesting specimens," and he included boy and goat in his glances. "well, i was afraid you'd send us back," said sammy with a sigh. "but could i stay to supper?" he asked, as he sniffed the appetizing odors that now seemed more completely to fill the interior of the _bluebird_. "of course you may stay to supper, sammy," conceded ruth. "and then we'll see what's to be done. oh, what a boy you are!" and she had to laugh, though she did not want to. "i was hoping sammy could come," murmured dot, as she hugged her "alice-doll." "and billy bumps is fun," added tess. "we have no room here for goats, whether they are funny or not," declared agnes. "take him out in front, on the lower deck, sammy. tie him there, and then wash yourself for supper. i should think you would have smothered in that closet." "i did, almost," confessed the boy. "and billy didn't like it, either. but we wanted to come." "too bad--young ambition nipped in the bud," murmured mr. howbridge. "take billy outside, sammy." the goat was rather frisky, and it required neale and sammy to tie him to the forward rail on the lower deck. then mrs. maccall, in the kindness of her scotch heart, sent the "beastie," as she called him, some odds and ends of food, including beet tops from the kitchen, and billy, at least, was happy. "low bridge!" suddenly came the call from hank, up ahead with the two mules. "what's he saying?" asked ruth to mr. howbridge. "he's giving warning that we are approaching a low bridge, and that if we stay on deck and hold our heads too high we may get bumped. yes, there's the bridge just ahead. i wonder if we can pass beneath it. our houseboat is higher than a canal boat." the stream curved then, and gave a view of a white bridge spanning it. hank had had the first glimpse of it. it was necessary for the occupants of the upper deck either to desert it, or to crouch down below the railing, and they did the former. there was just room for the _bluebird_ to squeeze through under the bridge, and beyond it lay a good-sized town. "i think i can get some one there to take sammy home, together with billy bumps," said mr. howbridge. "we'll try after supper, and then we must see about tying up for the night." the houseboat attracted considerable attention as it was slowly drawn along the canal, which passed through the middle of the town. a stop was made while mr. howbridge instituted inquiries as to the possibility of sending sammy back to milton, and arrangements were made with a farmer who agreed to hitch up after supper and deliver the goat and the boy where they belonged. "well, anyhow, i'm glad i'm going to stay to supper," said sammy, extracting what joy he could from the situation that had turned against him. the _bluebird_ came to rest at a pleasant place in the canal just outside the town, and there supper was served by mrs. maccall. a bountiful one it was, too, and after hank had had his, apart from the others, he confided to neale, as he went back to the mules: "she's the beatenist cook i ever see!" "good, you mean?" asked neale, smiling. "the best ever! i haven't eaten victuals like 'em since i had a home and a mother, and that's years and years back. i'm glad i struck this job." in the early evening the farmer came for sammy and the goat, a small crate, that once had held a sheep, being put in the back of the wagon for billy's accommodation. "well, maybe you'll take me next time, when i've growed bigger," suggested the boy, as he waved rather a sad farewell to his friends. "maybe," said ruth, but under her breath she added: "not if i know it." "good-by, sammy!" called dot. but tess, still indignant over sammy's suggestion to turn the goat--her goat--loose to shift for himself, called merely: "good-by, billy bumps!" mr. howbridge went into the town and telephoned to milton to let sammy's father know the boy was safe and on his way back, and then matters became rather more quiet aboard the _bluebird_. the houseboat was towed to a good place in which to spend the night. lines were carried ashore and the craft moored to trees along the towpath. the mules were given their suppers and tethered, and hank announced that he was going to do some fishing before he "turned in." "oh, could i fish, too?" cried dot. "and me! i want to!" added tess. "i think they might be allowed to," said mr. howbridge. "there are really good fish in the canal, coming from lake macopic, and we could cook them for breakfast. they'd keep all right in the ice box--if any are caught." "oh, i'll catch some!" declared hank. "i've fished in the canal before." "oh, please let us!" begged the small girls. "but you have no poles, lines or anything," objected ruth. "i've got lines and hooks, and i can easy cut some poles," offered hank, and so it was arranged. a little later, while ruth, agnes and mrs. maccall were busy with such housework as was necessary aboard the _bluebird_, and while neale and mr. howbridge were getting hank's cot in readiness on the deck, the mule driver and dot and tess sat on the stern of the craft with their lines in the water. it was a still, quiet evening, restful and peaceful, and as hank had told the girls that fish liked quietness, no one of the trio was speaking above a whisper. "have you got a bite?" suddenly asked tess in a low voice of her sister. "no, not yet. i'm going to set my alice-doll up where she can watch me. she never saw anybody catch a fish--my alice-doll didn't." and dot propped her "child" up near her, on the deck of the craft. suddenly hank pulled his pole up sharply. "i got one!" he exclaimed. "oh, i wish i'd get one!" echoed tess. "let me see!" fairly shouted dot. "let me see the fish, hank!" she struggled to her feet, and the next moment a wild cry rang out. "she's fallen in! oh, she's fallen in! oh, get her out!" chapter xii neale wonders dot's startled cries roused all on board the _bluebird_. neale and mr. howbridge dropped the cot they were setting in place under the awning, and rushed to the railing of the deck. inside the boat ruth, agnes and mrs. maccall hurried to windows where they could look out toward the stern where the fishing party had seated themselves. "man overboard!" sang out neale, hardly thinking what he was doing. but, to the surprise of all the startled ones, they saw at the stern of the boat, hank, dot and tess, and from hank's line was dangling a wiggling fish. but dot was pointing to something in the water. "why!" exclaimed ruth, "no one has fallen in. what can the child mean?" "she said--" began agnes, but she was interrupted by dot who exclaimed: "it's my alice-doll! she fell in when i got up to look at hank's fish! oh, somebody please get my alice-doll!" "i will in jest a minute now, little lady!" cried the mule driver. "it's bad luck to let your first fish git away. jest a minute now, and i'll save your alice-doll!" neale and mr. howbridge hurried down to the lower deck from the top one in time to see hank take his fish from the hook and toss it into a pail of water the mule driver had placed near by for just this purpose. then as hank took off his coat and seemed about to plunge overboard into the canal, to rescue the doll, ruth said: "don't let him, mr. howbridge. dot's doll isn't worth having him risk his life for." "risking my life, miss kenway! it wouldn't be that," said hank, with a laugh. "i can swim, and i'd just like a bath." "here's a boat hook," said neale, offering one, and while dot and tess clung to one another hank managed to fish up the "alice-doll," dot's special prize, which was, fortunately, floating alongside the houseboat. [illustration: while dot and tess clung to one another, hank managed to fish up the "alice-doll."] "there you are, little lady!" exclaimed the driver, and he began to squeeze some of the water from alice. "oh, please don't!" begged dot. "don't what?" asked hank. "please don't choke her that way. all her sawdust might come out. it did once. i'll just hang her up to dry. poor alice-doll!" murmured the little girl, as she clasped her toy in her arms. "were you almost drowned?" and she cuddled her doll still closer in her arms. "don't hold her so close to you, dot," cautioned ruth. "she'll get you soaking wet." "i don't care!" muttered dot. "i've got to put dry clothes on her so she won't catch cold." "and that's just what i don't want to have to do for you--change your clothes again to-day," went on ruth. "you can love your doll even if you don't hold her so close." "well, anyhow i'm glad she didn't drown," said dot. "so'm i," remarked tess. "i'll go and help you change her. i'm glad we didn't bring almira and her kittens along, for they look so terrible when they're wet--cats do." "and i'm glad we didn't have sammy and billy bumps here to fall in!" laughed agnes. "goats are even worse in the water than cats." "well, aren't you going to help me fish any more?" asked hank, as the two little girls walked away, deserting their poles and lines. "i have to take care of my alice-doll," declared dot. "and i have to help her," said tess. "i'll take a hand at fishing, if you don't mind," said neale. "and i wouldn't mind trying myself," added the lawyer. and when hank's sleeping quarters had been arranged the three men, though perhaps neale could hardly be called that, sat together at the stern of the boat, their lines in the water. "mr. howbridge is almost like a boy himself on this trip, isn't he?" said agnes to ruth as the two sisters helped mrs. maccall make up the berths for the night. "yes, he is, and i'm glad of it. i wouldn't know what to do if some grave, tiresome old man had charge of our affairs." "well now, who is going to have first luck?" questioned mr. howbridge, jokingly, as the three sat down to try their hands at fishing. "i guess the luck will go to the first one who gets a catch," returned neale. "luck goes to the one who gits the biggest fish," put in the mule driver. after that there was silence for a few minutes. then the lawyer gave a cry of satisfaction. "got a bite?" questioned hank. "i have and he's a beauty," was the reply, and mr. howbridge drew up a fair-sized fish. a minute later neale found something on his hook. it was so large he had to play his catch. "you win!" cried the lawyer, when the fish was brought on board. and he was right, for it was the largest catch made by any of them. the fishing party had good luck, and a large enough supply was caught for a meal the next day. hank cleaned them and put them in the ice box, for a refrigerator was among the fittings on the _bluebird_. then, as night came on, dot and tess were put to bed, dot insisting on having her "alice-doll" placed near her bunk to dry. hank retired to his secluded cot on the upper deck, the mules had been tethered in a sheltered grove of trees just off the towpath, and everything was made snug for the night. "how do you like the trip so far?" asked mr. howbridge of ruth and agnes, as he sat in the main cabin, talking with them and neale. "it's just perfect!" exclaimed agnes. "and i know we're going to like it more and more each day." "yes, it is a most novel way of spending the summer vacation," agreed ruth, but there was little animation in her voice. "are you still mourning the loss of your jewelry?" asked the lawyer, noting her rather serious face. ruth nodded. "mother's wedding ring was in that box," she said softly. "you must not let it spoil your trip," her guardian continued. "i think there is a good chance of getting it back." "do you mean you think the police will catch those rough men who robbed us?" asked ruth. "yes," answered the lawyer. "i told them they must spare no effort to locate the ruffians, and they have sent an alarm to all the neighboring towns and cities. men of that type will not find it easy to dispose of the rings and pins, and they may have to carry them around with them for some time. i really believe you will get back your things." "oh, i hope so!" exclaimed ruth. "it has been an awful shock." "i would rather they had taken a much larger amount of jewelry than have harmed either you or agnes," went on the guardian. "they were ruffians of the worst type, and would not have stopped at injuring a person to get what they wanted. but don't worry, we shall hear good news from the police, i am sure." "i believe that, too," put in neale. "i wish i was as sure of hearing good news of my father." "that is going to be a little harder problem," said mr. howbridge. "however, we are doing all we can. i am hoping your uncle bill will have had definite news of your father and of where he has settled since he came back from the klondike. your father would be most likely to communicate with your uncle first." "i suppose so," agreed neale. "but when shall we see uncle bill?" "as i told you," went on the lawyer, "his circus will soon show at a town near which we shall pass in the boat. the younger children will probably want to go to the circus, and that will give me a good excuse for attending myself," the lawyer went on with a laugh, in which ruth joined. the night passed quietly, though about twelve o'clock another boat came along and had to pass the _bluebird_. as there is but one towpath along a canal, it is necessary when two boats meet, or when one passes the other, for the tow-line of one to go under or over the tow-line of the second boat. as the _bluebird_ was tied to the shore it was needful, in this case, for the tow-line of the passing boat to be lifted up over it, and when this was being done it awakened ruth and agnes. at first the girls were startled, but they settled back when the nature of the disturbance was known. dot half awakened and murmured something about some one trying to take her "alice-doll," but ruth soon quieted her. neale was awake early the next morning, and went on the upper deck for a breath of air before breakfast. he saw hank emerge from the curtained-off place that had been arranged for the sleeping quarters of the mule driver. "well, do we start soon?" asked hank, yawning and stretching. "i think so," neale answered, and then he saw hank make a sudden dart for something that had evidently slipped from a hole in his pocket. it was something that rolled across the deck, something round, and shining like gold. the mule driver made a dive for the object and caught it before it could roll off the deck, and neale had a chance to see that it was a gold ring. without a word hank picked it up and put it back in his pocket. then, without a glance at the boy, he turned aside, and, making his way to the towpath, he began carrying the mules their morning feed. neale stood staring after him, and at the memory of the ring he became possessed of strange thoughts and wonderings. chapter xiii the trick mule neale o'neil was wiser than most boys of his age. perhaps having once lived in a circus had something to do with it. at any rate, among the things he had learned was to think first and speak afterward. and he decided to put this into practice now. he was doing a deal of thinking about the ring he had seen roll over the deck to be so quickly, almost secretively, picked up by hank dayton. but of it neale said nothing to the mule driver nor to those aboard the _bluebird_. walking about on the upper deck and looking down the towpath toward hank, who was bringing the mules from their sylvan stable to feed them, neale heard ruth call: "how's the weather up there?" "glorious!" cried the boy. "it's going to be a dandy day." "that's great!" exclaimed ruth. "come on, children!" she called. "everybody up! the mules are up and we must be up too," she went on, paraphrasing a little verse in the school reader. "did any of the mules fall into the canal?" asked dot, as she made haste to look at her "alice-doll," who had dried satisfactorily during the night. "'course not! why should a mule fall into the canal?" asked tess. "well, they might. my doll did," went on the smallest corner house girl. "but, anyhow, i'm glad they didn't." "yes, so am i," remarked mr. howbridge, as they all gathered around the breakfast table, which mrs. maccall had set, singing the while some scotch song containing many new and strange words. "well, shall we travel on?" asked the lawyer, when the meal was over and hank was hitching the mules to the tow-rope, the animals and their driver having had a satisfying meal. "oh, yes, let's go on!" urged agnes. "i'm crazy to go through one of the locks." "will there be any trouble about getting the houseboat through?" asked ruth of her guardian. "she is a pretty big craft!" "but not as long as many of the canal boats, though a trifle wider, or 'of more beam,' as a sailor would say," he remarked. "no, the locks are large enough to let us through. but tell me, do you find this method of travel too slow?" he went on. "i know you young folks like rapid motion, and this may bore you," and he glanced quickly at ruth. "oh, not at all," she hastened to say. "i love it. the mules are so calm and peaceful." just then one of the animals let out a terrific hee-haw and agnes, covering her ears with her hands, laughed at her sister. "that's just as good as a honk-honk horn on an auto!" exclaimed tess. "calm and peaceful!" tittered agnes. "how do you like that, ruth?" "i don't mind it at all," was the calm answer. "it blends in well with the environment, and it's much better than the shriek of a locomotive whistle." "bravo, minerva!" cried mr. howbridge. "you should have been a lawyer. i shall call you portia for a change." "don't, please!" she begged. "you have enough nicknames for me now." "very well then, we'll stick to the old ones. and, meanwhile, if you are all ready i'll give the word to hank to start his mules. there is no hurry on this trip, as the man to whom i am to deliver this boat has no special need for it. but we may as well travel on." "i'll be glad when i can start the gasoline motor," remarked neale. "which will be as soon as we get off the canal and into the river," said the lawyer. "i'd use the motor now, only the canal company won't permit it on account of the wash of the propeller tearing away the banks." the tow-line tauted as the mules leaned forward in their collars, and once more the _bluebird_ was under way. life aboard the houseboat was simple and easy, as it was intended to be. there was little housework to do, and it was soon over, and all that remained was to sit on deck and watch the ever-changing scenery. the changes were not too rapid, either, for a boat towed on a canal does not progress very fast. "it's like a moving picture, isn't it?" remarked agnes. "it puts me in mind of some scenes in foreign countries--rural scenes, i mean." "only the moving pictures move so much faster," returned ruth, with a smile. "they show you hundreds of miles in a few minutes." "gracious, i wouldn't want to ride as fast as that," exclaimed tess. "we'd fall off or blow away sure!" it just suited the corner house girls, though, and neale extracted full enjoyment from it, though, truth to tell, he was rather worried in his mind. one matter was the finding of his father, and the other was a suspicion concerning hank and the ring. this was a suspicion which, as yet, neale hardly admitted to himself very plainly. he wanted to watch the mule driver for a time yet. "it may not have been one of ruth's rings, to begin with," reasoned neale. "and, if it is, i don't believe hank had anything to do with taking it, though he may know who did. i've got to keep on the watch!" his meditations were interrupted, as he sat on the deck of the boat, by hearing hank cry: "lock! lock!" that meant the boat was approaching one of the devices by which canal craft are taken over hills. a canal is, of course, a stream on a level. it does not run like a river. in fact, it is just like a big ditch. but as a canal winds over the country it comes to hills, and to get up or down these, two methods are employed. one is what is called an inclined plane. the canal comes to the foot of a hill and stops. there a sort of big cradle is let down into the water, the boat is floated into the cradle, and then boat, cradle and all are pulled up over the hill on a sort of railroad track, a turbine water wheel usually furnishing the power. once over the brow of the hill the cradle and boat slide down into the water again and the journey is resumed. the other means of getting a canal boat over a hill is by means of a lock. when the waterway is stopped in its level progress by reaching a hill, a square place is excavated and lined with rocks so as to form a water-tight basin, the open end being closed by big, wooden gates. the _bluebird_ was now approaching one of these locks, where it was to be raised from a low to a higher level. while hank managed the mules, neale steered the boat into the stone-lined basin. then the big gates were closed behind the craft, and the mules, being unhitched, were sent forward to begin towing again when the boat should have been lifted. "now we can watch!" said dot as she and tess took their places at the railing. going through canal locks was a novelty for them, as there were no locks near milton, though the canal ran through the town. once the _bluebird_ was locked within the small stone-lined basin, water was admitted to it through gates at the other and higher end. these gates kept the body of water on the higher level from pouring into the lower part of the canal. faster and faster the water rushed in as the lock keeper opened more valves in the big gates. the water foamed and hissed all around the boat. "oh, we're going up!" cried dot. "look, we're rising!" "just like in an elevator!" added tess. and, indeed, that is just what it was like. the water lifted the _bluebird_ up higher and higher. as soon as the water had raised it to the upper level, the other gates were opened, and the _bluebird_ moved slowly out of the lock, having been raised about fifteen feet, from a lower to a higher level. going from a higher to a lower is just the reverse of this. sometimes a hill is so high that three sets of locks are necessary to get a boat up or down. once more the mules were hitched to the tow-line, and started off. as the boat left the lock another one came in, which was to be lowered. the children watched this as long as they could, and then turned their attention to new scenes. it was toward the close of the afternoon, during which nothing exciting had happened, except that tess nearly fell overboard while leaning too far across the rail to see something in the water, that neale, looking forward toward the mules and their driver, saw a man leading a lone animal come out of a shanty along the towpath and begin to talk to hank. hank halted his team, and the _bluebird_ slowly came to a stop. mr. howbridge, who was talking to ruth and agnes, looked up from a book of accounts he was going over with them and inquired: "what's the matter?" "oh, hank has met a friend, i imagine," ventured neale. "it's a man with a lone mule." "well, he shouldn't stop just to have a friendly talk," objected the lawyer. "we aren't hiring him for that. give him a call, neale, and see what he means." but before this could be done hank turned, and, making a megaphone of his hands, called: "say, do you folks want to buy a good mule cheap?" "buy a mule," repeated the lawyer, somewhat puzzled. "yes. this man has one to sell, and it might be a good plan for us to have an extra one." "i never thought of that," said the lawyer. "it might be a good plan. let's go up and see about it, neale." "let's all go," proposed agnes. "it will rest us to walk along the towpath." the _bluebird_ was near shore and there was no difficulty in getting to the path. then all save mrs. maccall, who preferred to remain on board, walked up toward the two men and the three mules. the man who had stopped hank was a rough-looking character, but many towpath men were that, and little was thought of it at the time. "do you folks want to buy a good mule?" he asked. "i'll sell him cheap," he went on. "i had a team, but the other died on me." "i'm not much of an authority on mules," said mr. howbridge slowly. "what do you say, neale? would you advise purchasing this animal if he is a bargain?" neale did not answer. he was carefully looking at the mule, which stood near the other two. "where'd you get this mule?" asked neale quickly, looking at the stranger. "oh, i've had him a good while. he's one of a team, but i sold my boat and--" "this mule never towed a boat!" said the boy quickly. "what makes you say that?" demanded the man in an angry voice. "because i know," went on neale. "this is a trick mule, and, unless i'm greatly mistaken, he used to be in my uncle's circus!" chapter xiv at the circus all eyes were turned on neale o'neil as he said this, and it would be difficult to say who was the more astonished. as for the corner house girls, they simply stared at their friend. hank dayton looked surprised, and then he glanced from the mule in question to the man who had offered to dispose of the animal. mr. howbridge looked very much interested. as for the strange tramp--for that is what he was--he seemed very angry. "what do you mean?" he cried. "this mule isn't any trick mule!" "oh, isn't he?" asked neale quietly. "and i suppose he never was in a circus, either?" "of course not!" declared the man. "who are you, anyhow, and what do you mean by talking that way?" "i advise you to be a little more respectful in tone," said mr. howbridge in his suave, lawyer's voice. "if we do any business at all it will be on this boy's recommendation. he knows about mules. i do not. i shall hear what he and hank have to say." "well, it's all foolish saying this mule was in a circus," blustered the man. "i've had him over a year, and i want to sell him now because he hasn't any mate. i can't pull a canal boat with one mule." "especially not a trick mule that never hauled a boat in his life," put in neale. "here! you quit that! what do you mean?" demanded the man in sullen tones. "i mean just what i said," declared neale. "i believe this is a trick mule that used to be in my uncle bill's show--in twomley and sorber's herculean circus and menagerie, to be exact. of course i may be mistaken, but if not i can easily prove what i say." "huh! i'd like to see you do it!" sneered the man. "all right, i will," and neale's manner was confident. "i recognize this mule," he went on to mr. howbridge, "by that mark on his off hind hoof," and he pointed to a bulge on the mule's foot. "but of course that may be on another mule, as well as on the one that was in my uncle's circus. however, if i can make this mule do a trick i taught old josh in the show, that ought to prove what i say, oughtn't it?" "i should think so," agreed the lawyer. "you can't make this mule do any tricks," sneered the tramp. "he's a good mule for pulling canal boats, but he can't do tricks." "oh, can't he?" remarked neale. "well, we'll see. come here, josh!" he suddenly called. the mule moved his big ears forward, as though to make sure of the voice, and then, looking at neale, slowly approached him. "anybody could do that!" exclaimed the man disdainfully. "well, can anybody do this?" asked the boy. "josh--dead mule!" he suddenly cried. and, to the surprise of all, the mule dropped to the towpath, stretched out his legs stiffly and lay on his side with every appearance of having departed this life. "there!" exclaimed neale. "that's the trick i taught him in the show, before i left it." the other mules were sniffing at their prostrate companion. "oh, isn't he funny!" cried dot, as josh opened one eye and looked straight at her. "i'd rather have a mule than billy bumps for a pet!" declared tess. "did you really make him do it, neale?" asked ruth. "yes, and i can do it again!" declared the lad. "up, josh!" he commanded, and the mule scrambled to his feet. "dead mule--josh!" cried neale again, and down the animal went a second time. "well, what have you to say to that?" the boy turned to ask the tramp. but the man did not stay to answer. off he ran, down the towpath, at top speed. "shall i get him?" cried hank, throwing the reins on the back of one of his mules, while josh, in response to a command from neale, stood upright again. "no, let him go," advised mr. howbridge. "it is very evident that he had no legal claim to this mule, and he either took him away from the circus himself, or received him from some one who did. neale, i congratulate you." "thanks. i thought i recognized old uncle josh, but the trick proved it. he hasn't forgotten that or me; have you, old fellow?" he asked as he rubbed the mule's velvety nose. and the animal seemed glad to be near the boy. "pretty slick, i call that," said hank admiringly. "guess you'll have to teach my mules some trick, neale." "it takes too long!" laughed the lad. "is this our mule now?" asked dot, as she approached the new animal, which was quite gentle and allowed the children to pet him. "well, i don't know just who does own him," said mr. howbridge, not wanting to give a legal opinion which might be wrong. "but he certainly does not belong to that man," and he looked after the retreating figure, now far down the towpath. "'cause if he's our mule i'd like to give my alice-doll a ride on his back," went on dot. "i'd like a ride myself!" exclaimed tess. "oh, don't try that!" sighed ruth. "josh wouldn't mind," put in neale. "i used to ride him in the circus. look!" with a spring he reached the mule's back, and then, at the word of command, josh trotted up and down the towpath. "oh, do let me try!" begged tess. "shall i put her on?" neale asked, and, at a nod from ruth, he lifted the little girl up on the mule's back, and the delighted tess was given a ride. "oh, it's ever so much nicer'n scalawag!" she cried as she was lifted down. "try it, dot!" scalawag was the circus pony that neale's uncle had given to tess and dot. "i will if i can hold my alice-doll!" stipulated the youngest kenway. "sure!" assented neale, and the fun was continued. "i wish i dared to do it!" exclaimed agnes, with a look at ruth. but ruth shook her head, and agnes, after a moment's hesitation, yielded to ruth's sense of the fitness of things. "well, the question now arises," said mr. howbridge, "what shall we do with this mule, which seems to have been stolen?" "i say take him along with us," answered hank. "one of our critters might get hurt, and we'd have to lay up if we didn't have an extra one." "i don't believe uncle josh would pull in harness with another mule," said neale. "he has always been a trick mule, and has worked alone. he is quite valuable." "do you suppose your uncle sold him?" asked the lawyer. "i don't believe so," said the boy. "i believe he was stolen, and i know, in that case, that uncle bill would be glad to get him back." "well, then let's take him back," suggested hank. "i can drive him along with my mules for a spell until we come to the place where the circus is playing. he'll drive, i guess, if he won't pull a boat, and he'll be company for my mules." hank was fond of animals, and treated them kindly. "how does that plan appeal to you, minerva?" asked ruth's guardian. "this is your trip, as well as mine. do you want to be bothered with an extra mule?" "oh, i don't see that he would be any bother," she said. "if hank looks after him, we shan't have to. and if it's neale's uncle's mule he ought to be returned." "that settles it," said mr. howbridge. "we'll take the mule with us." "i'm sure uncle bill will be glad to get him back," declared neale. "and i'm pretty sure he never sold him." so it was arranged. once more the _bluebird_ was under way, the two harnessed mules towing her and uncle josh, the trick animal, wandering along at his own sweet will. for a time the corner house girls, with neale and mr. howbridge, walked along the towpath. then they went back to the boat as mrs. maccall, blowing on a horn, announced meal time. the trip along the canal continued in leisurely fashion. now the _bluebird_ would be lifted up at some water-foaming lock, or lowered in the same fashion. twice they were lifted over inclined planes, and the young folks, especially dot and tess, liked this very much. the weather had been all that could be desired ever since they started, except the rain storm in which the girls were robbed. but now, about four days after leaving milton, they awoke one morning to find a disagreeable drizzle. but hank and the mules did not seem to mind it. in fact they rather liked splashing through the rain and mud. of course getting out and strolling along the towpath was out of the question for the voyagers, and they found amusements enough on board the houseboat. it rained all day, but it needed more than this to take the joy out of life for the corner house girls. "fair day to-morrow!" cried neale, and so it proved. they approached a small town early the next day, and as they tied up at a tow-barn station to get some supplies dot cried: "oh, look at the elephant!" "where?" demanded tess. "i mean it's a picture of it on that barn," went on the mother of the "alice-doll," and she pointed. "oh, it's a circus!" exclaimed tess. "look, ruth--agnes!" and there, in many gay posters was the announcement that "twomley & sorber's herculean circus and menagerie" would show that day in pompey, the town they had then reached. "it's uncle bill's show!" cried neale. "maybe i'll hear some news of my father." "and shall we have to give back josh mule?" asked tess, who had taken quite a liking to the animal. "well, we'll see," said mr. howbridge. "but i think we may as well, all of us, go to the circus," he added. and, that afternoon, the trick mule having been left in the towpath barn with hank's animals, almost the whole party, including the driver, went to the circus. only mrs. maccall decided to stay on the houseboat. on the way to the circus the party passed the post-office. ruth remembered that this was a town she had mentioned in a letter to luke shepard and ran in to see if there was any mail. "ruth kenway," said the clerk, in answer to her question, and a moment later passed out a fine, fat letter, addressed in the hand she knew so well. "i'll read it to-night--i haven't time now," she told herself, and blushed happily. "dear luke--i hope everything is going well with him." chapter xv real news at last "oh, look at the toy balloons! look, alice-doll," and dot held her constant companion up in her arms. dot was in a state of great excitement, and kept repeating to tess stories of her experiences of the summer previous when dot, her older sisters and some friends, seated in a box of this very circus, scalawag, the pony, had been publicly presented to the smaller corner house girls--a scene, and a sensation, which is told of in a previous volume of this series and which, alas! tess had missed. "there's pink lemonade!" cried tess. "oh, i want some of that! please, ruth, may i have two glasses?" "not of that pink lemonade, tess," answered the older girl. "it may be colored with hat dye, for all we know. we'll see neale's uncle bill, who will take us to the best place to get something to drink." "just see the fat lady!" went on dot next. "fat lady! where? i don't see any!" exclaimed tess. "do you mean an elephant?" she asked. "no. i mean over there!" and dot pointed to a gayly painted canvas stretched along the front of the tent in which the side shows were showing. "oh, that! only a painting!" and tess showed in her voice the disappointment she felt. "well, the lady is real, and we can go inside and see her; can't we, ruth?" pursued dot. "oh, i just love a circus; don't you, alice?" and she hugged her doll in her arms. "yes, a circus is very nice," was the answer. "but now listen to me," went on ruth. "don't run away and get lost in the crowd." "you couldn't run very far in such a crowd," answered tess. "no, but you could get lost very easily." "oh, see the camels! they are going for a drink, i guess." "well, they have to have water the same as the other animals." "oh, what was that?" cried dot, as a gigantic roar rent the air. "that must have been a lion," answered ruth. "oh, do you think he'll get loose?" exclaimed tess, holding back a little. "i guess not." "it's the same old crowd," remarked neale, as he looked on the familiar scenes about the circus tent, while mr. howbridge walked along with ruth. agnes and neale were together, and dot and tess had hold of hands. hank, after the arrival at the grounds, said he would travel around by himself, as he saw some men he knew. he agreed to be back at the canal boat at five o'clock, after the show. "wait until i get you a ticket," neale said, as the mule driver was about to separate from them. going to the red and gold wagon, neale stepped to the window. the man inside was busy selling tickets and tossing the money taken in to an assistant, who sorted and counted it. "how many?" asked the man in the ticket wagon, hardly looking up. "seven--two of 'em halves," answered neale quickly. "well, where's the money--where's the cash?" asked the cashier rather snappily, and then, for the first time, he looked up. a queer change came over his face as he recognized neale. "well, for the love of alligators!" he exclaimed, thrusting forth his hand. "when'd you get on the lot?" "just arrived," answered neale with a smile. "got some friends of mine here who want to see the show." "surest thing you know!" cried the cashier. "how many'd you say? seven--two halves? here you are," and he flipped the tickets down on the wooden shelf in front of him. "are you coming back to join the outfit?" he went on. "we could bill 'master jakeway's' act very nicely now, i imagine. only," and he chuckled, "we'd have to drop the 'master.' you've got beyond that." "no, i'm not coming back," answered neale. "that isn't saying i wouldn't like to, perhaps. but i have other plans. i've heard that my father has returned from the klondike, and i want to see my uncle to find if he has any news. is he around--uncle bill, i mean?" "yes, he was talking to me a while ago. and i did hear him mention, some time back, that he had news of your father. well, well! i am glad to see you again, neale. stop in and see me after the show." "i'll try to," was the answer. hank, being given his ticket, went away by himself, and, after greeting some more of his circus friends, neale began a search for his uncle. it was not an easy matter to locate any of the circus men on the "lot" at an hour just before the performance was to begin. and tess and dot were eager to go in and see the animals, the side shows, the main performance and everything else. "i'd better take them in," ruth said finally. "you can join us later, neale, you and mr. howbridge." so this plan was agreed on, and then the two eager girls were led into the tents of childish mystery and delight, while neale and the lawyer sought the proprietor of the show. they found him talking to sully sorber, the clown, who was just going in to put on his makeup. at first uncle bill just stared at neale, as though hardly believing the evidence of his eyes. then a welcoming smile spread over his face, and he held out his hand. "well! well! this is a coincidence!" exclaimed the ringmaster. "i was just figuring with sully here if we would get any nearer milton than this, as i wanted to have a talk with you, and now here you are! how did it happen? glad to see you, sir," and he shook hands with mr. howbridge. "i've been going to answer your letters, but i've been so busy i haven't had time. one of the elephants got loose and wrecked a farmer's barn, and i've had a damage suit to settle. but i am glad to see you both." "tell me!" exclaimed neale eagerly. "have you any news from father? is he back from the klondike? where can i find him?" "my! you're as bad as ever for asking questions," chuckled mr. bill sorber. "but there! i know how it is! yes, neale, i have some real news, though there isn't much of it. i never see such a man as your father for not sending word direct. but maybe he did, and it miscarried. anyhow, i've been trying to get in touch with him ever since i got your letter, mr. howbridge," he went on speaking to the lawyer. "yes, your father has come back from the klondike," he resumed to neale. "he put in his time to good advantage there, i hear, and made some money. then he set out for the states, and, in an indirect way, i learned that he is located in trumbull." "trumbull? where's that?" asked neale eagerly. "it's a small town on lake macopic!" answered the circus man. neale and the lawyer looked at one another in surprise. "do you know the place?" went on the ringmaster. "i must confess i don't. i tried to look it up to see if it was worth moving there with the show, but i couldn't even find it on the map. so it must be pretty small." "i don't know exactly where it is," the lawyer said. "but the fact of the matter is that we are on our way to lake macopic in a houseboat, and it is quite a coincidence that neale's father should be there. can you give us any further particulars?" "well, not many," confessed mr. sorber. "mr. o'neil isn't much more on letter writing than i am, and that isn't saying much. but my information is to the effect that he had to go there to clear up some dispute he and his mining partner had. he was in with some men in the klondike, and when it came to a settlement of the gold they had dug out there was a dispute, i believe. one of the men lived in trumbull, and your father, neale, had to go there to settle the matter. but i am glad to see you!" he went on to the former circus lad. "and after the show, which is about to begin, we can have a long talk, and then--" at that moment a loud shouting arose from the neighborhood of the animal tent. mingled with the cries of the men was a peculiar sound, like that of some queer whistle, or trumpet. "there goes minnie again!" cried mr. bill sorber. "she's broken loose!" and he ran off at top speed while other circus employees followed, the shouting and trumpeting increasing in volume. chapter xvi ruth's alarm "minnie's loose!" cried neale to mr. howbridge after the flight of the circus men. "minnie is one of the worst elephants in captivity! she's always making trouble, and breaking loose. i imagine she's the one that wrecked the farmer's barn uncle bill was telling about. if she's on the rampage in the animal tent it means mischief!" "an elephant loose!" cried mr. howbridge. "and ruth and the children in the tent! come on, neale!" he cried. "hurry!" but there was no need to urge neale to action. he was off on the run, and mr. howbridge showed that he was not nearly so old and grave as he sometimes appeared, for he ran swiftly after his more youthful companion. the shouting continued, and the trumpet calls of the angry or frightened elephant mingled with them. then, as neale and mr. howbridge came within view of the animal tent, they saw bursting from it a huge elephant, followed by several men holding to ropes attached to the "ponderous pachyderm," as minnie was called on the show bills. she was pulling a score of circus hands after her, as though they were so many stuffed straw men. mr. bill sorber at this time reached the scene, and with him were several men who had hurried after him when they heard the alarm. the ringmaster seemed to know just what to do. he caught an ankus, or elephant hook, from one of his helpers, and, taking a stand directly in the path of the onrushing minnie, he raised the sharp instrument threateningly. on thundered the elephant, but mr. sorber stood his ground. men shouted a warning to him, and the screams and cries of women and children rose shrilly on the air. minnie, which was the rather peaceful name for a very wild elephant, raised her trunk in the air, and from it came the peculiar trumpet blasts. the men she was pulling along were dragged over the ground helplessly. "can he stop her, neale?" gasped mr. howbridge, as he ran beside the former circus boy. "well, i've seem him stop a wild lion that got out of its cage," was the answer. "but an elephant--" and then a strange thing happened. when within a few feet of the brave, resolute man who stood in her path, minnie began to go more slowly. her shrill cries were less insistent, and the men being dragged along after her began to hold back as they regained their feet. mr. sorber raised the ankus on high. its sharp, curved point gleamed in the sun. minnie saw it, and she knew it could cruelly hurt her sensitive trunk. more than once she had felt it before, when on one of her rampages. she did not want to suffer again. and so, when so close that she could have reached out and touched the ringmaster with her elongated nose, or, if so minded, she could have curled it around him and hurled him to death--when this close, the elephant stopped, and grew quiet. "minnie! minnie!" said the man in a soothing voice. "behave yourself, minnie! why are you acting in this way? aren't you ashamed of yourself?" and the elephant really seemed to be. she lowered her trunk, flapped her ears slowly to and fro, and then stood in her tracks and began swaying to and fro in the manner characteristic of the big beasts. mr. sorber went up to her, tossing the ankus to one of his men, and began to pat the trunk which curled up as if in anticipation of a treat. "minnie, you're a bad girl, and you oughtn't to have any; but since you stopped when i told you to i'll give you a few," said the ringmaster, and, reaching into his pocket, he took out some peanuts which the big animal munched with every appearance of satisfaction. "she's all right now," said neale's uncle, as the regular elephant men came up to take charge of the creature. "she was just a little excited, that's all. how did it happen?" "oh, the same as usual," replied minnie's keeper. "all at once she gave a trumpet, yanked her stakes loose, and set off out of the animal tent. i had some ropes on her ready to have her pull one of the wagons, and we grabbed these--as many of us as could--but we couldn't hold her." "i'm afraid we'll have to get rid of minnie, she's too uncertain. doesn't seem to know her own mind, like a lot of the women folks," and mr. sorber smiled at mr. howbridge. "you were very brave to stop her as you did," observed the lawyer. "oh, well, it's my business," said the animal man. "it wasn't such a risk as it seemed. i was all ready to jump to one side if she hadn't stopped." "i wonder if any one in the animal tent was hurt," went on the lawyer. "we must go and see, neale. ruth and the others--" "i hope none of your folks were injured," broke in mr. sorber. "minnie has done damage in the past, but i guess she only just ran away this time." with anxious hearts neale and mr. howbridge hastened to the animal tent, but their fears were groundless. minnie had carefully avoided every one in her rush, and, as a matter of fact, ruth, agnes, dot and tess were in the main tent when the elephant ran out. they heard the excitement, but ruth quieted her sisters. "well, now we'll go on with the show," said mr. sorber, when matters had settled to their normal level. "i'll see you afterward, neale, and you too, mr. howbridge, and those delightful little ladies from the old corner house." "oh, uncle bill, i almost forgot!" cried the boy. "have you that trick mule yet--uncle josh? the one i taught to play dead?" "uncle josh? no, i haven't got him, but i wish i had," said the circus owner. "one of the stablemen took him away--stole him in fact--and i'd give a hundred dollars to get him back!" neale held out his hand, smiling. "what do you mean?" asked his uncle. "pay me the hundred dollars," was the answer. "i have uncle josh!" "no! really, have you?" "i have! i thought you hadn't sold him!" exclaimed the boy, and he told the story of the man on the towpath. "well, that is good news!" exclaimed mr. sorber. "i'll send for uncle josh right away. i sure am glad to have him back. he was always good for a lot of laughs. he's almost as funny as sully, the clown." a few minutes later neale and mr. howbridge joined ruth and the others in the main tent. tess and dot especially enjoyed the performance very much. they took in everything from the "grand entry" to the races and concert at the end. they were guests of the show, in fact, neale having procured complimentary tickets. when the performance was over, they visited "uncle bill" in his own private tent, and the corner house girls had a glimpse of circus life "behind the scenes," as it were, tess's first experience of the sort. neale met many of his old friends and they all expressed the hope that he would soon find his father. uncle josh, the trick mule, was brought to the grounds by hank, and the animal seemed glad to be again among his companions. "will you be back again this evening?" asked neale's uncle, when the time came for the party to go back to the houseboat for supper. "i think not," was neale's answer. he said good-by to his uncle, arranging to write to him and hear from him as often as needful. and then they left the circus lot where the night performance would soon be given. "well, i have real news of father at last," said neale to agnes, as he went back toward the canal with his friends. "i would like to know, though, if he got rich out in the klondike." "if he wants any money he can have half mine!" offered dot. "i have eighty-seven cents in my bank, and i was going to save up to buy my alice-doll a new carriage. but you can have my money for your father, neale." "thank you," replied neale, without a smile at dot's offer. "maybe i shan't need it, but it's very kind of you." mrs. maccall had supper ready soon after they arrived at the boat, and then, as the smaller girls were tired from their day at the circus, they went to bed early, while ruth and mr. howbridge, agnes and neale sat out on the deck and talked. as they were not to go on again until morning, hank was allowed to go back to the circus again. he said seeing it twice in one day was not too much for him. "i do hope you will find your father, neale," said agnes softly, as, just before eleven o'clock, they all went to bed. but ruth, at least, did not go to sleep at once. in her bosom she carried the letter she had received from luke, and this she now read carefully, twice. luke was doing well at the summer hotel. the proprietor was sick, so he and the head clerk and a night man had their hands full. he was earning good money, and part of this he was going to spend on his education and the rest he intended to save. he was sorry he could not be with the houseboat party and hoped they would all have a good time. then he added a page or more intended only for ruth's eyes. the letter made the oldest corner house girl very happy. soon after breakfast the next morning they were under way again. the circus had left town in the night, and neale did not know when he would see his uncle again. but the lad's heart beat high with hope that he might soon find his father. the weather was propitious, and hours of sunshine were making the corner house girls as brown as indians. mr. howbridge, too, took on a coat of tan. as for neale, his light hair looked lighter than ever against his tanned skin. and hank, from walking along the towpath, became almost as dark as a negro. one morning, ruth, coming down to the kitchen to help mrs. maccall with the dinner, saw two fat, chubby legs sticking out of a barrel in one corner of the cabin. the legs were vigorously kicking, and from the depths of the barrel came muffled cries of: "let me out! help me out! pull me up!" ruth lost no time in doing the latter, and, after an effort, succeeded in pulling right side up her sister tess. "what in the world were you doing?" demanded ruth. "i was scraping down in the bottom of the barrel to get a little flour that was left," tess explained, very red in the face. "but i leaned over too far and i couldn't get up. and i couldn't call at first." "what did you want of flour?" asked ruth. "goodness, you have enough on your dress, anyhow." "i wanted some to rub on my face to make me look pale," went on tess. "to make you look pale! gracious, tess! what for?" "we're playing doctor and nurse, dot and i," tess explained. "i have to be sick, and sick people are always pale. but i'm so tanned dot said i didn't look sick at all, so i tried to scrape some flour off the bottom of the barrel to rub on my face." "well, you have enough now if you brush off what's on your clothes," laughed ruth. "and be careful about leaning over barrels," put in mrs. maccall. "you might have been hurt." "yes," agreed tess, "i might be but i wasn't. only my head felt funny and my legs felt queer, too, when i wiggled them." they were approaching the end of the stretch of the canal through which they must travel to reach gentory river. the boat would be "locked" from the canal to the larger stream, and then neale could have his wish of operating the motor come true. toward evening they arrived at the last lock of their trip. just beyond lay the river, and they would proceed up that to lake macopic. as the _bluebird_ emerged from the lock and slowly floated on the little basin into which just there the gentory broadened, the attention of ruth and agnes was directed to a small motor boat which was just leaving the vicinity. ruth, who stood nearest the rail, grasped her sister by the arm, and cried an alarm. "look! those men! in the boat!" exclaimed ruth. "what about them?" asked agnes, while mr. howbridge glanced at the two sisters. "they're the same men who robbed us!" exclaimed ruth. "the men who took our jewelry box in the rain! oh, stop them!" chapter xvii up the river neale o'neil, who had been steering the houseboat during the operation of locking it from the canal into the river, sprang away from the tiller toward the side of the craft at ruth's cries. there was no immediate need of guiding the _bluebird_ for the moment, as she was floating idly with the momentum gained when she was slowly pulled from the lock basin. "are those the men?" asked neale, pointing to two roughly dressed characters in a small motor boat. "i'm sure they are!" asserted ruth. "that one steering is the man who grabbed the box from me. look, agnes, don't you remember them?" mr. howbridge, who heard what was said, acted promptly. on the towpath, near the point where the river entered the canal through the lock, was hank dayton with the two mules, the services of which would no longer be needed. "hank! hank! stop those men!" cried the lawyer. the driver dropped his reins, and sprang to the edge of the bank. near him was a rowboat, empty at the time, and with the oars in the locks. it was the work of but a moment for hank to spring in and shove off, and then he began rowing hard. but of course he stood no chance against a motor boat. the two men in the gasoline craft turned on more power. the explosions came more rapidly and drowned the shouts of those on the houseboat. hank soon gave up his useless effort, and turned back to shore, while ruth and agnes, leaning over the side of the rail, gazed at the fast-disappearing men. "there must be some way of stopping them!" cried mr. howbridge, who was quite excited. "isn't there a motor boat around here--a police boat or something? neale, can't you get up steam and take after them?" "the _bluebird_ could never catch that small boat," answered the boy. "and there doesn't seem to be anything else around here now, except rowboats and canalers." this was true, and those on board the _bluebird_ had to suffer the disappointment of seeing the men fade away in the distance. "but something must be done!" insisted the lawyer. "an alarm must be given. the police must be notified. where's the keeper of the lock? he may know these ruffians, and where they are staying. we must do something!" "well, they're getting away for the time being," murmured neale, as he gazed up the river on which the motor boat was now hardly discernible as it was turning a bend. "but we're going the same way, and we may come across them. are you sure, ruth, that these are the same men who robbed you?" "positive!" declared the girl. "aren't you, agnes?" "no, i can't be sure," answered her sister with a shake of her head. "the men looked just as rough--and just as ugly--as the two who attacked us. but it was raining so hard, and we were in the doorway, and the umbrella was giving such trouble--no, ruth," she added, "i couldn't be _sure_." "but i am!" declared the oldest kenway girl. "i had a good look at the face of at least one of the men in the boat, and i know it was he who took my box! oh, if i could only get it back i wouldn't care what became of the men!" "it ought to be an easy matter to trace them," said the lawyer. "their motor boat must be registered and licensed, as ours must be. we can trace them through that, i think. neale, would you know the men if you saw them again?" "i might," answered the boy. "i didn't have a very good look at them, though. they both had their backs toward me, and their hats were pulled down over their faces. as ruth says, however, they looked rough and desperate." "we must take some action," declared the lawyer, with his characteristic energy. "the authorities must be notified and that motor boat traced. we shall have to stop here to register our own craft and get a license, and it will give us an opportunity to make some inquiries." "meanwhile those men will get away!" exclaimed ruth. "and we'll never get our jewelry back. if we could get mother's ring," she added, "it wouldn't be so bad." "they can't get very far away if they stick to the river," said mr. howbridge. "the river flows into lake macopic and there is no outlet from that. if we have to pursue the men all the way to the lake we'll do it." "well, then let's get busy," suggested neale. "the sooner we have our boat registered and licensed, the sooner we can start after those men. of course we can't catch them, for their boat goes so much faster than ours. but we can trace them." "i hope we can," murmured ruth, gazing up the river, on which there was now no trace of the boat containing the rough men. "we have two quests, now," she added. "looking for our jewelry box, and your father, neale. and i hope we find your father, whether i get back my things or not--anything but the ring." "let us hope we get both," said the boy. then followed a busy hour. certain formalities had to be gone through with, in order to enable the _bluebird_ to make the voyage on the river and lake. her motor was inspected and passed. neale had seen to it that the machinery was in good shape. mr. howbridge came back from the boat registry office with the necessary permit and license, and ruth asked him: "did you find out anything about the men?" "no one here knows them," he said. "they were never here before, and they came only to get some supplies. it appears they are camping on one of the islands in lake macopic." "was their boat registered?" asked neale. "yes. at least it is presumed so. but as we did not see the number on it we can give the authorities no clue. motor boats up here don't have to carry their number plates in such large size as autos do. that craft was not registered at this office, but it was, very likely, granted a permit at the office at the other end of the river or on the lake. so we can only keep on and hope either to overtake the men or to get a trace of them in some other way." "we can never overtake them if they keep going as fast as they did when they left here," said agnes. "they won't keep that speed up," declared neale. "but we had better get started. we'll be under our own power now, and can travel whenever we like, night or day." "are we going to take the mules with us--and mr. hank!" asked dot, hugging her "alice-doll." "hank is going to accompany us," said mr. howbridge. "but we'll leave the mules behind, having no place for them on the _bluebird_. i think i will dispose of them, for i probably shall not go on a vacation along the canal again." "but it was a delightful and novel one," said ruth. "i'm glad you enjoyed it," her guardian remarked. "it would have been little pleasure to me--this trip--if you young folks had not enjoyed it." "i just love it! and the best part is yet to come!" cried agnes, with sparkling eyes. "i want to see the islands in the lake." "and i want to get to trumbull and see if my father is there," added neale. "i think i'll send him a letter. i'll mail it here. it won't take but a moment." "you don't know his address," said agnes. "i'll send it just to trumbull," said the boy. "post-office people are sharks at finding people." he wrote the note while the final preparations were being made for leaving on the trip up the river. mrs. maccall had attended to the buying of food, which was all that was needed. and then, after neale had sent his letter to the post-office, he went down in the engine room of the _bluebird_. "are we all ready!" he called up to mr. howbridge, who was going to steer until neale could come up on deck after the motor had been started. "all ready!" answered ruth. neale turned the flywheel over, there was a cough and a splutter, and then a steady chug-chugging. "oh, we're going! we're going!" gayly cried tess and dot. almost anything satisfied them as long as they were in motion. "yes, we're on our way," said mr. howbridge, giving the wheel a turn and sending the houseboat out into the stream. the trip up the gentory river was no less delightful than the voyage on the canal had been, if one may call journeying on such a quiet stream a voyage. it was faster travel, of course, with the motor sending the _bluebird_ along. "the only thing is, though," said hank, who sat near the wheel with neale, "i haven't anything to do. i miss the mules." "oh, i guess there'll be enough to do. especially when we get up on the lake. you'll have to help manage the boat," remarked neale. "i hear they have pretty good storms on macopic." "they do," confirmed hank. they motored along until dusk that evening, and then, as their way led for a time through a part of the stream where many craft navigate, it was decided to tie up for the night. it passed without incident, and they were on their way again the next morning. it was calculated that the trip on the river would take three days, but an accident to the motor the second day delayed them, and they were more likely to be five than three days. however, they did not mind the wait. the break occurred on a lonely part of the stream, and after stopping the craft and tying up, neale announced, after an examination, that he and hank could make the needful repairs. "we'll start in the morning," said the boy. "then we'll just go ashore and walk about a little," suggested ruth, and soon she and her sisters and mr. howbridge were on the bank of the beautiful stream. the twilight lingered long that night, and it was light enough to see some distance ahead as ruth and the others strolled on. the river bank turned and, following it beneath the trees, the party suddenly heard voices seemingly coming from a secluded cove where the stream formed an eddy. "must be fishermen in there," said mr. howbridge. "we had better not disturb them." as they were turning away the voices became louder, and then on the still night air there came an exclamation. "i don't care what you think!" a man's voice shouted. "just because you've been in the klondike doesn't give you the right to boss me! you'll give me an even half of the swag or--" and then it sounded as though a hand had been clapped suddenly over the speaker's mouth. chapter xviii the night alarm mr. howbridge and ruth quickly looked at one another. the same thought and suspicion came in each of their minds at the same time. "who's that?" dot asked, she and tess having lingered behind the others to pick some flowers from the bank of the stream. "hush, children," cautioned ruth in a whisper. "we must not disturb the--fishermen." she added the last word after a look at her guardian. no further sound came from the cove where the voice had been uttering a protest and had been so suddenly hushed. "oh, look at those big red flowers! i'm going to get some of those!" cried dot, darting off to one side. "my alice-doll loves red flowers," she added. "i'll get some, too," said agnes. "mrs. maccall also loves red flowers, though she says there's nothing prettier than 'heeland hither' as she calls it." "oh, yes, we'll get her some, and she'll have a bouquet for the table," assented dot. "and then maybe she'll let us have a little play party for alice-doll to-morrow, and we can have things to eat." "oh, you're always thinking of your old alice-doll!" complained tess. "you'd think all the play parties and all this trip were just for her, and the things to eat, too." "we can eat the things mrs. maccall gives us--if she gives us any," corrected dot. "come on, help me get the flowers." "oh, all right, i will," said tess. "but you know, dot kenway, that ruthie will give us anything we want for a party." as the two little girls darted toward the clump of gay blossoms ruth called: "be careful. it may he swampy around here." "i'll look after them," offered agnes, "and you and mr. howbridge can go see if those men--" she did not finish her sentence, which she had begun in a whisper, but nodded in the direction of the clump of trees, around the eddy of the river. it was from there the stifled exclamation had come. "yes, i think it would be a good plan to take a look there," said mr. howbridge to ruth in a low voice. "especially if the children are out of the way. i don't suppose it could by any chance be the same men, but--" "look!" suddenly exclaimed ruth, pointing to something moving behind a screen of bushes that hung over the river near the eddy. as she spoke the bushes parted and a motor boat shoved her bow out into the stream. in another instant the boat came fully into view, and there was revealed as occupants two roughly dressed men. they gave one quick glance along the bank toward ruth and mr. howbridge, and then while one attended to the wheel the other sprang to the engine to increase the speed. there was a nervous spluttering from the motor, and the boat shot out into the river, the two men in her crouching down as though they feared being fired at. "there they are!" cried ruth, clasping mr. howbridge's arm in her excitement. "the same two men!" "are you sure?" he asked. "well, they're the same two we saw down near the canal lock, in the boat," ruth went on. "i'm sure it's the same boat, and i'm as positive as i ever was that they are the ones who robbed us." "it is the same boat we saw the other day," agreed the lawyer. "and i think the same men. whether they are the thieves is, of course, open to question. but i should very much like to question them," he added. "hold on there!" he called to the men. "i want to see you!" but the boat did not stop, rather she increased her speed, and it seemed that one of the men laughed. they did not look back. "i wish there was some way of taking after them!" exclaimed ruth's guardian. "but, as it is, it's out of the question." they were on a lonely part of the river. no houses were near and there was no other boat in sight, not even a leaky skiff, though some farmer boy might have one hidden along the shore under the bushes. but a rowing craft would not have been effective against the speedy motor boat, and finding another craft to match the one containing the two rough men was out of the question. farther and farther away the men were speeding now. agnes and the two younger girls, having heard the shouts of mr. howbridge, turned back from their flower-gathering trip. "is anything the matter?" asked agnes. "oh, no, nothing much. mr. howbridge saw two men in that boat," answered ruth, with a meaning look at her sister. "but they did not stop." and when she had a chance, after dot and tess had moved out of hearing distance, ruth added: "they're the same men, agnes!" "you mean the ones who robbed us?" "i'm pretty sure; yes!" "oh dear!" voiced agnes, and she looked around the now darkening woods. "i wish we hadn't stopped in such a lonely place," she murmured. "nonsense!" laughed mr. howbridge. "i shall begin to think you doubt my ability as guardian. my physical, not my mental," he added. "oh, no, it isn't that," agnes made haste to say. "only--" "and we have neale, and hank, too," broke in ruth. "while mrs. maccall is a tower of strength herself, even if she is getting old." "oh, yes, i know," murmured agnes. "but--well, don't let's talk about it," she finished. "and i think we'd better be going back. it will soon be quite dark." "yes," agreed the lawyer. "we had better go back." he looked up the river. the boat containing the two rough men was no longer in sight, but finally there drifted down on the night wind the soft put-put of the motor. "we thought you had deserted us," said neale when he saw, from the deck of the _bluebird_, the lawyer and the girls returning. "we went farther than we intended," answered ruth. "how's the motor?" asked the lawyer. "hank and i will have it fixed in the morning." "where is hank now?" agnes wanted to know, and it seemed as though she had begun to rely on the rugged and rough strength of the man who had driven the mules. "oh, he went off for a walk, and he said maybe he'd fish a while," neale said. "he's a bug on fishing." then, while mrs. maccall took charge of tess and dot, giving exclamations of delight at the flowers, even while comparing them with her highland heather, agnes and ruth told neale what had happened--the swift-departure of the motor boat and its two occupants. "they were evidently having a dispute when we came along," said ruth. "we heard one of them say something about the klondike." "the klondike!" exclaimed neale, and there was a queer note in his voice. "yes, they certainly said that," agreed agnes. "oh, i do wish we were away from here." and from the deck of the boat she looked at the wooded shores of the river extending on either side of the moored craft. the gentory was not very wide at this point, but the other shore was just as lonely and deserted as that where the voyagers had come to rest for the night. "don't be so nervous and fussy," said ruth to agnes. "mr. howbridge won't like it. he will think we don't care for the trip, and--" "oh, i like the trip all right," broke in agnes. "it's just the idea of staying all night in this lonely place." "we have plenty of protectors," asserted ruth. "there's neale and--" "what's that?" asked the boy, hearing his name spoken. "agnes was saying she was timid," went on ruth, for mr. howbridge had gone to the dining-room for a glass of milk mrs. maccall had suggested he take before going to bed. "i tell her with you and mr. howbridge and hank to protect us--" "aggie timid! oh, yes, we'll look after you!" he promised with a laugh. "at the same time--oh, well, i guess hank won't stay late," and he looked at his watch. "you seem worried," said agnes to her friend when they were alone for a moment. "do you think these men--those klondikers--are likely to make trouble?" "no, not exactly that," neale answered. "to tell you the truth i was thinking of hank. i may as well tell you," he went on. "i didn't see any connection between the two happenings before, but since you mentioned those men there may be." "what are you driving at?" asked agnes, in surprise. "just this--" answered neale. "but let's call ruth." ruth came and then neale continued: "hank suddenly dropped his tools when we were working over the motor and said he was going for a walk. he also mentioned fishing. i didn't think much of it at the time, for he may be odd that way when it comes to a steady job. but now i begin to think he may have gone off to meet those men." "but he didn't meet them," ruth said. "we saw them speed away in motor boat alone." "they may have met hank later," the boy said. "but what makes you suspicious of him?" ruth asked. "i'll tell you." and neale related the episode of the gold ring. "oh, do you think it could be one of ours that the men took? do you think hank is in with them, and wants his share of the 'swag' as one man called it?" questioned agnes eagerly. "i don't know, i'm sure," answered neale. "but he certainly had a ring. it rolled to the deck and he picked it up quickly enough." "say, ruthie!" exclaimed agnes impulsively, "now's a good chance while he's away. we could look through the place where he keeps what few things he has--in that curtained off corner by his cot." ruth shook her head. "i'd rather not," she remarked. "i couldn't bear to do that. i'd much rather accuse him openly. but we won't even do that now. we'll just watch and wait, and we won't even tell mr. howbridge until we are more sure of our ground." "all right," agreed neale and agnes after they had talked it over at some length. it was agreed that they should all three keep their eyes on hank, and note whether there were any further suspicious happenings. "of course you want to be careful of one thing," remarked neale, as the three talked it over. "what is that?" questioned agnes quickly. "you don't want that mule driver to suspect that you are watching him. if he did suspect it he'd be more careful to hide his doings than ever." "we won't let him suspect us, neale," declared ruth. "of course he may be as innocent as they make 'em, and on the other hand he may be as deep as----" "the deep blue sea," finished agnes. "exactly." "he certainly doesn't appear very deep," remarked ruth. "he looks rather simple minded." "but sometimes those simple looking customers are the deepest," declared the youth. "i know we had that sort join the circus sometimes. you had to watch 'em every minute." and there the talk came to an end. the mule driver came along some time later. he had a goodly string of fish. agnes was asleep, but ruth heard him putting them in the ice box. she heard neale speak to the man, and then, gradually, the _bluebird_ became quiet. "well, he got fish, at any rate," ruth reasoned as she turned over to go to sleep. "i hope he has no connection with those robbers. and yet, why should he hide a ring? oh, i wonder if we shall ever see our things and mother's wedding ring again." ruth was too much of a philosopher to let this keep her awake. there was a slight feeling of timidity, as was natural, but she made herself conquer this. finally ruth dozed off. how long she slept she did not know, but she was suddenly awakened by hearing a scream. it was the high-pitched voice of a child, and after her first start ruth knew it came from tess. "oh, don't let him get me! don't let him get me!" cried the little girl. chapter xix on the lake instantly ruth was out of bed, and while she slipped on her bath robe and while her bare feet sought her slippers under the edge of her bunk, she cried: "what is it, tessie? ruth is coming! sister is coming!" at once the interior of the _bluebird_ seemed to pulsate with life. in the corridor which ran the length of the craft, and on either side of which the sleeping apartments were laid off, a night light burned. opening her door ruth saw mrs. maccall peering forth, a flaring candle in her hand. "what is it, lass?" asked the sturdy scotch woman. "i thought i heard a wee cry in the night." "you did!" exclaimed ruth. "it was tess!" in quick succession, with kimonas or robes over their sleeping garments, neale, mr. howbridge and agnes came from their rooms. but from the apartments of tess and dot no one came, and ominous quiet reigned. "what was it?" asked mr. howbridge. "one of you girls screamed. who was it?" something gleamed in his hand, and ruth knew it to be a weapon. "it was tess who cried out!" ruth answered. "all i could hear was something about her being afraid some one would catch her." and then again from the room of tess came a low cry of: "ruthie! ruthie! come here!" "yes, dear, i am coming," was the soothing reply. "what is it? oh, my dear, what has happened?" when she opened the door she saw her sister sitting up in bed, a look of fear on her face but unharmed. and a quick look in the adjoining apartment showed dot to be peacefully slumbering, her "alice-doll" close clasped in her arms. "what was it, tessie?" asked ruth in a whisper, carefully closing dot's door so as not to awaken her. "what did you see?" "i--i don't just remember," was the answer. "i was dreaming that i was riding on that funny uncle josh mule that knows neale, and then a clown chased me and i fell off and the elephant came after me. i called to you, and--" "was it all only a dream, dear?" asked ruth with a smile. "no, it wasn't all a dream," said tess slowly. "a man looked in the window at me." "what window?" asked agnes. tess pointed to one of the two small casements in her small apartment. they opened on the bank of the river, and it would have been easy for any one passing along the bank of the stream to have looked into tess's windows, or, for that matter, into any of the openings on that side of the craft. but the windows, though open on account of the warm night, were protected by heavy screens to keep out mosquitoes and other insects. "do you really mean some one opened your window in the night, or did you just dream that, too?" asked ruth. "you have very vivid dreams sometimes." "i didn't dream about the _man_," insisted tess. "he really opened the screen and looked in. see, it's loose now!" the screens swung outward on hinges, and there, plainly enough, the screen of one of the casements in tess's room was partly open. "perhaps the wind blew it," suggested agnes, wishing she could believe this. neale stepped over and tested the screen. "it seems too stiff to have been blown open by the wind," was the comment. "but of course," mr. howbridge suggested, "the screen may not have been tightly closed when theresa went to bed." "oh, yes it was, sir!" exclaimed mrs. maccall positively. "i looked at them myself. i didn't want any of the mosquitoes to be eatin' ma pretties. the screens were tight closed!" "oh dear, i don't like it here!" said tess, on the verge of tears. "i don't want tramps looking in my room, and this man was just like a tramp." the noise of some one moving around on the upper deck of the craft attracted the attention of all. "that's hank!" exclaimed neale. "i'll go and see if he heard anything unusual or saw any one. it may be that some fellow was passing along the river road and was impudent enough to pull open a screen and look in, thinking he might pick up something off a shelf." but hank, who in his curtained-off place had been awakened by the confusion below him, declared he had seen or heard nothing. "i'm a sound sleeper," he said. "once i get to bed i don't do much else but sleep." so nothing was to be got out of him. and it was difficult to tell whether or not tess had dreamed about the man, as she had said she dreamed about the elephant and the mule. neale volunteered to look on the bank underneath the window for a sign of footprints. he did look, using his flashlight, but discovered nothing. "i guess it was all a dream," said ruth. "go to sleep, tess dear. you'll be all right now." "i'm not going to sleep alone," insisted the little girl, her lips beginning to quiver. "i'll stay with you," offered ruth, and so it was arranged. "it's an awful queer happening," remarked agnes. "lots of things seem queer on this trip," put in tess. "maybe we better give up the houseboat trip." "you won't say that in the morning," laughed neale. "how do you know that?" "oh, i know," the boy laughed. they all went back to their beds, but it was some time before several of them resumed their interrupted slumbers. tess, the innocent cause of it all, fell off to dreamland with ruth's arm around her in the rather cramped quarters, for the bunks were not intended to accommodate two. but once tess was breathing deeply and regularly, ruth slipped back to her own apartment, pausing to whisper to agnes that tess seemed all right now. ruth remained awake for some time, her mind busy with many things, and mingled with her confused thoughts were visions of the mule driver, hank dayton, signaling to some tramp confederates in the woods the fact that all on board the _bluebird_ were deep in slumber, so that robbery might be easily committed. "oh, but i'm foolish to think such things," the corner house girl told herself. "absolutely foolish!" and at last she convinced herself of that and went to sleep. the next morning neale and mr. howbridge, with hank to help, made a careful examination of the soft earth on the river bank under tess's window. they saw many footprints, and the stub of a cigarette. but the footprints might have been made by themselves when they had moored the boat the evening before. as for the cigarette stub, though hank smoked, he said he never used cigarettes. a pipe was his favorite, and neither mr. howbridge nor neale smoked. "some one passing in the daytime before we arrived may have flung the stub away," said the lawyer. "i think all we can do is to ascribe the alarm to a dream tess had." the little girl had forgotten much of the occurrence of the night when questioned about it next morning. she hardly recalled her dream, but she did insist that a man had looked in her window. "well, next time we tie up over night we'll do it in or near some city or village, and not in such a lonely place," decided mr. howbridge. neale and hank made good their promise to repair the motor, and shortly after breakfast the craft was in shape to travel on. the weather continued fine, and if it had not been for the alarm of the night before, and the shadow of the robbery hanging over ruth and agnes, and neale's anxiety about his father, the travelers would have been in a most happy mood. the trip was certainly affording them many new experiences. "it's almost as exciting as when we were snowbound," declared agnes. "but i'm glad we don't have to look for two little runaways or lost ones," put in ruth, with a glance at tess and dot as they went out to play on the upper deck. it was just before noon, when ruth was helping mrs. maccall prepare the dinner, that the oldest kenway girl heard a distressing cry from the upper deck where tess and dot had been playing all the morning. "tess, stop!" ruth heard dot exclaim. "i'm going to tell ruthie on you! you'll drown her! oh, tess!" "she can't drown! haven't i got a string on her?" demanded tess. "this is a new way of giving her a bath. she likes it." "give her to me! ruthie! ruthie! make tess stop!" pleaded dot. "i wonder what the matter is," said ruth, as she set down the dish she was holding and hastened to the upper deck. there she saw dot and tess both leaning over the rail, at rather a dangerous angle, and evidently struggling, one to get possession of and the other to retain, some object ruth could not see. "be careful! you'll fall in!" ruth cried. at the sound of her voice her sisters turned toward her, and ruth saw they each had hold of a cord. "what are you doing; fishing?" ruth asked. "don't you know hank said you couldn't catch fish when the boat was moving unless you trolled with what he called a spoon?" "we're not fishing!" said dot. "i'm just giving the alice-doll a bath," explained tess. "i tied her on the end of a string and i'm letting her swim in the water. she likes it!" "she does not! and you must stop! and you must give her to me! oh, ruthie!" cried dot, trying to pull the cord away from tess. in an instant there was a struggle between the two little girls. "children! children!" admonished ruth, in perfect amazement at such behavior on the part of the gentle and considerate tess. "i'm surprised at you! tess, dear, give dot her doll. you shouldn't have put her in water unless dot allowed you to." "well, but she needed a bath!" insisted tess. "she was dirty!" "i know it, and i was going to give her a bath; but she has a cold and i was waiting till she got over it!" explained dot. "tess, give me that string, and i'll pull my alice-doll up!" she demanded. the struggle was renewed, and ruth was hastening across the deck to stop it by the force of more authority than mere words, when neale, who was steering the craft, called out. "there's the big water! we're at lake macopic now!" hardly had the echo of his words died away than dot cried: "there! now look what you did! you let go the string and my alice-doll is gone!" chapter xx drifting dot burst into tears, and tess, startled by the sudden tragic outcome of her prank, leaned so far over the edge of the boat to see what happened to the doll that ruth cried: "be careful! you'll fall! don't you go into the lake, as well as the doll!" tess bounced back on deck. she looked ashamed when she saw dot crying. "you can have one of my dolls when we get back home," tess offered. "or you can have my half of almira the cat, and all her kittens. i'll give you my share." "i don't want 'em! i want my alice-doll!" wailed dot. "i'll have hank get her for you!" called neale, as he swung the boat around. "the string will float, even if your doll won't, and hank can fish it back aboard." neale signaled to hank by means of a bell running from the upper deck near the steering wheel to the motor room below, where the former mule driver looked after the gasoline engine. it was arranged with a clutch, so it could be thrown out of gear, thus stopping or reversing the power, if need be. "what's the matter?" called hank, coming out on the lower deck and looking up at neale. "going to make a landing?" "no. but dot lost her alice-doll overboard," neale explained. "tess had a string to it and--" "oh, is that what the string was?" exclaimed hank. "i saw a cord drop down at the stern past the motor-room window and i made a grab for it. i thought it was somebody's fish line. wait, i'll give it a haul and see what i can get on deck." leaving the wheel, which needed no attention since power was not now propelling the craft, neale hastened to the lower deck, followed by ruth, tess and agnes. they saw hank pulling in, hand over hand, the long, white cord. presently there came something slapping its way up the side of the _bluebird_, and a moment later there slumped down on the deck a very wet, and much bedraggled doll. "oh, it's my alice! it's alice!" cried dot. "i've got her back once more." "there won't be much left of her if she gets in the water again," prophesied neale. "this is the second time this trip." "she _is_ rather forlorn looking," agreed ruth, trying not to smile and hurt her little sister's feelings, for dot was very sensitive about her dolls, especially her "alice" one. "i shall have to get you a new one, dot." "i don't want anybody but my alice-doll! will you hang her up in the sun for me so she'll dry?" begged dot of neale, holding out to him the really wretched doll. "of course, dottie. and when we get back to milton we can take her to the hospital again and have her done over as we did after she was buried with the dried apples. poor alice-doll! she has had a hard life." tess had gone off by herself, thoroughly ashamed of her behavior. dot now went to her own little room, to grieve over the fate of the alice-doll. "aggie," said neale, "i think our tess must have surely gone insane. i never knew her to do a deliberately unkind thing before." "it certainly is curious. there, neale, mr. howbridge is beckoning to you." "yes," neale replied. "he wants us to start, and he's right. start her up again, hank," he added. "we're on lake macopic now, and we'll have to watch our step. there's more navigation here than there was on the river." "is this really the lake?" asked ruth, "are we really on macopic at last?" "this is where the river broadens out into the lake," said neale, indicating the sweep of waters about them. "it is really a part of the lake, though the larger and main part lies around that point," and he indicated the point of land he meant. lake macopic was a large body of water, and on its shores were many towns, villages and one or two places large enough to be dignified by the appellation "cities." quite a trade was done between some of the places, for the presence of so much water gave opportunity for power to be obtained from it, and around the lake were many mills and factories. there were a number of islands in the lake, some of them large enough for summer hotels, while others were merely clumps of trees. on some, campers spent their vacations, and on one or two, owned by fishermen, cabins were built. "yes, we are really here at last," said neale. "i must find out where we are to head for. where do you have to deliver this boat, mr. howbridge?" he asked the lawyer. "at the upper end of the lake," was the answer. "but there is no hurry about it. i intend that we shall all have a nice cruise on lake macopic before i let my client have possession of this boat. he is in no special need, and the summer is not nearly enough over to make me want to end our vacation yet. that is, unless you feel you must get back to the corner house, martha?" and he smiled at his oldest ward. "oh, no," ruth made haste to reply. "it is too lovely here to wish to leave. i'm sure we shall find it most delightful." "can we go in swimming?" asked tess, who liked the water. "yes, there are bathing beaches--several of them in fact," answered the lawyer. "we will stop at one and let you children paddle around." "i can swim!" boasted tess. "i can too," added dot, not to be outdone by her sister. lake macopic was beautiful, reflecting the sunlight, the blue sky, and the white, fleecy clouds. the houseboat once more began slowly navigating it as hank threw the clutch in and neale kept the wheel steady. they passed several other boats, and then, as their supplies were running low, it was decided to put in at the nearest town. "we'll get some cake and maybe a pie or two," said ruth, after consulting mrs. maccall. "and of course, some fresh vegetables." "can't we get some strawberries?" questioned dot. "too late i'm afraid, dot. but maybe we can get huckleberries." "oh, i know what i would like," cried tess. "i know too," declared agnes. "an ice-cream cone." "yep. strawberry." "i want chocolate," came promptly from dot. "and oh, can't we have some lollypops too?" went on tess. "sure--if the stores keep them," answered mr. howbridge promptly. "yes, i see a sign, 'ice cream and confectionery.' i guess we can get what we want over there--when we reach the place." "oh, goody," cried dot; and tess patted her stomach in satisfaction. it was early evening when they tied up at a wharf, which was operated in conjunction with a store, and while mrs. maccall and the girls were buying such things as were needed, neale and mr. howbridge made some inquiries regarding the rules for navigating the lake. they found there would be no trouble in getting the _bluebird_ from place to place. "have you seen a small motor boat run by two men around here lately?" asked the lawyer of the dock keeper, after some unimportant talk. "what sort of men?" "roughly dressed." "that isn't much of a description," was the retort. "a lot of the fishermen dress roughly, but they're all right. but we do have some fellows up here who aren't what i'd call first-class." "what do you mean?" asked mr. howbridge. "well, i mean there's a bunch camping on one of the islands here. somebody said they were returned miners from the klondike, but i don't know that i believe that." "why, those may be the very men we mean!" cried the lawyer. "one of them claims, or is said to have been, in the alaskan gold regions. in fact this young man's father is, or was, a klondike miner," went on mr. howbridge, indicating neale. "maybe these men could tell us something about him. did you ever hear any of them mention a mr. o'neil?" he asked. the dock tender shook his head. "can't say i did," he answered. "i don't have much to do with those men. they're too rough for me. they may be the ones you mean, and they may not." further questioning elicited no more information, and neale and mr. howbridge had to be content with this. "but we'll pay a visit to that island," decided the lawyer, when its location had been established. "we may get some news of your father in that way." "i hope so," sighed neale. rather than tie up at the dock that night, which would bring them too near the not very pleasant sights and sounds of a waterfront neighborhood, it was decided to anchor the _bluebird_ out some distance in the lake. accordingly, at dusk, when supper was over and a little stroll on shore had gotten the "kinks" out of their "sea legs," the _bluebird_ was headed into the lake again and moored, with riding lights to warn other craft away. in the middle of the night neale felt the need of a drink, as he had eaten some buttered popcorn the evening before and he was now thirsty. as he arose to get a glass of water from a shelf in his apartment he became aware of a strange movement. at the same time he could hear the sighing of the wind. "sounds as if a storm were coming up," mused the boy. and then, as he reached out his hand for the glass, he felt the _bluebird_ rise, fall and sway beneath him. "why, we're moving! we're drifting!" exclaimed neale. "the anchor must be dragging or the cables have been cut. we're drifting fast, and may be in danger!" chapter xxi the storm neale o'neil was a lad to whom, young as he was, emergencies came as a sort of second nature. his life in the circus had prepared him for quick and unusual action. many times, while traveling with the tented shows, accidents had happened. sometimes one of the animals would get loose, perhaps one of the "hay feeders," by which is meant the elephants, horses or camels. or, worse than this, one of the big "cats," or the meat eaters--including lions, tigers and leopards--would break from a cage. then consternation would reign. but neale had seen how the circus men had met these emergencies, always working for the safety of others. and now, as he seemed to be alone in the semi-darkness and silence of the houseboat at midnight, neale felt that the time had come for him to act. "we must have pulled our anchor, or else some one has cut us adrift," decided the lad. "and if any one has cut us loose it must be those men from the motor boat--the tramps--the thieves!" he visualized their evil countenances and thought of how they had behaved toward ruth and agnes--that is, if these were the two men in question. "and i wonder if hank stands in with them," mused neale. "i must find out. but first i've got to do something about the boat. if we're adrift, as we surely are, we may run into some other craft, or one may run into us, or--" neale paused as he felt a grating beneath the broad, flat bottom of the boat and the craft careened slightly. "we may go aground or be blown on an island," was his completed thought. "but we're safe so far," he mentally added, as he felt the _bluebird_ slip off some under-water rock or reef of mud over which she progressed. then neale galvanized himself into action. he forgot all about the drink he had been going to get, and, slipping on shoes and a rubber coat that hung in his room, he stepped out into the corridor which ran the length of the boat between the two rows of sleeping rooms. neale was going up on deck to look around and, if possible, find out what had caused the boat to break away from her moorings. as neale passed ruth's door it opened and she came out, wrapped in a heavy robe. "what is it, neale?" asked the oldest corner house girl. "has anything happened?" "nothing much yet. but it may," was the answer. "we're adrift, and it's coming on to blow. i'm going to see what the matter is." "i'll come with you," ruth offered. neale was like a brother to the kenway girls. "shall i call mr. howbridge and mrs. mac?" she asked. "not yet," he answered in a low voice. "it may be that the cable has only slipped, but i don't see how it could. in that case i'll only have to take a few turns around a cleat and we'll be all right. no use calling any one unless we have to." "i'll come and help," ruth offered, and neale knew she could be of excellent service. together they ascended the stairs in the half darkness, illuminated by the glow from a night oil lamp in the hall. but no sooner had they emerged on the open deck than they became aware of the gravity of the situation. they were almost blinded by an intense glare of lightning. this was followed by a menacing rumble of thunder, and then ruth gasped for breath as a strong wind smote her in the face, and neale, just ahead of her, turned to grasp her lest she be blown against a railing and hurt. "great guns!" exclaimed neale, "it's going to be a fierce storm." "are we really adrift?" exclaimed ruth, raising her voice to be heard above the howl of the wind. "i should say we are!" cried neale in answer. "but the boat is so big and solid she isn't going as fast as an ordinary craft would. but we're drifting all right, and it's going to be a whole lot worse before it's better. do you want to stay here?" he asked. "of course i do! i'm going to help!" declared ruth. but at that moment came another bright flash of lightning and a terrific peal of thunder. and then, as if this had split open the clouds, down came a deluge of rain. "go below and get on your waterproof and then tell the others to get up and dress," advised neale. "we may come out of it all right, and again we may not. it's best to be prepared." "are we--are we far from shore?" panted ruth, the wind almost taking the words from her mouth. "are we apt to be dashed against it, do you think?" "we can't be wrecked," neale answered her. "this is a well built boat. but we may have to go ashore in the rain, and it's best for the children to be dressed." "i'll tell them!" cried ruth, and she descended, glad to be in out of the storm that was increasing in violence every moment. that little time she was exposed to it almost drenched her. neale's rubber coat was a great protection to him. the boy gave one quick look around. the wind was blowing about over the deck a number of camp stools that had been left out, but he reasoned that they would be caught and held by the rope network about the deck. neale's chief anxiety was about the anchor. the cable to which this was bent was made fast to a cleat on the lower deck, and as the lad made his way there by an outside stairway he heard some one walking on the deck he had just quitted. "i guess that's hank," neale reasoned. the boy was pulling at the anchor rope when he heard hank's voice near him asking: "what's the matter, neale?" "we're either dragging our anchor or the cable's cut," answered the lad. and then, as the rope came dripping through his hands, offering no resistance to the pull, he realized what had happened. the anchor was gone! it had slipped the cable or been cut loose. just which did not so much matter now, as did the fact that there was nothing to hold the _bluebird_ against the fury of the gale. realizing this, neale did not pull the cable up to the end. he had found out what he wanted to know--that the anchor was off it and somewhere on the bottom of the lake. he next turned his attention to the boat. "we're drifting!" he cried to hank. "we've got to start the motor, and see if we can head up into the wind. you go to that and i'll take the wheel!" "all right," agreed the mule driver. "this is some storm!" he added, bending his head to the blast of the wind and the drive of the rain. it was growing worse every moment, neale realized. buttoned as his rubber coat was, the lower part blew open every now and then, drenching his bare legs. as the boy hurried to the upper deck again to take command of the steering wheel, he heard from within the _bluebird_ sounds which told him the corner house girls, their guardian, and mrs. maccall were getting up. the voices of tess and dot could be heard, excited and somewhat frightened. "the only real danger," thought neale to himself, "is that we may hit a rock or something, and stave a hole in us. in that case we'd sink, i guess, and this lake is deep." but he had not told ruth that danger. he grasped the spokes of the wheel firmly, and waited for the vibration that would tell him hank had started the motor. and as he waited he had to face the wind and rain, and listen to the vibrating thunder, the while he was almost blinded by the vivid lightning. it was one of those fierce summer storms, and the temperature took a sudden drop so that neale was chilled through. "why doesn't hank start that motor?" impatiently thought the lad. "we're drifting fast and that big island must be somewhere in this neighborhood. i wonder how close it is? if we hit that going like this--good-night!" a vivid flash of light split the darkness like a dagger of flame and revealed the heaving tumultuous lake all about, the waters whipped and lashed into foam by the sudden wind. storms came up quickly on lake macopic, due to the exposed situation of the body of water, and there were often fatalities caused by boats being caught unprepared. just as neale was going to take a chance and hurry below to see what was delaying hank, there came the vibration of the craft which told that the motor had been started. "now we'll get somewhere," cried neale aloud. "i think i'd better head into the wind and try to make shore. if i can get her under the shelter of that bluff we passed this afternoon, it will be the best for all of us." he swung the wheel around, noting that the _bluebird_ answered to the helm, and then he dashed the water from his face with a motion of his head, shaking back his hair. as the craft gathered speed a figure came up the stairs and emerged on deck. it fought its way across the deck to the wheel and a voice asked: "are we making progress, neale?" [illustration: "you shouldn't have come here, aggie!" he cried, above the noise of the storm.] "oh, yes! but you shouldn't have come up here, aggie!" he cried, above the noise of the storm. "you'll be drenched!" "no, i have on mr. howbridge's raincoat. i made him and ruthie let me come up here to help you. you certainly need help in this emergency." "it's an emergency all right!" declared neale. "but we may come out of it safely." "can't i help you steer?" asked agnes. "i know how." "yes, you may help. i'm trying to make--" neale never finished that sentence. a moment later there was a jar that made him and agnes stagger, and then the _bluebird_ ceased to progress under the power of her motor and was again being blown before the fury of the storm. chapter xxii on the island "what's the matter? what has happened?" cried agnes, clinging partly to neale and partly to the wheel to preserve her balance. "are we sinking?" "oh, no," he answered. "we either struck something, or the motor has gone bad and stopped. i think it's the last. i'd better go and see." "i'll take the wheel," agnes offered. "you don't need to," said her companion. "she had no steerageway on her; and you might as well keep out of the storm. the rain is fierce!" agnes decided to take this advice, since staying on deck now would do no good and neale was going below. neale raced to the motor room, where he found hank ruefully contemplating the silent engine. "what's the matter?" asked neale. "is she broken?" "busted, or something," was the answer. "if this was a mule, now, i could argue with it. but i don't know enough about motors to take any chances. all i know is she was going all right, and then she suddenly laid down on me--stopped dead." "yes, i felt it," returned neale. "well, we'll have to see what the trouble is." agnes had gone into the main cabin where she found her sisters and mr. howbridge. mrs. maccall, in a nightcap she had forgotten to remove, was sitting in one corner. "oh, the perils o' the deep! the perils o' the deep!" she murmured. "the salty seas will snatch us fra the land o' the livin'!" "nonsense!" exclaimed mr. howbridge, for he saw that dot and tess were getting frightened by the fear of the scotch housekeeper's words. "lake macopic isn't salty, and it isn't deep. we'll be all right in a little while. here's agnes back to tell us so," he added with a smile at his ward. "what of the night, watchman?" he asked in a bantering tone. "well, it isn't a very pleasant night," agnes was forced to admit. "why aren't we moving?" asked tess. "we were moving and now we have stopped." "neale has gone to see, tess. he will have things in shape before long," was agnes' not very confident reply. "well, we're nice and snug here," said ruth, guessing that something was wrong, and joining forces with agnes in keeping it from mrs. maccall and the younger children. "we are snug and dry here." "i think i'll go and give the sailors a hand," mr. howbridge said. "ruth, you tell these little teases a story," he said as he shifted dot out of his lap and to a couch where he covered her with a blanket. "i'll get this wet coat off," remarked agnes. "my, but it does rain!" she passed mr. howbridge his coat. ruth took her place as mistress of the little household of corner house girls--mother to the three parentless sisters who depended so much on her. "and now, children, for the story!" she said. "what shall it be about?" this took the attention of tess and dot off their worries, and though the wind still howled and the rain dashed against the windows of the _bluebird_, they heeded it not. meanwhile mr. howbridge had made his way to the motor room where a sound of hammering on iron told him that efforts to make repairs were under way. "what is it, boys?" he asked as he saw neale and hank busy over the motor. "a wrench was jarred loose and fell into the flywheel pit," explained neale. "it stopped the motor suddenly, and until we get it loose we can't move the machinery. we're trying to knock it out." "need any help?" asked the lawyer, who had donned an old suit of clothing. "i think we can manage," said neale. "but you might take a look outside and see what's happening. that is, besides the storm. we can hear that." "yes, it seems to insist on being heard," agreed the guardian of the girls. "you say the anchor is dragging, neale?" "no, it's gone completely. at the bottom of the lake somewhere. i didn't have a chance to examine the end of the cable to see if it was cut or not." "cut!" exclaimed the lawyer in surprise. "well, it may have been cut by--accident," went on neale, with a meaning look which mr. howbridge understood. "i'll find out," was the comment, and then the lawyer went out into the rain while neale and the mule driver resumed their labors to loosen the monkey wrench which was jammed under the flywheel, thus effectually preventing the motor from operating. mr. howbridge made his way along the lower deck until he came to where the anchor cable was made fast to the holding cleat. he pulled up the dripping rope, hand over hand, until he had the end on deck. a lightning flash served to show him that the end was partly cut and partly frayed through. "it may have chafed on a sunken rock or been partly cut on the edge of something under water," thought the lawyer. "at any rate the anchor is gone, and unless i can bend on a spare one we've got to drift until they can get the motor going. i wonder if i can find a spare anchor. captain leed said nothing about one when he turned the boat over to me." stumbling about the deck in the rain, storm and darkness, the lawyer sought for a possible spare anchor. meanwhile ruth kept up the spirits of her two smallest sisters and mrs. maccall by gayly telling stories. she was a true "little mother," and in this instance she well deserved the appellations of both "martha" and "minerva." fortunate it was for the corner house girls that the _bluebird_ was a staunch craft, broad of beam and stout in her bottom planks. otherwise she never would have weathered the storm that had her in its grip. lake macopic was subject to these sudden outbursts of the furious elements. it was surrounded by hills, and through the intervening valleys currents of air swept down, lashing the waters into big waves. sailing craft are more at the mercy of the wind and water than are power boats, but when these last have lost their ability to progress they are in worse plight than the other craft, being less substantial in build. but the _bluebird_ was not exactly of either of these types. in fact the craft on which the corner house girls were voyaging was merely a big scow with a broad, flat bottom and a superstructure made into the semblance of a house on shore--with limitations, of course. it would be practically impossible to tip over the craft. the worst that could happen, and it would be a sufficient disaster, would be that a hole might be stove in the barge-like hull which would fill, and thus sink the boat. and the lake was deep enough in many places to engulf the _bluebird_. mr. howbridge realized this as he stumbled about the lower deck, looking for something that would serve as an anchor. he soon came to the conclusion that there was not a spare one on board, for had there been it naturally would have been in plain view to be ready for use in emergencies. having made a circuit of the deck, not finding anything that could be used, mr. howbridge debated with himself what he had better do next. he stepped into a small storeroom in the stern of the craft above the motor compartment where neale and hank were working, and there the lawyer flashed the pocket electric torch he carried. it gave him a view of a heterogeneous collection of articles, and when he saw a heavy piece of iron his eyes lightened. "this may do for an anchor," he said. "i'll fasten it on the rope and heave it overboard." but when he tried to move it alone he found it was beyond his strength. he could almost manage it, but a little more strength was needed. "i'll have to get neale or hank," mused mr. howbridge. "but i hate to ask them to stop. the safety of the _bluebird_ may depend on how quickly they get the motor started. and yet--" he heard some one approaching along the lower deck and a moment later a flash of lightning revealed to him ruth. "i heard some one in here," said the corner house girl, "and i came to see who it was. i thought maybe the door had blown open and was banging." "i was looking for an anchor, and i have found one, though i can't move it alone," the lawyer said. "but why have you left your sisters?" "because mrs. mac is telling them a scotch story. she has managed to interest them, and, at the same time, she is forgetting her own troubles. so i came out. let me help move the anchor, or whatever it is." "spoken like martha!" said mr. howbridge. "well, perhaps your added strength will be just what is needed. but you must be careful not to strain yourself," he added, anxiously. "i am no baby!" exclaimed ruth. "i want to help! where is it?" flashing his light again, her guardian showed her, and then, while the wind seemed to howl in fiercer fury, if that were possible, and while the rain beat down like hail-pellets, they managed to drag out on deck the heavy piece of iron, which seemed to be some part of a machine. the storeroom opened on that side of the deck where the superstructure of the houseboat gave some shelter, and, working in this, ruth and mr. howbridge managed to get the frayed end of the anchor rope attached to the heavy iron. "now if we can heave this overboard it may save us from drifting on the rocks until neale and hank can get the engine to working again," said the lawyer. "we'll try!" exclaimed ruth. her guardian caught a glimpse of her face as the skies flashed forth into flame again. her lips were parted from her rapid breathing, revealing her white teeth, and even in the stress and fury of the storm mr. howbridge could not but admire her. though no one ever called ruth kenway pretty, there was an undeniable charm about her, and that had been greater, her guardian thought, ever since the day of luke shepard's entrance into her life. "it's our last hope, and a forlorn one," mr. howbridge said dubiously, looking at their anchor. together they managed to drag the heavy piece of iron to the edge of the deck. then, making sure the rope was fast about the cleat, they heaved the improvised anchor over the side. it fell into lake macopic with a great splash. "what was that?" cried neale, coming out on deck, followed by agnes, who had been down watching him work at the engine. "our new anchor," replied the lawyer. "it may serve to hold us if you can't get the engine to working," and he explained what he and ruth had done. "good!" exclaimed neale. "i hope it does hold, for it doesn't seem as if we were going to get that monkey wrench out in a hurry. i'm looking for a long bar of iron to see if we can use it as a lever." "there may be one in the storeroom where we found the anchor," remarked ruth. "i'll have a look." the _bluebird_ was not living up to her name. instead of skimming more or less lightly over the surface of the lake she was rolling to and fro in the trough of the waves, which were really high. now and then the crest of some comber broke over the snub bow of the craft, sending back the spray in a shower that rattled on the front windows of the cabin. anxiously the four on deck waited to see the effect of the anchor. if it held, catching on the bottom of the lake, it would mean a partial solution of their troubles. if it dragged-neale hastened to the side and looked down at the anchor cable. it was taut, showing that the weight had not slipped off. but the drift of the boat was not checked. "why doesn't it hold?" asked ruth. "is it dragging?" came from the lawyer. "i don't believe it is touching bottom," replied neale. "i'm afraid the rope is too short. we are moving faster than before." just as he spoke there came a vivid flash of lightning. involuntarily they all shrank. it seemed as though they were about to be blasted where they stood. and then, as a great crash followed, they trembled with the vibration of its rumble. the next instant ruth and agnes cried simultaneously: "look! we're being blown ashore!" neale and mr. howbridge peered through the darkness. another lightning flash showed their peril. "we're going to hit the island!" shouted neale. a few seconds later the wind blew the _bluebird_, beams-on, upon a rocky shore. chapter xxiii suspicions the shock of the sudden stop, the tilting of the craft, which was sharply careened to one side, the howl of the wind, the rumble of the thunder, the flash of the lightning, and the dash of the rain--all these combined to make the position of those aboard the _bluebird_ anything but enviable. "are we lost! oh, are we lost?" cried mrs. maccall, rushing out of the cabin. "ha the seas engulfed us?" "no, nothing of the sort!" answered mr. howbridge. "please don't get excited, and go back to the children. we are all right!" "yes, i believe we are," added neale, as another flash showed what had happened. "at least we are in no danger of sinking now." for they had been sent before the fury of the storm straight upon the rocky shore of one of the large islands of lake macopic. and there the houseboat came to rest. as neale had said, all danger of foundering was passed, and in case of need they could easily escape to substantial land, though it was but an island. but tilted as the _bluebird_ was, forming a less comfortable abode than formerly, she offered a better place to stay than did the woods of the island, bending as they were now to the fierce wind, and drenched as they were in the pelting rain. "we're here for the night, at least," said neale, as the continued lightning revealed more fully what had happened. "we shall not drift any more, and though there's a lot of excitement going on, i guess we can keep dry." he and mr. howbridge, with ruth and agnes, stood out on the open, lower deck, but there was a shelter over their heads and the sides of the house part of the boat kept the rain from them. the storm was coming from the west, and they had been blown on the weather side of the island. the lee shore was on the other side. there they would have been sheltered, but they could not choose their situation. "we'd better take a turn with a rope around a tree or two," suggested hank, as he came up to join the little party. "no use drifting off again." "you're right," agreed neale. "and then we can turn in and wait for morning. i only hope--" "what?" asked agnes, as he hesitated. "i hope it clears," neale finished. but what he had been going to say was that he hoped no holes would be stove in the hull of the boat. it was no easy task for him and hank to get two lines ashore--from bow and stern--and fasten them to trees. but eventually it was accomplished. then, as if it had worked its worst, the storm appeared to decrease in violence and it was possible to get a little rest. however, before turning in again, mrs. maccall insisted on making a pot of tea for the older folk, while the small children were given some bread and milk. as the berths where dot and tess had been sleeping were uncomfortably tilted by the listing of the boat, the little girls were given the places occupied by ruth and agnes, who managed to make shift to get some rest in the slanting beds. "whew!" exclaimed neale as he went to his room when all that was possible had been done, "this has been some night!" as might have been expected, the morning broke clear, warm and sunny, and the only trace of the storm was in the rather high waves of the lake. before mrs. maccall served breakfast neale, mr. howbridge, agnes and ruth went ashore, an easy matter, since the _bluebird_ was stranded, and made an examination. they found their craft so firmly fixed on the rocky shore that help would be needed before she could be floated. "but how are we going to get help?" asked ruth. "oh, there may be fishermen living on this island," said mr. howbridge. "we'll make a tour and see." "and if there is none," added neale, "hank or i can row over to the next nearest island or to the mainland and bring back some men." the _bluebird_ carried on her afterdeck a small skiff to be used in making trips to and from the craft when she was at anchor out in some stream or lake. this boat would be available for the journey to the mainland or to another island. an examination showed that the houseboat was not damaged more than superficially, and after a hearty breakfast, neale and mr. howbridge held a consultation with ruth and agnes. "what we had better do is this," said the lawyer. "we had better turn our energies in two ways. one toward getting the disabled motor in shape, and the other toward seeking help to put us afloat once more." "hank can work on the motor," decided neale. "all it needs is to have the monkey wrench taken out of the pit. in fact the space is so cramped that only one can work to advantage at a time. that will leave me free to go ashore in the boat." "why not try this island first?" asked ruth. "if there are any fishermen here they could help us get afloat, and it would save time. it is quite a distance to the main shore or even to the next island." "yes, it is," agreed neale. "but i don't mind the row." "it is still rough," put in agnes, looking over the heaving lake. "then i think the best thing to do," said mr. howbridge, "is for some of us to go ashore and see if we can find any men to help us. three or four of them, with long poles, could pry the _bluebird_ off the rocks and into the water again." "oh, do let's go ashore!" cried agnes, and tess and dot, coming up just then, echoed this. mrs. maccall did not care to go, saying she would prepare dinner for them. hank took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and started to work on the motor, while the others began their island explorations. the houseboat had been blown on one of the largest bits of wooded land that studded lake macopic. in fact it was so large and wild that after half an hour's walk no sign of habitation or inhabitants had been seen. "looks to be deserted," said neale. "i guess i'll have to make the trip to the mainland after all." "perhaps," agreed the lawyer, while ruth called to tess and dot not to stray too far off in their eagerness to see all there was to be seen in the strange woods. "well, we are in no special rush, and while our position is not altogether comfortable on board the _bluebird_, the relief from the storm is grateful. i wonder--" "hark!" suddenly whispered ruth, holding up a hand to enjoin silence. "i hear voices!" they all heard them a moment later. "i guess some one lives here after all," remarked mr. howbridge. "the talk seems to come from just beyond us." "let's follow this path," suggested neale, pointing to a fairly well defined one amid the trees. it skirted the shore, swung down into a little hollow, and then emerged on the bank of a small cove which formed a natural harbor for a small motor boat. and a motor boat was at that moment in the sheltered cove. all in the party saw it, and they also saw something else. this was a view of two roughly dressed men, who, at the sound of crackling branches and rustling leaves beneath the feet of the explorers, looked up quickly. "it's them again! come on!" quickly cried one of the men, and in an instant they had jumped into the motor boat which was tied to a tree near shore. it was the work of but a moment for one of them to turn over the flywheel and start the motor. the other cast off, and in less than a minute from the time the corner house girls and their friends had glimpsed them the two ragged men were on their way in their boat out of the cove. "look! look!" cried ruth, pointing at them. "they're the same ones!" "the men we saw at the lock?" asked neale. "yes, and the men who robbed us--i am almost positive of that!" cried the oldest corner house girl. "the rascals!" exclaimed the lawyer. "they're going to escape us again! fate seems to be with them! every time we come upon them they manage to distance us!" this was what was happening now. the tramps--such they seemed to be, though the possession of a motor boat took them out of the ordinary class--with never a look behind, speeded away. "how provoking!" cried agnes. "to think they have our jewelry and we can't make them give it up." "you are not sure they have it," said mr. howbridge, as the motor craft passed out of sight beyond a tree-fringed point. "i think i am," said ruth. "if they are not guilty why do they always hurry away when they see us?" "well, minerva, that is a question i can not answer," said her guardian, with a smile. "you are a better lawyer than i when it comes to that. certainly it does look suspicious." "oh, for a motor boat!" sighed neale. "i'd like to chase those rascals!" "yes, it would be interesting to find out why they seem to fear us," agreed mr. howbridge. "but it's too late, now." "i wonder why they came to this island," mused ruth. "do you think they were fishermen?" "they didn't have any implements of the trade," said mr. howbridge. "but their presence proves that the island is not altogether uninhabited. let's go along, and we may find some one to help get the boat back into the water." they resumed their journey, new beauties of nature being revealed at every step. the trees and grass were particularly green after the effective washing of the night before, and there were many wild flowers which the two little girls gathered, with many exclamations of delight. turning with the path, the trampers suddenly came to a small clearing amid the trees. it was a little grassy glade, through which flowed a stream of water, doubtless from some hidden spring higher up among the rocks. but what most interested neale, agnes, ruth and the lawyer was a small cabin that stood in the middle of the beautiful green grass. "there's a house!" cried dot. "look!" "it's the start of one, anyhow," agreed mr. howbridge. "and somebody lives in it," went on ruth, as the door of the cabin opened and a heavily bearded man came out, followed by a dog. the dog ran, barking, toward the explorers, but a command from the man brought him back. "i hope we aren't trespassing," said mr. howbridge. "we were blown on the island last night, and we're looking for help to get our houseboat back into the lake." "oh, no, you aren't trespassing," the man replied with a smile, showing two rows of white teeth that contrasted strangely with his black beard. "i own part of the island, but not all of it. what sort of boat did you say?" "houseboat," and the lawyer explained the trouble. "are there men here we can get to help us pole her off the shore?" he asked. "well, i guess i and my two boys could give you a hand," was the slow answer. "they've gone over to the mainland with some fish to sell, but they'll be back around noon." "we'll be glad of their help," went on the lawyer. "do you live here all the while?" "mostly. i and my boys fish and guide. lots of men come here in the summer that don't know where to fish, and we take 'em out." "were those your two sons we saw in a motor boat back there in the cove?" asked neale, indicating the place where the tramps had been observed. rather anxiously the bearded man's answer was awaited. "what sort of boat was it?" he countered. neale described it sufficiently well. "no, those weren't my boys," returned the man, while the dog made friends with the visitors, much to the delight of dot and tess. "we haven't any such boat as that. i don't know who those fellows could be, though of course many people come to this island." "i wish we could find out who those men are," said mr. howbridge. "i have peculiar reasons for wanting to know," he went on. "i think they call themselves klondikers, because they have been, or claim to have been, to the alaskan klondike," said neale. "do you happen to know any klondikers around here?" somewhat to the surprise of the boy the answer came promptly: "yes, i do. a man named o'neil." "what!" exclaimed neale, starting forward. "do you know my father? where is he? tell me about him!" "well, i don't know that he's your father," went on the black-bearded man. "though, now i recollect, he did say he had a son and he hoped to see him soon. but this o'neil lives on one of the islands here in the lake. or at least he's been staying there the last week. he bought some fish of me, and he said then he'd been to the klondike after gold." "did he say he got any?" asked neale. the man of the cabin shook his head. "i wouldn't say so," he remarked. "mr. o'neil had to borrow money of one of my boys to hire a boat. i guess he's poorer than the general run. he couldn't have got any gold in the klondike." at this answer neale's heart sank, and a worried suspicion crept into his mind. if his father were poor it might explain something that had been troubling the boy of late. somehow, all the brightness seemed to go out of the day. neale's happy prospects appeared very dim now. "poor father!" he murmured to himself. suddenly, from the lake behind them came some loud shouts, at which the dog began to bark. then followed a shot, and the animal raced down the slope toward the water. chapter xxiv closing in "perhaps these are the men!" exclaimed ruth to the lawyer. "what men?" he asked. "those tramps--the ones who robbed us in the rain storm that day. if they come here--" "what's the matter?" asked the man of the cabin--aleck martin he had said his name was. "what seems to be the trouble with the young lady?" and, as he spoke, gazing at ruth, the barking of the dog and the shouting grew apace. "she is excited, thinking the rascals about whom we have been inquiring might now make their appearance," mr. howbridge answered. "mr. martin laughed so heartily that his black beard waved up and down like a bush in the wind, and dot and tess watched it in fascination. "excuse me, friend," the dweller in the cabin went on, "but i couldn't help it. those are my two boys coming back. they always cut up like that. seems like the quietness of the lake and this island gets on their nerves sometimes, and they have to raise a ruction. no harm in it, not a bit. jack, the dog, enjoys it as much as they do." this was evident a few moments later, for up the slope came two sturdy young men, one carrying a gun, and the dog was frisking about between the two, having the jolliest time imaginable. "there are my boys!" said mr. martin, and he spoke with pride. "oh, will you excuse me?" asked ruth, in some confusion. "that's all right--they do look like tramps," said their father. "but you can't wear your best clothes fussing around boats and fish and taking parties out. well, tom and henry, any luck?" he asked the newcomers. "extra fine, dad," answered one, while both of them stared curiously at the visitors. "that's good," went on mr. martin. "these folks," he added, "were blown ashore last night in their houseboat. they want help to get it off." "will you go and look at her, and then we can make a bargain?" interposed mr. howbridge. "oh, shucks now, friend, we aren't always out for money, though we make a living by working for summer folks like you," said mr. martin, smiling. "is that your boat over there?" asked one of the young men whose name, they learned later, was tom. "yes," assented neale, for the fisherman pointed in the direction of the stranded _bluebird_, which, however, could not be seen from the cabin. "we saw her as we came around," went on henry. "i wondered what she was doing up on shore, and we intended to have a look after we tied up our craft." "will you be able to help us get her afloat?" asked ruth, for she rather liked the healthful, manly appearance of the two young men. "sure!" assented their father. "this is that o'neil man's son," he went on, speaking to his boys. "what, o'neil; the klondiker?" asked tom quickly. "yes," assented neale. "can you tell me about him? where is he? how did he make out in alaska?" "well, he's on an island about ten miles from here," was the answer of henry. "as for making out, i don't believe he did very well in the gold business, to tell you the truth. he doesn't say much about it, but i guess the other men got most of it." "what other men?" asked neale, and again his heart sank and that terrible suspicion came back to him. "oh, a bunch he is in with," answered henry martin. "they all live together in a shack on cedar island. your father hired a boat of us. i trusted him for it, as he said he had no ready cash. but i reckon it's all right." this only served to make neale more uneasy. he had been hoping against hope that his father would have found at least a competence in the klondike. now it seemed he had not, and, driven by poverty, he might have adopted desperate measures. nor did neale like the remarks about his father being in with a "bunch" of men. true, mr. o'neil had been in the circus at one time, and they, of necessity, are a class of rough and ready men. but they are honest, neale reflected. these other men--if the two who had escaped in the motor boat were any samples--were not to be trusted. so it was with falling spirits that the boy waited for what was to happen next. agnes' quick mind and ready sympathy guessed neale's thoughts. "it will be all right, neale o'neil. you know it will. your father couldn't go wrong." "you're a pal worth having, aggie," he whispered to the girl. "i would like to see my father," he said to the lawyer. "do you think we could go to cedar island in the houseboat?" "of course we can!" exclaimed mr. howbridge. "we'll go as soon as we can get her afloat." "and that won't take long; she didn't seem to be in a bad position," said tom. "come on, we'll go over now," he went on, nodding to his father and his brother. "i have an alice-doll on the boat," said dot, taking a sudden liking to henry. "you have?" he exclaimed, taking hold of her hand which she thrust confidingly into his. "well, that's fine! i wish i had a doll!" "do you?" asked dot, all smiles now. "well, i have a lot of 'em at home. there's muriel and bonnie betty and a sailor boy doll, and nosmo king kenway, and then i have twins--ann eliza and eliza ann, and--" "eliza ann isn't a twin any more--anyway not a good twin," put in tess. "both her legs are off!" "oh, that's too bad!" exclaimed henry sympathetically. "and if you want a doll, i can give you one of mine," proceeded dot. "only i don't want to give you alice-doll 'cause she's all i have with me. but if you want muriel--" "muriel has only one eye," said tess quickly. "i think i should love a one-eyed doll!" said the young man, who seemed to know just how to talk to children. "then i'll send her to you!" delightedly offered dot. "and i'll send you one of almira's kittens!" said tess, who did not seem to want her sister to do all the giving. "hold on there! don't i get anything?" asked tom, in mock distress. "almira's got a lot of kittens," said dot. "would you like one of them?" "well i should say so! if henry's going to have a kitten and a doll, i think i ought at least to have a kitten," he said. "well, i'll send you one," promised tess. and then, with the two children, one in charge of henry and the other holding tom's hand, the trip was made back to where the _bluebird_ was stranded. "it won't be much of a job to get her off," declared mr. martin, when he and his sons had made an expert examination. "get some long poles, boys, and some blocks, and i think half an hour's work will do the trick." "oh, shall we be able to move soon?" asked mrs. maccall, coming out on deck. "we hope so," answered ruth, as she went on board and told of the visit to the cabin, while neale hurried to the engine room to see what success hank had met with. the mule driver had succeeded in getting the monkey wrench out from under the flywheel, and the craft could move under her own power once she was afloat. "what's the matter with neale?" asked mrs. maccall, while the men were in the woods getting the poles. "he looks as if all the joy had departed from life." "i'm afraid it has, for him," said ruth soberly. "it seems that his father is located near here--on cedar island--and is poor." "nothing in that to take the joy out of life!" and mrs. maccall strode away. "well, being poor isn't anything," declared agnes. "lots of people are poor. we were, before uncle peter stower left us the corner house." "i think neale fears his father may have had something to do with-oh, agnes, i hate to say it, but i think neale believes his father either robbed us, or knows something about the men who took the jewelry box!" "but we know it isn't true!" exclaimed agnes. "anyway, the klondike trip was a failure." "yes, and i'm so sorry!" exclaimed agnes. "couldn't we help--" "i think we shall just have to wait," advised her sister. "we can talk to mr. howbridge about it after we find out more. i think they are going to move the boat now." this task was undertaken, and to such good advantage did mr. martin and his sons work, aided, of course, by neale, mr. howbridge and hank, that the _bluebird_ was soon afloat again. "now we can go on, and when i get back home i'll send you a doll and a pussy cat!" offered dot to henry. "and i'll send you two pussy cats!" tess said to tom. the young men laughed, their father joining in. "how much do i owe you?" asked the lawyer, when it was certain that the houseboat was afloat, undamaged, and could proceed on her way. "not a cent!" was the hearty answer of mr. martin. "we always help our neighbors up here, and you were neighbors for a while," he added with a laugh. "well, i'm a thousand times obliged to you," said the guardian of the corner house girls. "our trip might have been spoiled if we couldn't have gone on, though i must say you have a delightful resting spot in this island." "we like it here," admitted the fisherman, while his sons were looking over the houseboat, which they pronounced "slick." neale seemed to have lost heart and spirit. dot and tess, of course, did not notice it so much, as there was plenty to occupy them. but to ruth and agnes, as well as to mr. howbridge, neale's dejection was very evident. "is the motor all right?" asked the lawyer of neale, when the martins had departed with their dog. "yes, she runs all right now." "then we might as well head for cedar island," suggested the lawyer. "the sooner you find your father the better." "yes--i suppose so," and neale turned away to hide his sudden emotion. once more the _bluebird_ was under way, moving slowly over the sparkling waters of lake macopic. all traces of the storm had vanished. "mrs. mac wants to know if we are going to pass any stores," said agnes, coming up on deck when the island on which they had been stranded had been left behind. "we can run over to the mainland if she wants us to," the lawyer said. "is it anything important, agnes?" "only some things to eat." "well, that's important enough!" he laughed. "we'll stop at that point over there," and he indicated one. "from there we can make a straight run to cedar island. you won't mind the delay, will you?" he asked neale, who was steering. "oh, no," was the indifferent answer. "i guess there's no hurry." they all felt sorry for the lad, but decided nothing could be done. mr. howbridge admitted, after ruth had spoken to him, that matters looked black for mr. o'neil, but with his legal wisdom the lawyer said: "don't bring in a verdict of guilty until you have heard all the evidence. it is only fair to suspend judgment. it would be cruel to raise neale's hopes, only to dash them again, but i am hoping for the best." this comforted ruth and agnes a little; though of course agnes, in her loyalty to neale, did not allow doubt to enter her mind. the point for which the boat was headed was a little settlement on the lake shore. it was also the center of a summer colony, and was a lively place just at present, this being the height of the season. at the point were a number of stores, and it was there the supplies for the scotch housekeeper could be purchased. ruth and agnes had made their selections and the things were being put on board when a number of men were observed coming down the long dock. one of them wore a nickel badge on the outside of his coat, and seemed to have an air of authority. neale, who had been below helping hank store away some supplies of oil and gasoline that had been purchased, came out on deck, and, with the girls and mr. howbridge, watched the approach of the men. "looks like a constable or sheriff's officer with a posse," commented ruth. "it reminds me of a scene i saw in the movies." "it is an officer--i know him," said mr. howbridge in a low voice. "he once worked on a case for me several years ago. that's bob newcomb--quite a character in his way. i wonder if he remembers me." this point was settled a moment later, for the officer--he with the nickel badge of authority--looked up and his face lightened when he saw the lawyer. "well, if it ain't mr. howbridge!" exclaimed mr. newcomb. "well now, sufferin' caterpillers, this is providential! is that your boat?" he asked, halting his force by a wave of his hand. "i may say i control it," was the answer. "why do you ask?" "'cause then there won't be no unfriendly feelin' if i act in the performance of my duty," went on the constable, for such he was. "i'll have to take possession of your craft in the name of the law." "what do you mean?" asked mr. howbridge, rather sharply. "is this craft libeled? all bills are paid, and i am in legal possession. i have a bill of sale and this boat is to be delivered to a client of mine--" "there you go! there you go! ready to fight at the drop of the hat!" chuckled the constable. "just like you did before when i worked on that timber land case with you. but there's no occasion to get roiled up, mr. howbridge. i only want to take temporary possession of your boat in the name of the law. all i want to have is a ride for me and my posse. we're on the business of the law, and you, being a lawyer, know what that means. i call on you, as a good citizen, to aid, as i've got a right to do." "i recognize that," said the lawyer, now smiling, and glancing at ruth and the others to show everything was all right. "but what's the game?" "robbery's the game!" came the stern answer. "we're going to round up and close in on a band of tramps, robbers and other criminals! they have a camp on an island, and they've been robbin' hen roosts and doin' other things in this community until this community has got good and sick of it. then they called in the law--that's me and my posse," he added, waving his hand toward the men back of him. "the citizens called in the law, represented by me, and i am going to chase the rascals out!" "very good," assented mr. howbridge. "i'm willing to help, as all good citizens should. but what am i to do? where do i come in?" "you're going to lend us that boat," said constable newcomb. "it's the only large one handy just now, and we don't want to lose any time. as soon as i saw you put into the dock i made up my mind i'd commandeer the craft. that's the proper term, ain't it?" he asked. "yes," assented the lawyer, smiling, "i believe it is. so you want to commandeer the _bluebird_." "to take me and my posse over to cedar island, and there to close in on a bunch of klondikers!" went on the constable, and neale, hearing it, gave a startled cry. "anybody on board that's afraid to come may stay at home," said the constable quickly. "i mean they can get off the boat. but we've got to have the craft to get to the island. now then, mr. howbridge, will you help?" "certainly. as a matter of law i have to," answered the lawyer slowly. "and will you help, and you?" went on the constable, looking in turn at neale and hank, who were on deck. "i call upon you in the name of the law." "yes, they'll help," said mr. howbridge quickly. "don't object or say anything," he added to neale in a low voice. "leave everything to me!" "fall in! get on board! we'll close in on the rascals!" cried the constable, very well pleased that he could issue orders. neale's heart was torn with doubts. chapter xxv the capture constable newcomb and his posse disposed themselves comfortably aboard the _bluebird_, and, at a nod from mr. howbridge, neale rang the bell to tell hank to throw in the gear clutch and start the boat. the girls, much to agnes' dissatisfaction, had been left ashore, since there was likely to be rough work arresting the "klondikers," as the constable called the tramps on cedar island. mrs. maccall stayed with them. they had disembarked at the point dock and when the boat pulled off went to the hotel there to await the return of their friends. "now, mr. newcomb, perhaps you can explain what it's all about," suggested the lawyer to the constable, when they sat on deck together, near neale at the steering wheel. the lawyer made the boy a signal to say nothing, but to listen. "well, this is what it's about," was the answer. "as i told you, a parcel of tramps--klondikers they call themselves because, i understand, some of 'em have been in alaska. anyhow a parcel of tramps are living on cedar island. they've been robbing right and left, and the folks around here are tired of it. so a complaint was made and i've got a lot of warrants to arrest the men." "do you know any of their names?" asked the lawyer. "no, all the warrants are made out in the name of john doe. that's legal, you know." "yes, i know," assented mr. howbridge. "and how many do you expect to arrest?" "oh, about half a dozen. two of 'em have a motor boat, i understand, but they had an accident in the storm last night and can't navigate. that's the reason we're going over there now--they can't get away!" "good!" exclaimed mr. howbridge. "i fancy, mr. newcomb, i may be able to add another complaint to the ones you already have, if two of the men turn out to be the characters we suspect." "why, have they been robbing your hen roost, too?" asked the constable. "no, but two of my wards, ruth and agnes kenway, were robbed of a box of jewelry just before we started on this trip," said the lawyer. "two rough men held them up in a hallway on a rainy morning and snatched a jewel box. the men were tramps--and the day before that two men who called themselves klondikers had looked at vacant rooms in the house where the robbery occurred. since then the girls think they have seen the same tramps several times. i hope you can round them up." "we'll get 'em if they're on cedar island!" the constable declared. "got your guns, boys?" he asked the members of his posse. each one had, it seemed, and the nervous tension grew as the island was neared. hank drove the _bluebird_ at her best speed, which, of course, was not saying much, for she was not a fast craft. but gradually the objective point came into view. "it's just as well not to have too fast a boat," the constable said. "if the klondikers saw it coming they might jump in the lake and swim away. they won't be so suspicious of this." "perhaps not," the lawyer assented. but he could not help thinking how tragic it would be if it should happen that neale's father was among those captured. neale himself guided the houseboat on her way. "put her around into that cove," constable newcomb directed the youth at the wheel, when the island was reached. silently the _bluebird_ floated into a little natural harbor and was made fast to the bank. "all ashore now, and don't make any noise," ordered the officer. "they haven't spotted us yet, i guess. we may surround 'em and capture 'em without any trouble." "let us hope so," said mr. howbridge. "have they some sort of house or headquarters?" "they live in a shack or two," the constable replied. "it's in the middle of the island. i'd better lead the way," he went on, and he placed himself at the head of his men. "don't make any outcry or any explanation if your father is among these men," said mr. howbridge to neale, as the two walked on behind the posse. this was the first direct reference to the matter the lawyer had made. "i'll do whatever you say," assented neale listlessly. "it may all be a mistake," went on the lawyer sympathetically. "we will not jump at conclusions." hank had been sworn in as a special deputy, and was with the other men who pressed on through the woods after constable newcomb. suddenly the leader halted, and his men did likewise. "something's up!" called mr. howbridge to neale. they went on a little farther and saw, in a clearing, a small cabin. there was no sign of life about it. "i guess they're in there," said the constable in a low tone to his men. "the motor boat's at the dock, and so is the rowboat, so they're on the island. close in, men!" he suddenly cried. there was a rush toward the cabin, and mr. howbridge and neale followed. the door was burst in and the constable and his posse entered. three men were asleep in rude bunks, and they sat up bleary-eyed and bewildered at the unexpected rush. "wot's matter?" asked one, thickly. "you're under arrest!" exclaimed the constable. "in the name of the law i arrest you! i'm the law!" he went on, tapping his nickel shield. one of the men made a dart for a window, as though to get out, but he was knocked back by a deputy, and in a few seconds all three men were secured. neale, who had pressed into the cabin as soon as possible, looked with fast-beating heart into the faces of the three tramps. to his great relief none was his father. "now, what's all this about?" growled one of the men. "what's the game?" "you'll find out soon enough," declared the constable. "are either of these the men you spoke of?" he asked the lawyer. "yes, those two are the ones that several times went off in a hurry in the motor boat," said mr. howbridge. "but i can not identify them as the ones who took the jewelry. ruth and agnes kenway will have to do that." as he spoke the two men looked at him. one shook his head and the other exclaimed: "it's all up. they got us right!" "come on now lively, men!" cried constable newcomb. "search this place, gather up what evidence you can, and we'll take 'em to jail." "are there any others?" asked neale, hoping against hope as the men were taken outside the shack and the search was begun. "i guess we have the main ones, anyhow," answered mr. newcomb. "oh, look at this bunch of stuff!" he cried, as he threw back the dirty blankets of one of the bunks. "they've been robbing right and left." it was a heterogeneous collection of articles, and at the sight of one box mr. howbridge exclaimed: "there it is! the jewelry case i gave miss ruth! these men were either the thieves or they know something about the robbery. see if anything is left in the box." it was quickly opened, and seen to contain a number of rings, pins, and trinkets. "well, there's a good part of it," the lawyer remarked. "it will need ruth and agnes to tell just what is missing." mr. howbridge and neale were watching the constable and his men finish the search of the cabin, while others of the posse had taken the prisoners to the boat, when suddenly into the shack came another man, whose well-worn clothing would seem to proclaim him as one of the "klondikers." but at the sight of this man neale sprang forward, and held out his hands. "father!" cried the boy. "don't you know me?" "it's neale--my son!" was the gasping exclamation. "how in the world did you get here? i was just about to start for milton to look you up." "well, i guess, before you do, we'll look you up a bit, and maybe lock you up, also," said the constable dryly. "do you belong to the klondike bunch?" he asked. "well, yes, i might say that i do; or rather that i did." said neale's father, and though the boy gasped in dismay, mr. o'neil smiled. "i understand the crowd has been captured," he added. "yes. and you may consider yourself captured also!" snapped out the officer. "jim, a pair of handcuffs here!" "one moment!" interposed mr. howbridge, with a glance at neale. "i represent this man, officer. i'll supply bail for him--" mr. o'neil laughed. "thank you," he said. "your offer is kind, and i appreciate it. but i shan't need bail. i believe you received a letter telling you to make this raid, did you not?" he asked the constable. "i did," was the answer. "it was that letter which gave us the clue to the robbers. i'd like to meet the man who wrote it. he said he would give evidence against the rascals." "who signed that letter?" asked neale's father. "i have it here. i can show you," offered mr. newcomb. "it was signed by a man named o'neil," he added as he produced the document. "he said he'd meet us here, but--" "well, he has met you. i'm o'neil," broke in the other. "and it was i who gave you the information." "oh, father!" cried neale, "then you're not one of the--" "i'm not one of the thieves; though i admit my living here among them made it look so," said mr. o'neil. "it is easily explained. one of the men made a fraudulent claim to part of a mine i own in alaska, and i had to remain in his company until i could disprove his statements. this i have done. the matter is all cleared up, and i concluded it was time to hand the rascals over to the law. so i sent the letter to the authorities, and i'm glad it is all ended." "so am i!" cried neale. "then you did strike it rich after all?" "no, not exactly rich, son. i was pretty lucky, though, and i struck pay dirt in the klondike. i wrote your uncle bill about it, but probably the letters miscarried. i never was much of a letter writer, anyhow. and i never knew until the other day that you were so anxious to find me. i couldn't have left here anyhow, though, for i had to straighten out my affairs. now everything is all right. do you still want to arrest me?" he asked the constable. "no," replied mr. newcomb. "i reckon you're a friend of the law and, in consequence, you're my friend. now come on, boys, we'll lock up the other birds." neale walked by the side of his father and it was difficult to say who talked the most. mr. howbridge accompanied the constable and from him learned how the raid had been planned through information sent by mr. o'neil. when the party reached the houseboat, whither some of the deputies had preceded with the prisoners, the sight of a figure on the upper deck attracted the attention of neale and the lawyer. "agnes!" gasped her guardian. "how did you get here?" "on the _bluebird_. i just couldn't bear to be left behind, and so i slipped on board again after you said good-by on the dock. there wasn't any shooting after all," she added, as if disappointed. "no, it was easier than i expected," admitted the lawyer. "and, while you should not have come, this may interest you!" "our jewelry!" cried agnes as she took the extended box. quickly she looked over the contents. "only two little pins are missing!" she reported. "we shan't mind the loss of them. oh, how glad i am to get my things! and mother's wedding ring, too! how did it happen?" "i think you have neale's father to thank," answered mr. howbridge. "oh, i am so glad!" cried agnes, and she was happy in more ways than one. "what did i tell you, neale o'neil?" the _bluebird_ made a quick trip back to the point and the rascals were locked up. two of them proved to be the thieves who had robbed ruth and agnes, though their ill-gotten gains did them little good, as they dared not dispose of them. the third prisoner was not involved in that robbery, though he was implicated in others around the lake. eventually, all three went to prison for long terms. neale's father, of course, was not involved. as he explained, he had located a mine in alaska and it made him moderately well off. but he had a rascally partner, and it was necessary for mr. o'neil to stay with this man until a settlement was made. it was this partner who had dealings with the thieves; and that had made it look bad for neale's father. this man was arrested later. as soon as he saw how matters were on cedar island mr. o'neil decided to give the evil men over to the law, and he carried out his plan as quickly as possible. the two "klondikers" who had inquired about rooms from the stetson family were part of the thieving gang, and they were also later arrested. they were planning a bank robbery in town, and the two men who took the jewelry from ruth and agnes were part of the same crowd. the robbery of the girls, of course, was done on the spur of the moment. the two ragged men had merely taken shelter in the doorway, after having called at the stetson house to get the "lay of the land." and as such characters are always on the watch to commit some crime they hope may profit them, these two acted on the impulse. for some reason the bank robbery plans miscarried, and the two jewelry robbers started back for lake macopic, where they had left some confederates, including mr. o'neil's partner. the rascals imagined the corner house girls were following them, hence the several quick departures in the motor boat. whether one of these men looked in the window of tess was never learned. "i'm so glad our suspicions of hank were unfounded," said ruth, when later the events of the day were being talked over in the _bluebird_ cabin. "yes, that ring was his mother's," said neale. "he told me about it after i had hinted that we had been watching him. and, oh, father, i'm so glad i found you!" he added. "you're through with the klondike; aren't you?" "yes, i'm going to sell out my mine and go into some other business." "do you mean back to the circus?" asked mr. howbridge. "no. though i want to see bill and the others." "why don't you stay with us and finish the trip on the houseboat, mr. o'neil?" ruth asked. "thank you, i will," he answered, after the others had added their urgings to ruth's invitation. and so, after the somewhat exciting adventures the trip was resumed, and eventually the craft was delivered to her owner. before this, however, happy days were spent cruising about lake macopic, the children and mrs. maccall enjoying life to the utmost. there were days of fishing and days of bathing and splashing in the limpid waters near sandy beaches. tess and dot were taught to swim by neale, and his father made the children laugh by imitating seals he had seen in alaska. hank, too, seemed to enjoy the vacation days, and he proved a valuable helper, forming a great friendship with mr. o'neil. during those days ruth received two more letters from luke and one from his sister. luke was still working hard at the summer hotel, and cecile reported that the sick aunt was now much better. luke congratulated neale on finding his father. and then, as was usual, he added a page or two intended only for ruth's eyes,--words that made her eyes shine with rare happiness. "oh, we had a lovely time!" said agnes when they disembarked for the last time. "the nicest summer vacation we ever spent." "indeed it was," agreed ruth. "and when i get home i'm going to send mr. henry my doll and a kitten so he won't be lonesome on that island in winter," observed dot. "and i'm going to send mr. tom something," declared tess. "he likes me, and maybe when i grow up i'll marry him!" "oh, what a child!" laughed ruth. "i'm glad you liked the trip," said the lawyer. "and i think we can agree that it accomplished something," he added as he looked at neale and his father. "it made my alice-doll a lot better!" piped up dot, and they all laughed. and so, in this jolly mood, we will take leave of the corner house girls. the end charming stories for girls (from eight to twelve years old) the corner house girls series by grace brooks hill four girls from eight to fourteen years of age receive word that a rich bachelor uncle has died, leaving them the old corner house he occupied. they move into it and then the fun begins. what they find and do will provoke many a hearty laugh. later, they enter school and make many friends. one of these invites the girls to spend a few weeks at a bungalow owned by her parents; and the adventures they meet with make very interesting reading. clean, wholesome stories of humor and adventure, sure to appeal to all young girls. 1 corner house girls. 2 corner house girls at school. 3 corner house girls under canvas. 4 corner house girls in a play. 5 corner house girls' odd find. 6 corner house girls on a tour. 7 corner house girls growing up. 8 corner house girls snowbound. 9 corner house girls on a houseboat. 10 corner house girls among the gypsies. 11 corner house girls on palm island. barse & hopkins, publishers newark n.j.--new york, n.y. the polly pendleton series by dorothy whitehill polly pendleton is a resourceful, wide-awake american girl who goes to a boarding school on the hudson river some miles above new york. by her pluck and resourcefulness, she soon makes a place for herself and this she holds right through the course. the account of boarding school life is faithful and pleasing and will attract every girl in her teens. 1 polly's first year at boarding school 2 polly's summer vacation 3 polly's senior year at boarding school 4 polly sees the world at war 5 polly and lois 6 polly and bob cloth, large 12mo., illustrated. barse & hopkins, publishers newark n.j.--new york, n.y. chicken little jane series by lily munsell ritchie chicken little jane is a western prairie girl who lives a happy, outdoor life in a country where there is plenty of room to turn around. she is a wide-awake, resourceful girl who will instantly win her way into the hearts of other girls. and what good times she has!--with her pets, her friends, and her many interests. "chicken little" is the affectionate nickname given to her when she is very, very good, but when she misbehaves it is "jane"--just jane! adventures of chicken little jane chicken little jane on the "big john" chicken little jane comes to town with numerous illustrations in pen and ink by charles d. hubbard barse & hopkins, publishers newark, n. j.--new york, n. y. dorothy whitehill series for girls here is a sparkling new series of stories for girls--just what they will like, and ask for more of the same kind. it is all about twin sisters, who for the first few years in their lives grow up in ignorance of each other's existence. then they are at last brought together and things begin to happen. janet is an independent go-ahead sort of girl; while her sister phyllis is--but meet the twins for yourself and be entertained. 6 titles, cloth, large 12mo., covers in color. 1. janet, a twin 2. phyllis, a twin 3. the twins in the west 4. the twins in the south 5. the twins' summer vacation 6. the twins and tommy jr. barse & hopkins, publishers newark, n. j.--new york, n. y. the mary jane series by clara ingram judson cloth, 12mo. illustrated. with picture inlay and wrapper. mary jane is the typical american little girl who bubbles over with fun and the good things in life. we meet her here on a visit to her grandfather's farm where she becomes acquainted with farm life and farm animals and thoroughly enjoys the experience. we next see her going to kindergarten and then on a visit to florida, and then--but read the stories for yourselves. exquisitely and charmingly written are these books which every little girl from five to nine years old will want from the first book to the last. 1 mary jane--her book 2 mary jane--her visit 3 mary jane's kindergarten 4 mary jane down south 5 mary jane's city home 6 mary jane in new england 7 mary jane's county home barse & hopkins, publishers newark, n. j.--new york, n. y. [frontispiece: their houseboat vacation had begun.] madge morton, captain of the merry maid by amy d. v. chalmers author of madge morton's secret, madge morton's trust, madge morton's victory. philadelphia henry altemus company copyright, 1914, by howard e. altemus printed in the united states of america contents chapter. i. madge morton's plan ii. choosing a chaperon iii. the search for a houseboat iv. the fairy's wand v. all aboard vi. pleasure bay vii. the unknown jailer viii. an anxious night ix. the girl on the island x. an exciting race xi. at the mercy of the waves xii. a brave fight xiii. life or death? xiv. madge comes into her own again xv. a call for help xvi. the attempted rescue xvii. the capture xviii. on a strange shore xix. finding a way to help mollie xx. madge's opportunity xxi. mollie's brave fight xxii. the evil genius xxiii. "mother" xxiv. farewell to the "merry maid" list of illustrations their houseboat vacation had begun . . . frontispiece. madge and tom went gayly down to the boat. the girls ran down to the water's edge. "i wish you to come and live with me, madge." madge morton, captain of the merry maid chapter i madge morton's plan "i never can bear it!" cried madge morton excitedly, throwing herself down on her bed in one of the dormitories of miss tolliver's select school for girls. "it is not half so bad for eleanor. she, at least, is going to spend her holiday with people she likes. but for uncle william and aunt sue to leave for california just as school closes, and to send me off to a horrid old maid cousin for half my vacation, is just too awful! if i weren't nearly seventeen years old, i'd cry my eyes out." madge was alone in her bedroom, which she shared with her cousin, eleanor butler. the two girls lived on an old estate in virginia, but for the two preceding terms they had been attending a college preparatory school at harborpoint, not far from the city of baltimore. madge had never known her own parents. she had been reared by her uncle william and aunt sue butler and she dearly loved her old southern home. but just when she and eleanor were planning a thousand pleasures for their three months' vacation a letter had arrived from mr. and mrs. butler announcing that they were leaving their estate for six weeks, as they were compelled to go west on important business. eleanor was to be sent to visit a family of cousins near charlottesville, virginia, and madge was to stay with a rich old maiden cousin of her father. cousin louisa did not like madge. she felt a sense of duty toward her, and a sense of duty seldom inspires any real affection in return. so madge looked back on the visits she had made to this cousin with a feeling of horror. inspired by her aunt sue, madge had always tried to be on her best behavior while she was the guest of cousin louisa. but since propriety was not madge morton's strong point she had succeeded only in being perfectly miserable and in offending her wealthy cousin by her unconventional ways. madge had a letter from this cousin in her hand while she gave herself up to the luxury of despair. she had not yet read the letter, but she knew exactly what it would say. it would contain a formal invitation from cousin louisa, asking madge to pay her the necessary visit. it would suggest at the same time that madge mend her ways; and it would doubtless recall the unfortunate occasion when mistress madge had set fire to the bedclothes by her wicked habit of reading in bed. it was the study hour at miss tolliver's school, and all of the girls except madge were hard at work. eleanor had slipped across the hall to the room of their two chums to consult them about a problem in algebra. madge at that moment was far too miserable to be approached in regard to a lesson, though at other times she would have done anything for eleanor. finally madge raised herself to a sitting posture. it struck her as rather absurd to have collapsed so entirely, simply because she was not to spend the first part of her summer as she chose. she knew, too, that it was high time she fell to preparing her lessons. with a little shiver she opened cousin louisa's letter. suddenly her eyes flashed, the color glowed in her cheeks, and madge dropped the note to the floor with a glad cry and ran out of the room. on the door of her chums' room was a sign, printed in large letters, which was usually observed by the school girls. the sign read: "studying; no admittance." but to-day madge paid no attention to it. she flung open the door and rushed in upon her three friends. "eleanor, phyllis, lillian," she protested, "stop studying this very minute!" she seized eleanor's paper and pencil and closed lillian seldon's ancient history with a bang. phyllis alden had just time to grasp her own notebook firmly with both hands before she exclaimed: "madge morton, whatever has happened to you? have you gone entirely crazy?" madge laughed. "almost!" she replied. "but just listen to me, and you will be nearly as crazy as i am." madge had dark, auburn hair, which was curly and short, like a boy's. to her deep regret her long braids had been cut off several years before, when she was recovering from an attack of typhoid fever, and now her hair was just long enough to tuck into a small knot on top of her head. but when madge was excited, which was a frequent occurrence, this knot would break loose, and her curls would fly about, like the hair of one of raphael's cherubs. madge had large, blue eyes, with long, dark lashes, and a short, straight nose, with just the tiniest tilt at the end of it. although she was not vain, she was secretly proud of her row of even, white teeth. phyllis alden was the daughter of a physician with a large family, who lived in hartford, connecticut. phil was not as pretty as her three friends, and no one knew it better than phyllis. she was small and dark, with irregular features. but she had large, black eyes, and a smile that illuminated her clever face. put to the vote, phyllis alden had been declared to be the most popular girl in miss tolliver's school, and phyllis and madge were friendly rivals in athletics. lillian seldon was perhaps the prettiest of the four boarding school chums, if one preferred regular features to vivacity and charm. lillian was of madge's age, a tall, slender, blonde girl, with two long plaits of sunny, light hair, a fair, delicate skin and blue eyes. she was the daughter of a philadelphia lawyer and an only child. a number of her school companions thought her cold and proud, but her chums knew that when lillian really cared for any one she was the most loyal friend in the world. eleanor, who was the youngest of the four school friends, looked like the little, southern girl that she was. she had light brown hair and hazel eyes, and charming manners which made friends for her wherever she went. the three girls now waited with their eyes fixed inquiringly on the fourth. they were not very much excited; they knew madge only too well. she was either in the seventh heaven of bliss, or else in the depths of despair. yet this time it did look as though madge had more reason than usual for her excitement. eleanor wondered how she could have changed so quickly from her recent disconsolate mood. "what has happened to you, madge?" lillian inquired. "eleanor said you were upset because you are obliged to spend the first of your vacation with your hateful cousin louisa." "hateful? did i ever dare to say that my cousin louisa was hateful? she is one of the loveliest women in this world! just think! cousin louisa has written to say that she can't have me, or rather won't have me, visit her. she is going to shut up her house, and is going to sail for europe. i know it is just to escape my odious presence." "why, madge, what will you do?" eleanor asked. "you've nowhere else to go." you know how you hate those awful children at charlottesville." "wait, eleanor butler--wait!" madge cried dramatically. "you do not know what has happened, nor why i now truly love and adore the same cousin louisa whom i once thought i disliked. just look here." madge waved a small strip of paper in the air. "cousin louisa has sent me a check for two hundred dollars! she says i am to spend the money on my summer vacation in any way i like, provided aunt sue and uncle william approve." "but you can't go off traveling by yourself," objected eleanor. "i should think you would hate to spend your summer alone." "alone!" madge answered indignantly. "who said i meant to spend my vacation alone? i want you three girls to spend the six weeks with me. only last night eleanor and i said that we four girls could never be really happy anywhere without one another." "generous madge," smiled lillian affectionately. "two hundred dollars seems quite a fortune. perhaps you ought not to spend it all. where can we go, and what can we do?" "young ladies," a stern voice spoke just outside the door, "kindly remember this is the study hour. you are expected to keep silence." an unusual stillness fell on the four offenders. only madge's blue eyes flashed rebelliously. "it's that tiresome miss jones. you might know she would be somewhere about. she is the crossest teacher in this school." "sh-sh, madge," eleanor lowered her voice, "miss jones might hear you. she is ill, i am sure. that is what makes her so cross. phil and i are both sorry for her." "oh, you and phil are sorry for everybody. that's nothing! thank goodness, there is the bell! it is the recreation hour. come, my beloved chums, i simply must think of some way to spend our vacation and i never can think indoors. 'it is the merry month of may,'" caroled madge. "come, phil, let us go down to the water and take nell and lillian rowing. it is a dream of an afternoon, all soft and sunshiny, and the river folk are calling us, the frogs, and the water rats----" "dear me, madge," teased phil, "do hush. we are glad enough to go rowing without an invitation from the frogs. we have two hours before supper time. shall we ask poor miss jones to go with us? she does not have much fun, and you know it is her duty to make us keep the rules. miss jones admires you very much, madge. she said you were clever enough to do anything you liked, if you would only try. but she knows you don't like her." "then she knows the truth," returned naughty madge. "no, phil, please don't ask miss jones to come out with us this afternoon, there's a dear. i told you i wanted to think. and i can think brilliantly only when in the company of my beloved chums." phyllis alden and madge morton were good oarsmen. indeed, they were almost as much at home on the water as they were on land. each girl wore a tiny silver oar pinned to her dress. only the week before madge had won the annual spring rowing contest; for miss tolliver made a special point of athletics in her school, and fortunately the school grounds ran down to the bank of a small river. phil and madge rowed out into the middle of the river with long, regular strokes. they were in their own little, green boat, called the "water witch." lillian sat in the stern, trailing her white hands idly in the water. eleanor sat quietly looking out over the fields. suddenly madge, who always did the most unexpected things in the world, locked her oars across the boat and sat up in her seat with a jerk that rocked the little craft. "girls, i have thought it all out!" she exclaimed. "i have the most glorious, the most splendid plan you ever heard of in the world! just wait until you hear it!" "madge," phil called in horror, "do sit down!" the boat was careening perilously. before phil could finish her speech madge had tumbled over the side of the skiff and disappeared in the water below. the girls waited for their friend to rise to the surface. they were not frightened, for madge was an expert swimmer. "i am surprised at madge," declared phil severely. "the idea of plunging into the water in that fashion, not to mention almost capsizing our boat! why doesn't she come up?" the second lengthened to a minute. still madge's curly head did not appear on the surface of the water. eleanor's face turned white. madge had on her rowing costume, a short skirt and a sailor blouse. she could easily swim in such a suit. but perhaps she had been seized with a cramp, or her head might have struck against a rock at the bottom of the river! lillian and phil shared eleanor's anxiety. "sit still, girls," said phyllis. "i must dive and see what has happened to madge. if you are quiet, i can dive out of the boat without upsetting it." phil slipped out of her sweater. but eleanor caught at her skirts from behind. "sit down, phil. here comes that wretched madge, swimming toward us from over there. she purposely stayed under water." the three friends looked in the direction, indicated by phyllis. they saw madge moving toward the boat as calmly as though she had been in her bathing suit and had dived off the skiff for pure pleasure. she had been swimming under the water for a little distance and had risen at a spot at which her friends were not looking. as she lifted her head clear of the water a ray of the afternoon sunlight slanted across her face, touching its mischievous curves, until she looked like a naughty water-sprite. in an instant madge's hands were alongside the boat, and phil pulled her into it. "i am so sorry, girls," she explained, shaking the water. out of her hair; "but i had such a wonderful idea that it really knocked me overboard. i was afraid i would throw you all into the river, so i jumped. but don't you want to know my plan? we are going to spend the summer on the water!" "in the water, you mean, don't you?" laughed phyllis, as she wrapped her sweater about her friend. "madge, will any one ever be able to guess what you are going to do next?" "just listen, girls," madge went on with shining eyes. "i have been determined, ever since i got my letter from cousin louisa, that we girls should do something original for our summer vacation. and while i was rowing peacefully along, without meaning to create a disturbance, it suddenly came to me that the most perfect way to spend a holiday would be to live out on the water. first i thought we might just take the 'water witch' and row along the river all summer, sleeping in hotels and boarding-places at night. but i know we must have a chaperon; and meals and things would make it cost too much. then it occurred to me that we could get a boat big enough to live in by day and sleep in by night--a canal boat, or something----" "madge morton!" cried phil, clapping both hands, "you are a goose, but sometimes i think you are a genius as well. you mean you can rent a houseboat with your money and we can truly spend our vacation together out on the water. i never heard of such a splendid plan in my life." madge gave a little shiver, half from the cold and half from happiness. she was beginning to feel the chill of her wet clothing. "eleanor, phyllis, lillian," she said impressively. "i hereby invite you to spend six weeks of your vacation aboard a houseboat. now, the next thing to be done is to find one." chapter ii choosing a chaperon madge morton walked into the school library with a grave expression on her usually laughing face. she had two letters in her hand, which she intended putting into the school post-bag, that was always kept in the library. one of the letters she had written to her uncle and aunt, explaining her houseboat scheme in the most sensible and matter-of-fact fashion; for madge knew that the fate of the four chums depended, first, on what mr. and mrs. butler thought of their niece's idea. if they disapproved, madge was certain that she could never be happy again, for there was no other possible way of spending cousin louisa's gift that would give her any pleasure. madge's second letter was directed to a boy cousin, who was at college in baltimore. she explained that she expected to rent a houseboat for the summer, and she asked her cousin to give her the address of places in baltimore where such a boat could be hired. she wished it to cost the smallest sum of money possible, for eleanor had suggested that even houseboat girls must eat. indeed, the water was likely to make them especially hungry. if all the two hundred dollars went for the houseboat, what were they to do for food? madge's sole fortune was just ten dollars a month, which she used for her dress allowance. her uncle and aunt were not rich, but they were paying for her education, and madge knew she was expected to make her own living as soon as she was old enough. mr. and mrs. butler had hoped she would become a teacher, for they held the old-fashioned southern belief that teaching school was the only avenue open to the woman who was forced by necessity to make her own living. madge, however, had decided, a long time before, that she would much rather die than teach. she would do anything but that. just at present her poverty was very inconvenient. madge was generous to a fault, and she would have liked nothing better than to finance royally their proposed trip. she vowed mentally to rise to the occasion, even though the way to do it was not yet clear. prudent eleanor had also asked her whom she meant to invite to act as their chaperon. so it was of this chaperon that madge was thinking while she was in the act of mailing her letters. down in virginia, on a big place next to her uncle's, was a girl whom she had decided would make an ideal chaperon. she was as fond of larks as was madge herself. she could fish, ride, swim and shoot a rifle when necessary. moreover, she was so beautiful and aristocratic that madge always called her the "lady of quality." it was true she could not cook nor wash dishes, nor do anything practical, and she was only twenty-two. still, madge thought she would be a perfectly delightful chaperon and was sure the girls would love her. madge's red lips unconsciously formed the letter o, and before she knew what she was doing she was whistling from sheer pleasure. "miss morton," the cold voice that was unpleasantly familiar to the girl's ears came from behind a chair, "do you not know that whistling is against the rules of the school? you are one of the older girls. miss tolliver depends on you to set the younger pupils a good example. i fear she is sadly disappointed." "you mean you are sadly disappointed, miss jones," replied madge angrily. "miss tolliver has not said she was disappointed in me. when she is she will probably tell me herself." madge knew she should not speak in this rude fashion to her teacher, but she was an impetuous, high-spirited girl who could not bear censure. besides, she had a special prejudice against miss jones. she was particularly homely and there was something awkward and repellant in her manner. worshipping beauty and graciousness, madge could not forgive her teacher her lack of both. besides, madge did not entirely trust miss jones. still, the girl was sorry she had made her impolite speech, so she stood quietly waiting for her teacher's reproof, with her curly head bent low, her eyes mutinous. she waited an instant. when she looked up, to her dismay she saw that the eyes of her despised teacher were full of tears. "i wonder why you dislike me so, miss morton?" miss jones inquired sadly. madge could have given her a dozen reasons for her dislike, but she did not wish to be disagreeable. "i am dreadfully sorry i was so rude to you," she murmured. "oh, it does not matter. nothing matters, i am so unhappy," miss jones replied unexpectedly. just why miss jones should have chosen madge morton for her confidante at this moment neither ever knew. miss jones had a number of friends among the other girls in the school; but she and this clever southern girl had been enemies since miss jones had first taken charge of the english history class and had reproved madge for helping one of the younger girls with her lesson. miss jones's confession had slipped out involuntarily. now she put her head down on the library table and sobbed. with any other teacher, or with any of the girls, madge might have cried in sympathy. somehow, she could not cry with miss jones. she felt nothing save embarrassment. "what is the matter?" she asked slowly. miss jones shook her head. "it's nothing. i am sorry to have given way to my feelings. i have had bad news. my doctor has just written me that if i don't spend the summer out-of-doors, i am in danger of consumption." miss jones uttered the dreadful word quite calmly. madge gave a low cry of distress. she thought of the number of times she had made fun of her teacher's flat chest and stooping shoulders and of her bad temper. after all, eleanor had been right. illness had been the cause of miss jones's peculiarities. "miss jones," madge returned, her sympathies fully enlisted, "you must not feel so troubled. i am sure you will soon be all right. just think how strong you will grow with your long summer holiday out-of-doors. you must dig in the garden, and ride horseback, and play tennis," advised madge enthusiastically, remembering her own happy summers at "forest house," the old butler home in virginia. miss jones shook her head wistfully as she rose to leave the room. "i am afraid i can't have the summer in the country. i have only a sister with whom to spend the summer, and she lives in a little flat in the city. she has a large family, and i expect to help her. my parents are dead." "then why don't you go into the country to board somewhere?" flashed from madge's lips unexpectedly. a moment after she was sorry she had asked the question, for a curious, frightened expression crossed her teacher's face. miss jones hesitated. "i have had to use the money i have made by my teaching for--for other purposes," she explained, in the stiff, cold manner that seemed so unattractive to gracious, sunshiny madge. "i am sorry to have worried you with my troubles," miss jones said again. "please forgive me and forget what i have told you. i shall probably do very well." madge went slowly back to her room in a most unhappy frame of mind. she knew a way in which miss jones would be able to spend her summer out-of-doors, and perhaps grow well and strong again. she could be invited to chaperon the houseboat party. she knew her friends would immediately agree to the idea. they liked miss jones far better than she did. even if they had not liked her, sympathy would have inspired them to extend the invitation. it was she alone who would hesitate. of course, she never expected to be as good as her friends. so madge argued with herself. it was too dreadful to give up the idea of asking her adored "lady of quality" to act as their guardian angel. madge decided she simply could not make the sacrifice. then, too, she did not even know whether her uncle and aunt would consent to the houseboat party. it would be time enough afterward to deliver her last invitation. for two days, which seemed intolerably long to impatient madge morton, the four friends waited to hear their fate from mr. and mrs. butler. on the third morning a letter addressed to madge in mrs. butler's handwriting was handed to her while she and her chums were at breakfast. in her great excitement her hands trembled so that she could hardly finish her breakfast. "here, eleanor," madge finally faltered, as the four girls left the dining room to go upstairs, "you take the letter and read it to us, please do. positively i haven't the courage to look at it. i feel almost sure that aunt sue will say we can't go on our houseboat trip." lillian put her hand affectionately on madge's arm, while phil stood next to eleanor. "my dear madge," the letter began, "i think your houseboat plan for the summer a most extraordinary one. i never heard of young girls attempting such a holiday before. i can not imagine how you happened to unearth such a peculiar idea." madge gave a gasp of despair. she felt that the tone of her aunt sue's letter spelled refusal. but eleanor read on: "like a good many of your unusual ideas, this houseboat scheme seems, after all, to be rather an interesting one. your uncle and i have talked over your letter and eleanor's. we do not wish you and eleanor to be separated, and we do wish you both to have the happiest holiday possible, as we are quite sure you have earned it. so, if you can find a suitable chaperon, we are willing to give our consent to your undertaking. we had intended to pay twenty-five dollars a month board for eleanor with her cousins at charlottesville, so we shall be glad to contribute that sum toward the provisioning of the house-boat." there was a dead silence in the room when eleanor at last finished reading the letter. for half a minute the four chums were too happy to speak. then there was a united sigh of relief. "oh, i shall never be able to survive it! it is too much joy for one day!" cried the irrepressible madge, dancing around in a circle and dragging lillian seldon, whose arm was linked in hers, with her. lillian and phyllis had received their parents' consent, by letter, the day before and had already agreed that their respective monthly allowances should be placed in the general fund. "be still, madge," begged eleanor. "you are so noisy that you drive all thought from our heads. the first thing for us to consider is where we shall find a chaperon." "no; the first thing to do is to find the house-boat. o ship of our dreams! tell us, dear ship, where we can find you?" cried phyllis alden longingly. she was looking past her friends with half-closed eyes. already she was, in the land of her imagination, in a beautiful white boat, floating beside an evergreen shore. the little craft was furnished all in white, with dainty muslin curtains hung at the tiny cabin windows. flowers encircled the decks and trailed over the sides into the clear water. and on the deck of the little boat, lying or sitting at their ease, she could see herself and her friends. "wake up, phil! come back to earth, please," teased madge, giving her usually sensible friend a sudden pinch. "i am going downstairs now to ask miss tolliver if we can go into baltimore day after to-morrow. we must find our houseboat at once. school is so nearly over miss tolliver will be sure to let us go." "but the chaperon, madge," reminded eleanor. "we haven't decided on one, you know." "i have thought of a chaperon, if you girls are willing to have her," said madge almost hesitatingly. "well," cried the other three voices in chorus, "who is it? tell us sometime to-day!" "miss jones!" declared madge, a note of defiance in her voice. "i'm going to invite her now before i have time to change my mind. i'll explain later." springing from her chair, she ran from the room, leaving her three friends to stare at each other in silent amazement. chapter iii the search for a houseboat "eleanor butler, do hurry!" urged madge two days later. "if we miss the train, i feel i shall never forgive you." the two girls were preparing for their trip to baltimore. "let me alone, madge," eleanor returned. "if you will stay out of the room for ten minutes, i promise to be ready. you've talked so much in the last half hour that i haven't known what i was doing and i don't know now. you had better make another call upon miss jones. she is even more enthusiastic about your old houseboat scheme than you are." eleanor laughed as madge disappeared in the direction of miss jones's room. "you must wish with all your heart that we shall find the houseboat to-day, miss jones," declared madge in her impulsive fashion. "you see, everything depends on our not having to waste any time. the sooner we find our boat, the sooner we can begin our delightful vacation." miss jones smiled. she was beginning to understand the impetuous madge better than she had ever dreamed of knowing her, and she was very grateful for her invitation. miss jones was fairly well aware of how much it had cost her pupil to ask her. "yes, i shall be thinking of you girls every minute," she declared. "let me see. this is the twenty-fifth of may. school will close in another week. you girls wish to spend a week at home with your parents and relatives; but just as early in june as possible we are to go aboard our houseboat. that is our plan, isn't it, madge?" madge nodded. then, as she heard phil and lillian calling her, she waved a hasty farewell and darted from the room. madge had received a letter from the boy cousin who was at school in baltimore. he had given her several addresses in baltimore where there was just a bare chance that she might find a ready-to-use houseboat. he assured her, however, that houseboats were usually made to order, and that she might find some difficulty in securing what she wished, and must, therefore, not become easily discouraged. just before noon the four young women arrived in baltimore on their quest for a house-boat. lillian and eleanor demanded their luncheon at once, but phil and madge protested against eating luncheon so early. "you can't be hungry already," argued madge. "as for me, i shall never be able to eat until we find our boat." for two hours the girls tramped about the boat yards in search of their treasure. they saw canoes and motor boats of every size and kind, and models of private yachts, but not a trace of a houseboat could they find. the representatives of the various boat companies whom they interviewed suggested the building of a houseboat at a cost of anywhere from six hundred to a thousand dollars. lillian and eleanor were the first to complain of being tired. then phil, who was usually the sweetest-tempered of the four girls, began to show signs of irritability. madge, however, undaunted and determined, would not think of giving up the search. "just one more place, girls," she begged; "then we can rest and have our luncheon somewhere. this is a very large ship-building yard we are going to. i am sure we can find our boat there." half an hour later the four chums turned wearily away from another fruitless quest. they were now in a part of baltimore which none of them had ever seen before. a few blocks farther down the street they could see the line of the water and the masts of several sailing vessels that were lying near the shore. "i tell you, madge morton," declared phyllis alden firmly, "whether or not we ever find a houseboat, there is one thing certain: i positively must have something to eat. i am half starved. what good would finding the boat do me if i were to die of hunger before i have even seen it?" "please don't be cross, phil," soothed madge. "i am sure we are all as hungry as you are. i am awfully sorry. we ought to have eaten luncheon before we came here. there isn't a restaurant in sight." "i am sure i saw the sign of a funny little restaurant as we came by the corner," broke in lillian. "it did look queer, but i suppose it would not be any harm for us to go in there." "we don't care if it does look queer," declared phyllis stoutly. turning, the girls retraced their steps to the corner. outside the swinging door of the small restaurant they hesitated. "i don't think we ought to go in there," argued eleanor, "it is such a dreadfully rough-looking place." it was indeed a very common eating house, where the men who worked on the wharves, the fishermen and sailors, were in the habit of getting their meals. the one dirty window showed half a dozen live crabs crawling about inside among the pieces of sea-weed. a row of old pies formed the background. a moment later they had marched bravely up to the door. dainty eleanor shuddered as they crossed the threshold, and even phil and madge hesitated as a man's coarse laugh greeted them once they were fairly inside the restaurant room. "come on, children," said madge, with a pretence of bravery she was far from feeling. "we are going into this restaurant to get something to eat. don't look as if you thought you were going to be eaten. it is rather horrid, but perhaps they will let us have some bread and milk." the quartette seated themselves at the first table they saw vacant. just across from it were a number of men with rough, hard faces. they were evidently sailors from the nearby boats. the girls kept their eyes on the table, and madge gave their order for tea and sandwiches in a low tone to the german boy who came forward to wait on them. when the boy had departed with their order a silence settled upon the little group of girls. in each girl's mind was the thought that it had been unwise to enter the restaurant. by this time they had come to a realization of the fact that they were the only women in the room. "we ought never to have come here," whispered lillian, clutching madge's arm. "nonsense," returned madge bravely, "we have as much right here as any of these men." "but i'd rather not stay," persisted lillian. "didn't you say you were hungry?" asked madge pointedly. "ye-es," hesitated lillian, "but i just can't stay here." "nor i," chimed in eleanor. madge looked appealingly at phyllis, who shook her brown head deprecatingly. "i don't believe we ought to stay here, madge." "you, too, phil!" exclaimed madge impatiently. "all right, misses 'fraid cats,' we'll go. here comes our luncheon, too." the girls glanced quickly at the rosy-faced lad who came up at that moment with their order on a tray. "i'm so hungry," sighed phil. "perhaps we'd better----" "so glad you've changed your mind," commented madge rather satirically. "but what about you, lillian and eleanor?" "let's stay this once, but next time we'll be more careful where we lunch," smiled eleanor. "i take back all i said about 'fraid cats,'" laughed madge. "we'll hurry through our luncheon and leave here the moment we finish. after all, as long as we are to become seasoned mariners we shall have to learn to accustom ourselves to the vicissitudes of a sailor's life." "but we can't be 'seasoned mariners' until we find our houseboat," reminded lillian. "it doesn't look as though we'd find it to-day, either." "we must," was madge's emphatic response. "here we have been worrying like mad about this restaurant not being a proper place in which to eat our luncheon, while the really important question of where we are to find our boat hasn't troubled us. we must go out of here saying, 'we shall find it, we shall find it,' and then i believe we can't help but run across it." madge's blue eyes were alight with purpose and enthusiasm. "good for you, madge," laughed phil. "come on, girls. let us finish our tea and renew our search." it was half-past three in the afternoon when they left the little restaurant. the four girls were to spend the night in baltimore with a friend of miss tolliver's, who kept a boarding-place. as they were in the habit of staying with miss rice when they came into baltimore to do their shopping, miss tolliver had, for once, after many instructions, permitted the girls to go into town without a chaperon. "miss rice said we did not have to be at her house until half-past five o'clock," phil volunteered, "so what shall we do?" "there is a little park down there near the water," lillian pointed ahead. "suppose we sit down there for a few minutes until we decide where to go next?" it was a balmy, sunshiny may day. while the girls rested on the park benches they could see, far off, a line of ships sailing up the bay and also the larger freight steamers. they were near one of the quiet canals that formed an inlet from the great chesapeake bay. lining the banks of the canal were numbers of coal barges and canal boats. on the deck of a canal boat a girl came out with a bundle of clothes in her arms. she was singing in a high, sweet voice as she hung them on a line strung across the deck of the boat. the girls watched her silently as she flitted back and forth, and she sang on, unconscious of her audience. she was singing a boat song which the men chant as they row home at the close of day. the pathos in the woman's voice was so exquisite, its notes so true, that madge's blue eyes filled with tears. none of the four friends stirred until the song was over, and the girl in her faded calico dress and bare feet had disappeared into the cabin of the boat. "we call those boats shanty boats down in virginia," eleanor said; "i suppose because the little cabin on the deck of the canal boat looks so like a shanty." "people live on those shanty boats," announced madge. "yes, we have noticed it, my dear girl," phil responded dryly. but there was a question in her eyes as she looked at madge. "shanty boats do not look exactly like house-boats," went on madge speculatively. "i should say not," returned phil. "there is considerable difference." "but they might be made to look more like them. don't you believe so?" phil nodded. "they are awfully dirty," was dainty lillian's sole comment. "soap and water, child, is a sure cure for dirt," replied madge, still in a brown study. then she sprang to tier feet and almost ran out of the little park, nearly to the edge of the canal. her friends followed her. there was no doubt that madge had an idea. "girls!" exclaimed madge fervently, pointing toward one of the shanty boats, "first look there; then shut your eyes. with your eyes open you see only an ugly canal boat; with them closed, can't you see our houseboat?" "not very well," replied lillian without enthusiasm. "well, i can," asserted madge with emphasis. then her quick eyes wandered toward a man who was coming slowly up the path along the canal. "please," she asked breathlessly, stepping directly in front of him, "do you know whether any of the people along here would be willing to rent me a canal boat?" the man stared in amazement at this strange request. "can't say as i knows of any one," he answered, "but i kin find out fer ye. it may be some of the water folks goes inland for the summer. if they does, they'd like as not rent you their boat." "then i will come down here to-morrow at nine o'clock to find out," arranged madge. "please be sure to be here." "what did i tell you!" exulted madge as they left the little park a few minutes later and made their way to the street car. "i am going to draw a plan to-night to show how easy it will be to turn one of these old canal boats into our beautiful 'ship of dreams.' by this time next week we'll know something about the 'vicissitudes' of a sailor's life or my name is not madge morton." chapter iv the fairy's wand "you are a direct gift of providence, jack bolling," declared madge the next morning, shaking hands with her cousin, in the parlor of miss rice's boarding house. "how did you happen to turn up here?" "well, i unexpectedly had a day off from college," explained jack. "so i just telephoned to miss tolliver to ask whether i might come to see you, like the well-behaved cousin i am. she replied that you were in town and that i might come to see you. so here i am! what luck have you had?" "none at all at the old places you recommended," madge returned scornfully and in a most ungrateful fashion. "oh, i knew a girl couldn't find the right sort of boat without a fellow to help her," jack teased, knowing madge's aversion to the idea that a girl couldn't do anything she liked, unless with the help of a boy. "just you come along with us, jack, and we will show you what we have found," invited madge. "i think the girls are ready. we are. here come eleanor and lillian. miss lillian seldon, i wish to present my cousin, mr. jack bolling. where is phil?" while lillian, looking unusually lovely in her gown of pale lavender organdie, with a cream-colored hat covered with violets, was shaking hands with jack, phyllis alden came down the hall with a slight frown on her face. hadn't she and madge vowed within themselves and to each other never to ask a man's help in anything they planned to do? and here was madge introducing her cousin into their plan the very first chance she had. but in this phil was mistaken. madge had made no explanations to jack, and her cousin asked her no questions as the party started on their walk. when they came to the line of canal boats that the girls had seen the afternoon before a halt was made. "there is our houseboat!" cried madge, waving her hand toward the half dozen disreputable looking canal boats huddled close together. "where?" asked jack in amazement. "oh, i don't know just exactly where," returned madge with twinkling eyes. "everyone look here, please." she took two large squares of white paper out of her bag. "you see, it is this way, jack: we found that to rent a houseboat takes such a lot of money that we decided yesterday, to try to turn one of these old canal boats into a houseboat, and i have drawn the plans of what i think ought to be done." madge, who had a decided talent for drawing, had sat up late into the night to make her two sketches. one pictured the shanty boat as it was, dingy and dirty, with a broken-down cabin of two rooms at the stern. in the second drawing madge's fairy wand, which was her gift of imagination, had quite transformed the ugly boat. the deck of the canal boat was about forty feet long, with a twelve-foot beam. to the two rooms, which the ordinary shanty boat contains, she had added another two, forming an oblong cabin, with four windows on each side and a flat roof. the flat roof formed the second deck of the prospective houseboat. it had a small railing around it, and a pair of steps that led up from the outside to the upper deck. madge had decorated her fairy ship with garlands of flowers that hung far over the sides of the deck. jack bolling looked at the drawing a long time without saying a word. "don't you think it can be done, jack?" inquired madge eagerly. "you see, this old boat could be cleaned and painted, and any good carpenter could put up the extra rooms." "right you are, madge," jack answered at last, making a low bow. "hats off to the ladies, as usual. who is that queer-looking customer coming this way?" "he is the man who is to see about our canal boat," answered phil, as though they were already in possession. madge had gone forward. "have you found the boat for us?" she inquired. "i simply can't wait to find out." the man grinned. "there is one towed alongside of mine that you might be able to git. i had a hard time finding it." "that is all right," declared jack, stepping forward, "you will be paid for your work. will you please take us out to look at the boat?" "got to cross my shanty to git to it," the man replied, leading the way across a rickety gang-plank. there were three or four dirty children playing on the deck of his boat and a thin, yellow dog. at the open door of the shanty kitchen stood the figure of a girl. she had on the faded calico dress of the day before; she was barefooted and her hair was ragged and unkempt. but as jack bolling and the four girls glanced idly at her a start of surprise ran through each one of these. jack stopped for an instant, and instinctively took off his hat. phil alden whispered in madge's ear, "i never saw any one so beautiful in my life," and madge mutely agreed. the girl was smiling a wistful, far-away smile that was very touching. her hair was the color of copper that has been burnished by the sun, and her eyes were the deep blue of the midsummer sky. the wind and sun had tanned the girl's cheeks, but her skin was still fine and delicate. there was a strange, vacant expression in her eyes and a pathetic droop to her whole figure. "git you back in there, moll," the owner of the shanty boat called out roughly. the girl started and quivered, as though she expected a blow. jack's face turned hot with anger. but what could he do? the man was talking to his own daughter. "why did you speak to the poor girl like that?" asked madge sharply. "she ain't all right in the top story," the man answered. "she is kind of foolish. i have to keep a close watch on her." madge turned pitying eyes on the demented girl, then as they stepped aboard the other canal boat, for the time she forgot the lovely apparition she had just seen. "how much will the owner rent this boat for?" madge asked at last, trying hard to conceal her enthusiasm. the boat was dirty and needed renovating, but it was well built of good, strong timbers. "my friend is willing to sell this here boat for a hundred dollars," said the fisherman, mike muldoon, hesitating as he mentioned the sum. it was all madge could do to keep from clapping her hands for joy. one hundred dollars for the boat--that left another hundred for painting and remodeling and for other necessary expenses. just as madge was about to close with the man's offer a look from jack bolling interrupted her. "the boat is not worth a hundred dollars," he declared decisively. "the young lady will give you fifty dollars for it, and not a cent more." the man laughed contemptuously. "i can't do it," he said. "that boat is cheap at a hundred dollars." "at fifty, you mean," retorted jack stubbornly. the girls stood back quietly and allowed jack to drive the bargain, which he did with so much spirit that the coveted boat was at last made over to him at his price, fifty dollars. for the rest of the day the four girls spent their time interviewing carpenters and painters. at last they found a man who promised to deliver the boat, rebuilt according to madge's idea, at a little town several miles farther down the bay. the man owned a motor boat. he was to take the houseboat to a landing, where the girls could load it with the necessary supplies, and then to tow them farther down the bay, until they found the ideal place for their summer holiday. "i declare, madge, dear, i was never so tired, nor so happy in my life," declared eleanor butler late that afternoon, as the quartette were on their way back to their school at harborpoint. "i can see our houseboat, now, as plainly as anything. at first, lillian and i couldn't quite believe in your idea." madge had heard eleanor's comments but vaguely. she was doing a sum in mental arithmetic. "fifty dollars for the old shanty boat, seventy-five for remodeling it, fifteen to the man for towing." here she became confused. but she still knew there was quite a large sum of money left for buying the little furniture they needed and their store of provisions. phyllis alden, too, had been busy calculating. "i think we can do it, madge," she said, leaning over from the back seat to speak to her friend. "of course we can. we shall have whole lots of money," announced madge triumphantly. phil shook her head. "i am afraid we won't. there is one thing we must buy that will be expensive." lillian straightened up. she had been leaning against the back of the seat, utterly worn out. the three girls gazed at phil in consternation. what was this new item of expense that threatened to eat up their little capital? "don't keep us in suspense, phil," laughed eleanor. "what have we forgotten to buy?" "a kitchen stove!" cried phil dramatically. "and i know they must be awfully expensive." "what a goose you are, phil," said lillian in a practical tone. "we don't want a kitchen stove. it would take up too much room. we need an oil stove or something like that." "then i appoint you as a special committee to look into the stove question, lillian," laughed madge. "i accept the appointment," bowed lillian, "and i won't waste our capital on kitchen ranges of elephantine proportions, either." during the next five days the four friends found plenty to occupy their time. then miss tolliver's school closed, and phil alden hurried home to her family in hartford, connecticut; lillian returned to her home in philadelphia, while madge and eleanor departed to spend a week with mr. and mrs. butler in their old home in virginia. miss jones, however, remained at the school. she made one hurried trip into baltimore, and on another occasion had a visitor, but the rest of the time she sewed industriously; for on june the eighth a new experience was to be hers--she was to begin her duties as chaperon to four adventurous girls aboard their longed-for "ship of dreams." chapter v all aboard blue waves lapped idly against the sides of a little, white palace that had risen out of the waves of the bay overnight. one side lay close along a quiet shore. overhead the leaves of a willow tree stirred in the wind, and the birds twittered in its branches. the rosy flush was just fading out of the sky. dawn had come only a short time before, and the wind, the waves and the birds were the only things stirring so early in the morning. there was not a sound or a movement aboard the odd vessel that was moored to the shore. along the shore sped the slender figure of a girl. it was a part of the morning. her blue frock was the color of the sky and her auburn hair had been touched by the sun, and on her radiant face lay the glory of youth. of course, it was madge! she did not stop when she first spied her houseboat between the branches of the willow tree. she gave a little gasp, and ran on faster than ever. a moment later she came alongside her boat, which was only about three feet from the shore. madge had not practised running and jumping in the gymnasium at school and on the old farm in virginia for nothing. she gave one flying leap and landed on the deck of her houseboat. then she stood perfectly still, a little song of gratitude welling from the depth of her happy heart. "perhaps it was not fair in me to have run away from eleanor," she mused. "but then nellie is such a sleepy-head, she never would have wished to get up so early. and i did want to see the boat alone, just for a moment. i am not going to look into the cabin, though. i am going to wait for the other girls----" a stone went whizzing by madge's ear at this moment, causing her soliloquy to come to an abrupt end. she glanced toward the shore. a small boy stood grinning at her, with his hands tucked into a pair of trousers so much too long for him they had to be turned up from the ankles to the knees. "hello," he remarked cheerfully, eyeing madge owlishly. "hello yourself," returned madge. "do you usually begin the day by throwing stones at peaceful strangers?" "yes'm," the small boy responded calmly. "where'd you and that come from?" "i came from my home in virginia, and if by 'that' you mean my boat, it is a 'ship of dreams' and was towed up here from baltimore yesterday afternoon. what do you think of it?" "she isn't a dream, she's a peach," was the prompt retort. "i'm glad you like her," smiled madge in a winning fashion that caused the lad to smile in return. "why are you up so early in the morning?" "driving home the cows," was the laconic answer. "i don't see any cows," teased madge. "wait a minute. i have something for you to do. would you like to earn a quarter? if you would, then come back here about nine o'clock. we are going to load our boat with some furniture and provisions, and we would like to have you help us." "all right, i'll be here," promised the boy, and ran off into the bushes with a derisive grin which madge did not see. a few moments later madge went back to eleanor to have breakfast at the little boarding house where she and her cousin had spent the night. miss jones, lillian and phil had not yet arrived, but they were expected by the early train that came from baltimore. the little village from which they intended to go aboard their houseboat was only about half an hour's ride from the city, and was situated on one of the quiet inlets of the bay. fifteen minutes before the train was due eleanor and madge were impatiently waiting at the station. the newcomers were so surrounded by bags, suit cases and mysterious packages that it took all the men about the depot to land them safely on the platform. madge gave the order to the expressman to bring all their luggage to the houseboat landing near the willow tree. then the party started out to find the boat, without losing a minute by the way. madge slipped her arm through that of miss jones and walked beside her dutifully, though she secretly longed to be with her chums. lillian, phil and eleanor joined hands and ran ahead, without being in the least degree affected by the idea that they were no longer children. madge, however, was the only one who knew the way. she hurried miss jones along until that young woman was almost out of breath. when they were within a short distance of the place where she had found her boat waiting for her in the early morning, she could bear it no longer. with a murmured excuse she broke away from miss jones and started on a run toward the willow tree. her three chums were close behind her. the branches of the willow tree seemed more impenetrable in the bright sunlight. it was not so easy to see through them. madge ran straight past the tree, then uttered a shrill cry. she stopped short, her cheeks turning first red, then white. "what is it?" cried phil, springing to her friend's side. madge pointed dumbly toward the water. "tell us!" said eleanor, running up to madge and lightly grasping her arm. "our houseboat is gone!" gasped madge. "it was right there, tied to that very post along the shore early this morning! the man who brought it down from baltimore left a note for me describing the landing place. he said he had to go back to baltimore, but that he would come here this afternoon to tow us. now the boat has gone! o, girls, what shall we do?" the girls stared at the water in silence. disappointment rendered them speechless for the moment. "let us look up and down the shore," suggested phil comfortingly. "i suppose it is just barely possible that the rope broke away from the stake, and the boat has floated off somewhere." the four girls ran up and down the bank, straining their eyes in anxious glances out over the wide stretch of water. there was no houseboat in sight. it had vanished as completely as though it had really been a "ship of dreams." "perhaps you have made a mistake in the place, madge," was the chaperon's first remark as she joined the excited party. madge compressed her red lips. miss jones was so provoking. she was utterly without tact. but now that she was to be one of the party it would be wrong to say a single impolite thing to their chaperon the whole six weeks of their holiday, no matter how provoking or tactless she might he. madge sighed impatiently, then turned to the teacher. "no, i am not mistaken, miss jones. i can't be. you see, i came to this very spot this morning and went aboard our boat. then i have the man's description of the landing place. i think we had better go back to the village and see if we can get some men who know the shore along here to come to help us look out for our boat. there is no use in having our furniture brought here if we haven't any houseboat," finished madge, her voice trembling. "come along, then; i will go back with you," volunteered phil. "miss jones, you sit under the tree. lillian, you and nellie keep a sharp look-out. if any one comes along in a boat, ask him about ours." "do you think our boat has gone forever, phil?" asked madge dejectedly as the two companions walked wearily back over the road they had traveled so gayly a short time before. "i don't know," replied phil. "i should say it depended entirely upon who had taken the trouble to spirit it away." while the two girls stood gazing moodily out over the bay a hard, green apple landed with a thump on top of madge's uncovered head. madge and phil looked up simultaneously. there in a gnarled old apple tree directly above them appeared the grinning face of the small boy whose acquaintance madge had made earlier in the morning. "lost your boat, ain't you?" he asked cheerfully. madge nodded and walked on. she was not anxious to renew conversation with the mischievous youngster. phil, however, was seized with an inspiration. "have you been about this place very long?" she inquired casually. "yep," the boy returned. "then, perhaps, you know what has become of our boat," suggested phil. "yep," answered the voice from the tree, "i know all about it." "then tell us this minute what has become of it!" ordered madge. "i knew the moment i saw you that you were the very imp of mischief. tell us where our boat is at once." "i won't tell," the urchin spoke firmly. "you shall," declared madge, her eyes flashing. "i'd like to see you make me tell," dared the boy. "a girl can't climb a tree." the grin on his impish face widened. "i'll show you that a girl _can_ climb a tree, young man," exclaimed madge hotly, making her way toward the tree. "i have climbed a good many more trees than you have ever climbed in your life." "listen to me, madge," admonished phil, laughing at her friend, "you can't have a fight with a small boy in the top of a tree or shake him out of it. don't allow him to tease you. let's go on into the village and get a policeman. then, if the boy really knows anything about the disappearance of our houseboat, the policeman will make him tell us." phil tried to make her voice sound as threatening as possible when she mentioned the word "policeman." "i won't be here when you git back," was the imp's cheerful response. madge and phil paid no further heed to him. they went on toward the town. a few yards farther on they heard the patter of bare feet. "can't you wait a minute?" a voice pleaded. "i was only teasing you. if you promise you won't give me away, i'll tell you what became of your old boat. my pa took it." "your pa?" cried madge in surprise. "what do you mean?" "when i told pa i'd seen a new-fangled kind of a boat hitched to our post, where we most generally ties up our own boat, he said you hadn't no right to be there. so he just hitched up our mule and he come down here and untied your boat and dragged it up shore. i run after him until i got too tired. then i come back here to tell you," ended the boy. "where is your father?" phil asked quietly. madge's eyes were flashing dangerously, her temper was rising. "he's cutting hay," the boy returned. "i'll show you the field and then i'll run." lillian and eleanor had now joined the two girls to find out what was delaying them. miss jones still waited, disconsolate, under the willow tree. the four girls started out behind the one small boy, who answered to the name of bill jenkins, jr. it was evident that bill jenkins, sr., was the name of the boat-thief. "what shall we say and do when we find the man?" asked eleanor anxiously. "i suppose we had no right to tie our boat up at his landing place without asking permission." madge shook her head angrily. "right or no right, i shall certainly tell him my opinion of him," she said tensely. "you must not make the man angry, madge," argued gentle eleanor, who knew madge's fiery, temper and stood in awe of it. "perhaps, when he sees we are girls, he will be sorry he took our boat away and will bring it back for us." "let us go and see him at once," was madge's sole response. after all, it was eleanor's gentleness that won the day! she told the farmer, whom they found in the hay field, the whole story of the houseboat, and how they hoped to spend their holiday aboard it. "i declare, i'm real sorry i moved your houseboat," he apologized. "if i'd 'a' known the pretty toy boat belonged to a parcel of young girls like you, i'd never have laid hands on it. you kin stay along my shore all summer if you like. but no one asked my permission to tie the boat to my post. and soon as i seen it, i just thought the boat belonged to some rich society folks who thought they owned the airth. i hid the boat up the bay a piece. but don't you fret. i'll go git it and tote it back in no time." "i am so sorry," explained madge prettily, ashamed of her bad temper and how near she had come to displaying it. "i thought, of course, the engineer who towed our boat out here from baltimore had asked your permission before he made a landing. i suppose he was in such a hurry to get back to the city that he neglected it." while the girls and their chaperon waited for the return of their houseboat they ate an early luncheon out of the hampers that phil and lillian had brought from their homes to provision the travelers for the day. the houseboat finally did appear, much as the girls had pictured her. she was painted white, with a line of green showing just above the water. the four rooms in the cabin, which was set well toward the stern, opened into each other, and each room had a small door and window facing on the deck. the two bedrooms had six berths set along the walls. one room was intended for the kitchen and the fourth, which was the largest, was to serve as the dining room, sitting room, work and play room for the houseboat party on rainy days, when it was impossible for them to be out on deck. while the men were unloading the barrels and boxes on the boat the girls ran in and out the doors of their cabin rooms like the figures in a pantomime, bumping into each other and stumbling over things. miss jones at last sent eleanor and lillian to the kitchen to drive nails along the wall and to hang up their limited display of kitchen utensils, while phil and madge helped with the unpacking. there was one steamer chair, bought in honor of the chaperon, and a great many sofa cushions, borrowed from their rooms at school, to be used as deck furniture. a barrel of apples, a barrel of potatoes and two virginia hams were donations from the farm in virginia. mrs. seldon, lillian's mother, had also sent a store of pickles and preserves. phil, too, had brought a big box from home, while madge's own purchases for the houseboat included a small table, five chairs, besides the necessary china and some of the bedding. the rest of the outfit the girls managed to secure from their own homes. miss jones, phil and madge were industriously turning the berths into beds when a sharp scream from lillian, who was working in the kitchen, filled them with terror. miss jones arrived first at the kitchen door, with her heart in her mouth. had some horrible disaster overtaken them, just as they were about to start on their adventures? there stood the two girls, lillian and eleanor, their faces, instead of showing fright, apparently shining with delight. the men who had been setting up the little stove, which they had bought for a trifling sum after all, had disappeared. the girls were now in full possession of their domain. "what is it, children? what has happened?" implored miss jones, with a white, scared face. lillian pointed ahead of her, but only the kitchen stove was to be seen. madge and phil, who had followed close behind their chaperon, were equally mystified. but hark! what was the noise they heard all at once? a gentle crackling, a roar, a burst of flame, and a puff of smoke up through the long stove pipe! the pipe went through a hole cut in the side of the wall. "a fire, a fire!" exclaimed lillian joyously, wondering why the others looked so startled. there was really a fire burning in the stove of the houseboat kitchen! and as a fire is a first sign to the pioneer that he is at last at home, so the little company felt themselves to be the original girl pioneers in houseboat adventures, and felt the same thrill of peace and pleasure. madge seized the shining new tea-kettle and filled it with water from the big bucket that rested on a shelf just outside the kitchen door. "madge, put the kettle on, madge, put the kettle on, we'll all take tea," she sang in a sweet, high, rapturous voice. toot, toot, toot! a motor boat whistle sounded out on the water. the four girls rushed on deck to call a greeting to the engineer who was to tow their houseboat down the bay, until it found an anchorage in a cove in the bay near a stream of clear water. four weary but happy girls sat out on deck on cushions as the engineer made fast to their boat preparatory to starting. the chaperon was installed in the solitary grandeur of their one steamer chair. there was a heavy tug at the great rope that bound the houseboat to the little motor tug. the motor boat moved out into the bay, and with almost no perceptible motion and no noise, except the gentle ripple of the water purling against the sides of the craft, the houseboat followed it. the longed-for vacation on the water had begun. chapter vi pleasure bay just before twilight the boat reached a spot that seemed especially created for the travelers. for two hours they had been silently drinking in the beauty of the sun-lit bay and the green earth. they were not in the main body of the great chesapeake bay, but in one of the long arms of the bay that reaches into the maryland coast. "look ahead of you, girls, to the left," called phyllis alden, as they glided slowly along. miss jones and the three girls looked. there, in a curve of the land, was a low bank, with great clusters of purple iris growing along it, among the slender, long, green stems of the "cat-tails." an elm tree stood close to the edge of the water, spreading its branches out over the miniature sea. it was so strong, so big and enduring that it gave the home-seeking girls a sense of protection. the elm's branches could shelter them from the sun by day, and at night their boat could be tied to its trunk. farther up the bank the girls could see a comfortable old, gray, shingled farmhouse. the farm meant water, fresh eggs, milk and butter. madge looked inquiringly at their chaperon, who nodded with an expression of entire satisfaction. next, madge glanced about the semi-circle of eager faces. "shall we cast our anchor in pleasure bay?" she asked, and thus the pleasant little inland sea was named. madge signaled to the motor boat ahead, and the engineer stopped. he had several passengers on board his motor boat, but the men had been inside the saloon most of the time, and no one on board the houseboat had noticed them. before the houseboat anchored madge and phil ran up the hill to ask at the farmhouse for the privilege of making a landing. they had learned a lesson they were not likely to forget. too tired to begin work, the girls ate their supper out of the luncheon baskets, then sat about on deck, singing and talking until the stars came out and twinkled down on their little houseboat with a million friendly eyes; then, urged by their chaperon and their own heavy eyes, they crept into their berths. it was still night when madge awakened with a start. she thought she heard some one talking. "to whit! to whoo!" it was only the call of a friendly owl. yet the night seemed curiously lonely. it was strange to be asleep on the water instead of on the land! there was another weird sound, then something stirred outside on the deck of the boat. from her cabin window madge could see the line of the shore. it was quiet and empty. this time she heard the sound of a voice. another voice answered it. could it be possible that the second voice sounded like that of miss jones! what could have happened? without pausing to put on her shoes madge slipped into the next room. eleanor lay breathing quietly in the upper berth and miss jones seemed to be asleep in the lower one. but the cover was drawn up almost to where her ears should be and madge could not see her face. she crept over to the chaperon's berth. it was necessary to waken miss jones and tell her of the mysterious sounds. she slipped her hand along the pillow in the dark. there was no response. she groped deeper under the covers. still no movement or sound. miss jones was not in her berth. she was out on deck, talking to some one. madge returned to her room. she did not intend to call the other girls until she knew what was the trouble. phyllis was always brave and so were lillian and eleanor, but in this instance they could do nothing. the girl stole softly to the cabin window and peeped out. she could just catch the outline of two figures that were standing well up toward the bow of the boat. one was a woman's figure, with a shawl thrown over her head, but madge was sure that she recognized the chaperon. hurrying back to her berth she slipped on her steamer coat and slippers. she was trying every moment to fight down the distrust and dislike she had felt toward miss jones ever since their first acquaintance. she was trying to tell herself that she had invited their teacher to act as their chaperon from other motives, as well as from sympathy. but the finger of suspicion seemed to point plainly toward the teacher. madge walked quietly, and without any fear or hesitation, out on the deck of the houseboat, straight toward the two shrouded figures in the bow. neither of them heard her coming, but she heard miss jones's distressed plea: "won't you go away, and never come here again. i tell you, i can not do it. i simply can't----" "miss jones," madge's voice, clear and cold, sounded almost in her chaperon's ear. the young woman turned so white that madge could see her pallor in the moonlight. the figure with her was shrouded in a long, black coat which was pulled up about its face. at the first sound of madge's voice it made for the extreme end of the boat. with a quick turn, madge ran after the escaping form. as it poised itself for a leap toward the shore, madge caught at the cloak and dragged it away from the face, and for a brief instant she saw the face of a boy a little older perhaps than she was. it was a wild and elfish face, while a pair of ears, ending almost in points, stuck up through the masses of thick, curly hair that covered his head. but before she could get a distinct impression of his face the young man was gone, racing up the low embankment with great leaps, like a hunted deer. madge turned to their chaperon, waiting for the latter to offer some explanation. miss jones said nothing, but regarded madge with distressed eyes. "who was your visitor? i did not know that any one knew we were anchored here. we did not know, ourselves, that we were to land here until we spied the place. was that boy a stranger to you? why didn't you call one of us if he frightened you?" madge's tone was distinctly unfriendly. miss jones only shook her head. big tears were rolling down her cheeks. she was trembling so that madge, much against her will, took her by the arm and assisted her across the deck. "i can tell you nothing, madge," was the teacher's husky reply. "i am perfectly aware that you have a right to know. still, i simply can't tell you. but i can go away, if you like, and i will, as soon as you can get some one else to chaperon you. only i must ask you not to tell the other girls what has happened to-night, or why i must leave you. you see, dear," miss jones ended wistfully, "the other girls are fond of me. you never have been. i can not bear to lose their faith and trust." there was a significant silence after this remark. "did you really see who it was with me?" miss jones questioned anxiously. "would you know the face if you saw it again?" "i don't know," was madge's stiff reply, "but i believe i should." "won't you promise me that you will not tell the other girls?" miss jones whispered, as they crossed the deck and came to the door of their little cabin. "i am not asking you to do anything wrong, only asking you to trust me and believe that i do not think i am doing a wrong by not taking you into my confidence." "very well, i will keep your secret," returned madge slowly. "i do not wish you to leave us, miss jones. i wish you to stay and take care of us, just as you planned to do." "you are only saying that, dear, because you know i have no other place to go for my holiday, and you are afraid my health will suffer. you must not think of my health. i can not stay with you just for my own sake." "then stay for ours," said madge shortly, and without further words she went into the cabin and climbed into her berth. sleep was far from weighing down her eyelids. she lay awake for some time, wondering why clouds and distrust should so often spring up among human beings when everything seemed arranged for their perfect happiness. she generously made up her mind, however, never to trouble their chaperon with questions about her mysterious visitor, but she determined to discover for herself who that boy was, and whether he had come aboard the boat to rob them. chapter vii their unknown jailer "madge morton, what do you mean sleeping until seven o'clock, the first morning we are on our houseboat?" cried phil, poking her head in the cabin door. "i would have awakened you before now, only miss jones would not let me. lillian and eleanor have been waiting for you in their bathing suits for a long while. do let's have a salt water plunge before breakfast." springing from her berth, madge made a dash for her bathing suit, which she had laid out the night before. the girls were over the side of the boat in a hurry, swimming about in the water with gleeful shouts. the odor of frying bacon, which was presently wafted to their nostrils from the door of the houseboat kitchen, was something the bathers were too hungry to resist, and with one accord, they swam toward their boat. it had been arranged that miss jones was to get the breakfast, lillian and eleanor the luncheon, and phil and madge, who were the most ambitious of the cooks, though not the most proficient, were to cook the dinner. madge noticed that miss jones looked whiter than usual, but the other girls saw no difference in their chaperon as they clambered up over the side of the boat to get ready for breakfast. "girls," miss jones remarked, as she put down a big plate of corn muffins before her hungry charges, "phil accused me once of being mysterious and never talking about myself. well, i am going to make a confession about myself at once." madge raised her eyes in surprise. after all, was miss jones going to tell of last night's adventure? but the chaperon was not looking at her. she was smiling at phil, lillian and eleanor. "well, out with it, miss jones," laughed phil. "what is the confession?" "it is a foolish one, perhaps. i hate the name of 'jones.' i have despised it all my life. there, that is my confession. won't you girls please call me something else while we are having our holiday together? i know madge can find a name for me." she looked rather timidly at madge. the girl blushed, though she felt vastly relieved at miss jones's confession. "what do you wish us to call you? i saw your initials in some of your books, 'j. a. jones,' so we might call you jenny ann jones, because, when nellie and i were children, we used to play an old nursery game: 'we're going to see miss jenny ann jones, miss jenny ann jones, and how is she to-day?'" madge's explanation ended with a song. miss jones laughed. "my name is worse than jenny ann, it is jemima ann." "it isn't pretty," agreed phyllis, with a shake of the head. "girls, what shall we call our chaperon? and we have never named our houseboat, either. we have a day's work ahead of us. we must think of names for both of them." "wouldn't 'miss ann' do?" eleanor asked. "i think ann is such a pretty name." "i would rather you had a more individual name for me. i have often been called ann." "you might be the 'queen of our ship of dreams,'" laughed lillian. "that sounds altogether too high and mighty," objected phyllis. "we ought to have something nice and chummy." "we might call you 'gem,' because it is short for jemima, and in honor of these corn muffins, which we call 'gems' in our part of the world," added phil. "we'll think of a name yet. come on, girls, we must get to work; there is so much to be done. lillian, you and i must go up to the farmhouse to get some supplies this morning. suppose we take a long walk this afternoon and explore the woods back of us?" "we will think of the prettiest name we can for you and another for our houseboat," declared lillian as the four girls rose from the table to go about their various tasks; "then we shall make our report to-night." it was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when the four churns started on their walk. miss jones did not go with them. she was tired and wished to sit out on the deck of the boat in the sunshine. "be back before dark, children," she called out gayly as the girls climbed up the little embankment. "remember, you don't know your way in this country, as you do at old harborpoint. i shall be uneasy about you if you aren't back on time." there were several scattered farmhouses at the top of the hill that sloped down to the cove of the bay, but back of the farmlands lay a long stretch of forest. the ground was covered with a carpet of wild flowers and a few late violets. once the chums were fairly in the heart of the woods they did not meet another traveler. they seemed to have the forest to themselves. they had no thought of danger in the quiet woods, and madge and eleanor, who had been brought up in the country, were careful to watch the paths they followed. they had been in the woods for an hour or more when lillian, who was stooping over a clump of big, purple violets, thought she heard a peculiar sound resembling light footsteps, whether there was a human being or an animal near them she could not tell. the footsteps would run rapidly and then stop abruptly. "phil," called lillian, "i thought i heard something. did you? listen once more. there, did you hear that?" phil listened. "not a sound, airy fairy lillian. it must have been your fancy." but lillian was not convinced. several times she believed she heard the noise again. however, she did not mention it. as the girls came out of the woods to a little clearing phil, who was in the lead, ran forward. "madge, eleanor," she called, "come here, quick! i am sure this must be a regular, old-time log cabin." before them the girls saw an old cabin that looked as though it had been empty for a quarter of a century. it was strongly built of logs, and the chinks between the logs were filled with mud that had hardened like plaster. there were no windows in the cabin, except in the eaves. the heavy door was half open, but it had an old-fashioned wooden latch on the outside. "the old cabin looks rather creepy, doesn't it, madge?" asked eleanor. "it is built more securely than our cabins farther down south, too. this place seems more like a prison." "it looks interesting. let's go in to see it." phil suggested. the cabin stood in front of a stream of clear water. close around it grew a number of dark old cedar trees. phil and madge shoved open the heavy door. inside, the one large room looked gray and dark, as the only light came from the two small windows so far overhead. "i would rather not go in, madge," protested eleanor, hesitating on the threshold after lillian had followed the other two girls inside. "don't be a baby, eleanor," scolded madge. "there is nothing to hurt you." once inside the old house, eleanor was as much interested as her chums. there was no furniture in the place, but a few faded pictures were tacked up on the walls, and the corners of the room were thick with mysterious and inviting shadows. as they clustered in a group under an old magazine picture of a darkey with a fiddle in his hand there was an unexpected sound just outside the door, and the big room grew suddenly darker. the four girls turned simultaneously. the heavy door through which they had entered the cabin, and which was the only entrance, had been shut fast. at the same instant there was the sound of a heavy, sliding bolt, then the rush of flying feet. for the moment no one of the girls realized the seriousness of what had happened. "some one must have locked us in for a joke," declared phil stoutly. madge ran to the door and shook it with all her strength. it was built of heavy logs, and, though the girls could see the daylight through the cracks between the timbers, the door showed no sign of opening. "don't work so hard, madge," remonstrated phil. "whoever shut us in will come back in a moment to unfasten the bolt." the girls waited a long time. no one returned. "perhaps the person who closed the door did not know there was any one in the cabin," suggested eleanor faintly. "but we were all talking, nellie. no one but a deaf person could have failed to hear us," lillian insisted. eleanor realized the truth of the words. "don't be frightened, nellie," begged madge remorsefully. "let's all push against the door at the same time. i am sure we shall be able to break the bolt. one, two, three! now--all together!" the four girls shoved with all their might, until their arms ached and their faces perspired from the exertion. still the old door resisted them. perhaps eleanor was right and the log house had been built as a prison. "i think we had better call for help," was phil's practical suggestion. "if we all scream together, we ought to make considerable noise. i am afraid miss jones may become worried about us before any one comes to let us out." the girls called and called, until their voices were hoarse, but no one answered them. each girl remembered that she had not met a single person in her journey through the woods. then the prisoners made a trip around the big room, poking and peering about to see if there were any other possible method of escape. "if i could only get up to one of those windows, i could easily break the bars and try to jump out of it," speculated madge aloud. "but, alas, i am not a monkey! i can't climb straight up the side of a wall." "you shall not try it, either," retorted eleanor determinedly. "you would break your neck if you tried to jump from one of those high windows. thank goodness, you can't climb up to them!" "you were the wise one, nell, and we wouldn't listen to you." madge eyed eleanor mournfully. she had an overwhelming desire to burst into tears. "don't take it so to heart, madge," comforted her cousin. "some one is sure to come this way finally, if we only call long enough." but the afternoon shadows lengthened and no one came. gradually the twilight fell, enveloping the big, bare room in hazy darkness. the prisoners huddled together with white and weary faces. they thought of their cosy houseboat with the little lamps lit in the dining room, and the big lantern hanging in the bow, and of miss jones, who by this time was no doubt anxiously waiting and watching for their return. it was perhaps eight o'clock, although to the girls it seemed midnight, when lillian whispered: "girls, i hear some one coming this way. phil was right; it was a joke, after all. whoever locked the door has come back to unlock it." the girls smiled hopefully. after all, their experience did not amount to anything. they would be back inside the houseboat in another hour. the footsteps now sounded plainly just outside the cabin door. "won't you please unbar the door for us?" called phil and madge in chorus. "some one has locked us inside." an elfish laugh answered them. or was it the wind? perhaps they had heard no one after all. they strained their ears but heard no further sound. then the last bit of twilight vanished and night came down in reality. chapter viii an anxious night huddled together in the darkness, phil and madge endeavored to relieve the strain of the situation by talking, but the very sound of their voices dismayed them and they became silent. finally eleanor, who had been leaning against madge's shoulder, laid her head in her cousin's lap and went to sleep. a little later lillian, after receiving madge's assurance that she and phil intended to keep watch, went to sleep also. "madge," phil's voice trembled a little, "what do you suppose poor miss jones will think? she won't have the least idea in which direction to look for us. goodness knows how long we may have to stay here. we may never get out." her voice sank to a whisper. "why, phil," madge feigned a hopefulness which she did not feel, "i am surprised at you. you haven't given up hope. it is just the darkness and being hungry that makes things appear so dreadful. i have been thinking about our plight, and when daylight comes i am going to try to climb up the wall to the window. the mud has broken away between some of the logs, so that i can get my foot in the opening. we shall have to dig it away in other places too." "but what can we dig with, madge? we haven't a knife." "with our fingers and hairpins, if we must, phil. sh-sh, nellie is waking. i want her to sleep on till daylight." toward morning, however, the two girls' eyes closed wearily. in spite of their resolve to keep awake, the gray dawn creeping in at the windows found them fast asleep. it was phil who first opened her eyes. she touched madge, who sat up with a start, then springing to her feet exclaimed, "i'm so glad it's morning. now for my great circus stunt." "you can't possibly climb up there without hurting yourself, madge. you will surely fall," expostulated eleanor. "please, please don't try it." "please don't discourage me, nellie. it is the only way i know to get out of this dreadful place. phil, if you will try to brace me, i can climb up and dig in the mud farther up." eleanor was feeling down in her pocket. suddenly she gave a little cry of surprise. "o, girls! i have something that may help. here is a little pair of scissors. you can dig with them, madge." the girls hailed the scissors with exclamations of joy. they were very small embroidery scissors, but they were better than nothing. lillian, who was bent on a foraging expedition around the room, came back a moment later with a few big, rusty nails and an old brick she had picked up out of the tumbled down fireplace. "if you can hammer these nails in the wall, madge, you will have something to hold on to as you climb." for two hours madge alternately dug and climbed. in each hole that she made between the big logs she would set her foot, then hammer a nail above her head and dig a new opening. at last she actually did climb up the side of the wall, but her hands were scratched and bleeding, and her hair and face were covered with mud. she had taken off her dress skirt, too, as she could climb better in her petticoat. the three girls below held their breath when she came to the final stretch, and let go the last rickety nail to fling herself on to the window sill. "eureka, girls!" she called down cheerfully, when she got her breath. she was holding tightly to the window frame with both hands and endeavoring to make her voice sound gay, though she was nearly worn out with the fatigue of her dangerous climb. "now i shall surely find a way out for us. please don't be frightened, nellie, darling, if i have to jump. it is not so bad." she gave a little inward shudder as she looked through the tiny window frame. she could easily wrench the broken bars away. that was not the trouble. but the window was so small and the sill so narrow that madge realized she could not get into the proper position for a forward spring. however, she had made up her mind; she might break her leg, or her arm, but she would open that barred door if she died in doing it. with determined hands she wrenched at one of the window bars. it gave way. she seized hold of another, clinging to the sill with her other hand, her feet in their insecure resting places. "it's all right, chilluns," she smiled, as she swung herself up to the window, "i'm going to jump." eleanor had closed her eyes. phil and lillian watched their friend, sick with apprehension. madge gave one look down at the ground, at least fourteen feet below her. then she uttered a quick, sharp cry, and dropped back to her resting place, her feet, almost by instinct, finding the open spaces in the wall. "come down, madge," called phil sharply. "i was afraid you'd find the distance too great. don't try it again." "no, no, it is not that," replied madge, gazing through the window. "i don't believe i shall have to jump. i am sure some one is near." sniffing the ground, near the side of the cabin, she had spied a dog with a soft brown nose, a shaggy, red brown body and a tail standing out tense and straight. it was a brown setter, and madge knew he was probably hunting for woodchucks. surely the presence of the dog meant a master somewhere near. her tired, eager eyes strained through the thick foliage of the woods they had traversed so happily only the afternoon before. yes, there was a man's figure! he was coming nearer. a young man in a hunting jacket, with a gun swung over his shoulder, was tramping along, with his eyes on the ground. a pleading voice apparently came from the sky: "please unbar the door of this old cabin. we are locked inside." the young man stopped short. he took off his cap and ran his hand through his thick, light hair. he was too old to believe in fairies or elves. but he heard the voice again even more distinctly. "oh, don't go away! do open the log cabin door." the young man looked up. there was a little, white face as wan and pale as the early daylight, with an aureole of dark red curls around it, staring at him through the broken window frame of the old log cabin that he had seen deserted a dozen times in his hunting trips through these woods. "if there is some one really calling to me, please wave your hand three times from that window, so i will know you are not a spook," called the young man, "otherwise i may be afraid to open the door." "i can't wave. i shall fall if i let go the window sill," answered madge, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "please don't wait any longer. we have been locked in all night." the stranger drew back the heavy wooden bolt. he started when he saw three white-faced girls staring at him. but the face he had seen at the window was not among them. clinging to the old window frame, her slender feet stuck in the cracks between the logs, was the witch who had summoned him to their rescue. "won't you please come help me down, phil?" asked a plaintive voice. "just let go the window frame and drop," ordered the stranger quietly. "don't be afraid. it is the only possible way." without hesitating madge did as directed. "thank you," she said coolly, when she got her breath. then she staggered a little, and phyllis and the young man who had come to their rescue caught her. "we have been locked in so long," explained phil. "no, we have not the least idea who could have played such a trick on us. we arrived in this neighborhood only yesterday afternoon." phil gave a short history of the houseboat, introducing her three friends and herself to him. "we must return to our chaperon at once," she added. "the poor woman will be dreadfully worried. do you girls feel strong enough to walk? you see"--this time phil turned to their rescuer--"it is not only that we have been shut up here for nearly fourteen hours, we are so hungry! we have had nothing to eat since yesterday at luncheon." "your poor, starving girls!" exclaimed their liberator, reproachfully. "at last i am convinced you are not fairies. and for once i am glad that my mother is always certain that i am on the point of starving." he reached back into his pocket and brought out a package and a flask. "here is some good, strong coffee. i am sorry it is cold, but it is better than nothing." he turned to madge, who looked exhausted. she shook her head, though she gazed at the flask wistfully. "i won't drink first. i don't need it as much as the other girls." eleanor took the bottle from his hands and held it to madge's lips. the exhausted girl took a long drink. then the others followed suit, while the young man watched them, smiling with satisfaction. he was tall and strong, and not particularly handsome, but he had fine brown eyes, a firm chin and thick, curly, light hair. after the girls had finished the coffee he broke open his package of sandwiches and found exactly four inside. "please take them," he urged, handing the open package to lillian. "we mustn't take them from you," protested lillian. "we thank you for the coffee. that will do nicely until we get back to our boat." the stranger laughed. "see here," he protested, "not an hour ago, when i left the hotel, where my mother and i are spending the summer, i ate three eggs, much bacon, four maryland biscuit and drank two cups of coffee. fragile creature that i am, i believe i can exist on that amount of refreshment for another hour or so. but whenever i go out on a few hours' hunting trip, my mother insists that the steward at the hotel put me up a luncheon. she is forever imagining that i am likely to get lost and starve, a modern 'babe in the woods,' you know. by the way, i haven't introduced myself. my name is curtis, thomas stevenson curtis, if you please, but i am more used to plain, everyday tom." the girls acknowledged the introduction, then by common consent they began walking away from the cabin. a short distance was traversed in silence, then madge said abruptly, "who do you suppose locked us in, mr. curtis?" "i don't know," answered tom curtis darkly, clenching his fist. "but wouldn't i like to find out! have you an enemy about here?" madge shook her head. "no; as i said, we came to the neighborhood only yesterday. we have met only the farmer and his wife, who allowed us to land." "i'll make it my business to find out who served you such a dastardly trick, miss morton," tom returned. "i expect to be in this neighborhood all summer. my mother isn't very well, and we like this quiet place. our home is in new york. i was a freshman last year at columbia." only the day before tom curtis had informed his mother that he found the neighborhood too slow, and that if she didn't object he would be glad to move on. but a great deal can happen in a short time to make a young man of twenty change his mind. "thank you," replied madge sedately. "i'll be on the lookout for the wretch, too. now we must hurry back to our chaperon, miss jones. i won't ask you to come with us this morning, but we shall be very glad to have you come aboard our boat to-morrow. we haven't named her yet, but she is so white and clean and new looking that you can't possibly mistake her. she is lying on an arm of the bay just south of these woods." "i'll surely avail myself of the invitation," smiled tom curtis as they paused for a moment at the edge of the woods. below them the blue waters of the bay gleamed in the sunshine. and yes, there was their beloved "ship of dreams." "oh, you can see her from here!" exclaimed madge, her eyes dancing with the pride of possession. "see, mr. curtis, it is our very own 'ship of dreams' until we give her a real name." "she's a beauty," said tom curtis warmly, "and i really must have a closer look at her." "then come to see us soon," invited phil audaciously. "i will, you may be certain of it. good-bye. i hope you won't suffer any bad effects from your strenuous night." the young man raised his cap and, whistling to his dog, strode off down the hill. "what a nice boy," commented lillian. madge, however, was not thinking of tom curtis; her mind dwelt upon their chaperon, and the long, anxious night she had spent alone on the houseboat. poor miss jones! her vigil had indeed been a patient one. from the time the hands of the little cabin clock had pointed to the hour of six she had anxiously awaited the girls. she had cooked the dinner, then set it in the oven to warm. at seven o'clock she trudged up the hill to the farmhouse to make inquiries. no one had seen the young women since they passed through the fields early that afternoon. at nine o'clock a party of farmers scoured the country side, but the extreme darkness of the night had caused the young men to discontinue their search until daylight. at dawn miss jones flung herself down on her berth, utterly exhausted. she would rest until the search party started out again, then she would hurry to the nearest town and inform the authorities of the strange disappearance of the girls. as she lay with half-closed eyes trying to imagine just what could possibly have happened to her charges, a familiar call broke upon her ears that caused her to spring up from her berth in wonder. "we've come to see miss jennie ann jones," caroled a voice, and in the next instant the bewildered teacher was surrounded by four tired but smiling girls. "we were locked up all night in a log cabin in the woods," began madge. "do say you are glad to see us and give us some breakfast, miss jennie ann jones, for we were never so hungry in all our lives before, and as soon as we have something to eat, we'll tell you the strangest story you ever heard." with her arm thrown across the teacher's shoulders madge made her way to the houseboat, followed by her friends. at that moment, to the little, impulsive girl, miss jennie ann jones seemed particularly dear, in spite of her mysterious ways, and madge made mental resolve to try to believe in their chaperon, no matter what happened. chapter ix the girl on the island "phil, it looks like only a little more than half a mile over to the island. do you think we can make it?" asked madge, casting speculative eyes toward the distant island. "of course we can," declared phyllis. "i'm sorry that eleanor and miss jones did not come with us. but they have become so domestic that they can't be persuaded to leave the houseboat. nelly told me she positively loved to polish kettles and things," phil replied. lillian, phyllis and madge were in their own rowboat, the "water witch," which had been expressed to them from harborpoint. they were no longer in the quiet inlet of the bay, where their houseboat was anchored, but rowing out toward the more open water. on one side of them they could see the beach in front of a large summer hotel. across from it lay a small island, to which they were rowing. "miss jones doesn't like to have us start off alone this way. she has grown dreadfully nervous about us since our experience in the cabin," remarked lillian. "that is why she didn't approve of madge's plan this morning." "i thought madge was going to fly into little bits when miss jones suggested it was not safe for us to row about here in our own little 'water witch,'" teased phil. "phil, please don't discuss my temper," answered madge crossly. "if there is one thing i hate worse than another, it is to hear people talk about my faults. of course, i know i have a perfectly detestable temper, but i hardly said a word to miss jenny ann. please tell me what fun we could have on our holiday if we never dared to go ten feet away from the houseboat?" "none whatever," answered lillian, "only you needn't be so cross with phil and me. we were not discussing your faults. you are altogether too ready to become angry over a trifle." there was indignation and reproof in lillian's tone. madge plied her oars in silence. she knew that she had behaved badly. "isn't it exactly like me?" she thought to herself. "if i am sweet and agreeable one minute, and feel pleased with myself, i can surely count on doing something disagreeable the next. now i have made lillian and phil cross with me and probably have hurt miss jenny ann's feelings and spoiled this beautiful day for us all." eleanor's soft voice broke in upon her self-arraignment. "don't squabble, girls. the day is altogether too perfect. none of you are really cross. now, are you?" three pairs of eyes met hers, then the little dispute ended in a general laugh. madge and phil rowed faster than ever after this little falling out. they could see the shores of fisherman's island not far ahead, with several dories and small fishing craft anchored along the banks. they were heading toward an open beach, where there was no sign of life. "girls, look out!" warned lillian. she was sitting in the bow of their skiff, and could see another rowboat moving toward them, the two pairs of oars rising and falling in perfect accord. the boat was so close to them that lillian was afraid phil and madge might cross oars with it. but as the other boat glided smoothly up alongside of their skiff, the oars were drawn swiftly inboard, almost before the girls knew what had happened. "i suppose you don't speak to people on the water whom you might be persuaded to notice on land," called tom curtis reproachfully. "o mr. curtis! how do you do?" laughed madge. "you see, we are not possessed with eyes in the backs of our heads, or we should have recognized you. goodness gracious! if there isn't my cousin, jack bolling! i never dreamed you knew him. why didn't you tell me? jack, where did you come from?" tom looked at jack, and jack looked at tom. "age before beauty, mr. curtis," bowed jack. "you answer first." "to tell you the solemn truth, i did not know your cousin until this morning," tom explained. "but when i saw a not specially bad-looking fellow mooning about our hotel as though lost i went over and spoke to him. it wasn't long before i found out he knew you young ladies. i told him about meeting you in the woods the other day, and we shook hands on it. now, bolling, it is your turn. how did you happen to turn up in this particular place?" jack was apparently looking at lillian and madge, but he had really glanced first at phyllis alden, to see how she had borne the shock of his presence. jack had guessed correctly that phyllis did not like him. to tell the truth, she looked anything but pleased. she did not like boys. she could do most of the things they could, and they were, to her mind, a nuisance. they were always on hand, trying to help and to pretend that girls were weaker than they were in order to domineer over them. the worst of it was, madge, lillian and eleanor might think the newcomers would add to the fun. so, though phyllis did not mean to be rude either to tom or to jack, she was far from enthusiastic, and could not help showing it. "of course, i had to come down to see what your houseboat looked like after i got your note telling me where you were," explained jack. "i knew there was a hotel near here, so, as soon as school closed, i ran down for a few days to see how you were getting on. you see, i was really very much interested in the houseboat." jack made this last remark directly to phyllis. she merely glanced carelessly away in the opposite direction. "we rowed up from the hotel to the houseboat, but we couldn't see a soul aboard. 'the ship was still as still could be,'" declared tom. "then we started for a row and found you." there was no doubt that tom was looking straight at madge. "we are rowing over to the island," remarked lillian graciously. "how strange! we were going over there, too, weren't we, mr. bolling?" quizzed tom. "then catch us if you can!" challenged phyllis. with a sign to madge the two girls began rowing their boat through the water with the speed of an arrow. the first spurt told, for the island was not far away, and the girls' boat grated on the beach before the boys had time to land. but tom and jack did jump out and run through the water to pull the "water witch" ashore, much to phil's disgust. "i really have an errand to do on this island, miss morton," continued tom, as the party started up the beach. "i wanted first to ask you if i could bring my mother to call on you and your chaperon this afternoon? i am awfully anxious to have an all-day sailing party to-morrow. and i thought perhaps you and your friends and chaperon would go with us? there is an old fellow over here who takes people out sailing, and i am anxious to have a talk with him. don't think i am such a duffer that i can't sail a boat myself, but my mother is so nervous about the water that i take a professional sailor along to keep her from worrying. she has had a great deal to make her nervous," tom ended. "i wonder if you and your friends would mind walking over to the other side of the island with me to see this man? it is not a long walk." the party started off, phyllis keeping strictly in the background. madge walked with tom and lillian with jack, so she felt a little out of it. "if you don't mind," she proposed, after the party had walked a few yards, "i will sit down here on the beach and wait until you come back from your talk with the sailor man. i will stay right here, so you can find me when you return." phil found herself a comfortable, flat rock, and sat looking idly out over the bay. gradually she fell into a little reverie. a sudden cry of pain roused phil from her daydream. springing to her feet, she rushed down the beach, seeing nothing, but following the direction of the cry. rounding a curve of the beach she came upon a dirty, half-tumbled down tent. in front of it stood a burly man with both hands on the shoulders of a young girl, whom he was shaking violently. so intent was he upon what he was doing, he did not notice phil approaching. she saw him shove the girl inside the tent and close the outside flap. "now, stay in there till you git tired of it," he growled as he turned and walked away. a sound of low sobbing greeted phil's ears as she came up in front of the tent and stood waiting, hardly knowing what to do. the sobs continued, with a note of pain in them that went straight to phil's tender heart. the sight or sound of physical suffering made a special appeal to her. it was phyllis's secret ambition some day to study medicine, an ambition which she had confided to no one save madge. although the figure she had seen was almost that of a woman, the sobbing sounded like that of a child. there was no other noise in the tent, so phil knew the girl was alone. "won't you please come out?" she called softly, not knowing what else to do or say. "tell me what is grieving you so. i am only a girl like yourself, and i would like to help you." "i dare not come out," the other girl answered. "my father said i must stay in here." phil opened the flap of the old tent and walked inside. "what is the matter?" she inquired gently, bending over the figure lying on the ground and trying to lift her. the girl sat up and pushed back her unkempt hair. she had a deep, glowing scar just over her temple. but her hair was a wonderful color, and only once before phil remembered having seen eyes so deeply blue. "why," phil exclaimed with a start of surprise, "i have seen you somewhere before. don't you remember me?" the girl shook her head. "i do not remember anything," she answered quietly. "but i saw you on the canal boat. your father was the man who helped us secure our houseboat. what are you doing here?" "we have come here for many years, i think," the girl answered confusedly. "in the early spring my father catches shad along the bay. then all summer he takes people out sailing from the big place over there." she pointed across the water in the direction of the hotel. "our boat is on the other side of the island." the girl clasped her head in her long, sun-burned hands. "it is there that it hurts," she declared, touching the ugly, jagged scar. phil gave a little, sympathetic cry and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "when i work a long time in the sun my head hurts," the girl went on listlessly. "i have been washing all day on the beach. i came up here to hide, and my father found me. he was angry because i had stopped work." "did he strike you?" phil cried in horror, gazing at the slender, delicate creature and thinking of the rough, coarse man. "not this time," the girl replied. "sometimes they strike me and then i am afraid. only there is one thing i shall never, never do, no matter how much they beat me. i can not remember everything, but i know that i will not do this one thing." "what is it?" asked phil. "whom do you mean by 'they,' and what do 'they' wish you to do?" the girl shook her head. "i can not tell you." she shuddered, and phil felt she had no right to insist on knowing. "i like to hide in this tent," the girl went on sorrowfully. "i come here whenever i can get away from the others. i would like to stay here always. but, now he has found me, there is no place where i can rest." "have you a mother, or brothers and sisters?" phil asked. "there is the man's second wife, but she is not my mother. she has many little children. i think i must be very old. i seem to have lived such a long time." "can't you remember your own mother?" phil inquired. the girl shook her head mournfully. "i can remember nothing," she said again. "don't go," she begged, as phil rose to leave her. "i have never known a girl like you before." "i must go," answered phil regretfully. "my friends will be waiting for me up the beach, and they will not know where to find me. won't you come to see me and my friends? we are spending our holiday on a houseboat not very far from here. we would love to have you come." "i am not allowed to leave the island or to go among people," the girl replied. "my father says i have no sense. so, if i wander away, or talk to strangers, people will think that i am crazy and shut me up in some dreadful, dark place." tears of sympathy rose to phyllis's eyes. she wished madge and the other girls were with her. it was too dreadful to think of this lovely creature frightened into submission by her cruel father. "we will come to see you, then," she said gently. "and i will bring you something to keep your head from aching. my father is a physician, and he will tell me what i must give you. i will bring my friends to the island with me. whenever you can get away, come to this tent and we will try to find you. we shall have good times together, and some day we may be able to help you. you know how to write, don't you? then, if you are ever in trouble or danger, leave a note under this old piece of carpet. now good-bye." the girl stood in the door of her tent to watch phyllis on her way. she stared intently after her until her visitor turned the curve of the beach and was lost to view, then, leaning her head against the side of the tent, she burst forth into low, despairing sobs. chapter x an exciting race eleanor and miss "jenny ann," as the girls seemed inclined to call their chaperon, had not remained on the houseboat merely to polish the pots and pans. they had a special surprise and plan of their own on hand. it was all very well for phyllis to dream of a houseboat, with its decks lined with flowers, and for madge to draw a beautiful plan of it on paper. flowers do not grow except where they are planted. so it was in order to turn gardeners that eleanor and miss jones stayed at home. flowers enough to encircle the deck of a houseboat would cost almost as much money as the four girls had in their treasury to keep them supplied with food and coal. but the gently sloping maryland fields were abloom with daisies. a farmer's lad could be hired for a dollar to dig up the daisies and to bring a wagon load of dirt to the boat. the day before eleanor had engaged the services of a carpenter to make four boxes, which exactly fitted the sides of the little upper deck of the houseboat above the cabin. an hour or so after the girls departed on their rowing excursion the daisies were brought aboard, planted, and held up their heads bravely. they were such sturdy, hardy little flowers that they did not wither with homesickness at the change in their environment. but still eleanor was not entirely satisfied. in phil's dream and madge's picture of the boat vines had drooped gracefully over the sides of the deck, and eleanor had no vines to plant. eleanor had a natural gift for making things about her lovely and homelike. so she thought and thought. wild honeysuckle vines were growing in the fields with the daisies. they were just the things to clamber over the white railing of the deck and to hang gracefully over the sides. their perfume would fill the little floating dwelling with their fragrance. by noon the transformation was complete. eleanor persuaded miss jones to go for a walk while she got the luncheon. madge, phil and lillian had solemnly promised to be at home by one o'clock. another surprise was in store for them. in the bow of their boat eleanor had hung up a flag. on a background of white broadcloth, stitched in bands of blue, was the legend "merry maid." this was eleanor butler's chosen name for the houseboat, and had been voted the best possible selection, while madge had been unanimously voted captain of their little ship. eleanor had sent to the town for the flag, and even their chaperon was not to know of its arrival. one would hardly have known miss jenny ann jones--a week in the fresh air had done her so much good. then, too, phil and lillian had persuaded her to cease to wear her heavy, light hair in an english bun at the back of her neck. lillian had plaited it in two great braids and had coiled it around her head like a dull golden coronet. she had a faint color in her cheeks, and, instead of looking cross and tired, she was as merry and almost as light-hearted as the girls. the lines of her head were really beautiful, and her sallow skin was fast becoming clear and healthy. for once in her life miss jones looked no older than her twenty-six years. eleanor watched her as she started off on her walk dressed in white, carrying a red parasol, and decided that miss jones was really pretty. since her advent among the girls she had begun to look at life from a different standpoint. she had almost ceased worrying and she meant to grow well and strong if she could. since her mysterious visitor the first night she spent aboard the boat nothing had happened to disturb her. she walked slowly on, so occupied with her own thoughts she did not notice that she was in a lane between two fields enclosed by fences. some one called to her. she could not distinguish the voice. it called and called again. she thought it must be one of the girls who had come out in the field to meet her. as there was no one looking, miss jones managed to climb over the rail fence, and now she walked in the direction from which the sound of the voice came. after a time the voice ceased. it was a shorter stroll to the boat across this field, so the teacher went leisurely on. in a far corner of the meadow she saw an odd object unlike anything she had ever seen. it consisted of two sticks that looked like the legs of a scarecrow which had a square board fastened in front of them. from between the sticks were two other brown objects, long and thin, and behind it sat a young man busily engaged in transferring the peaceful scene to canvas. miss jones was gazing curiously at this object, with her red parasol hung over her shoulder, so that it was impossible for her to see anything behind her. but she did hear an unusual noise--a snort, then a bellow--the sound was unmistakable. with a sense of sickening terror she gave one horrified glance behind her. she had been mysteriously lured into a field where a bull was loose. it never occurred to miss jones to throw away her red parasol. she ran on, waving it wildly over her shoulders, maddening the enraged animal behind her. miss jones did not believe she could run fast. usually her breath was short, and even a rapid walk fatigued her. now she ran on and on. once again she half heard a mocking voice cry after her, but she paid no attention to it. in her fright she was also oblivious to the fact that the strange object in the corner of the field fell to the ground with a bang, while a man sitting on a stool behind it rose to right his overturned canvas. "drop it, drop it!" he shouted, running after miss jones and repeatedly urging her to throw away her bright red parasol. madge, phil and lillian had come back to the boat. after dancing in a circle around eleanor to express the rapture they felt in the transformation she had wrought in their beloved houseboat, they stood together on the deck, looking for the return of their chaperon along the shore. miss jones thought there was a gate at the end of the field in which she was running. she made for this gate, as she knew she would not have time to get over the fence before the animal would be upon her. in her terror she had but one idea, one hope, that was to reach the safety of the gang-plank and to climb aboard the houseboat. while miss jones was running for her life the four chums were lingering about the deck of the "merry maid" watching for her return. they decided to take a short walk with the idea of meeting her and, leaving their boat to take care of itself, strolled through the lane that led to the very field miss jones had entered. all at once lillian called out in terror: "o girls! look! it's miss jones, and a bull is chasing her!" the four chums stood rooted to the spot. what could they do? they felt powerless to help, yet not one of the girls believed miss jones could save herself. madge was the first to act. in her hand was a large white and green striped umbrella. the girls had lately bought two of them to use out on deck as a protection from the sun, and madge had caught up one of them as they started out. in the next instant she had climbed the fence that separated her from the field in which the teacher was running and was making for the frightened woman at the top of her speed. but by this time miss jones was completely exhausted. summoning all her will power, she staggered a few steps, then dropped to the ground, with the bull not more than four yards behind her. on it came, its head lowered almost to the ground. then a huge green and white monster loomed up before the animal, and with a snort of mingled rage and horror the bull stopped short in its tracks. the strange green and white object now lunging at full tilt was far more terrible than the small, red, flame-like object that fled its approach. rage conquering fear, the bull gave a dreadful roar and made a quick lunge at madge. she sprang to one side but managed to thrust her umbrella full in the animal's face. with a rumble of defiance the bull dodged the umbrella and made another lunge at madge. its lowered horns never reached her. a rope swung skilfully forward caught the animal by the leg just in time. one swift pull and the bull went down. the owner of the animal had witnessed its charge upon miss jones and, rushing across the field, had roped it. the artist who had attracted miss jenny ann's attention had also come to the rescue, but it was really madge with her green and white umbrella who had saved their chaperon from the bull's horns. miss jones, who had raised herself to a sitting position, stared wildly about her, still firmly clutching the red parasol. the artist sprang to her side and raised her to her feet. "it was this that made the mischief," he said, touching her parasol. "i shouted to you to drop it." "but i didn't hear you," defended the teacher faintly. her two long braids of fair hair had become unfastened and were now hanging down her back, giving her the appearance of a girl. "i heard some one calling to me, or i would never have entered that dreadful field." miss jones eyed the artist reproachfully. "was it you who shouted my name?" "was it i?" repeated the young man in astonishment. "certainly not. i do not know your name." "my name is 'jones,'" miss jenny ann faltered weakly. she was still feeling dazed and weak. "and my name is 'brown,'" the artist answered, with an expression of solemn gravity. but the corners of his lips twitched in amusement. there was a faint chuckle from madge that went the round of the group and, despite the fact that the chaperon's narrow escape had been far from ludicrous, the whole party burst into laughter. "i am sorry," apologized the artist. "please forgive me for laughing." the farmer had in the meantime led the bull away, and now eleanor and lillian came running toward the group to see if miss jenny ann were truly hurt. when they saw the whole party shaking with laughter, the two girls exchanged curious glances. "luncheon has been waiting half an hour," eleanor declared rather crossly. "do come and eat it. we would not have come after you if we had known that you were having such a good time." madge glanced at their chaperon, then at the artist. he was evidently a gentleman, and she recognized that he was possessed of a keen sense of humor. it would seem rude and ungrateful to run away and leave him just as their luncheon was announced, when he had raced all the way across the meadow to assist in the rescue of their miss jenny ann. "won't you come and eat luncheon with us?" asked madge boldly, fearing their chaperon would be dreadfully shocked. the artist shook his head. "i'd like to accept your invitation if miss jones will second it," he replied, looking at miss jenny ann. "you would he delighted to have mr. brown take luncheon with us, miss jenny ann, wouldn't you?" madge turned coaxing eyes upon their teacher. "i should be very ungracious if i were not," laughed their chaperon, the color rising to her brown cheeks. "mr. brown will be a welcome guest." and five minutes later mr. brown was triumphantly escorted aboard their beloved "merry maid." chapter xi at the mercy of the waves "don't you think it would be perfectly lovely to have a mother as rich and beautiful as mrs. curtis?" asked madge, as she tied a black velvet ribbon about her auburn curls and turned her head to see the effect. she and phil were dressing for tom curtis's sailing party, to which he had invited them the day before and which was to start within the next hour. "almost any mother is pretty nice, even if she isn't rich or beautiful," answered phil loyally. she was wearing a yachting suit of navy blue while madge was dressed in white serge. eleanor, lillian and miss jones, clad in white linen gowns, were ready and waiting on the houseboat deck for the arrival of the sailing party. true to his word, tom curtis had brought his mother to call on the four girls the afternoon of the day before. "i know," answered madge slowly. "but sometimes, when i was a very little girl, i liked to think that perhaps i was a princess in disguise, and that uncle and aunt had never told me of it. i used to look out of the window and wonder if some day a carriage would drive up to hear me away to my royal home. that doesn't sound very practical, does it? but, when one has no memory of father or mother, one can't help dreaming things. don't you think mrs. curtis is simply beautiful?" madge abruptly changed the subject. "her hair is so soft and white, and she has such a young face, but she looks as though she were tired of everything. persons who have that wonderful, world-weary look are so interesting," finished madge, with a sigh. "i am afraid i shall never have that expression, because i never find time to get tired of things." "come on, madge," laughed phil. "you can mourn some other day over not having an interesting expression." "girls," called lillian, "the curtis's boat is coming." "in a minute," answered madge, giving a final pat to her curls. "do hurry along, children. the sailboat is nearly here." this time it was miss jenny ann's voice. "they signaled us several minutes ago. they have several other persons on board." mrs. curtis and tom signaled as they approached the "merry maid." their guests were the artist, whom the girls had met the day before, jack bolling, and one or two strangers from the big summer hotel. mike muldoon, the owner of the boats, had another sailor on board to help him. tom soon transferred the girls and their chaperon from their craft to his. the party intended to sail down the coast to a point of land known as love point and to eat their luncheon somewhere along the shore. mrs. curtis sat across from madge during their sailing trip, but every now and then she would look over to laugh at one of the young girl's amusing sallies. it was evident that the little captain of the "merry maid" had found favor in her eyes. mrs. curtis had planned a dainty luncheon, to which the steward at the hotel had given special attention, even to the sending of a man to serve it. there were delicious sandwiches of various kinds, chicken and waldorf salads, olives, salted nuts, individual ices sent down from baltimore and bonbons. it was quite the most elaborate luncheon the girls had ever eaten and they were rather impressed with both it and the service. after luncheon the party sat for a long time on the clean, white sand, laughing and talking gayly. it was a perfect day and everyone was in the best possible spirits. later on they divided into little groups. lillian and phil wandered off with jack bolling. eleanor found a congenial companion in one of the young women guests from the hotel, while tom, miss jones and mrs. curtis sat under a tree with the artist, watching him sketch. madge, alone, flitted from one group to another, a little, restless spirit. "why don't you take miss morton for a sail, tom?" suggested his mother. "you will have time to go a short distance out. we shall not start for the hotel until four o'clock." "a good suggestion. thank you, mother," cried tom. "come on, miss morton." madge and tom went gayly down to the boat. tom's big setter dog, brownie, dashed after them, pleading so hard to be taken aboard that tom at last consented to have him, though he gravely assured the animal that three was a crowd, to which statement brownie merely gave a joyful yelp and darted on board without further ceremony. [illustration: madge and tom went gayly down to the boat.] it was a glorious day with a stiff breeze blowing. the water was fairly choppy, but the boat sped along, occasionally dashing the spray into the two young faces. madge wore a white cloth cap, with a visor, such as ship's officers wear, and looked as nautical as she felt. both tom and madge were possessed with an unusual fondness for the water, and their common love of the sea was a strong bond between them. "have you ever heard of any one who could have locked you up in the old hut that night?" tom asked as they sailed along. madge shook her head. "no; i have not the faintest idea. to tell you the honest truth, i had almost forgotten that unpleasant experience. we have been having such a beautiful time since that we haven't had time to think of disagreeable things." "do you think it is safe for five women to be aboard that houseboat by themselves?" asked tom anxiously. "if your boat were farther out on the water you would be safer." madge laughed merrily. "look here, mr. curtis, i don't think it is fair for you to question our safety when there are five of us, wouldn't phil be angry if she heard you say that! it makes her furious to hear a man or boy even intimate that girls can't take care of themselves. why, we can swim and run and jump, and we could put up a really brave fight if it were necessary. besides, nell and i know how to shoot. uncle taught us when we were very little girls. i have been duck shooting with him along this very bay. look at that rowboat back there. i have been watching it for some time. it has been trying to follow us." tom turned about. the boat was only a skiff, and, though it was nearly in their course, there was no chance of its coming any closer, as their boat was sailing before the wind. "i believe it is the same skiff i saw this morning," commented tom. "i suppose it is some fellow who has been fishing out here. just think of the fish in this wonderful bay--perch and pike and bass and a hundred other kinds! you must help me catch some of them some day." "all right, i will," promised madge merrily. as they went farther out into the bay they grew strangely silent. the spell of the sea was upon them and they were content to sail along, exchanging but little conversation. chesapeake bay was apparently in one of its most amiable moods and, lured on by its apparent good nature, tom grew a trifle more reckless than was his wont and did not turn about to begin the homeward sail as soon as he had originally intended. it was madge who broke the spell. "i think we had better start back. perhaps i merely imagine it, but it seems to me that the sun isn't shining as brightly as it shone a little while ago. i know the bay so well. it is so wonderful, but so treacherous. i was once out on it in a sailboat during a sudden squall and i am not likely to forget it." madge gave a slight shudder at the recollection. "all right," agreed tom, "i'll turn about, but there isn't the slightest danger of a squall to-day." he brought his little craft about and headed toward the beach. in spite of his assurance that there would he no squall, a black, threatening cloud had appeared in the sky, and now the wind shifted, blowing strongly toward land. tom, who was nothing if not a sailor, managed the boat so skilfully that madge's apprehensions were soon quieted and she gave herself up to the complete enjoyment of rushing along in the freshened breeze. they were within a mile of their landing place when, off to their right and a little ahead of them, madge spied the rowboat they had seen at the beginning of their sail. the boat was now tossing idly on the waves, and its sole occupant, a young man, was trying vainly to guide it with a single oar. "there is that boat again," called madge to tom, who was busy with his sails. "i believe the young man in it is in trouble and is signaling to us for help." as tom drew nearer to the rowboat the other man in it called out: "say, can't you take me aboard? i've lost an oar, and it's a pretty tough job trying to get ashore with one oar in a sea like this." tom glanced quickly at madge. he was quite ready to help the young man, but wished to be sure that his young woman guest had no objection to the stranger coming aboard their boat. it took five minutes to bring the sailboat close enough to pick up the man. tom threw him a rope and the stranger climbed aboard, making fast his rowboat to the stern of the sailing vessel. he was a peculiar, wild-looking fellow, with dark, shifting eyes and thick, curly hair that partly covered his ears. as be stepped into the sailboat his lips parted in a smile that showed his teeth, which madge noted were long, very white and pointed at the ends. he was deeply tanned, yet, in spite of his rough appearance, seemed to be a gentleman. "you are very kind," he said in a low, purring voice which caused madge to eye him sharply. "i would not have troubled you, but there is a heavy squall coming up. i shall be greatly obliged to you if you will put me ashore." "all right," assented tom. "we are in a hurry to get to shore ourselves, as my mother will be anxious if the storm catches us." madge had continued to gaze at the new-comer. "where have i seen him before? he is like a wolf. his teeth look almost like fangs, and i don't like his strange, shifting eyes," she mentally criticised. aloud she said to tom: "miss jenny ann will be worried. she has been very nervous about us since we were locked in that old cabin in the woods overnight." the stranger regarded madge quizzically. she could have sworn that a mocking light lay in his dark eyes. "did you say you were locked in an old cabin in the woods overnight? how unfortunate." "it will be more unfortunate for the fellow who locked the girls in, provided we find him," threatened tom shortly. the stranger's suave tones aroused in him a peculiar feeling of antagonism. the young man regarded tom through half-shut eyes. "i must ask you to land me on the beach above here," he drawled. "sorry," answered tom firmly. "i don't know any other pier along here except ours. i told you i was in a hurry to go ashore. i don't like to be disobliging, but you will have to go to our landing with us." the black clouds were now chasing one another across the sky, and the wind made a curious whistling noise. nevertheless the boat was sailing gloriously, and in spite of the oncoming squall tom and madge were enjoying themselves immensely, though neither of them was much pleased with their fellow traveler. the stranger turned to madge. "you must tell your friend that he'll have to land me somewhere else than in that picnic party," he muttered hoarsely. "i tell you i have a reason. i do not want to meet any society folks." "i am sorry," answered madge distantly, her eyes growing stormy at the young man's peremptory tone. "mr. curtis explained to you why we are in a hurry to land. as long as he took you aboard our boat with us as a favor, you have no right to ask us to change our course." the stranger clenched his fists and glanced angrily at tom. "ain't you going to land me somewhere else first?" he demanded in a snarling voice. tom quietly shook his head. the sailboat was now only a little more than half a mile from the pier. the wind was fair, blowing them almost straight to the pier. tom curtis was not looking. suddenly the fellow sprang up and threw the tiller over. the boat jibed sharply. madge cried out in quick alarm. her cry saved tom curtis from being knocked overboard by the boom as it swung over to the other side of the boat. "keep away from this tiller," tom called out angrily, seeing that their boat had now entirely changed its course. "i am sailing this boat." "you are not sailing her, if you don't take her in where i say," the intruder declared fiercely. his eyes were bloodshot and his teeth closed together with a snap. he stood by as if he were going to spring at tom curtis. madge's cheeks were burning. she was so angry that her throat felt dry and parched. "don't pay any attention to him," she called indignantly. tom curtis hesitated. "i don't fight when i have a woman guest on board the boat," he declared doggedly. "once i run my boat in to the pier, you will answer for this." "never mind threatening me: i'm not afraid of you. you know you have got to land me where i say. what do you care about where you land? it is where _i_ land that is important." again the stranger made a rush for the tiller. tom sprang upon him. the two were evenly matched, and madge held her breath as she watched them struggle. brownie, tom's setter dog, sprang for the stranger's leg, then retreated to one end of the boat howling with pain. the intruder had swung back his foot and dealt the dog a savage kick. the rain had now begun to fall heavily, and the deck soon became slippery as glass. the two young men continued to struggle. tom realized that he was endangering madge's life, as well as his own, in this reckless battle on the deck of a small boat. he thought he now had the advantage. if he could only settle his hateful passenger with one swift blow all would he well. with this thought in mind he tore himself from the grasp of his antagonist, but he had forgotten the slippery deck. his foot shot out from under him, and he went down in a heap, falling heavily on one shoulder. the stranger sprang upon him, and now it was the ungrateful passenger who had the advantage and was mercilessly pushing him with both arms toward the edge of the boat. slowly tom gave way, inch by inch. he was conscious of a racking pain in his shoulder. he tried to raise his right arm; then a feeling of faintness swept over him, he reeled, and, before madge could move to his help, tom curtis fell backward into the water. chapter xii a brave fight "bring her to!" cried madge imperiously, starting toward the stranger, who now stood by the tiller. "i can't bring her to, i'm no sailor," answered the young ruffian coolly. "i didn't push your friend overboard; he fell. you had better sail the boat yourself instead of standing there giving me orders." madge regarded the stranger with horrified eyes. "you did push him overboard," she accused. "i saw you do it. if he drowns, you will be held responsible." "i didn't, i tell you. better be careful what you say. it wouldn't take much to send you after him," was the stranger's menacing retort. with a look of withering scorn madge coolly turned her back on the intruder. she would not take the trouble to bandy words with him. she was too angry to experience the slightest fear of this scowling, ill-favored youth. her superb indifference to his threat made a visible impression upon him. with a muttered word he slouched to the bow of the boat, where he crouched, glaring at her with the eyes of an angry animal brought to bay. although not more than a minute had passed since tom disappeared over the side of the boat it seemed hours to the frightened girl. she must act quickly or tom would be lost. during their sail she had watched tom curtis manoeuvre the boat and had paid particular attention to his manner of "bringing it to." it had appeared to be a comparatively simple process and she laughingly remarked that she believed she could do it herself. now the opportunity had come to prove her words. grasping the tiller, she brought the boat directly into the eye of the wind. a moment later the sails flapped in the breeze, and the boat floated idly in the heavy rolling sea. the stranger had not in reality given tom the final shove that sent him overboard. at the edge of the boat he had suddenly relaxed his hold, and tom, faint from the pain of his injured shoulder had toppled backward. the shock of striking the water revived him somewhat, and as he felt himself slipping down he made a brave effort to swim, then, finding it useless, managed to turn on his back and float. still keeping her hand on the tiller, madge strained her eyes to watch his every movement. "try to make it, tom," she shouted encouragingly. "you've only a little farther to swim. come on; i'll help you into the boat." "i'm afraid i can't, madge," he called faintly. "i've hurt my shoulder. i can't swim." the girl at the tiller bent forward to catch the sound of her friend's voice. then she answered with the bravery of despair: "you must keep on floating. you are not going to drown. i am coming after you." at the same instant madge divested herself of her coat, shoes and the skirt of her suit and poised herself for a dive into the angry water. "keep the head of the boat to the wind," was her curt command to the stranger, "i am going after mr. curtis." "you're crazy!" shouted the stranger, leaping to his feet. "you can never save the man in such a sea as this. you'll both be drowned!" his tardy expostulation fell upon unheeding ears. madge was in the water and swimming toward tom. expert swimmer that she was, she knew that she was risking her own life. the tide was against her, and even though she did reach tom before he sank again, it would be hard work to support him and swim back to the boat in such a heavy sea. the sky was now dark, the waves had grown larger, and a pelting rain had begun to beat down in madge's face. tom had risen to the surface of the water again, and was feebly trying to swim toward her. he had shuddered with despair when he first caught sight of her in the water. but his faint, "go back! go back!" had not reached her ears. nor would she have heeded him had she heard. his intrepid little rescuer was swimming easily along, with firm, even strokes. little water-sprite that she was, she would have enjoyed the breakers dashing over her head and the tingle of the fine salt spray in her face if she had not realized the danger that lay ahead. "keep floating until i can get to you!" she called out to tom. she did not speak again, for she did not mean to waste her breath. tom was making an heroic effort to keep himself afloat. but he was growing weaker and weaker, and the last vestige of his strength was giving way. as madge reached him, he managed to reach out and clutch her arm, hanging to it with a force that threatened to pull them both under. he was making that instinctive struggle for life usually put forth by the drowning. madge experienced a brief flash of terror. "don't struggle, tom," she implored. even in his semi-conscious state tom must have heard his companion's words. he ceased to fight, his body grew limp, and, clasping one of his hands in her own strong, brown fingers, madge swam toward the spot where she had left the sailboat. never once did she relax her hold on the burden at her side. now and then she glanced up at their boat. each time she caught a glimpse of it it seemed to be farther away. could it be possible that the wind and the tide were carrying the sailboat ashore faster than she could swim? surely the youth on board would come forward to help them. now the waves that dashed over madge's head and lashed across her face sent echoing waves of despair over her plucky soul. tom was too far gone to know or to care what was happening. the responsibility, the fight, was hers. "i must save him," she thought over and over again. "it does not so much matter about me; i haven't any mother. but tom----" her bodily strength was fast giving out, but her spirit remained indomitable. it was that spirit that was keeping them afloat in the midst of an angry sea. but as for gaining on the sailboat, she was right. no matter how great her effort, she was not coming any nearer to it. the last time she looked up from the waves she could catch only a glimpse of the boat far ahead. it seemed incredible. it was too awful to believe. the stranger she had left on board the sailboat was not coming to their aid. he was deliberately taking their boat to shore, leaving them to the mercy of the sea. even with this realization madge did not give up the battle. the arm that held tom curtis felt like a log, it was so stiff and cold. she could swim no longer, but she could still float. there were other craft that were putting in toward the shore. if she could only keep up for a few moments, surely some one would save them! but at last her splendid courage waned. she was sinking. the rescuer would come too late! she thought of the circle of cheerful faces she had left two hours before. then--a cold, wet muzzle touched her face, a pair of strong teeth seized hold of her blouse. tom's setter dog, brownie, had managed to swim to his master. the animal's gallant effort to save tom inspired madge to fresh effort, and once more she took up the battle for her life and that of her friend. chapter xiii life or death? "is there no hope?" a voice asked despairingly. "there is hope for a long time," answered phyllis alden quietly. "i have heard my father say that people may sometimes be revived after being in the water for many hours." "she must live, or i can not bear it," declared tom curtis brokenly. "oh, won't some one go for a doctor? can't you do something else for her?" "the man has gone for a doctor, tom," soothed mrs. curtis. "does your arm pain you much?" "never mind my arm," groaned tom. "she saved my life, mother, and now she's dead." his voice broke. "you mustn't say that," cried phyllis sharply. "she _can't_ be dead." "phil," entreated miss jones, "let me take your place. i am sure i can do what you are doing." phyllis shook her head. "i can't leave her." phyllis alden knelt on the ground on one side of the unconscious girl. jack bolling and an old fisherman knelt opposite her. the artist, mr. brown, was trying to assist in restoring madge to consciousness. phyllis alden had been drilled in "first aid to the drowning" by her father. long experience with the sea had taught the sailor what to do. but madge had resisted all their efforts to bring her to consciousness. she had battled too long with the merciless waves and her strength was gone before the fisherman, coming home in his rowboat, had spied the three figures at the moment when madge was about to give up the fight. he had hauled her and tom inside his boat, and poor brownie had somehow managed to swim ashore. on the beach the fisherman found an anxious group of picnickers watching the storm with fearful eyes. their fear was changed to horror, however, when the fisherman deposited his ghastly freight on the beach. fifteen minutes after being brought to shore tom curtis had returned to consciousness. his first words were for madge. although tom had been a longer time in the water than his rescuer, his injured arm, which was sprained, but not broken, had prevented him from making so fierce a struggle; therefore he was far less exhausted than was his companion. to those who watched anxiously for the first faint sign of returning life it seemed hours since the fisherman had laid that still form on the sand. it was none other than the old fisherman who discovered the faint spot of color which appeared in madge's cheeks, then disappeared. after that the work of resuscitation went on more steadily than ever, and slowly and painfully madge came back to life. strange noises sounded in her ears. a gigantic weight was pressing upon her chest. she tried to speak, but it was choking her, crushing her. she made an heroic effort to throw it off, and then her eyes opened and dimly she beheld her friends. "she has come back to us." phil's voice was ineffably tender. she glanced up and her eyes met those of jack bolling. forgetting her dislike for him, she smiled. she remembered only that he was madge's cousin. jack had always thought phil ugly, but as he gazed into her big, black eyes and white, serious face, he decided that she had more character than any other girl he had ever met, and he would never forget the splendid effort she had made to save his cousin. as soon as the work of resuscitation was completed and madge declared out of danger, mrs. curtis insisted that on their return to the mainland her son's brave little rescuer should be taken to the belleview hotel, where she would be able to rest far more comfortably than if carried on board the houseboat. a yacht was chartered to take the picnic party home. the sailboat had completely disappeared, and tom was able to tell only a part of their strange adventure. from whence the youth whom they had taken on board their boat had come and why he had made off with their boat and left them to drown were questions which no one seemed able to answer. it was not until two days later that the fisherman, searching along the very shore from which they had started, found the sailboat resting quietly at anchor about two miles from the pier where the picnic party had landed. the boat was uninjured, and madge's hat, coat and skirt lay on the deck, where she had thrown them when she dived into the bay. but the wild lad who had caused the mischief had vanished completely. no one near had seen or heard of him. his identity was a mystery. if any one of the fisher folk knew his name, or where he had gone, they did not betray that knowledge. mrs. curtis wished to offer a reward for the fellow's capture. tom would not consent. he intended to find his enemy himself, and to settle his own score. at night tom used to lie awake for hours to plan how he would track the stranger and at last run him down. but in the day time he was much too fully occupied with entertaining his mother's young guest to plan revenge. madge had been the guest of mrs. curtis at the belleview hotel for five days. it had taken but a day for her to recover from the effect of her narrow escape from drowning. she possessed far too happy a disposition to dwell long on an uncomfortable memory, and her recent mishap soon became like a dream to her. but her feeling of affection for mrs. curtis was not in the least like a dream, and grew stronger with every hour she spent in her new friend's company. it was a red letter time for madge. mrs. curtis tried in every possible way to manifest her gratitude. had not madge saved her son's life? she felt that she could make no adequate return for the heroic service the young girl had rendered her. she insisted that the most attractive apartment in the hotel should be madge's and surrounded her with all sorts of luxuries. the young girl's suite consisted of a cosy little sitting room and a wonderful bedroom with white, rose-bordered walls and circassian walnut furnishings. there was a little, white bath leading out from the bedroom and madge reveled in her new-found treasures. all day long her apartment was lovely with flowers. tom curtis ordered a box of roses to be delivered to her each day from baltimore. the roses were presented to madge every morning when the maid brought up her breakfast-tray, and for the first time in her life miss madge enjoyed the luxury of eating her breakfast in bed. boxes of candy became so ordinary that she fairly pleaded with her friends when they came to visit her to take them back to the houseboat. "madge will never be happy again on the 'merry maid,' will she, girls?" the four girls were rowing back to their floating home after a visit to their friend. "yes, she will," returned phil stoutly, though she felt a slight pang when she remembered how cheerfully madge had kissed them goodbye. "i am sure she is well enough to come home now," burst forth lillian, "only mrs. curtis and tom won't hear of it. dear me! i suppose our little captain is happy at last. she has always dreamed of what it would feel like to be rich and a heroine, and now she is both. but nothing seems quite the same on the boat," she added wistfully. "i think we are all homesick for her." miss jennie ann laughed at their doleful faces. "she will soon be with us again," she declared. "i'll tell you a secret. she is coming home to the houseboat day after to-morrow. she whispered to me to-day that there was really no reason why she should stay any longer with mrs. curtis, and that she did not wish to presume on her hospitality. mrs. curtis is very fond of her. she does not wish madge to leave her." miss jones looked so mysterious that the girls regarded her curiously. "i think it is a good thing for madge and for mrs. curtis to spend a few days together. mrs. curtis is lonely and needs good company," added miss jones. "so do we," murmured phil, with a rueful laugh. "we need madge as much as mrs. curtis does." after the girls had left her, madge lay back luxuriously among her linen pillows. she was looking very lovely in a pale pink silk tea gown mrs. curtis had insisted on her wearing, for madge had arrived at the hotel with no clothes other than the wet garments she had on when rescued from the waves. her fine clothes occupied very little of her thoughts, however. she had something of far greater import on her mind. the time had come to tell mrs. curtis that she must go back to the houseboat. she was not sorry to go; she was only sorry to leave her new friends. during her stay at the hotel mrs. curtis had treated madge as though she were her own daughter. the imaginative young girl was completely fascinated with the beautiful, white-haired woman, whose sad face seemed to indicate that she had suffered some tragedy in her life. while madge lay thinking of the most courteous way in which to announce that she must return to the "merry maid" a light knock sounded on her door. tom's mother came softly into the room, gowned in an exquisite afternoon costume of violet organdie and fine lace, which was very becoming to her white hair and youthful face. "are you awake, madge?" were her first words. "how do you feel?" her guest smilingly raised herself from her pillows. "i am awake as can be, and as well as can be! to tell you the truth, mrs. curtis, i have never been in the least ill from my adventure. i was tired the day after it happened, but since that time i am afraid i have allowed you and tom to believe that i was sick because i liked to be petted and made much of." madge laughed frankly at her own confession. "you have been so good to me, and i do appreciate it, but now i must go home to my comrades. eleanor was awfully disappointed to-day when i told her i was not going back with them this afternoon." "i wish you would stay with me longer," pleaded mrs. curtis, taking the girl's firm brown hand in hers and looking down at it gravely, as it lay in her soft white one. she gazed earnestly at madge's clear-cut, expressive face. "tom and i will be lonely without you," she said. "i want a daughter dreadfully, and tom needs a sister. if only you were my own daughter." madge sighed happily. "it has been beautiful to pretend that i was your real daughter. it has been like the games i used to play when i was a little girl. i have been lying here in the afternoons, when you thought i was asleep, making up the nicest 'supposes.' i supposed that i was your real daughter, that i had been lost and you had found me after many years. just at first you did not know me, because time had made such a change in me. but--- why, mrs. curtis, what is the matter?" there was wonder and concern in madge's question. "you don't mind what i have said, do you? i have been making up things to amuse myself ever since i was a little girl." she looked anxiously into the face of the older woman. it was very white, and seemed suddenly to have become drawn and old. "my dear child, i love to have you tell me of your little dreams and fancies," said mrs. curtis affectionately, laying her hand on madge's head. "what made you think i didn't?" "you looked as though what i said hurt your feelings," returned madge, coloring at her own frankness. "it was only that something you said brought back a painful memory," explained the older woman. "i would prefer not to talk of it. tell me, is there nothing i can do to induce you to remain with me a little longer?" her guest shook her head. "thank you," she replied gratefully, "but i must go back to my chums. it won't be going away, really, for i will come to see you as often as you like, and you and tom and jack must visit us on the houseboat. i want you to like the other girls _almost_ as well as you do me," smiled madge. "please don't like them quite as well, though. that doesn't sound very generous, but i should like to feel that i was first in your heart." "you shall be, my dear." mrs. curtis bent and kissed the young girl's soft cheek. "and to prove just how much i do care for you i wish to give you something which i hope you will like and keep as a remembrance of me. i know your uncle and aunt will be willing to let you have this little gift when they learn of the spirit which prompted the giving of it." mrs. curtis drew from a little lavender and gold bag which she carried a square, white silk box and laid it in the astonished little captain's hand. "what--why--is it for me?" stammered madge, sitting up suddenly, her eyes fastened on the box. "it is for no one else," was the smiling answer. "shall i open it for you?" mrs. curtis touched a tiny spring in the white box. it flew open! there before madge's wondering gaze, coiled on its dainty silk bed, lay a string of creamy pearls. they were not large, but each pearl was perfect, an exquisite bit of jewelry. mrs. curtis took the necklace from its case. she leaned over and clasped it about madge's slender throat, saying: "tom and i talked a long time about what we wished to give you as a slight remembrance of our appreciation of what you did for us. at last we decided upon this as being particularly suitable to you. then, too, we wished to give you something that came up out of the sea." "it is the loveliest necklace in the world," declared madge happily, touching the pearls. "it is far too beautiful for me. i shall love it all my life and never, never part with it. you have been too good to me, mrs. curtis," she added earnestly. "but think what you did for me," reminded the stately, white-haired woman. "that isn't worth remembering. i did only what any one else would have done if placed in the same circumstances." "but you saved my son's life, and that is the greatest service you could possibly render me." yet before her vacation was over madge morton was to perform for her friend a further service equally great. chapter xiv madge comes into her own again lillian and eleanor were in the houseboat kitchen, making chocolate fudge and a caramel cake. "i think it will be too funny for anything," laughed eleanor. "let's keep your surprise a secret from the others. it will be a delightful way to celebrate madge's return. do you know that we have a hundred and one things to do today?" she added, stirring her cake batter as fast as she could. "this boat must be cleaned from stem to stern. i told the boy from the farm to be here at nine o'clock this morning to scrub the deck. he hasn't put in his appearance yet. i wonder which one of us can be spared to go and hurry him along?" "let's ask miss jenny ann," suggested lillian slyly. "she has done her share of the work already, and mr. brown is sketching the old garden near the farmhouse. haven't you noticed that our chaperon has been very much interested in art lately? mr. brown wishes to paint a picture of our houseboat. he has a fancy for this neighborhood. he thinks it is so picturesque. 'straws show which way the wind blows,' you know. watch the candy for me. i'll go ask miss jenny ann if she will go out and round up our faithless boy." miss jones was quite willing to go, and started out, leaving the girls to their cleaning. every now and then they were seized with a desire to work, which caused them to fall upon the houseboat and clean it from end to end. this morning the fever had been upon them from the time they had risen, and by the time miss jenny ann started upon her errand it was in full swing. jack bolling and tom curtis were to bring madge home late in the afternoon, and, as a surprise for madge, the boys had been invited to remain to tea. it was therefore quite necessary that their floating home should be well swept and garnished. "where's phil?" asked lillian, stepping from the kitchen out onto the deck, where eleanor had gone after having seen her cake safely in the oven. there came a series of raps on the cabin roof. phil leaned over among the honeysuckle vines on the upper deck. "i am up here, maiden, digging in our window boxes. want me for anything?" "no," returned eleanor, as she vanished inside the kitchen again. "but sing out if you see miss jenny ann and the boy coming." a little while later phil saw the figure of a young man coming slowly down the path toward the houseboat. she thought, of course, that it was the boy from the farm. she did not turn around. she was too deeply engrossed in pulling up the weeds that had mysteriously appeared in their window boxes. when his footsteps sounded on the floor of the lower deck she called out carelessly, "miss seldon and miss butler are in the cabin waiting for you. miss jones is not here. i suppose she gave you the message." the youth, who had been moving cautiously toward the houseboat, was not the boy for whom the girls were waiting. this one had black, curly hair and wild dark eyes. he looked up and down the shore. there was no one in sight. although there were several farmhouses beyond the embankment that sloped down to the inlet of the bay, there was no house within calling distance of the "merry maid." their boat was anchored to the pier only a few yards from the shore, tied firmly to one of the upstanding posts. the youth grinned maliciously. he decided that he had met with an unexpected stroke of good luck. he was hungry and penniless. nothing could be easier than to terrify the girls on board into submission, take what money and food they had, and be off with it before any one appeared to help them. if it was a desperate venture, well, he must take a desperate chance. he could not wander around in the woods forever with no food or money. meanwhile phil had not once glanced behind her. "you'd better begin scrubbing at once," she directed. "we have been waiting for you a long time. we wish to get our houseboat in order. we are going to give a party for our friends. do hurry, there is such a lot to do." the young man below was not troubling himself about the amount of work to be done; he had other matters to consider. this girl on top the cabin deck was evidently expecting some one. she would not come down her little ladder unless she heard a noise or disturbance from below. the next question was, how many girls were on board and where were they? eleanor and lillian had finished the cake and the fudge. they had brought them into the living room and set them on the table to wait for the evening tea party. eleanor was tired. she had thrown herself down on a lounge and her eyes were closed. lillian, with her back to the door, stood talking to her friend. they did not hear the intruder's light footfalls. suddenly lillian felt her two hands caught roughly behind her in such a powerful grasp that she staggered back. eleanor sprang from the couch, opening her eyes in amazement! she saw lillian struggling with a man whose face wore the expression of a hungry animal. "don't scream," he ordered harshly. "give me what food and money you have and i will let you go. if you scream, you will be sorry." he glared savagely at the two girls. lillian tried to wrench her hands from his grasp. they were pinioned so tightly behind her that she could not move. eleanor slipped off her divan. she and lillian had no weapons with which to defend themselves. eleanor thought if she could get out of the room, while the man held lillian, she could cry for help. her first scream would bring phyllis to their aid, and phil would come to their assistance prepared to fight. eleanor looked so young and girlish that no one would have expected her to show resistance. she tried to look even more frightened than she really felt. "we haven't any money on board," she said quietly. "we don't keep our money here, but if you are hungry, we will give you something to eat without your being so fierce." eleanor was edging slowly away from her couch. "i don't want a slice of pie and your stale bread," the man replied angrily. "i want everything you have got, and i want it quick." now was eleanor's chance. lillian gave another frantic tug, attempting to free her hands. she had not cried out since the man seized her, but her face was contracted with pain. the robber was so fully occupied with holding her he was not looking at eleanor, although his eyes slanted go curiously that he could apparently see on all sides of him. eleanor made a quick rush forward. with a thud she fell to the floor, and lay stunned by the force of her fall. the tramp, still holding lillian by her wrists, had jerked her backward, thrown out his foot and tripped eleanor. now, before lillian could scream, he whipped out a dirty handkerchief and tied it so tightly about her mouth that she could scarcely breathe. he next took a piece of twine and twisted it about lillian's wrists, so that the cord cut into them. while this scene of violence was being enacted phil was perfectly happy and strangely unconscious of any trouble. she was still at work, sweeping the upper deck and clearing it of the trash she had made with her gardening. she was humming gayly to herself or she would have heard the sounds below more plainly. "there was a man in our town, and he was wondrous wise." she stopped short. she had heard a noise, as though something had fallen. but then, the girls were always dropping things and stumbling over their few pieces of furniture. there was no further noise. phil went on with her singing. but why did lillian and eleanor not start the farmer boy to scrubbing? it was getting late, and they wished to decorate the boat. phil was too busy at her own task to go down to discover the reason. the tramp gazed sarcastically at lillian, whose eyes watched him defiantly, then at eleanor, who was still lying on the floor. "now, girls," he began with mock politeness, "i imagine you will be kind enough to be quiet for a time at least. so i think i will look around to see if there is anything here that i would like." he seized poor lillian's plate of chocolate fudge and stuffed the candy into his pockets. then he left the sitting room and crept into the bedroom which was used by miss jones and eleanor. he found eleanor's purse under her pillow and pocketed it. on the small dressing-table was miss jenny ann's purse. he chuckled softly. this was the best of the sport. phil's humming upstairs stopped. why did that lazy farmer boy not get to his work? and where were lillian and nellie? phil listened. she thought she heard such an odd noise. it was as though some one were trying to talk while choking. she ran lightly down the outside cabin steps, her broom still in her hand. she peered into the kitchen. it was empty. phil did not go into the sitting room next. some instinct must have guided her. had she seen the plight poor lillian and eleanor were in, she must have screamed and betrayed herself. instead she stepped into miss jones's bedroom. the youth, with his back to the door, had ears like the creatures of the woods. under other circumstances he would have heard phyllis's approach. but something in the discovery of miss jenny ann's poor little purse seemed to give him special joy. he was opening it and emptying it of its last penny. phil saw him from the open cabin door. she did not think--she acted. she saw, as she supposed, the farmer lad, intent on robbing them. phil brought her broom down on the boy's head with a resounding whack. the tramp started forward with a growl. for the moment he was nearly blinded from the pain of the blow. phil recognized that discretion was now the better part of valor. she dashed out of one door, then into another, the youth stumbling after her, raging with anger. she knew every turn and twist of the tiny cabin. instead of running around the deck, where she would surely have been captured, she darted in and out of the cabin doors, those on the inside, swinging backward and forward, sometimes closing a door in the face of her pursuer. she was almost overcome with horror when she saw lillian and eleanor in the sitting-room. lillian could not speak, but her eyes pleaded with phil. phyllis had no reason not to cry out. as she ran she screamed with all her might: "help, help, help!" some one would soon be passing along the shore who would come to their aid. the thief did not like the noise phyllis made. he also thought her cries would be heard on the shore. he had found what he wanted. he had no idea of being caught on the houseboat. but he had spied eleanor's caramel cake on the table. he would take that and be off in a hurry. as he grabbed eleanor's cake, the product of her morning's work and the chief ornament of their tea party, eleanor opened her eyes. the sight was more than she could bear. she gave a heart-rending scream. it added to the tramp's alarm. he made for the shore as fast as he could run. phil saw him start. she ran back of the kitchen and caught up something that lay coiled in a heap on the deck. as the thief ran down the gang plank and leaped on the land, it flew through the air with a hissing, swinging noise. the youth fell face downward, his arms close to his sides, letting the beloved cake drop to the ground. not for nothing had miss phyllis alden seen miss jenny ann rescued from a wild bull by means of a lasso. not for nothing had she spent hours of her time, and one of her few dollars, in acquiring the skill necessary to the swinging of a lariat. she now had her enemy held fast. at the same instant that phil caught her prey, before he had time to jerk away, she knotted her rope about the cleat that held the anchor. on the shore, the youth tugged and strained. he ran back into the water. it struck him that he might climb aboard the boat again. but his arms were caught down at his sides. it was impossible for him to get at a knife to cut the ropes. he could ease off the noose with his teeth, but it would be a slow process of escape. as soon as phil had her victim fast, she rushed back into the sitting room. she found eleanor on her feet, engaged in untying the handkerchief from lillian's face and cutting the twine that was bound about her swollen wrists. "i've caught the enemy and he is ours," declared phil cheerfully. "i have him tied to the side of the boat. i can't say how long it may take him to get away, and he may climb back on the boat and try to eat us up. but, at least, we can get ready for him." the robber was doggedly working at the rope that bound him. "i am going to get back at you," he yelled savagely. "oh, why doesn't some one come?" cried eleanor. "i am so afraid he'll get away." there was a cheerful whistle at the top of the embankment. it turned to one of horrified amazement as the artist, theodore brown, took in the situation. "what has happened?" he called out as he ran down the hill, swinging a small stick in his hand. "i heard your screams away over in the fields. what have you got there?" phil told the story, "what shall we do with our prisoner, mr. brown? we can't be bothered with him. we must get ready for our tea party," she concluded. "i don't know what you wish to do with the young rascal," rejoined mr. brown, "but i know very well what i intend to do." the artist's face was set and stern. his eyes gleamed with righteous anger. then he began calmly rolling up his sleeves. he went forward to the prisoner. "i am going to give you a taste of this," he declared, swinging his stick through the air. it hit phil's captive with a swish, once, twice, three times. mr. brown was just warming up to his work. "leave me alone," the fellow howled. "aren't you a coward to hit me when i can't get at you!" "you were not troubled about being a coward when you tried to terrorize three girls and got pretty badly left," mr. brown answered coolly, giving the youth another cut. the bully groaned. the girls could not endure it. if the lad had taken his medicine like a man they might have borne the sight of his punishment. but there is nothing more sickening than the fear of a coward. "please stop now, mr. brown," entreated lillian. "i am sure you have punished the boy enough. make him give up the money he has stolen, but don't beat him any more." "no, please, don't beat him any more," echoed eleanor. phil could have endured to see the thrashing continue a little longer. but she did not wish to appear hard-hearted. "just as you like," answered mr. brown. "i am enjoying myself, but i will quit if you say so. don't you think i had better turn him over to the police?" "no," phil protested. "he won't trouble us again, now he knows we can look after ourselves. next time he wouldn't get off so easily." the youth vowed never to come within the range of the houseboat if he were permitted to go free this time. as he got out of sight he stopped to shake his fist at the distant houseboat, and he vowed to be revenged for the punishment he had received if it cost him his life. the girls begged mr. brown to say nothing to their chaperon of their encounter. miss jenny ann was already dreadfully nervous about them and, besides, it would spoil madge's home coming. by the middle of the afternoon eleanor had made another caramel cake and lillian another plate of fudge. the farmer boy had come down after luncheon, and had scrubbed the decks of the houseboat to the last degree of cleanliness. the girls had hung flags everywhere, and on the outside of the cabin, facing the water, phyllis had hung a piece of white bunting with the word "welcome" stamped on it in large letters. this was the first thing madge would see as she came within sight of the houseboat. inside the cabin the table was set for tea. it held the best pickles, preserves, cold meats and jellies that the houseboat larder could furnish. lillian had made a pitcher of lemonade and another of iced tea. miss jones had roasted potatoes, and her corn muffins were ready to slip into the oven as soon as she heard their friends approaching. the three girls and their chaperon wore simple white frocks, with blue sashes knotted about their waists, for blue and white were the houseboat colors. they were watching a golden sunset from the deck of their ship when, together, they espied a figure standing up in a small skiff that was moving in their direction. the boat was rowed by one man. the other man sat with his arm in a sling. the upright figure was waving a great bunch of flowers. "madge is coming!" cried phil. the four women got out their handkerchiefs and shouted across the water. as madge climbed aboard the boat a strange, squeaky sound greeted her. first it played fast, then slow. it was undoubtedly music. "my bonnie lies over the ocean, my bonnie lies over the sea, my bonnie lies over the ocean, oh, bring back my bonnie to me." the tune was old as the hills. "what on earth is that?" demanded madge, as she kissed her chaperon and started around the semi-circle of her chums. "it's lillian's surprise!" eleanor explained. "it's a hurdy-gurdy. we found it in the village. i know it is pretty old. but lillian persuaded the man to bring it on board, as we thought it would be jolly to have a dance on the deck to-night in honor of miss madge morton, captain of the 'merry maid.'" chapter xv a call for help "madge, you must go over to fisherman's island with me," urged phil a few days later. "i feel dreadfully about mollie. i promised the poor girl that we would come to see her soon. now, a long time has passed; we have never been there. eleanor and lillian are anxious to go along with me. mollie is perfectly lovely, and i am heartily sorry for her. do come with us, there's a dear. don't pretend you are tired, or make miss jones think you are sick. you are just as well now as any of the rest of us. if you don't come, it is just because you want to stay here to read that silly novel. real people are much more interesting than stories." madge yawned and stretched herself lazily in the steamer chair. "phil, it is awfully hot on the water. couldn't we go to see your girl some other time? if she has waited this long, she may as well wait a little longer. you see, i promised mrs. curtis i wouldn't go out in the sun." "madge morton, you are putting on airs. going out in the sun, indeed!" phil sniffed disdainfully. "when did the sun ever hurt you? you just love to have people spoil you. you know there is nothing in the world the matter with you now. but please don't come, if you do not wish to. nellie and lillian and i are going now." phyllis walked quietly away, with her head in the air. madge was really too provoking. madge closed her book with a bang and rushed after her friend. "of course i wish to go with you, phil. i am interested in your pretty girl. i had reached the most exciting part of my story when you asked me, and--- now, you will hurt my feelings dreadfully if you don't let me go along with you! just think, phyllis alden. you said i was spoiled, and that i liked to pretend i was sick, and i didn't get one bit angry. don't you truly think my temper is improving?" phyllis laughed. "oh, come on, if you like. do you think miss jenny ann would mind my taking the poor girl a basket of nice things? i mean things that any girl would like. my friend isn't in the least like a beggar." "of course, miss jones will let you do anything you like, phil," replied madge. "i am the only person she does not approve of." madge felt angry because her chaperon had intimated that madge was hurting eleanor's feelings by talking so much of her mrs. curtis and the beautiful time she had spent with her. and madge, though she needed criticism even more than most other girls, was just as little pleased at receiving it. the girls rowed over to the island in a short time. it was a lovely day, and not too warm on the water. "i wonder, phil, if there is a chance of our coming across the thief who attacked you on the houseboat? he may he in hiding on this island," said madge as the four girls pulled their skiff up on the beach. "from your description i feel almost certain that he is the same boy who went off with our sailboat. i'd like to come across him again." "well, i wouldn't," declared lillian. "i am not so bloodthirsty as you girls are." the girls met no one along the beach, except a few children. phil led them straight to the tent, where she had talked with the afflicted girl. "of course, there isn't much of a chance that we shall find mollie in the tent," explained phil, "but i thought i would look here first." "do you know the girl's name, phil?" queried eleanor. phyllis shook her head. "not her real name. i only call her mollie because her dreadful old father called her 'moll,' and 'moll' is an ugly name." the tent was more forlorn and dilapidated than ever. it was empty. there was not a sign of life anywhere about, except for a few faded wild flowers cast carelessly in the corner of the tent. madge picked them up. "these flowers make me think of poor 'ophelia' in the play of 'hamlet.' ophelia went mad, you know, and wandered about with wild flowers in her hair." "mollie isn't the least bit crazy, madge. you will understand that as soon as you see her," protested phil. "it is only that she is like a child, and does not remember things. would you girls mind going around to the other side of the island? mollie said their shanty boat was over there. i do so want to find her." lillian hesitated. "i don't think we ought to go among those rough fishermen again," she protested. "we are sure to see some rude sailors over there who might speak to us." "oh, don't worry, lillian," reassured madge. "i am sure no one would dare say anything to us." madge was now deeply interested in the discovery of phil's friend and longing for any kind of adventure. she had fully made up her mind to see mollie if it were possible. it was more than a mile walk around the island. but the girls came, at last, to a spot where they again beheld a dirty canal boat made fast to a tree on the sandy shore. a huge woman, with a coarse, dreadful face, sat out on deck holding a baby in her lap. several small children played near her. but there was no sign of mollie. captain mike was gone, and with him his sailboat. phil went as near the edge of the shore as she could. the woman gazed at the four chums with sullen curiosity. she presumed that they had come to ask her husband to take them out sailing. but phil spoke up boldly: "may we see your daughter?" she inquired politely. "i met her the other day on the island and told her we would come to see her." the woman's expression changed at once to an ugly scowl. phil and madge wondered why their request should make her so angry. what harm could come from their calling on the poor, half-crazed girl? surely it was plain that they meant her no wrong. "we want to be friends with your daughter," madge declared haughtily; "we do not wish to injure her." "moll ain't here no more," the woman replied sulkily. "her father has took her away. she ain't never coming back." the woman grinned as the four girls went away. "o madge!" phil exclaimed, with her eyes full of tears, "i do feel so sorry. i am afraid we have come too late. poor mollie will think i have broken my promise. what could have happened to her? do you think her horrible old father has put her in an asylum? she told me that he often threatened her, unless she did whatever he said." "don't worry, phil dear," madge replied sympathetically. "perhaps the woman was telling us a story and simply did not wish us to see her daughter. i will come to the island with you again. maybe we can find her next time." the girls hurried on until they were almost at the place where they had left their rowboat. phil was unusually sorrowful and silent. she still carried her little basket with the gifts for her new friend. the memory of a pair of wonderful blue eyes haunted her. mollie's face had looked so longingly into hers; it was filled with a wistful sorrow and was haunted by fear and loneliness. it was not that of one who is mad. "girls," spoke phil quickly, "will you go on down to the boat and wait for me? i am going to run over to the tent and take another look in there. at any rate, i am going to leave this basket of food. i won't be gone but a minute." phyllis walked rapidly toward the tent. she half hoped she would find the vanished girl inside it. but the tent was still empty. phil set down her basket. she was strangely disappointed and grieved. she could do nothing more. there was nothing to do save go back to her friends. as she stepped toward the tent opening her foot caught in a piece of ragged carpet. like a flash phyllis remembered. had she not told mollie to slip a note under this carpet if she was ever in trouble or in danger and desired their help? phil slid her hand under the rug and found a torn scrap of yellow wrapping paper. on it was penciled in the handwriting of a child: "i am in much trouble. please, please come to help me. you promised." chapter xvi the attempted rescue "i will go back to the shanty boat with you now, phil," volunteered madge when phyllis returned to her chums, carrying the pathetic scrap of paper. "we have the food you brought in the basket, which we can eat for luncheon. lillian and nellie can row over to the houseboat to tell miss jenny ann that we mean to spend the day here. then, perhaps, they will row back for us this afternoon." "i don't think we ought to leave you and phil alone on this island," remonstrated eleanor, "especially when you won't have a boat. if anything should happen, there would be no chance of your getting away." "i'll tell you what to do, nellie," suggested phil. "suppose you and lillian go home and then send our boat over to us immediately. the farmer boy will bring it for us. he can tow it and then row back in his own skiff. ask him to anchor our boat in this same place. madge and i will come home as soon as we find out whether there is anything we can do for poor mollie." lillian and eleanor were reluctant to leave their two friends. but there seemed nothing else to be done. the thought of their chaperon's anxiety at last persuaded them to go, and they departed after promising to send the boat over immediately they reached the "merry maid." "what do you think we had better do, phil?" asked madge as the other two girls rowed out of sight. phil frowned and shook her head. "i haven't the faintest idea, madge; i am afraid we are too late to do anything. that dreadful mike has already taken his daughter away. i believe she wrote us several days ago, when she first heard what they meant to do with her. but i can't understand why her father wishes to put her in an asylum. she is much too useful to them. she does nearly all the washing and cooking on that miserable old shanty boat." "i do wish we had some money," declared madge thoughtfully. "i believe mike would do anything for money. if we could only take care of mollie, perhaps her father would let us have her. but you and i are as poor as church mice, phil. isn't it horrid?" "i don't believe the man would give his daughter to us if we merely offered to take care of her. she is too useful to him. but he might let her come with us if we could pay him a great deal of money besides. at least, if we offered him a bribe he might be influenced to tell us where poor mollie is. however, there is no use in talking about money. we'll have to do the best we can without it," finished phil. the two friends were walking disconsolately along the shore of the island. neither one of them was anxious to return to the shanty boat for another interview with the slatternly woman who presided over it. "phil," madge's eyes brightened, "if we need any money to help this girl, i feel sure mrs. curtis will be glad to give it to us. she is rich and generous, and tom says she dearly loves to do things for those who are in need. i should not mind in the least asking her help. she is very fond of young girls." "she is very fond of you, at any rate," returned phyllis, with a smothered sigh. "sometimes i feel as though she wanted to take you away from us for keeps." madge laughed. "what nonsense, phil. why should she wish to take me away for 'keeps'?" but phyllis did not reply to the little captain's laughing question. "let's not go around to the shanty boat the way we did this morning. let us go back the opposite way, and then we shall have encircled the whole island," planned madge. "if mollie is hidden anywhere, we might happen to discover her." the loneliness of their walk affected both madge and phyllis. there were no houses on the island. it was visited in the autumn for duck shooting, and in the summer was used as a camping ground for a few fisher folk. the girls passed only one man in their entire journey. he was lying under a tree, fast asleep. a hat covered his face. as the two friends hurried by they did not seek to discover who the man was. he was a rough-looking fellow, and they preferred not to awaken him. this time the deck of the shanty boat was deserted. it was noon. the other members of the small shanty colony must have been out on the water, for there was no one in sight. the girls stood staring irresolutely at the boat. "i suppose the woman is indoors fixing the luncheon. i can see the smoke coming through the smokestack," declared phil. "shall we call to her, or just march boldly aboard her old boat?" "i don't know," hesitated madge. "i don't believe we ought to mention mollie's note. we might get the child into more trouble." phyllis shook her head. "well, then, you decide upon something. you always plan things better than i do. i think we had better say that we have come back to inquire of captain mike how long he expects mollie to be away. then we can insist on waiting until his sailboat returns." the two girls strode bravely up the single, rickety board that served as the gangplank of the shanty boat. at their first step on the dock a yellow dog rushed to the door of the dirty kitchen and set up a furious barking. behind him stood the menacing figure of the woman whom madge and phil had seen a short time before. about her torn skirts were clustered three or four stupid-looking, tow-headed children. it was impossible for phil to conceive how beautiful mollie could be a member of such a family. yet the unfortunate girl had told phyllis that she had known no other than the hard, joyless life she had always led. it was madge who opened the conversation this time. to her disappointment she received no different answer to her inquiries than had phil. "moll was gone." the woman did not know where she had gone and she didn't care. but she wasn't coming back. further, mollie's step-mother did not see what business phil and madge had in coming to ask about her. "we are going to wait to talk to your husband," announced phil with quiet decision. "you git off my boat in a hurry," the woman snarled angrily. "you can stay on the island all day if you like, but you can't hang around here. mike won't be home before night, and he ain't goin' to tell you nothin' then. you'll find the beach pretty comfortable; it's so nice and shady." the woman grinned maliciously. the two girls sat down on the stretch of hot sand near the water. they were doggedly determined to wait as long as possible for mike muldoon's return. mollie's pathetic appeal had touched madge as deeply as it had phil, and they were both resolved to help the child if they could. the hours dragged by on leaden wings. madge's head ached violently. phil was beginning to think longingly of the basket of food which she had left in the tent and wondering if it would do for her to go after it while madge stayed on guard. as she sat deliberating as to what course of action would be the wisest, a sudden commotion arose among the children playing on the deck of the shanty boat. the dog began to bark furiously. "mammy, here comes pap," the oldest child cried. the tired girls could see that a sailboat was being anchored near the shore. a few moments later mike, who insisted on being called "captain," got into a skiff and rowed toward the land. madge sprang to her feet and ran down to the edge of the water. she wished to attract mike's attention before he went aboard his own shanty boat. to think with her was to act. she realized that she must speak to the man before his wife could tell him the nature of their errand. if mike muldoon learned their real design, he might shut himself inside his shanty and refuse to talk to them. [illustration: the girls ran down to the water's edge.] mike rowed toward his callers, who were anxiously waiting for him. as his boat scraped the shore his wife shrieked at him, "come here fust, mike! don't you be goin' talkin' to the likes of them before i tells you somethin'." she was too late. captain mike had already turned to madge. he supposed the girls had come to engage his sailboat. captain madge decided to try diplomacy. she did not wish to make the sailor angry. she hoped she might persuade him to do what they wished. "we have not come to rent your sailboat today, captain mike," she announced cheerfully, "we are coming for that another time. what we wish now is to ask you what has become of your pretty daughter? we have crossed all the way over to the island to make her a call. and now we can't find her. we wish to make friends with her, if you don't mind." "moll can't make friends with nobody," mike answered suspiciously, his skin turning a mottled red under its coat of tan. "i told you moll was foolish." "yes, i know," answered phil unwisely. "that is why we are so sorry for her." mike scowled darkly. "you ain't got no cause to be sorry for the gal. who told you she was treated mean? nobody don't hurt her. but you can't see her. she is sick." "why, your wife told us she had gone away!" exclaimed phil impetuously. she could have cried with regret the next moment, for she realized how foolish she had been. "so she has gone away," mike muttered, "and she is sick. i ain't no liar and my wife ain't neither." "when will she come back, captain mike?" asked madge in a friendly tone, hoping the title of "captain" would soften the surly sailor. "she's not comin' back," the man replied impatiently. "i've got to go to my dinner, and i ain't goin' to answer no more questions. don't you come foolin' around this way any more; my old woman don't like it. i warn you for your good." phil was tired of deceit. she knew mike had not told them the truth. "captain mike," she demanded coolly, "have you put your daughter in an asylum? if you have, i think you have been both inhuman and cruel. mollie is not crazy. if you will tell us where she is we will look after her, and she need not bother you any more." she raised her dark eyes and gazed defiantly at the angry sailor, who shook his great red fist full in her face. "you'll take a man's own daughter away from him, will you?" he raged. "what makes you so interested in my gal? and who told you moll was shut up with a lot of crazies? my moll is going to be married; she has gone away to git her weddin' clothes." he laughed tantalizingly into the girls' faces as though well pleased with his own joke. "mollie married?" phil exclaimed in horror. "why, she----" then phil stopped herself and inquired, with an innocent expression of interest, "whom did you say mollie was going to marry?" "she is going to marry bill barnes, a friend of mine," retorted the sailor sarcastically, his heavy shoulders shaking with savage amusement. "he ain't much to look at. it's kind of a case of beauty and the beast with him and my moll. but she's powerful fond of him." "mike!" a shrill voice screamed from the shanty boat kitchen, "come along in here." mike glared at his questioners, his face set in savage lines. "don't never come here agin," he growled. "if you do, i ain't sayin' what will happen to you." turning abruptly he strode toward his boat, leaving the girls standing where he had first met them. there was nothing for madge and phil to do but to return once more to their own boat. "o madge! it is too dreadful!" exclaimed phil in a husky voice. "i understand now what poor mollie meant. she said there was one thing she would never do, no matter how cruel her father might he with her. of course, she knew they were going to try to force her to marry some frightful looking fisherman. we simply must try to find her and save her. it is a wicked shame!" "don't be so wretched, phil," comforted madge, though she felt equally miserable. "you are right; we must find out how to save poor, pretty mollie. i can't think what we ought to do, just this minute, but we must do our best. now i think we shall have to go home and talk things over with miss jenny ann and the girls. we will come back to-morrow, prepared to make a fight to save mollie. surely she can't be married by that time." the two friends stopped by the tent for their basket of food and sat down just outside it under a tree to eat their luncheon. neither of them noticed that they had seated themselves with their backs to the water, and they were so interested in talking of mollie that they gave no thought to the outgoing tide. by rising they could see their boat drawn up on the shore, where, as arranged with lillian and eleanor, it had been left by the farm boy. what they failed to notice, however, was the distance it lay from the water line, and they also had forgotten that it was time for the going out of the tide. as they sat quietly eating their luncheon the sound of running feet was borne to their ears. nearer and nearer they came. then round the curve of the beach darted the object of their morning's search. with a wild cry she flung herself upon phil. "you said you would help me," she moaned. "oh, help me now." little rivulets of water ran from her ragged clothing. the pupils of her dark blue eyes were distended with fear. her dress was torn across her shoulder and an ugly bruise showed through it. there was a long, red welt on her cheek that looked as though it had been made with a whip, and another across one forearm. madge and phyllis rushed toward the frightened girl. phil put her arm protectingly about mollie while madge stood on guard. resolution and defiance looked out from their young faces. they were not afraid of poor mollie's captors. they would fight for her. "how did you come to us? where have you been?" questioned phil. five minutes had passed and no one had appeared. "sit down here, mollie. we won't let any one hurt you." "i was hidden in the shanty boat, locked in a dark closet," faltered mollie, casting a terrified glance about her. "i heard you ask for me, but i could not come out. the woman is more cruel to me than the man. she would have killed me. but when my father came home he was so angry because you had been to see me that he beat me and said i must marry bill to-morrow, before you could come back to help me. oh, he is horrible! i won't marry him! i'll die first! i crawled through a porthole in the boat when i heard what they said. i dropped into the water and swam and swam until i could land on the beach out of sight of my father's boat. then i ran until i found you. but they will try to find me. they may be looking for me now. tell me, tell me what i must do?" "don't be frightened," soothed madge. "they can't force you to marry bill or any one else against your will. phil and i will take care of you. come with us. we are going over to our houseboat now. your father need not know what has become of you. hurry!" madge was listening intently for sounds announcing the coming of mollie's pursuers. so far the girls were safe. a moment more and they would be in their rowboat. linking their arms within mollie's her rescuers hurried her along. straight to the water's edge they ran, then a cry of consternation went up from the two girls. "o madge! what shall we do? we forgot all about the tide," mourned phil. "it has gone out, and now we'll have to drag our heavy boat half a mile through the sand to the water or else wait until the tide runs in again before we can get away from the island." chapter xvii the capture madge hurried down to where their rowboat lay. she dragged the anchor out of the sand and pulled at the skiff with all her might. phil also took hold and together the two girls worked like beavers, but without success. the boat was firmly wedged in the sand. "is there any place on the island where we can hide, mollie?" questioned phil as the two girls rested for a moment from their fruitless effort. "we can not leave here until the tide turns." "i know a cave," said mollie hesitatingly. "it is in the woods not very far from the beach. but i am afraid they will find us there." "we had better go to it," urged madge, wiping the perspiration from her tired face. "at least we can hide in the cave for a while, until we make up our minds what is best for us to do, we may not be discovered until the tide turns. later on i shall slip down here again to see if things are safe, and then we can make a run for our boat. if we wait here along the shore, we shall not have the least chance of escaping. the first person who comes to look for mollie will surely see us. come on. we have no time to lose." this time mollie led the way through a tangle of trees and underbrush to the center of the little island. here they found the cave which was only an opening behind an immense old tree that had been uprooted by a storm. a flat rock protruded over the hollow, and the sand had gradually drifted away until the cavity was hardly large enough to hold the three girls. these were cramped quarters, and they were only partially protected from view by the immense roots of the fallen tree, but they knew of no other refuge and resolved to make the best of it. the girls had barely crept into their hiding place when they heard a noise of some one tramping through the underbrush. a few moments later a man slouched along a narrow path between the trees. his hat was pulled down over his face, but madge and phil recognized him by his dress as the man they had seen asleep on the ground earlier in the day. mollie made no sound. she was hidden between the two friends, and never in her life before, so far as she could recall, had she been so protected by affection. but her increased trembling told her rescuers that she had recognized the man who passed so near to them, and that she feared him. "it's bill," she faltered when the figure disappeared without having the slightest suspicion that he was being watched. "he is on his way to our boat. he will ask for me, and my father will be sure to find out that i have gone. then they will come out here to hunt for me." for a long time after mollie's disquieting prediction none of the three prisoners spoke. they hardly dared to breathe. their bodies ached from their cramped, uncomfortable positions; they were hungry, and, worse than anything else, madge and phyllis were tormented with thirst. since leaving the houseboat early in the morning they had drunk no water. phil was thinking remorsefully that all this trouble had come from her asking madge to go with her to the island in search of mollie. madge was wondering just what she would do and say if mollie's father should find them, while mollie's delicate face had lost its expression of apathy and now wore one of lively terror. even the faint rustle of leaves as a passing breeze swept through the trees caused her to start. an hour passed and no one came to look for them. either mike had not learned of his daughter's escape, or else he had not taken the trouble to come to search for her. he must have believed that she would return to the boat later on of her own accord, driven by hunger and loneliness. it was now growing late in the afternoon. neither madge nor phyllis wore a watch, so it was impossible to tell how much time they had spent in the cave. miss jenny ann would wonder what had happened. of course, lillian and eleanor would explain matters. miss jones might remember the tide and understand what was keeping them away. yet there was a lively possibility that she might fail to take the tide into consideration. at last madge decided to end the suspense. she knew their skiff would float from the shore of fisherman's island several hours before full tide. they had tried to make their escape at the moment when the tide was almost at its lowest ebb. the tide had been high that morning. it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon when they had attempted to leave the island. she now believed it to be almost five o'clock. at least, it was time to reconnoitre. she put her ear close to the ground. she could hear no sound of any one approaching. "phil," she whispered, "will you and mollie please wait here for me. i am going down to the water to see if it is possible to get the boat off. it must be very late. remember, high tide is at eight o'clock to-night. we ought to be able to pull away from here between five and six o'clock. when i come back to tell you how things are we can make a run for it to the beach, and perhaps get a fair start before we are seen." "let me go with you," insisted phil, as anxious as her chum to get out of their close quarters. "i don't think we ought to leave mollie alone," demurred madge. "but, if you think best, you may go and i will stay here." mollie's terror at phyllis's suggestion of deserting her was too much for tender-hearted phil. "no, i won't leave you," she said gently, taking mollie's hand in hers. "you had better run along, madge. i'll stay here. but, for goodness' sake, do be careful. if anything happens to you, mollie and i will starve in this cave like babes in the woods, if you don't come back to find us." madge crawled cautiously out of the hole. her muscles were so stiff that she rose to her feet with difficulty. but she soon started off through the narrow path between the trees, making as little noise as she possibly could. her way through the grove of trees covered the greater part of the distance to the shore. but there was still a stretch of open beach, where she feared she would be discovered. when she came to the shelter of the last tree she stopped and peered cautiously up and down the line of the shore. as far as she could see the beach was empty. and, surely enough, the tide was coming in. tiny waves touched the prow of the "water witch." it was true the water was not yet deep enough to float their boat, but in less than an hour they might be able to row away from danger with their new friend. there was but one thing to do. she must return to phyllis and mollie, and they must make up their minds to remain in their hiding place for a little while longer. madge hated to go back to the cave. she would have liked to linger in the woods, hiding behind the trees until they were able to leave the island. but she knew it would not be fair to phyllis and mollie to leave them any longer in suspense. they would think something had happened to her unless she returned to them at once. the knowledge that she had not been seen made her feel more cheerful. she was sure that she would yet outwit the brutal sailor, mike muldoon, and carry mollie safe to the shelter of their houseboat, where miss jenny ann, or perhaps mrs. curtis, would tell them how they could continue to take care of the poor girl. unfortunately, madge's gown was of some soft, white material and altogether too conspicuous. she could be easily seen for some distance as she ran along the shore, and in her anxiety to return to her friends as soon as possible she did not look about her as carefully as she should have done. therefore she missed seeing the cruel face that stared malignantly forth from the opening in the tent where phil had her first talk with mollie. the man's whole body was carefully concealed, and as madge flitted by the tent his head disappeared from sight. the man in the tent had caught sight of madge's white gown the moment she stepped forth from the shelter of the woods. he had at once understood the situation, but he did not stir until she started to return to the cave. he knew that madge had come down to see if she could get the boat off the beach and into the water. it was evident that the other girls must be hidden somewhere in the forest. there was nothing to be gained by capturing madge alone; he must wait until she went back to her friends, then he could find out where mollie was concealed. the boat on the shore and the disappearance of the two girls who had visited him that morning told the whole story. why had the two young women concealed themselves unless they meant to guard the fugitive mollie? when madge started back through the woods the man followed her at a safe distance. he did not wish her to know that he was following her, for fear she would lead him off the trail, but he kept near enough to know exactly where she was going. she arrived, as she believed undiscovered, at their hiding place in the woods. phyllis and mollie heard her light footfalls and gave a united sigh of relief. their friend had escaped discovery. so far all was well! madge leaned over the opening of the cave, to reassure her friends before she crawled into it again. "it's all right!" she cried softly. "i saw no one, heard nothing. we can get away, without any trouble, in another hour." she crouched down to slip into the place of concealment. at the same instant the three girls heard a noise. it was unmistakably the hurried tramp of heavy feet! mike muldoon burst through the thicket of trees, his face blazing with heat and anger. chapter xviii on a strange shore madge had just time enough to leap to her feet. she would not allow their determined enemy to catch her while in the act of hiding. "keep still," she whispered quickly to phyllis and mollie. then she turned, with flashing eyes, to the approaching figure of captain mike muldoon. "what do you want?" she demanded imperiously, stamping her foot. "why have you followed me through the woods?" for a moment the man was speechless. it had not dawned on him that madge would turn upon him. he had expected her to burst into tears and exhibit signs of fear. "i want my daughter, and i want her quick, young woman," he answered gruffly. "when i find her i will settle with you." he pushed past madge and dragged the unfortunate mollie from her place of shelter. phil sprang out after her. her black eyes were flashing with anger and disappointment. she fastened a firm grip on mollie's arm. if mike muldoon jerked or shook his daughter, he would jerk and shake phyllis alden, too, for nothing would induce her to let go her hold on mollie. "let me go," whispered mollie gently, looking affectionately into the faces of her new friends. "i don't want you to be in trouble for my sake. i ran away. it was no fault of yours." mollie appeared to be quite rational. she seemed to appreciate the girls' loyalty to her. "give up my daughter and get back to where you came from, and i will let you off this time," roared mike savagely. he did not think it wise to deal roughly with the girls. their friends would surely come to look for them and hold him responsible for their disappearance. "we won't go a step unless you will let mollie go with us," returned phil wrathfully. "you shan't make her marry that horrible bill. it is unlawful for you to force her to marry against her will." mike moved stolidly ahead, gripping his daughter and pulling her along with him. phyllis, who was still clutching mollie's arm, followed after, while madge walked valiantly by phil's side. "leave go!" mike shouted, raising his fist threateningly at phyllis. mollie cried out at the thought of possible hurt to her friend, but phyllis did not falter. she gazed up at the burly sailor with a look of such intense scorn, mingled with defiance, that he dropped his hand to his side and said sneeringly: "come back to my shanty boat, then. i will settle with you when we get there." tightening his hold on his daughter's arm he strode off toward the shanty boat, dragging poor mollie along at a cruel rate of speed. phil, still clasping mollie's other arm, kept pace with her, while madge marched a little to the rear with the air of a grenadier. mollie's beautiful white face was set in lines of despair, but her companions felt nothing save righteous indignation against the brutal man they were forced either to follow or else leave mollie to her fate. on the deck of the wretched shanty boat, this time, a man and a woman were waiting with burning impatience. the man was bill and the woman was mike muldoon's wife. a group of fisher folk stood near, evidently anxious to know what was going to happen. it was late in the afternoon, and they had returned from the day's work on the water. madge broke away from her own party to run toward these men and women. there were about half a dozen in number. "won't you help us?" she cried excitedly. "captain mike is trying to force his daughter to marry that dreadful bill. he has beaten her cruelly because she refuses to do it. my friend and i tried to get mollie away from him, but he found us and forced her to come back here." "don't hurt the young ladies, mike," remonstrated one of the fishermen, with a satirical grin in their direction, "it wouldn't be good business." then he turned to madge and said gruffly: "it ain't any of our lookout what mike does with his daughter. she's foolish, anyhow. can't see why bill wants to marry her." muldoon had jerked mollie from phil's restraining grasp and flung her aboard the shanty boat. the woman pushed the girl inside the cabin and closed the door. then she stood waiting to see what her husband intended to do with the two girls. captain mike was puzzled. he stood frowning angrily at mollie's defiant champions. they had refused to go back home. he had given them their opportunity. it was just as well they had not taken it, for suddenly the man was seized with an idea. "git into my rowboat," he ordered phil and madge. "i am going to put you aboard my sailboat and carry you home to your friends. you had better take my offer. you'll only get into worse trouble if you stay around here. how do you think you are going to take care of moll--knock me and bill and my old woman down and run off with moll?" "won't any one here help us?" asked phil, turning to the grinning crowd. "you had better go home with mike. it's the only thing for you to do," advised a grizzled old fisherman. "your hanging around here ain't going to help moll." madge and phil exchanged inquiring glances. for the time being they were beaten. it was better to go home. later on they would see what could be done for their friend. "we would rather go back in our own boat," phil announced, making a last resistance. madge, who was already in mike's skiff, beckoned to phil to join her. it was too undignified and hopeless for them to argue longer with these coarse, rough men. phyllis followed her chum reluctantly. she hung back as long as she could, staring hard at the shanty boat. but there was no sight nor sound of mollie. even after they were aboard captain mike's sailing craft phil's eyes strained toward the receding shore. when it was no longer to be seen she sat with her hands folded, gazing into her lap. she was still thinking and planning what she could do to rescue mollie. madge sat with closed eyes; she was too weary to speak. the sailor's boat had left the island far behind and was moving swiftly. it was after sunset, and the sun had just thrown itself, like the golden ball in the fairy tale, into the depth of the clear water. the girls were looking anxiously toward the direction of their boat, and wondering if their friends were worrying over their late return. the houseboat lay a little to the southwest of fisherman's island, and so far they had not been able to catch sight of it. it was growing so dark that it was impossible to see the shore very clearly on either side of the bay. it was madge's sharp eyes that first made the discovery that what she could see of the shore was unfamiliar. captain mike was not taking them to their houseboat. he was sailing in exactly the opposite direction. madge glanced quickly at phyllis, who was yet happily unconscious of their plight, then, turning to muldoon, she said sharply: "you are sailing the wrong way to bring us to our houseboat. the boat lies southwest of the island and you are taking us due north. turn about and take us to our boat instantly." "i am taking you to where i am going to land you, all right," the sailor replied gruffly. "you have got to learn that you can't come foolin' in my business without getting yourselves into trouble. i'm goin' to learn you." "you had better do as we ask you to do or you may regret it," put in phyllis. the sailor appeared not to have heard her threat. "don't speak to him, phil. he isn't worth wasting words over." the sailboat was evidently making for the land. the long line of a pier was faintly visible. a few lights shone along a strange shore. it was plain that captain mike meant to land at this pier. the girls did not know why he meant to take them there, but they were too proud to ask him his reason. mike drew his boat close along the flight of steps that led to the top of the pier. "jump off, quick!" he called sharply. it was night. neither madge nor phyllis had the faintest idea of the hour. neither one of them knew in what place they were being cast ashore, nor had they a cent of money between them. but anything was better than to remain longer on the sailboat. with a defiant glance at the scowling man madge climbed out on the steps of the pier. she gave her hand to phyllis, who leaped after her. captain mike watched them walk up the steps to the top of the pier. then, turning his boat about, he sailed away, leaving the two girls to the darkness of an unknown shore. chapter xix finding a way to help mollie girls do not keep silent long, no matter how grave the situation. the two castaways were no exception. madge shook her clenched fist after the retreating mast of the sail boat. "you horrid, horrid old man!" she cried. "we won't give up trying to save poor mollie, no matter what you do to us. come on, phil," she said, taking phyllis by the hand, "let us go up to the shore and ask some one where we are. i suppose nobody will believe our story, because it seems so improbable, but perhaps some kind soul will give us a drink of water, even if we do look perfectly disreputable." phyllis giggled softly in spite of their plight. madge had lost her hat. her curls had long since come loose from the knot in which she wore them, and her gown was sadly wrinkled. madge was in no mood for laughter. "you needn't make fun of me, phyllis alden," she said reproachfully. "you are just as tattered and torn as i. we do look like a couple of beggars. your hair is not down, but your collar is crumpled and your dress is almost as soiled as mine." "i look much worse than you do, madge, i am sure of it," conceded phil cheerfully. "you see, i am not pretty to begin with." to this speech madge would not deign to reply. phyllis laughed good-humoredly. "loyal little madge, you won't acknowledge my lack of fatal beauty." then in a graver tone she added, "what do you think we had better do, madge?" "find out where we are and how far away the 'merry maid' is," returned madge decisively. "we must reach there to-night, phil. miss jenny ann and the girls will believe something dreadful has happened to us." the chums had walked to the end of the pier. between them and the nearest house lay a stretch of treacherous marsh. they paused irresolutely, staring at the marsh with anxious eyes. "i am afraid we shall get lost in the marsh if we try to find our way through it on a dark night like this," faltered phyllis. madge shook her head determinedly. "we must try to pass through it. i don't like the looks of it any better than you do, but we can't stay here all night, that is certain. come on. here goes." phyllis obediently followed her companion into the marsh, and then began a never-to-be-forgotten walk. with each step they took the salt water oozed up from the ground and covered their shoes. madge felt her way carefully. she was obliged to put one foot cautiously forth to see if the earth ahead were firm enough to bear the weight of her body. on she went, with phyllis close behind her. in spite of the difficulty the girls were plainly making headway. "hurrah!" called madge, "we are almost out of this quagmire. there is dry land ahead!" with one long leap she made the solid ground which stretched just ahead of her. phyllis was not so fortunate. she lunged blindly after madge, struck an unusually bad part of the marsh and sank knee deep in the soft mud. with a terrified cry she began struggling to free herself, but the harder she struggled the deeper she became imbedded in the marsh. the moon was just coming up. madge could faintly see what had happened to her friend. she ran toward phyllis, but the latter cried out warningly: "go back. if you try to help me, you'll only sink into this marsh with me." madge hesitated only a minute. "don't move, phil, if you can possibly help it," she cried. "but in a few minutes from now call out, so that i can tell where you are. good-bye for a little while; i am going for help." madge never knew how she covered the space that lay between her and the nearest house. this house had a low stone wall around it, and stood on top of a steep hill that sloped down to this wall. madge scrambled over the wall and climbed the hill, sometimes on her feet, but as often on her hands and knees. there was a light in a window. she staggered to it and rapped on the window pane. a moment later a man appeared in a doorway at the right of the window. "who's there?" he called out sharply. "what do you mean by knocking on my window? answer me at once!" madge stumbled over to him. "oh, won't you please come with me?" she said. "my friend phyllis is stuck fast in the marsh. i must have help to get her out." without a word the man disappeared into the house. for one dreadful instant, madge thought he did not intend to help her; she thought he must believe that she was an impostor and was making up her story. the next minute the man returned, wearing a pair of high rubber hoots and carrying a dark lantern and a heavy rope. "don't be frightened," he said kindly to her as she walked wearily after him. "people often lose their way in this marsh after dark. we'll soon find your friend." but to himself judge arthur hilliard asked the question: "what in the world are two young girls doing alone on this dangerous shore at such an hour of the night?" it was well that phyllis remembered madge's order, else they might have had some trouble in locating her. as soon as phyllis saw the friendly light from the oncoming lantern she called at the top of her lungs: "here i am! here i am!" "keep perfectly still!" judge hilliard commanded. "i'll have you out in a short time." he waded into the marsh, his high boots protecting him from the black ooze. when he was about five yards from phil he flung her the rope. "now work your way along toward us," he directed. phyllis obeyed his command and in an incredibly short time was safe on dry land, her shoes heavy with mud. "it is bad enough to be lost," declared phil as she thanked the stranger, "but it is worse to be not only lost, but stuck in the mud as well." "you were in a most unpleasant, though i can hardly say a dangerous plight," returned the stranger. "can i be of further service to you?" "would you--could you tell us where we can get a drink of water?" asked madge. "we are so tired and thirsty." "my name is arthur hilliard," returned the man. "if you will come to my house, my mother will be glad to offer you refreshment." "thank you," bowed madge sedately. "we will go with you." mrs. hilliard, a stout, comfortable looking old lady, received the wanderers with true southern hospitality. without waiting to hear their story, she insisted that they change their bedraggled clothing for two comfortable looking dressing gowns which she laid out for them, and by the time they had washed their faces and hands and dressed their hair they found a hot supper ready for them in the dining room. "we are so sorry to have troubled you," declared madge apologetically, as mr. hilliard entered the dining room when they were finishing their meal. "now we must tell you who we are and how we came to be floundering in the marsh so late in the evening." beginning with their visit to the island that morning madge related all that had transpired during that long day of adventures. judge hilliard shook his head disapprovingly as the tale continued, but listened with grave interest to the part of the story relating to mollie, the sailor's daughter. "this girl of whom you speak is like the girl in the fairy story, who has a cruel step-mother and an ogre of a father," he commented when the story had ended. "of course she is," answered madge; "only our girl is not in a fairy story, she is real. i can't believe that that dreadful mike muldoon is her father, and i know there must be some way to take her from him and make her happy." "we are going to save her yet," declared phyllis stoutly. "i don't see just how we are to manage it, but to-morrow we are going to try again. how far are we from fisherman's island?" "about thirty miles," judge hilliard replied. "i have telephoned to the nearest town to let your chaperon know you are safe. the message will be taken over to your houseboat tonight, and i will take you home in the morning. my mother insists that you remain here tonight. she will join us in the library in a few minutes." "thank you again," said madge gratefully. "it was very thoughtful in you to send a message to our friends. in the morning we wish to go first to the belleview hotel. we wish to see a friend of ours who is staying there. her name is mrs. curtis." "mrs. curtis is an old friend of mine," said judge hilliard in pleased surprise. "i have known her ever since i was a little boy. now i have something to say to you that may interest you. i told you i was a judge. it is my business to look into people's legal difficulties. this trouble which concerns your friend looks to me as though it might have a legal side to it. we are in the state of maryland. fisherman's island is in my jurisdiction. suppose i issue an injunction forbidding the marriage between mollie and the sailor, and take you up to the island in the morning to see it served. i have a steam yacht, and i think i shall take along two court officers or policemen, who will terrify your dreadful captain mike. at any rate, i'll see justice done his afflicted daughter, if i have to take the law in my own hands." madge clapped her hands joyously. tears stood in phil's dark eyes. "oh, how splendid!" she breathed. at this juncture mrs. hilliard entered the library, and after a little further talk the two girls announced themselves as being quite ready to retire. "be ready at seven o'clock," judge hilliard reminded them, as he bade his guests good night. "we shall reach captain mike's shanty boat before he has time to proceed with the marriage. they won't expect you at your houseboat until after breakfast, and i hope to have three girls to deliver aboard, instead of two." phyllis and madge dropped asleep that night the instant their heads touched their pillows. they had asked to share the same room, and as they had sleepily undressed, they congratulated each other on the fact that mike muldoon's cowardly act had resulted in nothing but good to them. it looked as though it might even prove a boomerang to him. by seven o'clock the next morning the girls had breakfasted and said good-bye to mrs. hilliard, after promising to visit her at some future time. "judge hilliard," announced madge, as the yacht "greyhound" steamed out from the pier, "we forgot to tell you last night that we think mollie is old enough to come away from her father if she wishes. she doesn't know how old she is. that is one of the queer things about mollie. she seems quite sensible until you ask her to recall something, and then she becomes confused. still, i am sure she is several years older than either phil or i." the shanty boat colony on the east side of fisherman's island had also risen early on this warm morning in july. bill crossed over to the mainland in his sailboat to bring a justice of the peace back with him to marry him to mollie. captain mike was determined to have his way with his daughter. once she was married to bill, her new friends would find it difficult to get her away from him. since mollie's return to the shanty boat she had made no further outcry. she did not seem to know what was going on. the vacant, hopeless look had come over her face. the fright and ill treatment of the day before had completely subdued her. she seemed to have forgotten everything. all night long she had lain awake in her miserable berth in the dirty shanty boat. she lay still, with her eyes closed, until the breathing of her family told her they were fast asleep. then she crept out on the deck of the boat. she sat for hours without moving, her wonderful blue eyes, with the empty look in them, staring out over the silent waters. she was waiting, wistful and patient, for something to come to save her. when the dawn broke, and a rosy light bathed the bay and the sky, she rose, went quietly into the cabin and lay down in her berth again. she stayed there while the family ate their breakfast. she made no resistance when her step-mother came toward her, grinning maliciously, and bearing a coarse white cotton dress, which she called "moll's wedding gown." mollie let the woman put the dress on her. she even combed her own sun-colored hair; and, for the first time in her life, she knotted it on her head, instead of letting it stream in ragged, unkempt ends over her shoulders. a loose lock of hair over mollie's low forehead covered the ugly scar that was her one disfigurement. she was so startlingly lovely that her stupid step-mother stared at her in a kind of bewildered amazement. mollie was pale and worn, and painfully thin, yet nothing could spoil the wonderful color of her hair and eyes, nor take away the peculiar grace of her figure. her expression was dull and listless. even so mollie looked like a lily transplanted to some field of dank weeds, but growing tall and sweet amid their ugliness. mike looked at his daughter curiously when her step-mother dragged her out before him. brutal as he was, a change passed over his face. he glanced over the water to see if bill's boat were approaching. "i ain't never understood how things has turned out," he muttered to himself. "if mollie wasn't foolish, i wouldn't let bill have her. she is a pretty thing, and she looks like a lady. that's what makes it so all-fired queer." mollie sank down on the bench that ran around the deck of the shanty boat. she dropped her head in her hands. what she was thinking, or whether she was thinking at all, no one could know or tell. she heard a boat coming through the water, then a cry from her father. if she believed the hour had arrived for her marriage, she gave no sign. she did not raise her head when mike muldoon cried out savagely. captain mike went ashore. he stood with his heavy arms folded, smoking and scowling. judge hilliard stepped up to captain mike. two police officers accompanied him. madge and phil were directly behind their new friend. they did not like to call to mollie, but they wished she would look up at them. "i have an injunction forbidding the marriage of your daughter, mollie muldoon, to a fisherman named bill," judge hilliard's peremptory voice rang out. "you are forcing your daughter into this marriage against her will." "i ain't forcing moll," denied captain mike, glaring at phil and madge. he was driven into a corner, and he knew nothing else to say. "i would like to ask the girl what she desires," the judge announced. "moll," called mike. for the first time mollie lifted her head. she left the boat and came slowly toward the little party. judge hilliard stared, and for a moment he forgot to speak to her. madge and phil had assured him that their protã©gã© was beautiful, but he had expected to behold the simple beauty of a country girl; this young woman was exquisitely lovely. madge and phil trembled with excitement. suppose mollie should not understand the judge's question and make the wrong answer? suppose the poor girl had been bullied into submission? suppose she should not even recall the struggle of yesterday? she forgot so much--would she forget this? "do you desire to marry this 'bill'?" judge hilliard queried, looking with puzzled wonder into mollie's lovely, expressionless face. mollie shook her head gently. madge and phil held their breath. "i will not marry him," mollie answered simply. "nothing could make me do so." "then you will come home to the houseboat with us, mollie," madge and phil pleaded together, taking hold of the girl's hands to lead her away. "i am sorry," interposed judge hilliard, speaking to the girls, "but we can't take her away at once. we must observe the law. muldoon," continued the judge as he took a document out of his pocket and handed it to the sailor, "of course you know that you can not force this girl to marry against her will whether she is of age or not, but, aside from that, here is an order of court directing you to show cause why the girl should not be taken from you upon the ground of cruelty and neglect. the case will be heard in the court at the county seat of anne arundel county five days hence, the 30th of the month. you will, of course, be expected to prove that the girl is your daughter. this order also contains an injunction forbidding you to take the girl out of this jurisdiction within that time. these officers will remain here to see that the order of the court is carried out. if you make any attempt to remove the girl from this vicinity, you will be arrested at once." "and now, ladies," said judge hilliard, turning to the girls, "we will go aboard the 'greyhound'." "i say, judge," broke in muldoon, starting hurriedly after judge hilliard, "i don't want to get mixed up in the law. i'll tell you something if you won't be too hard on me. moll isn't my daughter! i picked her up almost drowned on a beach on the coast of florida. my first old woman took a liking for the kid, so we just kept her. we didn't intend her any harm. that was ten or twelve years ago." judge hilliard did not appear to be surprised; in fact, he had expected some such statement. "your confession," said he, speaking to muldoon, "is all we need to enable us to take this girl away. under the circumstances, it will not be necessary to serve this paper," he continued, taking the order of court away from muldoon. "we shall take the girl with us now. muldoon, see to it that you don't get into any other trouble. you are getting off easily. your carrying off these two young ladies under false pretence and depositing them against their will in an unknown place, as you did last night, is very much like abduction, and abduction is a penitentiary offence." there being nothing left to do, judge hilliard and his party, now including the rescued mollie, went aboard the "greyhound" and steamed away toward the houseboat. chapter xx madge's opportunity mollie slipped into her place as a member of the little houseboat family as quietly as though she had always been a part of it. she was shy and gentle, and rarely talked. she was more like a timid child than a woman. she liked to cook, to wash the dishes, to do the things to which she was accustomed, and to be left alone. at first the houseboat girls tried to interest her in their amusements, but miss jenny ann persuaded them that it was wiser to let mollie become accustomed to the change in her life in any way she could. mollie never spoke of the past, and she seemed worried if any one of the girls questioned her about it. they did not even know whether she feared the return of captain mike or bill. the girls hoped that mollie's lack of memory had made her quickly forget her unhappy life. one thing haunted mollie: it was her fear of strangers. if a visitor came aboard the houseboat the young girl would disappear and hide in the cabin until there was no danger of her being noticed. jack bolling and tom curtis came calling nearly every day, but neither one of them had seen anything of mollie, except her flying skirts as she ran away to hide from them. they were vaguely aware of her unusual beauty, but neither of them knew what she actually looked like. madge was particularly sorry that mollie would not see mrs. curtis. the houseboat holiday could only last a short time longer. mr. and mrs. butler had written that they expected to return from california in about ten days, and must have madge and eleanor back at "forest house." lillian's and phil's parents were also clamoring for their girls to spend a part of their summer vacation at home. so the question must soon arise: what could be done with mollie when the crew of the "merry maid" disbanded? madge felt they needed their friend's advice. but neither mrs. curtis nor miss jenny ann thought it best to force mollie to see people until she became more used to the atmosphere of affection about her, and had learned that no one meant to harm or ill treat her. once mrs. curtis caught a brief glimpse of mollie, standing framed in the cabin doorway. the girl had given a frightened stare at her, and then had fled inside her room. she could not be coaxed out again. mrs. curtis was curious. the one quick look at mollie seemed oddly to recall some friend of her youth. it was nothing to think of seriously. she would know better when she saw the girl another time. daily mrs. curtis seemed to grow more and more fond of madge. if madge failed to come to see her every day or so, she would send tom over as a messenger to bring her little friend back with him to luncheon or to dinner. she and the little captain used to have long, confidential talks together, and mrs. curtis seemed never to weary of the young girl's romantic fancies. she used to make madge tell her of her family and what she knew of her dead father and mother. at times madge wondered idly why mrs. curtis was interested in them, and every now and then she thought tom's mother wished to ask her an important question. but mrs. curtis always put off the inquiry until another time. toward the close of their stay on the "merry maid" the girls were invited to a six o'clock dinner at the belleview, given in their honor by mrs. curtis and tom. on the day of the dinner tom was sent to the "merry maid" to ask madge to come to his mother an hour earlier than the others were expected. miss jenny ann had elected to stay at home with mollie. nothing would induce mollie to attend the party, and miss jenny ann would not allow any one of the girls to remain on the houseboat with her. tom and madge went up to the hotel on the street car, since it was impossible for tom to row with his lame arm. they found mrs. curtis on a little balcony that opened off her private sitting-room. the piazza overlooked the waters of the small bay. it was a wonderful summer afternoon; white clouds were rioting everywhere in the clear, blue sky; the water was astir with white-masted boats, dipping their sails toward the waves like the flapping wings of sea gulls. madge was looking her prettiest. she had on her best white frock, and as a mark of her appreciation of mrs. curtis wore the string of pearls about her throat. without making any noise, she crept out on the balcony and kissed mrs. curtis lightly on the forehead. then she dropped into a low, cushioned chair near her friend's side. "here i am, dressed for the dinner," she announced happily. "how do you like me? tom said you wanted me to come before the other girls, and that this was perhaps our farewell dinner with you, for you might be going away in a few days. dear me, i am sorry. are you going to old point comfort for the rest of the summer, or to your own summer place?" mrs. curtis shook her head. "i don't know, madge, just where i shall go," she answered, pushing madge's curls to one side of her white forehead. it was the way that mrs. curtis liked best to have madge wear her hair. "but, wherever we go, can't you go with us?" she concluded. madge sighed. "i'd love to go with you," she sighed, "but i can't. you see, nellie and i have to go back to 'forest house,' to spend the rest of our holiday with uncle and aunt. they would be dreadfully hurt if i suggested making a visit to you, instead of coming home to them." "then i wonder if your uncle and aunt would allow me to make them a short visit?" questioned mrs. curtis gravely. madge opened her blue eyes. why in the world should mrs. curtis wish to go to "forest house"? but she answered her friend promptly. "of course uncle and aunt would be most happy to have you, and nellie and i would be perfectly delighted." "why do you think i am anxious to come, madge?" madge smiled in her sauciest fashion. "to see me, of course," she replied. "doesn't that sound conceited?" but mrs. curtis was not smiling. she was looking at madge so seriously that the young girl's merry face sobered. "i am not coming merely to see you, dear. i am coming to ask if i may take you away with me for always. haven't you guessed, that i want you to come to live with me, to be my daughter? tom and i are lonely. my husband is dead, and i have no other child now, except tom. i can't tell you how much i want a daughter. i have plenty of money, dear--more than i know what to do with. so we could have wonderful times together, and do anything we chose to do. only i would wish you with me all the time. i couldn't let you wander off with the girls or go to boarding school. tom has to be away so much. you haven't any own father and mother, and you told me that you were poor and would have to earn your living some day. so i thought perhaps your uncle and aunt would give you up to me. but, first, i wish to know whether my plan pleases you." [illustration: "i wish you to come and live with me, madge."] mrs. curtis stopped talking to gaze earnestly at madge. the girl had turned so white that her friend was startled. she did not realize what a surprise her suggestion had been to the little captain. she believed that madge must have partly guessed her intention. miss jenny ann and phil had understood that some day mrs. curtis might make just this proposal to madge morton. but to madge it was a complete surprise. she had never for an instant dreamed of such a thing. in a moment all the young girl's familiar world fell broken at her feet--the old childhood home in the country, her happy friendships at school. she saw a new world, like a vision in a fairy tale. it was a wonderful world, that contained all the marvels of which she had dreamed--wealth, position, admiration. yet it was a homesick world, for it was peopled with few of the friends whom madge loved, with none of the familiar places. in spite of the girl's fancies, the actual every-day life of poverty and hope was too dear to be laid lightly aside. mrs. curtis still waited for madge to speak. "uncle and aunt----" she faltered. "they--would miss me----" "yes, i know," returned mrs. curtis sympathetically. "of course, your own people will find it hard to give you up just at first, and eleanor will miss you. but i do not believe your uncle and aunt will stand in your way if you really wish to come to me." mrs. curtis concluded in the tone of a woman accustomed to having her own way. she was puzzled at madge's indecision. "are you sure you care for me enough to wish me to live with you, mrs. curtis?" asked madge quietly. "you see, you know only the nicest part of me, but i have a miserable temper. nellie and my friends are used to me. suppose you should take me away to live with you, and then grow tired of me?" the girl's clear eyes questioned her new friend gravely. mrs. curtis smiled and shook her head. "no; i shouldn't grow tired of you. people may sometimes grow vexed with you, but they are not going to become tired of you. now sit quite still. i want you not to speak, but to think very hard for three minutes and then to tell me whether you wish to be my adopted daughter. i do not wish to trouble your uncle and aunt unless you feel sure of yourself." mrs. curtis took out her watch and laid it in her lap. she did not look at the watch; she kept her gaze on madge's face. the little captain did not speak. she knew her eyes were filled with tears. she was so young, and it was hard to decide her whole future life in the space of three minutes. she realized that if mrs. curtis adopted her, she would have to give up her gay, independent existence among her old friends, the joy of doing for herself and of learning to overcome obstacles. then, on the other hand, mrs. curtis loved her and she would give her everything in the world that a young girl could desire. "mrs. curtis," declared madge, when the three minutes had gone by, "i can't--i can't decide what you ask me now. please don't think i do not love you. it is too wonderful for you and tom to wish me to come to live with you. but may i have a few days to think things over before i give you my answer? the thought of leaving aunt sue and uncle william and nellie does--does----" madge could not go on. "never mind, dear," soothed mrs. curtis. "it was not fair in me to take you unawares, and then expect you to make up your mind so soon. suppose i give you three days, instead of three minutes, to think things over. even then, madge, we can't be sure that your uncle and aunt will be willing to let you be my girl instead of theirs." chapter xxi mollie's brave fight mollie was sitting alone on the deck of the houseboat. she and miss jenny had just finished an early tea. the girls were still away at their dinner, and miss jenny ann had gone up to the nearest farmhouse to get some eggs for breakfast. it was the first time mollie had ever been left by herself on the houseboat. but miss jenny ann did not think there was any possible danger. neither captain mike nor bill had made the slightest attempt to get possession of mollie. nor did miss jones intend to be out of call for more than fifteen minutes. mollie had begun to lose the vague dread that had haunted her all her life. the peaceful hours of the past ten days seemed more real to her than the dreary, ugly years of her childhood. she began faintly to realize what life could mean when one was not afraid. mollie's hands, a little roughened from hard work, were folded peacefully in her lap. her beautiful head, with its crown of sun-colored hair, was resting against the cushion of the big steamer chair. she was on the small upper deck, facing the bow of the boat. a strolling breeze had blown the hair back from her forehead, and the ugly scar was visible. but, now that mollie's head no longer ached from the hard work she had been forced to endure, the throbbing and the old pain in this scar had almost gone. the girl was slowly finding herself. so far she had accepted her new life without a question, taking what was done for her like a contented child. now she sat looking up the bay for the return of her friends. they would not be at home for several hours, but time meant very little to mollie, and she had been lonely since they had gone away. a skiff came down the bay with a single figure seated in it. mollie heard the faint splashing of the oars, but since water sounds had been familiar to her all her life she did not even turn her head to see if any one were coming near to the houseboat. she knew the girls were due from the other direction. the boat moved slowly in toward the shore. it made almost no sound, now that it drew nearer the land. with a final dip of the oars and a strong forward movement the small boat glided well within the shadow of the stern of the houseboat. there it stopped. mollie did not see nor hear it. for some moments the boat rested quietly in the shallow water, moving only with the faint movement of the evening tide. the solitary boatman sat without stirring. he leaned forward, listening intently for any sounds of life aboard the houseboat. he had espied the deserted figure on the upper deck. in almost complete silence the man fastened his boat to the houseboat and in his stocking feet clambered up the side of "the merry maid" and came aboard. he slipped around the deck, crouching on his hands and knees. he listened at the doors of each room in the cabin. no one was about except the girl in the steamer chair. the man moved like a cat, with almost complete noiselessness. he made no effort to onto the deserted cabin. nor did he, at first, make any movement that showed the least interest in mollie. at the farther end of the deck, outside the kitchen, the prowler made a discovery which caused him great satisfaction. he smiled. he picked it up and shook it furtively. the treasure was a big tin can, nearly full of kerosene. still on his hands and knees, the man tilted the can until the oil ran in a little stream down the deck and soaked well into the wood. he then put his hand in his pocket to look for something. mollie did not hear him. at least, her ears were not conscious that they caught a distinct sound. finally she became conscious of the presence of some one near her. she got quickly up out of her chair and leaned over the railing of the top deck. at this moment the man, with his back toward her, struck a match. mollie beheld the crouching figure. she could not tell who the man was. was it bill or her father come to steal her away? the old, dreadful fear swept over her, with enough of memory to make her realize what her capture would mean. the girl's first instinct was to hide. she did not realize how poor a refuge the houseboat offered her. it seemed to her that, if she could only get into one of the cabin bedrooms and conceal herself in her berth, she might escape. poor mollie had no better idea to aid her. she came running down the outside steps and ran toward the cabin door. the man rose quickly. he did not move toward mollie. outside the cabin kitchen was a big box filled with chips and bits of kindling, used to light the kitchen stove. the man gathered up a handful of these pieces of wood and ran back to his old position. he glanced at mollie. but it was easy to see that she was trying to get away, not to hinder him in what he was doing. he picked up the oil can again. this time he poured the few remaining drops on a little pile of chips and lit another match. the tinder blazed up. the man fanned the tiny flames with the brim of a torn hat. the flare of light grew brighter; a great flame leapt up and then a snake-like curve of fire followed the oil-soaked wood. when the man did not move toward mollie she stopped in the cabin door. she was afraid of him. she was not like other girls. ever since she had been able to know anything she had felt a curious, confused feeling in her head. she did not know who the man was on the deck of the boat. but she did know that he was trying to set their houseboat afire. mollie paid no further attention to the man. she did not scream at him, nor try to stop what he was doing. she rushed forward and began stamping on the pile of blazing sticks. the man did not attempt to prevent her. he was watching the increasing length of flame spread over the deck. a second later he sprang up, ran across the deck, slipped over the side of "the merry maid," dropped into his rowboat, and rowed swiftly out of sight. mollie flew for the big bucket of water, which they always kept in a certain spot. she flung the water on the flames, but water will not quench the flames made from oil. the rail began to crackle, the sparks to fly. the "merry maid" was afire, with only one, feeble girl to save it! mollie knew that there were steamer blankets in the bedrooms of the cabin. she often had one to cover her when she took her afternoon rest. remember, mollie had had little education, but she had been brought up to work and to do practical tasks. it was but the work of a moment to drag out two blankets and spread them over the flames. the fire died down for a moment; then it crept through the fringe of the rugs, and a choking smell of burning wool showed that the blankets also were beginning to burn. but the brave girl had no intention of giving up the fight. there were two other blankets left. mollie started back to the cabin for these, when to her terror she discovered that the skirt of her cotton dress was in names. she tried to beat it out with her hands, but it crept steadily up toward her head. she cried aloud, but she could see no one coming to save her. the pain was more intense every moment. she could not keep still. she ran toward the edge of the deck. before her the placid water lay cool and sweet. with a cry of pain, mollie threw herself over the side of the houseboat. she did not realize how shallow the water was. she flung herself with all her force. her head struck against the bottom with a heavy thud. at least the water was cool; the fire no longer burned her. miss jones and mr. brown, who had joined miss jenny ann on her way back from the farmhouse, heard mollie's first cry of alarm. the artist had been coming down to the houseboat to make an evening call. two strangers, a man and his wife, were strolling along the top of the small embankment. they also heard the call. the four of them started down the hill almost at the same time. before they reached the houseboat, the odor of burning wood was borne to their nostrils. miss jenny ann cried out for mollie, but mollie did not answer. mr. brown and the two strangers began beating out the fire on the boat. it had not spread far; the blankets had covered the flames and kept them from increasing. the overturned oil can gave the clue to the mystery. mr. brown dashed into the kitchen for a bag of salt, because salt more quickly puts out the flames from burning oil. miss jenny ann had, so far, been unable to find mollie. now she looked over the side of the boat, and mollie's body could be plainly seen lying in the shallow water. mr. brown and the stranger together brought the girl back to the houseboat. she was insensible. in her plunge into the water she had struck her head with great force against the bottom of the bay. she was stunned by the shock, and when she returned to consciousness the pain from the burn and the blow made her delirious. as she alone could tell what had transpired in that brief hour, the cause of the fire remained a mystery. chapter xxii the evil genius "i think i had better go up to the hotel to prepare the girls for what has happened," suggested mr. brown a short time afterward. miss jenny ann seemed surprised at the thought of his leaving her alone with mollie, and said so. "yes; i think i had better go at once," he announced decisively. "the doctor will be here in a few minutes. i can do nothing for you or for mollie, but i can save the girls from the shock of returning to find their houseboat damaged and their friend so ill." miss jenny ann agreed quietly. if mr. brown thought it best to go, it did not really matter. "ask the girls to come home as soon as they can," she added. "phil is so clever in cases of illness." "i'll borrow the 'water witch.' i think i can get up to the belleview quicker if i go by water than if i wait for the street car to take me there. the girls will bring the boat home with them." mr. brown disappeared from the deck of the boat a few moments later. he climbed into the "water witch" and rowed very swiftly up the bay. miss jones had taken it for granted that their houseboat had caught fire by accident. she had not had time to give much thought to the matter. but mr. brown had other views. he remembered the boy who had attempted the robbery, and he had other reasons for his suspicions. a can of oil might very easily have turned over on the deck, but was there any reason to suppose that a pile of matches would be left lying at one side of the can? the young artist meant to make a thorough search for the possible offender. he wished to get out on the water as soon as he could, because he believed the incendiary had escaped that way. mr. brown and miss jenny ann had been walking down the embankment at the very time the trespasser must have made his escape. if he had gone by land, one of them must have caught sight of him. theodore brown was an ex-member of a yale boat crew. he made the "water witch" skim through the waters, and at the same time he kept a sharp lookout for a small boat. there were a number of skiffs filled with young girls and men. but mr. brown was looking for a boat with the single figure of a boy in it. he went toward the hotel, believing that the boatman would feel more secure if he were swallowed up in a crowd, than if he were seen in a more deserted part of the bay. mr. brown had almost reached the hotel pier before he came up to the character of skiff he desired to find. then he was embarrassed how to accost the young man in it, as it was possible for him to see only the oarsman's back. mr. brown. came as close up alongside the stranger's boat as he could. still he could not see the man's face. he leaned out of his own boat and called: "i want to drift along here and smoke. would you be kind enough to lend me a match?" the other oarsman apparently did not hear him. he rowed on faster. again mr. brown caught up with him. he called, in an even more friendly fashion, "haven't you that match?" the stranger fumbled a minute in his pocket. "sorry to disoblige you," he answered. "i haven't a match about me." theodore brown laughed. the two small boats were almost touching each other. "sorry to have troubled you," continued mr. brown, leaning as far over the side of his boat as he could. "after all, i find i have some matches in my own pocket. you had better take a cigar to show you forgive me for annoying you." the artist struck a light and held it for a moment full in the other oarsman's face. it was only a second; the light flickered and went out. the man in the boat winced as the light shone on his face. "no, thank you; i don't smoke," he answered politely. with that he shot his skiff on ahead. mr. brown followed behind him. he saw the other man was about to land at a deserted beach a short distance to the left of the belleview hotel pier. mr. brown did not make for the same shore immediately. he waited until the man was on land and striding out of sight; then the artist jumped from his own boat and went after the other man. not many yards away was the side lawn of the hotel. it was a warm summer night, and a number of guests were strolling about under the trees. mr. brown put his hand on the arm of the fellow whom he had been following. the boy leaped forward in an effort to wrench himself away. at this moment he recognized the artist and knew he had been overtaken. mr. brown kept a firm hold on his arm. "what do you want with me?" demanded the lad, trying to appear at his ease. "aren't you the fellow who came alongside of me in the boat?" "i am," was the curt reply, "and i don't wish to ask a great favor of you. i simply wish you to come over to the hotel with me to see some friends of mine. we would like to ask you a few questions. of course, if you can answer them satisfactorily, i shall let you go with my best apologies. i would advise you not to make any resistance here. you will attract the attention of the people on the lawn." mrs. curtis and her guests were rather surprised when a hotel boy came up to her sitting room to say that mr. theodore brown and some one else would like to speak to mr. tom curtis for a few minutes, if that were possible. tom came back to his mother a little later, his eyes flashing. he related a part of mr. brown's story. "if you don't mind, mother, i think we had better have the fellow up here for the girls to see. i know he is the man who took the sailboat from madge and me, and mr. brown says he is the fellow who attempted to rob the houseboat; but whether he has set it afire and nearly been the death of mollie, we have no way of finding out. he vows he has not been near the houseboat since the day he promised never to return. if we cross-examine him up here, perhaps we can get at the truth." eleanor had slipped out of the room to find her coat and hat as soon as she learned of the accident to mollie. the other young women were trembling with sympathy and alarm, but they waited to see the boy brought upstairs. the girls were not long in agreeing to the identity of the prisoner as the evil genius of their past experiences. but there was no way of proving that he had actually set fire to the houseboat, for he still absolutely denied all knowledge of it. eleanor came back to the sitting-room. "aren't you ready to leave, girls?" she demanded. "miss jenny ann and mollie need us." eleanor sniffed the air daintily. "what is that curious odor of kerosene, mrs. curtis?" she inquired curiously. "do you think any of the lamps could be leaking?" "good!" mr. brown ejaculated. "what a chump i am! i have been conscious of that smell all this time and had not associated it with the houseboat." mr. brown put his nose down to his prisoner's hands. then he inhaled the scent of his coat. tom curtis followed suit. the odor was unmistakable. the lad was well smeared with oil. the circumstantial evidence was strong against the captured boy when mr. brown related the discovery of the overturned can and the spread of the kerosene on the houseboat deck. "i am awfully sorry to have made this scene, mrs. curtis," apologized the young artist, "but i knew no other way for us to settle the matter at once. this young man has done too much mischief to our friends to be allowed to go free again. but you need not think further of the experience, i'll take the lad and give him up to the police to-night. your son and i will be able to identify him. it will not be necessary to draw you girls into the business. we can manage without you." mrs. curtis looked exceedingly uncomfortable. she had been bitterly angry at the way the lad had served tom and madge, and at that time she would have given a great deal to have had him properly punished. since then he had added one evil deed to the other. but the boy, who was being led away to prison, seemed so young, not much older than tom. he was wild and reckless in his appearance, yet he had the aspect of having been born of gentle people. the youth had not spoken since the discovery of the oil on his hands and clothes. now, as he was being led from the sitting room, he turned on his cross-questioners and shook with swift laughter. he threw back his head, so that his long, dark hair uncovered his ears. his eyes gleamed. madge, who was staring hard at the boy from her position on the far side of the room, gave an unexpected movement of surprise. she waited for the young prisoner to speak. "you needn't trouble your girls to appear against me," he said savagely, "but you will have to introduce their chaperon in court, and a pretty thing it will be for a sister to appear as a witness against her own brother!" a frozen silence fell on the group of listeners. phil shook her head emphatically. "you are not our miss jenny ann's brother," she retorted decidedly. "it would be perfectly impossible for her to have a wicked brother like you." theodore brown's face flushed and paled. he would have liked to drag the lad out of the room without waiting another instant. yet he feared to make the scene even worse. he did not have the slightest faith in the lad's statement; he was only fiercely angry at the boy's impudence and wondered if the fellow even knew the name of the chaperon of the "merry maid." lillian and eleanor were flushed with indignation. tom curtis was equally so. but mrs. curtis happened to catch a glimpse of madge's face. her expression was a puzzle. she ran forward and touched mr. brown on the sleeve. "wait a minute, mr. brown," she pleaded. "don't take the boy to jail yet. what he says may be true. don't you think we ought to ask him some questions first?" the entire company stared at madge in amazement. but in the single moment when mr. brown's captive started to leave the room, the little captain had seen the tips of his pointed ears. she had caught the wild, almost animal gleam in his eyes. she recalled the midnight visitor to their chaperon on the first night their houseboat had rested at anchor. she remembered miss jenny ann's curious behavior, and how she had absolutely refused to give the name of her caller. all this swept through madge's mind and now she understood miss jenny ann's poverty, her reticence about her own affairs, her unhappiness when the girls first knew her at school. of course, this wicked brother was the cause of their chaperon's difficulties. if they punished the boy, miss jenny ann must suffer more than he would. she had lately grown to be as merry as any of the girls on board the "merry maid." "o mrs. curtis!" exclaimed madge, "please don't let tom and mr. brown take him off to jail. i think he _is_ our miss jenny ann's brother. i wouldn't have her find out the wicked things he has done for all the money in the world." madge was almost in tears as she made her plea to mrs. curtis. "never mind, dear," replied mrs. curtis soothingly. "if the lad really turns out to be your chaperon's brother, you are right; his behavior must be kept a secret from her." mrs. curtis, mr. brown and tom afterward found the statement of the wild boy to be true. he was really miss jones's brother. his parents had died when he was a little boy, and his sister had sacrificed her life's hopes to him. yet her efforts had been in vain. he had always been hard to control. in the last few years he had broken away from all restraint. he had been concealed in the motor boat that first towed the girls and their chaperon to their anchorage and had seen his sister on the houseboat. his plan had been to get money from her. when she told him that she had none to give him he had devoted his time to tormenting the crew of the "merry maid" in order to be revenged on his sister. after long consultation it was decided not to send him to prison. mrs. curtis gave him the money to sail for south africa, after making him promise to try to turn over a new leaf, and not to write to his sister until he was safely out of the country. and so miss jenny ann's ghost was laid without her knowing it until some time afterward. chapter xxiii "mother" not one of the four girls closed her eyes during the long night following the dinner given by mrs. curtis. miss jenny ann sat by mollie until toward morning, when eleanor and lillian relieved her. madge and phil walked up and down the deck in order to be ready if they were called. but as the long night wore on, mollie exhibited no sign of returning consciousness. after an early breakfast the next morning miss jones went back to her charge, and the girls lingered in the cabin sitting room talking together in low tones. madge kept her arms about eleanor. every now and then she would lean over to kiss her cousin. nellie laughed softly. "what's the matter, madge? why are you so affectionate with me all of a sudden? does it make you care more for me because poor, lovely mollie is so ill, and because it might just as easily have been me, or phil, or lillian?" madge nodded. "perhaps that is the reason." neither lillian nor eleanor even faintly dreamed that their friend had anything on her mind to worry her, except the critical condition poor mollie was in; but phil knew differently. she had long suspected what mrs. curtis's preference for madge meant. phyllis and miss jenny ann had even discussed the possibility of their captain leaving them. however, phil had never broached the subject to madge. she phil couldn't, she wouldn't think of it. mrs. curtis and tom arrived at the houseboat just as madge and phil were about to relieve miss jenny ann's second watch. the physician had said that he expected mollie to regain consciousness some time during the morning, and that she must not be left alone for a moment. "mrs. curtis, slip into the room to see mollie," whispered madge. "phil and i must go to her now. she is unconscious, so your presence could not frighten her. i want you to see how beautiful she is. she is really the prettiest person i ever saw, except you," madge declared, as she threw a kiss to her friend and hurried after phil into the cabin. miss jenny ann went into the sitting-room to lie down. eleanor and lillian went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. madge and phil sat side by side at mollie's berth. madge's eyes were fixed on mollie's unconscious face, but phil looked often at her chum. phyllis cared very little for wealth and position, for fine clothes and servants, but she knew these things were very dear to her friend. yet, in a vague way, she realized that madge would be likely to grow into a finer, sweeter woman without them. phyllis understood their little captain. she knew that madge was full of fine impulses, was brave and loyal in the midst of difficulties; but she also knew that she was easily spoiled and that too much money and admiration would not be good for her. "phil," asked madge, "isn't mollie stirring? is there anything we ought to do for her?" phil bent over to gaze more attentively at their patient. she studied every curve and line in the girl's exquisite face. now that mollie's eyes were closed, and the vacant, pathetic stare was no more visible in them, her beauty was the more remarkable. something in mollie's quiet features seemed to surprise phyllis, but she said nothing. "we can't do anything but wait," answered phil. "the doctor said that quiet is all mollie needs. she is sure to come to herself some time to-day." phil slid her chair up close beside her chum's and kissed her friend on the cheek. it was an unusual demonstration for the reserved phyllis. madge stared at her. then she turned a little pale. "you know what has happened to me, don't you?" she whispered. "i am sure you must know." phil bowed her head. "can't you help me decide?" begged madge. "no." phil shook her head sadly. "you'll have to make up your mind for yourself." the two girls sat in silence after this. they heard mrs. curtis come softly into the room and take a low chair in the far corner of the cabin, so as not to disturb mollie if the girl should awake. she could just see the bed, but not the face of the girl on the pillow. by and by mollie stirred. "i am thirsty," she said distinctly. "will some one please get me a glass of water?" phil rose quickly. "here it is, mollie," she answered, handing the girl the water, and trying to lift her with the other arm. madge stooped over to aid her. "thank you," responded mollie gently. "but why do you call me mollie? my name isn't mollie." "we never liked to call you 'moll'," replied madge soothingly. "mollie seemed to us to be a prettier name." the girl laughed lightly. "no, i shouldn't think you would. my name is madeleine, not mollie. and you are phyllis and madge. i wonder why i never told you before that my name is madeleine." mollie's eyes had lost their pathetic stare. they were quiet and reasonable. "don't try to talk, mollie--madeleine, i mean," murmured phil. "you must try to go to sleep again." she and madge never changed their positions until the ill girl's head grew heavy on their arms and she slept peacefully. "o phil!" madge faltered, "you don't think mollie is going to----" "sh-sh!" returned phyllis warningly. "don't show her you are surprised at anything she says." madge clenched her hands to keep them from trembling, but she could feel her knees shaking under her. the patient opened her eyes again. "i fell off the yacht, didn't i?" she inquired. "it's funny, but i couldn't think what had happened to me for a long time. i was trying to remember all night. it was such a long night. i kept seeing dreadful, rude men, who were cruel to me. i must have been dreaming. where is my mother? why doesn't she come to me?" "your mother!" exclaimed madge. a glance from phil silenced her. "your mother can't come to you now, she is----" phyllis faltered. "never mind," the gentle girl spoke faintly. "mother may be resting. she must have been dreadfully frightened when she learned i had tumbled overboard. i think something fell and struck me on the head." "don't talk any more, please, dear," entreated phyllis. "you can tell us all about what happened when you have rested a little longer. you are very tired." the sick girl dozed again. phyllis and madge slipped their aching arms out from under their patient's pillow. "mollie's memory has come back to her, hasn't it?" madge breathed in her chum's ear. "i wonder if it will go away again, or if she will remember more about herself when she is stronger?" "i believe her memory has returned," phil answered softly. "it is a miracle. we must be very careful. any excitement or surprise might kill her. i wish the doctor were here." some one stole across the room without a sound. the girls knew it must be mrs. curtis. neither one of them stirred nor for the instant glanced at their friend; they were too intent on their patient. but they were grateful for her presence. she had heard mollie's peculiar remarks. she would know what they ought to do when mollie began to talk again. mrs. curtis came so close to the sick girl's bed that madge and phil stepped back to let her have the nearest place. she leaned over and looked at mollie as though she would never grow tired of gazing at her. once her lips moved, but it was impossible to tell what she said. then mrs. curtis's strength seemed to give way. she dropped on her knees, with her arms resting on the edge of mollie's bed. ten minutes passed. no one moved or spoke in the tiny cabin chamber. mollie slept peacefully. mrs. curtis did not stir. she was like a figure carved in stone. she was waiting for something to happen. was it for the girl on the bed to speak again? madge and phil scarcely dared to breathe. they did not understand the situation, but they felt themselves to be in the presence of a mystery. a drama was being enacted in the tiny room, and they were the only audience to it. "mother, where are you?" mollie's voice sounded clear and strong. "i am here," mrs. curtis replied softly, not stirring from her position by the bed. "why hasn't tom been here to see me? and why are phyllis and madge so good to me? i don't understand." mollie turned restlessly on her pillow. her hair fell away from her forehead and revealed the jagged, ugly scar. mrs. curtis saw it. for the first time she gave an involuntary shudder of emotion. mollie put up her hand to her head with the old, familiar gesture of pain. "my head hurts," she announced, as though she had not known of her injury before. "have i been sick a long time? somehow, you look so different." mrs. curtis nodded. "yes, daughter, you have been ill a long, long time. but you will be well and happy when you wake up again. you are with mother now." mrs. curtis gathered mollie into her arms and the two girls stole out of the tiny cabin, closing the door behind them. the mother and daughter were alone. "what has happened to you, madge morton? why do you girls look so strangely at me?" demanded tom curtis as he caught sight of madge's face. he was leaning against the deck rail staring curiously at his friends. "is mollie worse?" "oh, no; she is not worse. she is well. that is, she can remember. she is--- oh, i don't know what i am saying," cried madge in confusion. miss jenny ann came out of the sitting room. lillian and eleanor also joined the little group on deck. still madge was silent. "ought i to tell?" she faltered, looking at phyllis. "don't you think mrs. curtis ought to tell tom?" "if you have bad news for me speak quickly!" returned tom. "i would rather hear it from you than anybody in the world. you are almost like a sister to me, madge." the little captain went forward and put her hand gently on tom's arm. "you won't need me for a sister now, tom," she said gently. "phil and i do not understand what has happened. your mother will have to explain to you. but our mollie is not mollie at all. her name is madeleine. her memory has come back to her. she thinks your mother is her mother. and mrs. curtis called her daughter!" the cabin door opened. mrs. curtis walked out, moving like a woman in a dream. "don't speak loudly," she said. "madeleine has gone to sleep." she crossed over to tom. "tom," she explained quietly, "the girls have found your sister after twelve years; my baby is a young woman." tom put his arm about his mother. mrs. curtis spoke rapidly now, as though she feared her voice would fail her. "miss jones, years ago my little daughter, who was ten years old, fell from our steam yacht. she had been left alone by her nurse for a few minutes. when the woman came back the child was not to be found. no one saw or heard her fall overboard. the boat was searched, but madeleine had disappeared. we were off the coast of florida. for months and months we searched for my daughter's body. we offered everything we had in the world for news of her. no word came. i used to think she would come back to me. long ago i gave up hope. now, when i saw this poor mollie, i thought i recognized my child, and when she opened her eyes her memory returned to her. she knew i was her mother, in spite of my white hair. i think it is because she now remembers nothing of her unhappy past. she thinks she was hurt only a short time ago. she must not learn the truth until she is stronger. will you keep me here with you until i can take my daughter home?" mrs. curtis staggered slightly and grew very white. it was madge who sprang to her side and led her to a chair. "you have found what you want most in the world," she whispered, "i am so glad for your sake." chapter xxiv farewell to the merry maid "miss jenny ann, i can't get all these things packed in this barrel," protested madge despairingly. "i don't see how they ever got in here before." miss jenny ann laughed from the depths of a large box, where she was folding sheets and placing them in neat piles. "remember, we have added a number of tin pans to our store since we came aboard the houseboat. but don't worry, dear. we will get all the belongings packed in time." "isn't it too awful that the houseboat has to be left to its poor dear self for the rest of the summer? just think, we have had over six weeks' holiday, and, if it weren't for madeleine, it would seem like six days." "i have something to tell you, madge," announced miss jenny ann, raising a flushed face from her task. "do you remember when you came into the library, at school, and found me crying over a letter? i told you that i was frightened at what my doctor had written me. i have a different story to tell now. i am well as well can be. i have gained ten pounds in six weeks; that is a record, isn't it?" "i am so glad," bubbled madge. "you've been the jolliest kind of a chaperon, dear miss jenny ann, and we love you. you know i am sorry i used to be so disagreeable to you at school, and you do like me now, don't you?" miss jenny ann and madge desisted from their labors long enough to embrace each other. "here, here, what is all this love-feast about?" demanded tom curtis cheerfully. he had come quietly aboard the houseboat, and was standing at the cabin door, smiling cheerfully at the little captain. "go away, tom," returned madge reproachfully. "i told you we couldn't have any company to-day. i said good-bye to you last night. we are getting things in shape to leave the houseboat. a man who has a boat-house is going to take care of the 'merry maid' for us until we come into another fortune and have another holiday." "what time does your train leave?" inquired tom coolly, picking up a hammer and preparing to fasten the top on madge's barrel. "at four o'clock," sighed madge. "we are going to baltimore together, and start home from there." "it is all right, then," answered tom curtis placidly. "i have plenty time to stay to luncheon." "tell him he can't, miss jenny ann jones," declared madge inhospitably, "we haven't a thing to eat except some crackers and stale bread, and a few odd pieces of cold meat. and i am so dreadfully hungry that i can eat them all myself." "i am going to stay just the same," asserted tom. "i am going to be the busiest little worker on the 'merry maid'." the houseboat party would never have finished its packing except for their uninvited visitor. he sat on trunks, fastened locks and doors. at one o'clock "the merry maid" was in order to be deserted. "let's go up to the farmhouse to get some food," suggested tom. "i am hungry as a bear, and i know they will give us some milk and bread." madge demurred, but the other three girls and miss jenny ann were much too hungry to stand on ceremony. tom led the way to the farmhouse as though he felt sure of his welcome. at the old gate, however, they found mrs. curtis and madeleine apparently waiting for them. "we couldn't bear that yesterday should be good-bye," explained mrs. curtis, putting her arm about madge and drawing her away from the others. madeleine held out her hands to phyllis. she still looked white and fragile from her illness, but she was so exquisitely lovely that people turned about to gaze at her as she passed by them. her face wore the expression of a serious child. she could not immediately make up for the lost years of her life, and she never left her mother or her brother but for a short time. still she was at ease with the girls and talked a little with them. her memory had come back to her, whether from the second blow on her head, or from the quiet life--which, the medical men could not say. after a while madeleine would be able to take the place in the gay world which her beauty and wealth made for her. for the present she needed rest, quiet, and absolute peace of mind. "you haven't changed your mind, have you, madge?" asked mrs. curtis, as she and the little captain walked side by side to the farmhouse together. madge shook her bead. "it isn't a case of changing my mind. i had not decided. now that you have found your real daughter you surely do not wish to be burdened with an imitation one." "but i still want you, my dear. a woman is richer with two daughters than with one," replied mrs. curtis. "no; you and madeleine ought to be together," concluded madge wisely. "you are awfully good, and i shall always feel that you are the best friend i have. but i had not been able to make up my mind to leave my own people and the girls, so, of course, everything has turned out for the best, and i am so happy for you and tom and madeleine. it is as good as playing a part in a fairy story to see one come true before your very eyes. have you seen captain mike?" madge lowered her voice, so that madeleine could not overhear her. mrs. curtis flushed. "once, and for always. i hope never to look upon the dreadful man again. tom felt that he and i must go to this mike to ask him something of my little girl's history. he claims to have picked her up and, thinking her dead, left her for a few hours unnoticed in his sailboat. the man had done something reprehensible while in florida, and was sailing for the atlantic ocean to flee from justice, so he did not stop to inquire about my child, or to give her more than a passing thought. his first wife was evidently a better woman than this second one. she worked with my madeleine, brought her back to life and must have been good to her. but my baby could never remember her name, nor tell anything about herself. captain mike was on the ocean for two weeks, and too ignorant to study the papers afterward. the first wife wished to keep the child. after a short time she died, and then----" mrs. curtis stopped abruptly. "we won't ever mention it again," said madge tactfully. "i can only say i am so glad you found her." mrs. watson, the farmer's wife, met the houseboat party with a smiling face. she conducted them into the dining room. miss jenny ann and the four girls sighed with satisfaction for they were very hungry. the great mahogany table was weighted down with food--roast chicken, ham, salad, doughnuts. "this is tom's party," smiled mrs. curtis, in answer to a look of delighted astonishment from madge. "it was his idea to say a last good-bye to our houseboat friends, and to see them safely started on their journey toward home. but, miss jenny ann, i have something to say. i wish to tell you a story and i wish you to tell me what you think without any reference to anybody or anything at this table." "of course i will," answered miss jenny ann lightly, not dreaming what mrs. curtis intended to say. "suppose, once upon a time you had lost something very precious," continued mrs. curtis. "say it was a mine of precious stones. suppose you had hunted for years but could never find it. after a while some friends discover the treasure for you, and give it back to you? don't you believe you would like to do something to show your gratitude?" "certainly i should," replied miss jenny ann promptly, falling into the trap. "then why not let me have a houseboat party this fall?" proposed mrs. curtis. "madeleine and i will be staying near old point comfort. tom will be camping with some boy friends near cape charles. i am going to count on your bringing the houseboat down the shore to pay us a visit and you are to be my guests from the moment you set foot on the boat." the four chums looked at mrs. curtis, their eyes shining with delight. another holiday on their beloved houseboat! but ought they accept so great a gift from mrs. curtis. they understood that it was her intention to finance the trip. tom looked at his watch. "it's a pity to break up the party. but as we are to drive to the village we must soon be off. the expressman has already taken the trunks. you'd better accept mother's invitation." "we thank you," said madge slowly, "but will you give us a few days in which to decide? then we will write you at old point comfort." "very well," replied mrs. curtis, "but let us hope that your answer will be 'yes.' i wish you would look upon the trip as a love offering from madeleine." mrs. curtis looked wistfully at the circle of girlish faces. her eyes, mute with pleading, met madge's. they seemed to say, "why not decide now, and make us happy?" their appeal was too strong for madge. "girls, i think we ought to accept mrs. curtis's gift to us. it is right and she wishes us to do so. of what use is it to wait three days. let us say 'yes' now and then we shall all he happy. all together! is it 'yes'?" "'yes,'" chorused four voices. madge turned to mrs. curtis. "we must say good-bye this minute, but we'll write you, and one of these days you'll find our 'ship of dreams' anchored on your beach." how madge kept her promise and what happened during their visit to old point comfort is fully set forth in "madge morton's secret," a story no wide-awake girl can afford to miss. the end. [illustration: the "sea gull" and the "merry maid" began their voyage. _frontispiece._] madge morton's trust by amy d. v. chalmers author of madge morton, captain of the merry maid; madge morton's secret, madge morton's victory. philadelphia henry altemus company copyright, 1914, by howard e. altemus contents chapter. page. i. a late arrival 7 ii. the doctor's suggestion 17 iii. david finds a friend 27 iv. the search 40 v. pulling up anchor for new scenes 52 vi. wanderlust 60 vii. the rescue 72 viii. the motor boat disaster 84 ix. leaving the houseboat to take care of itself 96 x. a ghost story 104 xi. the feast of mondamin 112 xii. a boy's temptation 124 xiii. eleanor gets into mischief 137 xiv. "confusion worse confounded" 149 xv. the black hole 158 xvi. the better man 169 xvii. the birth of suspicion 181 xviii. david's mysterious errand 191 xix. ghosts of the past 200 xx. the fancy dress party 213 xxi. the interruption 221 xxii. madge morton's trust 232 xxiii. the little captain's story 241 xxiv. "good luck to the bride" 248 madge morton's trust chapter i a late arrival it was a particularly hot day in early july. a girl came out on the back porch of an old-fashioned new england house and dropped into a hammock. she looked tired, but her big black eyes were eager with interest. she held a fat letter in her hand which contained many pages. at the top of the letter was a pen-and-ink drawing of a miniature houseboat with five girls running about on the deck, their hair blowing, their skirts awry. one of them held a broom in her hand; she was the domestic eleanor! another waved a frying pan; miss jenny ann jones, chief cook and chaperon! the third girl was drying her long, blonde hair in the sun; miss lillian seldon, the beauty of the houseboat party! the girl in the hammock recognized herself: she was feeding a weird-looking animal on four legs with a spoon. and standing among the others, apparently talking as fast as she possibly could, and doing no work of any kind, was a young woman whom the artist had carefully labeled "madge." phyllis alden laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. she could not recall having laughed in two months, and she was sure she would keep on giggling as long as she read her letter. "miss alden"--a woman in the uniform of a professional nurse appeared at the door--"your mother says do you know where the twins are? she is restless about them. i promised her i would come to you. i am sorry to disturb you; i know you are tired." "not a bit of it, miss brazier," insisted phil stoutly. "those dreadful babies! i had forgotten i had not seen them in the last half hour. of course, they are in mischief. i will look for them right away." phil thrust her precious letter into her blouse. it was four o'clock in the afternoon and her letter from her chum had arrived in the morning post. these were busy days for phyllis alden. early in may she had been called home from school by the illness of her mother. since that time the care of her father's house and looking after the irrepressible twins had been phyllis's work. her mother was better now, on the sure road to convalescence, and phil had begun to confess to herself that she was tired. at one side of the house there was a rain-barrel. it was strictly forbidden territory, so phil knew at once where to look for the twins. hanging over the edge of the barrel were two fat little girls with tight black curls. they were bent double and were fishing for queer, bobbing things that floated on the surface of the rainwater. a firm hand caught daisy by one leg. dot, terrified by her big sister's sudden appearance, tumbled into the barrel with a gasp and a splash. phil felt half-vexed; still, she was obliged to laugh at the little ones, they looked so utterly roguish. "frog in the middle, can't get out," she teased the small girl in the center of the barrel. then she fished dot out and started with both little maids for the house to make them presentable before dinner. phyllis knew that they must both be washed and dressed before she would have another chance to peep at her precious letter. still, it comforted her to think how amused her madge would be by her funny little four-year-old twin sisters and their mischievous ways. it was just before dinner time when phyllis firmly locked her bedroom door and took her precious letter from her blouse. she would read it now, or die in the effort. it began: "dear old phil: "i am not writing you from 'forest house,' but from no other place than the famous old city of boston, massachusetts. i came here the other day because i believed i would find news of my father, but i was disappointed and am going back home in a few days. "but i don't want to write about myself; i want to write about you, dear old phil! i am so glad your mother is better. when she is quite well, can't you come to visit nellie and me at 'forest house'? we have missed you so. the commencement exercises at miss tolliver's were no fun at all this year. when miss matilda got up and announced that miss phyllis alden had been called home before the final spring examination because of the illness of her mother, and would, therefore, be passed on to the senior class of her preparatory school on account of her high standing in her classes, i cheered for all i was worth, and so did every one else. "ah, phil, dear, it has been ages since last i saw you! i would give all my curls, and my hair really makes a long braid nowadays, if i could only see you. how i wish we could spend the rest of this summer on our beautiful houseboat! the poor little 'merry maid'! how lonely she must be without us. tom curtis and jack bolling wrote and asked me to let them tow us up the rappahannock river this summer. they are going on a motor trip. but, alas and alack! we haven't any money to pay our expenses, so i fear there will be no houseboat party this summer. it's dreadfully sad, but, more than anything else, i regret not seeing you, phil. with my dearest love. write soon. your devoted "madge." phyllis finished her letter with a warm feeling around her heart but a sigh on her lips. no "merry maid" this summer! well, phyllis had not expected it, yet it seemed cruel to think of the four girls and miss jones being separated for another year from their "ship of dreams," where they had spent two wonderful holidays. the story of how madge morton, phyllis alden, lillian seldon and eleanor butler came into possession of a houseboat is fully set forth in the first volume of this series, entitled "madge morton, captain of the 'merry maid.'" the happy summer spent by the four young women on board the "merry maid," chaperoned by miss jenny ann jones, one of the teachers in the boarding school which they attended, was one long to be remembered. while anchored in a quiet bit of water, a part of the great chesapeake bay, they made many friends, chief among whom were mrs. curtis, a wealthy widow, and her son tom. mrs. curtis's instant liking for madge, her subsequent offer to adopt her, and the remarkable manner in which madge and phyllis were instrumental in discovering their friend's own daughter, who had been lost at sea years before, in a poor fisher girl whom they rescued from her cruel foster father, formed a lively narrative. "madge morton's secret" told of the girls' second sojourn on their houseboat, which was anchored near old point comfort. there the girls saw much of the social life of the army and navy, and it was while there that madge incurred the enmity of a young woman named flora harris, who made the little captain's life very unpleasant for a time. the mysterious cutting of the "merry maid's" cable on a stormy night, the voyaging of the little boat out into the bay, and the island shore to which she drifted in the gray dawn, and how, after living the life of young crusoes for many weeks, they were rescued and returned to their sorrowing friends, made absorbing reading for those interested in following the fortunes of madge morton. but to go back to the subject of phyllis alden: she and her father, dr. alden, were firm friends. every evening since her mother's illness they had taken a walk together after the twins were safely tucked in bed. it was a pleasure to which they both looked forward all day. to-night they were late in getting away from the house, and, as they strolled along through the quiet streets, phyllis was unusually silent. she had told her father of madge's letter, but she had not mentioned her invitation to visit madge and nellie at their home in virginia. phil did not think she could be spared from home and did not wish to worry her father. yet all the time that phil was so silent dr. alden was wondering where he could send phyllis to spend a well-earned holiday. he did not have much money to spare, but his beloved daughter must somehow be given a rest. phyllis and her father were almost home again when the girl thought she heard some one running behind them. she turned with apprehensive suddenness. the night was dark and the streets were narrow; only at the corners the electric lamps made bright, open spaces. under one of these lights phyllis looked back fearfully. she could barely discern a figure. it was walking close to the fence and seemed to be carrying something. phil could not discover what it was, and dr. alden, who was slightly deaf, heard nothing. suddenly a watchdog set up a furious barking and rushed out into the street. phil felt more secure. if any one were lurking in the shadow with the thought of attacking her father, the dog would surely come to their rescue. yet now she could hear six feet pattering after them instead of two. the dog must have been won over by their enemy. "father"--phil put her hand nervously on her father's arm; she was not herself to-night; she was tired and full of unexpressed longings for her friends--"wait!" phil ended her sentence abruptly. some one distinctly called her name, "phil!" it echoed down the empty street. dr. alden and his daughter both turned. yet it was impossible to see any great distance beyond them. they were in the light, while the shadows down the sidewalk were densely black. some one was coming toward them, though it was difficult to know if it were a man or a woman. straight into phil's arms whirled a breathless girl, her hat on one side, her curly hair tumbling down and her eyes as bright as the fireflies that flickered through the dark streets. the girl carried a heavy suit case, and a large dog walked protectingly at her side. it was madge morton. she had arrived alone and unannounced in the city of hartford at a perfectly incredible hour of the night! dr. alden was overcome with surprise. he had heard phil give a cry of rapture, saw a suit case drop to the ground, then two girls meet in a joyful embrace. "i might have known you would come when i needed you most, madge," cried phil rapturously. phil was not really surprised by her chum's appearance. she knew that the most astonishing things in the world were just the things that madge morton would do as though they were the most natural. "is your mother better?" whispered madge. "for goodness' sake, phil, dear girl, let me tell your father who i am and how i happened to appear at this unearthly hour." madge put her hand into the doctor's. "please forgive me, dr. alden," she began. "i wrote phil i was in boston and about to start for home. i was on the way to the depot to buy my ticket when suddenly i remembered that i wasn't so far from dear phil. i have been wanting to see her so dreadfully. so i just telegraphed uncle and aunt that i was going to stop over in hartford a few hours. "of course, we had a wreck on the train, so here i am, only six hours late. when i came in at the station to-night i just inquired what car i should take to bring me to your address. and wasn't it funny? i saw you and phil cross the street at the corner, so i jumped off the car and ran after you. i thought this old dog was going to eat me up, but the dear old fellow has adopted me instead." madge patted the strange dog affectionately with her left hand. phil had never let go of her right one. "i hope you will forgive my dropping in on you like this. i am ashamed of myself, but i just had to have a look at phil." "you've dropped from heaven! you are an angel unawares, madge morton," vowed practical phil alden in devout tones. "i was never so glad to see anybody in my life. now, if you leave me to-morrow, i shall surely die." madge laughed happily. how good it seemed to be with dear old phil once more. dr. alden picked up her suit case and looked at her with earnest, kindly eyes. "daughter," he said kindly, "i am almost as pleased to see you as phil is. come home with us. you must be worn out from your journey." for the first time madge realized that she was a little tired and that she had been a little frightened at arriving alone in a strange city at night. but then she was with phil. chapter ii the doctor's suggestion madge fitted marvelously into dr. alden's troubled household. she read to mrs. alden when the nurse was away, cheered her with funny stories and really helped her to grow well and strong. as for the twins, dot and daisy, they were never absent from the little captain's side, except when phil positively commanded it. madge used to take long walks with one of them clinging to either side of her skirt. where she found her patience when they tumbled down, lagged behind and begged for more fairy tales every minute was a marvel. but madge had been shocked at her beloved phil's careworn appearance and came gallantly to her rescue. she might have little consideration for strangers, she could do wonders for the people she loved and one long look into her friend's tired face made her resolve to do her best for phil. the next morning after madge's unceremonious arrival dr. alden wrote a letter to mr. and mrs. butler, asking them to allow madge to make phyllis a visit. madge also wrote a note, but it was not in the nature of a request. instead, she dashed off the following letter to her virginia relatives: "dearest aunt and uncle: "don't worry about me. i am at phil's and having the best kind of a time. i am going to stay with her for a few days, as she needs me. do i hear any dissenting voices? i hope not! tell nellie we miss her terribly. with lots of love to all of you. don't bother to write. i'll take the will for the deed. "lovingly, "madge." "there," declared madge as she skipped up the steps after handing her letter to the postman, "that will stifle all virginia objections. now, i am going to enjoy myself while i am with dear phil." in the days that followed madge's declaration she helped phil keep house with a will. dr. alden used to call her "the second daughter," and madge derived untold pleasure from the drives she took with him over the country roads to see his patients. one afternoon, however, as they jogged along toward the home of a patient who lived several miles from town, madge was unusually silent. though the air was sweet with the perfume of honeysuckle, and their road ran through a particularly beautiful bit of country, she was dreamy and abstracted. from time to time dr. alden gazed at her humorously. his fellow-passenger was in a deep reverie and had forgotten his presence. "thinking of your houseboat, eh, madge?" he inquired. "yes, doctor man," answered madge quickly, "of the houseboat and phil." she sat very straight in the buggy, and, drawing her level brows into a frown, said slowly: "i was saying over to myself that when five nice, capable young women wish a very special thing very much they ought to be able to obtain it. you see, we wish to spend the beginning of the summer on the houseboat. it would be splendid for phil. but we haven't the money, so i am trying to find out how to get it." the physician's eyes twinkled. "that is not a new occupation, madge. most of us spend our time in trying to get hold of that same mighty dollar. but we have to work for it as well as to think about it. i wonder if you girls wish the holiday on your boat badly enough to work for it? if only i could give you the money!" madge looked earnestly at the doctor, then said slowly: "that's just it. of course, we are willing to work for the money. but i must find out what we can do in a hurry. you see, we need the money at once." after they reached their destination, the doctor stayed a long while at his call on his country patient, and madge, left alone in the buggy, had plenty of time to devise a thousand schemes for acquiring riches and to dismiss them all as impracticable. the physician had driven his old horse inside the trim yard of his patient, and the road lay near the big front porch door. the little garden was as pretty and tidy as the pictures in kate greenaway books. it grew tall hollyhocks, neatly cut hedges, and a riot of old rose bushes. madge might well have spent her time in gazing at it, as it was a typical new england garden on a small scale. but it seemed too tiny and conventional to the little captain, whose inner vision conjured up the sight of the great, oak-shaded lawn at "forest house." just then she had more practical problems to occupy her attention. she let the reins fall loosely on the horse's neck, for he was in the habit of standing without being hitched. to-day old prince grew tired with waiting and began to nibble at the short grass. madge, lost in her daydreams, paid no heed to him. the horse moved on. ahead there was a particularly delicious bunch of tall, feathery grass, which had been allowed to grow unaccountably high. it was a rare shrub, but the old horse was not aware of it. the wheel of the buggy that held the heedless driver passed over the high porch step. the girl inside felt herself let gently down on the ground and a high, black canopy covered her. then, at last, madge became alive to the situation. but it was too late! old prince was frightened. the noise of the overturned buggy had upset his nerves. he began to run--not very fast, but fast enough so that madge found herself being dragged along the ground over the smooth grass lawn. she couldn't crawl out from under the buggy and she certainly did not wish to remain under it. she raised her voice in one long cry of terror. a boy had been working back of the house. he was in his shirt sleeves and had an old, torn, straw hat pulled down over his eyes. an ugly scowl was the only attention he had paid to the doctor and madge as they drove into the yard. his face was flushed, not so much from the sun as from the anger that was raging within him. it was hard enough to work like a slave for a cranky old maid, without being constantly "pecked at." david believed that he hated every one in the world. yet at madge's shrill cry for help he dropped his rake and ran toward the front lawn. he saw the overturned buggy, heard the noise that came from underneath it, but he could see no sign of madge. dr. alden had also dashed from the house onto the front porch. he was followed by a woman of about sixty years. her hair was parted in the middle and she wore little bunches of corkscrew curls over each ear, in the fashion of half a century ago. "oh, my! oh, my!" she cried, wringing her hands. "how can i bear it? how can i bear it?" one might have supposed that she were frightened over madge. dr. alden started in pursuit of the horse. but at his approach old prince quickened his pace. "stand still!" a peremptory voice called to him sharply. "stop crying out!" the same voice ordered madge. dr. alden gazed in bewilderment at the speaker. madge at the same instant realized that she must be frightening the horse with the noise she was making. the boy with the torn hat advanced quietly toward the horse, showing no special interest in him. he called gently to the animal, holding out a bunch of grass. prince was only frightened at the strange turn his affairs had taken. he now stopped for a minute. immediately a firm hand seized his head. dr. alden made a move toward his buggy. "unhitch the horse," commanded the boy. once the horse was free from the buggy dr. alden and the young man lifted it on one side. out crawled madge, a most inglorious figure. she was covered with dust, her face grimy. her hair had tumbled down and hung in a loose bunch of curls over her shoulders. "i am not a bit hurt, doctor," she announced bravely, as soon as she got her breath. "it was all my fault. i let old prince get away from me. i am so afraid i have broken the buggy." "what a nice girl!" thought david. "she isn't a bit fussy. i wonder how she will take the old lady?" while the physician assured madge that his vehicle was not injured in the least, and that he would not have minded its being smashed into bits so long as she was unhurt, a woman walked across the yard and glared angrily at madge. "young woman," she said in a thin, high voice, "look--look at what you and that wretched horse have done." madge blinked some of the dirt from her eyes, then tried to twist her hair back into some kind of order. "i am sorry," she answered in bewilderment. "but what have we done?" david swallowed a malicious grin of satisfaction. the woman fairly gasped at madge's question. "you've torn up my lawn, trampled down my prize rose-bush, and--and--please take the young woman away, doctor. my nerves won't endure anything more after the night i have spent. i am sure i would never dare trust my life to any one who goes about turning over buggies and ruining people's gardens." trust her life? of what was the woman talking? madge thought she could not have heard aright. "never mind your lawn, miss betsey," answered dr. alden severely. "be grateful that the child isn't hurt. thank you, david." the doctor began fumbling in his pocket for his money. madge saw her rescuer's face turn scarlet. he was a manly looking fellow of perhaps eighteen. with a muttered, "i'm not a beggar," he turned and walked away from them. after exchanging a little further conversation with miss betsey, the doctor and madge drove away. outside the yard madge began to laugh. she could still see the old maid wringing her hands and gazing in anguish at her cherished garden. "scat!" grumbled madge. the doctor smiled. "miss betsey is a bit of an old cat, child. but i don't wish you to be prejudiced against her, poor old soul." "oh, i wasn't thinking of her being like a cat, doctor man," apologized madge. "i am very fond of cats. i was thinking of miss betsey in 'david copperfield.' don't you remember how she used to rush out and cry 'scat!' all the time at the donkeys that she feared were going to ruin her lawn? old prince and i were the 'donkeys' this afternoon. who is that boy named david? he is very good looking, isn't he?" "david? oh, he is a poor boy who works around miss taylor's place--a distant cousin of hers, i believe. his mother was a gentlewoman, but she married a man who turned out badly and her family disowned her. this youngster has a bad disposition and miss betsey says he is not faithful to his work. he steals off every now and then and hides for hours up in a loft. no one knows what he is doing up there." "well, i don't think i would like to work for miss betsey," returned madge thoughtfully. "somehow i feel sorry for this david." she remembered the boy's quick flush of resentment at the doctor's offer of money. she wished that she had been able to thank him herself for his share in her rescue. "i am sorry you think you would not like to work for miss betsey," returned the doctor unexpectedly, "because i had a suggestion to make to you and phil. but after to-day i am afraid it will be of no use. miss taylor is a rich old maid patient of mine. i have looked after her since phyllis was a little girl. she has no relatives and no interest in life except in her little estate, which has been in her family for several generations. she makes herself ill by imagining that she has a variety of diseases. all she needs is fresh air and young companionship. i wonder if there is any way that she can manage to get it?" madge felt a shiver creep up and down her spine. she had a premonition of what dr. alden was going to propose to her and to phil. surely they could not be expected to jonah their pretty houseboat by taking aboard such a fellow-passenger as this dreadful old maid! how could they ever have any fun with her on board? instead of calling their pretty craft the "merry maid," she would have to be re-christened "old maid," madge thought resentfully. dr. alden did not return to the subject of miss betsey during the long ride home. he was too wise for that. nevertheless, he had given madge something to think about. chapter iii david finds a friend "it's all right, phyllis! tom curtis is a dear. david is to go with us." madge breathed a sigh of satisfaction over the success of her scheme. phyllis alden laughed. she was buttoning the twins into clean pinafores. "i am not surprised. i knew tom would find a place for david if you asked him to do so. tom curtis is quite likely to do madge morton's will." madge flushed. "don't be a goose, please, phil," she begged. "you know that as long as we are to take miss betsey taylor on board our houseboat, in order to be able to pay the expenses of our trip this summer," madge made a wry face, "that we ought not to leave poor david high and dry without any work to do. i was awfully sorry for the boy when he came here the other day and heard what miss betsey thought of doing. he turned quite white, and when i asked him if he was sorry to be thrown out of work, he said 'yes,' and then he wouldn't talk any more." phyllis looked serious. "i hope it will turn out for the best, but it is asking a good deal of tom to take this strange boy way down to virginia with him. david hasn't a good reputation. miss taylor employs him only because he is a distant cousin of hers. no one else will have anything to do with him, he is so surly and unfriendly. he was turned out of the district school, and----" madge pretended to put her fingers in her ears. "don't tell me any more mean things about that poor fellow, please, dear," she pleaded. "i suppose it is because i have never heard a good word about him that i, being an obstinate person, don't think he can be as bad as he is painted. i am a black sheep myself, sometimes, when my horrid temper gets the better of me, and i know how dreadful it is not to be trusted." "you a black sheep! o madge! how absurd you are," protested phil. but madge was in earnest and would not be interrupted. "tom really did need some one on his motor boat, phil. he wrote me that he meant to hire some one to come along with him. tom wishes to run his own engine, but he doesn't yearn for the task of cleaning it or to do the very hard work. of course, that is all right. he has plenty of money and can do as he chooses. but it's different with david." "how many boys will tom have on his motor boat while he has us in tow?" inquired phil. she realized that madge had been seized with one of her sudden fits of enthusiasm over miss betsey taylor's "hired boy" and that there was no sense in opposing her. the little captain would find out later whether her enthusiasm had been right or wrong. "four or five," answered madge absently. "do stand still, daisy alden, while i tie your sunbonnet, or i'll eat you alive!" she scolded kissing one of the twin babies on her fat pink cheek. "come on, phil. hold tight to dot. if we are going to drive out to miss betsey taylor's to see whether she still desires to pay us sixty dollars a month for food, lodging and the pleasure of our delightful society aboard our precious houseboat, we had better start at once." phil, madge and the twins waved good-bye to mrs. alden, who was well enough now to be about her house, as they piled themselves into the physician's old buggy, which he had left for their use during the day. the doctor's suggestion looked as though it were going to come true. at first madge and phil protested that they simply couldn't bear to take a fussy old maid on their houseboat excursion. but then, if they did not take miss betsey, there wouldn't be any excursion. the girls were between scylla and charybdis, like the ill-fated ulysses on his journey back from troy. scylla, miss betsey, went with them, or charybdis, the houseboat party, would have to decline tom curtis's offer to tow them up the rappahannock river. so the girls decided to choose "miss scylla," as they nicknamed poor miss betsey. as for miss betsey taylor, she had been even more horrified than the two houseboat girls when the doctor made the proposal to her. how was she to cure her nerves by trusting herself to a party of gay young people with a twenty-six-year-old chaperon as the only balance to the party. absurd! miss betsey wrung her hands at the very idea. but after a while the allurement of the plan began to stir even her conventional old soul. the thought of being borne gently along a beautiful river dividing the virginia shores wrought enchantment. there was something else that influenced miss betsey. years before she had had a "near romance." a young virginia officer had come to new york and had met miss betsey at the home of a friend. during one winter he saw her many times, and although he was too poor to speak of marriage, miss betsey was entitled to believe that he had cared for her. one day miss betsey had an argument with her admirer. it was a foolish argument, but the virginia officer believed that miss betsey had insulted him. he went away and never saw her again. afterward she learned that he had returned to his ruined estate in virginia. it was a poor shadow of a romance, but miss betsey had never had another. in late years she had begun to think of her past. it _did_ add a flavor of romance to her trip in the houseboat to imagine that she might have been a happy matron, living on one of the old places that she would see in virginia, instead of being miss betsey taylor of hartford, who had never ventured farther than new york city in the sixty years of her maiden life. to tell the truth, miss betsey was as enthusiastic over the prospect of a trip in a houseboat as were the members of the "merry maid's" crew. when the two girls and the children drove into miss betsey's yard david helped madge, phil and the twins out of the doctor's buggy, looking more surly and impossible than ever. a secret bitterness was surging in him. miss betsey had promised to give him steady work at "chestnut cottage" all summer. now she was going away on a trip with a lot of silly girls. once again he was to be balked in the cherished desire of his life. in his bitterness of heart he pretended he had never seen madge before. "i would like to talk to you, david, after we have seen miss taylor," said madge in a friendly fashion to the scowling youth. "i won't take up much of your time." david walked away without making any reply, which angered the girl, and as she walked into the house she began to feel rather sorry that she had tried to play good samaritan to such a churlish fellow. to-day miss betsey really wished to make a good impression on madge and phil. she was as anxious that they should like her as the girls were to please the queer old lady. miss betsey was waiting for her guests in her prim, old-fashioned parlor. the dim light from the closed green blinds was grateful after the brilliant sunshine of the warm july day. on a little, spindle-legged mahogany table were tall glasses of fruit lemonade and a plate of assorted cakes. miss betsey surveyed madge morton with keen, curious eyes. she already knew phil. but before she trusted her life to these girls she wished to take their measure. madge's appearance as she emerged from under the overturned buggy had not been prepossessing. to-day miss betsey would be able to judge her better. as she scrutinized the little captain she was not altogether pleased with madge's looks. she preferred phil's dark, serious face. there was too much ardor, too much warm, bright color about madge in her deep-toned auburn hair and the healthy scarlet of her lips. madge breathed a kind of radiant impulse toward a fullness of life that was opposed to miss betsey taylor's theory of existence. still, she could find no objection to the young girl's manner. madge was so shy and deprecating that phil could hardly help laughing at her. what would miss betsey think later on, when the little captain had one of her attacks of high spirits? miss taylor asked so many questions about the houseboat that phil was kept busy answering her. madge spoke only in monosyllables, her attention being devoted to the twins. the cake and lemonade having been disposed of, these two tiny persons kept wriggling about the drawing room in momentary peril of upsetting the tables and chairs. "miss taylor," broke in madge suddenly, in her usual, unexpected fashion, "if you don't mind, i think i will take the little girls out into your back garden. i wish to speak to your boy, david. i have asked our friend, tom curtis, to take david to help him with his motor boat during our trip. i hope you don't mind?" miss betsey caught her breath. she was startled by the suddenness of madge's suggestion, as she was to be many times during her acquaintance with that young woman. then miss betsey looked dubious. "take david with us?" she faltered. "i don't advise it. it was good of you, child, to think of it, and it would be a wonderful opportunity for the boy. but i am obliged to tell you that david is not trustworthy. he spends too many hours alone, and refuses to tell anybody what he is doing. make him confide in you, or else do not take him away with us. i'll try to find something for the boy to do nearer home." madge thought she caught a gleam in miss betsey's eyes that revealed a goodly amount of curiosity about david's secret occupations, as much as it did interest in his welfare. she made up her mind that she would not pry into poor david's secrets simply because she had a chance to offer him the opportunity to make his living during the summer. holding dot by one hand and daisy by the other, madge appeared at the half-open barn-door, her eyes shining with friendliness. david was working fiercely. he hated the cleaning of the barn, so he chose to-day to do it as an outlet for his foolish feeling of injury. "david," exclaimed madge, "i must call you that, as i don't know your other name, i would like to speak to you." there was no hint of patronage in madge's manner. she was too well-bred a young woman either to feel or to show it. she really felt no difference between herself and david, except that the boy had never had the opportunities that had been hers. but david never turned around to answer her. "speak ahead," he answered roughly. "i'm not deaf. i can hear what you've got to say to me in here all right." madge colored angrily. a sound temper had never been her strong point. she had almost forgotten how angry she could be in the two peaceful weeks she had spent with phil. the hot blood surged to her cheeks at david's rude behavior. the boy had gone on raking the hay into one corner of the barn. "i certainly shall not speak to you if you can't treat me courteously," she answered coldly. she took the little girls by the hands and walked quietly away from the barn. the babies protested. their black eyes were wide with interest at the sight of "the big boy." they wished to stay and talk to him. david put his hand to his throat when madge was out of sight. he felt as though he were choking, and he knew it was from shame at his own uncivil behavior to the girl who had treated him in such a friendly, gentle fashion. david brewster was a queer combination. he was enough of a gentleman to know he had treated madge discourteously, but he did not know how to apologize to her. he glanced around the yard. madge had taken the twins and was seated with them under a big apple tree in the back yard. she was making them daisy and clover chains, and she seemed completely to have forgotten the rude boy. david walked up behind the tree. if madge saw or heard him, she gave no sign. she was putting a tiny wreath of daisies on daisy alden's head and crowning dot with a wreath of clover. "miss," said a boy's embarrassed voice, "i know i was rude to you out in the barn. i am sorry. i was worried about something and it put me in a bad temper. do you feel that you would be willing to speak to me now?" he asked humbly. madge's face cleared. yet she hesitated. she was beginning to fear that she would be unwise to mention tom's proposition to david. she knew that tom curtis, with his frank, open nature, would have little use for an ugly-tempered, surly youth on board his motor boat. had she any right to burden tom with a disagreeable helper? but david seemed so miserable, so shy and awkward, that madge's heart softened. again she felt sorry for the boy, as she had done at her first meeting with him. whether for good or evil, she made up her mind that david should accompany them on their houseboat excursion. "sit down, won't you, david?" she asked gently. david sat down shyly, with his torn hat between the knees of his patched trousers while madge explained the situation to him. she told him that she and phil felt sorry that they were making him lose his place by taking miss betsey away. she said that tom curtis needed some one to help him with his motor boat, and that he was willing to take david with him if he would be faithful and do the work that tom required of him. "mr. curtis will give you five dollars a week and your expenses if you would care to make the trip with us," concluded madge. she was silent for a second. her eyes were on the pretty twin babies, who were chasing golden-brown butterflies on the grass just in front of them, and screaming joyously at their own lack of success. "didn't you hear me, david?" inquired madge a trifle impatiently. the boy's face was working. his eyes were brimming with tears. he was bitterly ashamed of them and tried to rub them off with his rough coatsleeve. then he said in a low voice: "you mean that you got your friend to consent to take a fellow he knew nothing about on a motor boat trip way down in virginia, and just for the little work that i can do on his boat? i can't understand it. you see, i've never been twenty miles out of hartford, and nobody thinks i am much good around here. i know you have done this for me just because you didn't want me to lose my job with miss betsey. i could see you were sorry for me the other night, when i couldn't help showing that i cared. gee-whiz! i wonder how i will ever be able to pay you back?" madge laughed. she could see that david had forgotten her and was thinking and talking aloud. "you've paid me back already," she declared, smiling. "didn't you help pull me out from under the buggy the other day? you may have saved my life. if old prince had really tried to run away i might have been killed. please don't be grateful to me. you aren't obliged to be grateful to any one, though, if you must, why, you can thank tom curtis. it is his motor boat that is to tow our houseboat and take us on our new adventures. he is a splendid fellow and i know you will like him. i am sure you will get along nicely with him." "i'll do the best i can to be worth my keep. you won't be sorry you told your friend mr. curtis to take me along," he said huskily. "it may not be easy for you all the time," added madge, feeling that she ought to give david some good advice. "there will be four or five young men on board the motor boat, and they may all ask you to wait on them. but i must not preach. i am dreadfully afraid i shall never be able to get on with your cousin, miss taylor. you must tell me how to manage her; because, if she and i were to quarrel, it would spoil the whole houseboat trip. i have a very bad temper. i must go back to the house now. phil and miss betsey will wonder what has become of me. but where are those children?" madge sprang to her feet. the twins had been before her eyes only a few seconds before. now they had completely disappeared! david ran toward the barn. madge searched the yard frantically. the children had not returned to the house. chapter iv the search "where can they be, david?" asked madge anxiously. "do you suppose they have run away?" "nothing can possibly have happened to the children in such a few moments. we will find them. they are probably hiding somewhere to tease you." but though he made a systematic hunt about the yard, he did not find them. "dot! daisy!" called madge, "it's time to go home. if you'll only come here, i will tell you the nicest fairy story you ever heard." madge did not go into the house at once to tell phil and miss betsey of the disappearance of the children. she would surely discover them and it was not worth while to worry phil. but although she argued within herself that nothing serious could have happened to the babies, she had a premonition of disaster. only a moment before they had been chasing butterflies. it would seem as though a wicked hobgoblin had come up out of the ground and carried them off. next to miss taylor's back yard there was another field enclosed by a low stone wall. it would have been easy work for dot and daisy to crawl over it, and madge knew their propensity for getting into mischief. david and madge clambered hastily over the wall into the field. it was an open one, covered with low, waving grass, where the presence of even little four-year-old girls could be seen at a glance. the conviction that the children had been mysteriously kidnapped began to grow upon madge. yet miss betsey taylor's home was a quarter of a mile distant from any other house, and neither david nor madge had seen any sign of a tramp. the little captain made up her mind that she _must_ tell phil. it was no longer fair to keep her chum in the dark. phil must assist in the search for her sisters. "don't be frightened," consoled david, interpreting the look of fear in madge's eyes. "i promise to find the children for you." madge went into the house with slow, dragging steps. she tried to hide her fright, but her face betrayed her. she was utterly wretched. she had come, uninvited, to visit her best friend, and phil's father and mother had treated her as though she were another grown-up daughter. now, as a reward, she had lost their beloved babies. for, if madge had not been talking with david, dot and daisy would never have run away from her and disappeared. phyllis sprang to her feet when she caught sight of madge. she had been wondering why her chum had not come in. one look at madge's white face was enough to convince her that something serious had happened. "don't worry so, madge," comforted phil, when the girl had stammered out her story, "i'll find those children. nobody has run off with them. don't you know that getting themselves lost and frightening people nearly out of their wits is the thing that dot and daisy love best in the world?" phyllis and madge ran out of the parlor together, followed more slowly by miss betsey, who was not at all sure that she relished so much excitement. phyllis alden did not realize how thoroughly madge and david had looked for the lost babies before her friend had brought the news to her. if she had, phil would have been more alarmed. david determined to discover the missing children before madge returned to the yard. but where else should he seek for them? with a swift feeling of horror, the boy thought of one more possible place. if his surmise should prove true! poor madge! david thought of her with a sudden flood of sympathy. instinctively he realized, after his short acquaintance with her, that she was the type of person who would never recover from such a sorrow as the loss of these children would be. while david thought he ran. he hoped to make his investigation before madge and phil could come into the yard. several rods back of the barn in miss taylor's back garden there was a disused well which had been closed for several years. a few days before miss betsey had sent for a man to have this well reopened. the man had not finished his work. he had gone away, leaving the well open with only a plank across it. but david was not allowed to inspect the place undiscovered. madge and phyllis were not long in finding him. "look in the barn, won't you?" david called back to the girls. "the children may be hiding under the hay." phyllis slipped inside the barn door. but madge had ransacked the barn too thoroughly to believe that there was a chance of finding the babies there. besides, she had seen david brewster's face. he was pale through his sunburn, so she left the barn to phil and followed at his heels. "you've an idea what has happened to the children. please tell me what you think," she pleaded. the boy shook his head resolutely. "don't ask questions, i've no time to talk," he answered rudely. yet david did not mean to be unkind. he only knew that he could not face the look in madge's eyes should his suspicion prove true. besides, there was no time to waste. already they must have waited too long to save the children if the little ones had fallen down the old well. instantly david knew. the plank that had lain across the well had fallen over on one side. the children must have stepped on this plank and gone down. david dropped flat on his stomach and peered over into the hole. "look out!" he cried sharply to madge, she was so near him. madge felt herself reel. the air turned black about her and the earth seemed slanting at her feet, miles and miles away. a feeling of deathly nausea crept over her. then she pulled herself together. there might yet be hope, and there was surely work to be done. she dropped on the ground beside david. as they knelt side by side on the edge of the well they heard a little, weak, moaning cry, and straining their eyes distinguished faintly the tops of two curly heads. madge uttered a cry of relief. as nearly as she could judge, the babies were standing upright in the well with their arms about each other. they were nearly dead with fright and suffocation, but the wonderful instinct of self-preservation had made them continue to keep on their feet. there was not more than a foot of water in the bottom of the well, and madge believed that the fall had not seriously hurt them. "dot! daisy!" called madge, trying to speak in natural tones. daisy turned a pair of big black eyes to the little light that shone above her. hanging over the edge of the well she spied her madge and stretched both tiny arms upward. "you tumbled into a big hole, didn't you, dears?" soothed madge cheerfully, although she was trembling. "stand up just a moment longer, won't you, darlings? madge is right here and she will not go away. we will have you out of that dark place in a minute." david had disappeared after his first glance at the children. madge felt absolutely sure that he would be able to get the babies out of the well within the next few moments. she did not know how and she didn't think. it was her part to keep up the children's courage. somehow she knew that this strange boy, of whom everybody spoke ill, would justify the curious confidence she had placed in him from their first meeting. when david returned he brought with him phil, miss betsey, and jane, the cook. he carried a small clothes basket in his hand with handles at either end and a great coil of heavy rope. turning to madge he said, "one of us must go down in the well. shall i go, or will it be better for me to draw up the basket? i am the strongest." for answer madge took hold of the rope. "let me go," she begged. "it is my place," demurred phyllis, with a white face. "phil!" madge's eyes said all she could not speak. it was her fault that dot and daisy had fallen into the well. could she not be allowed to risk herself to save them? phyllis stepped back. during this brief exchange of words david had not been idle. he had knotted his rope securely about madge's waist. over the side of the old well he had seen many loose bricks and open places. with him above to steady her, a plucky girl could manage to climb down the side of the well with small danger to herself. madge slipped the rope around one arm. if she fell, she might, with david's assistance, be able to drop down sailor fashion. she dared not glance down as she began the descent, finding open spaces for her feet and hands along the brick wall. "steady, steady!" she could hear david's voice cheering her, as foot by foot he let out more of his rope. david had not trusted to his own strength alone. the rope he guided was in phil's hands and also those of jane, the cook. when madge was within two feet of the bottom of the well she jumped and gathered little dot, who had toppled over, in her arms. daisy was still standing, although she tottered and clung to her rescuer's skirts. "let down the basket quickly!" cried madge. like a flash the basket swung down. the little captain made haste to lift poor dot into it. the basket had a rope tied on the handle at each end. madge could see that david had replaced a heavy plank across the mouth of the well, and that he sat astride it, so as to be able to draw up the basket without striking it against the sides of the well. madge took little daisy in her arms and cuddled her head on her shoulder, so she should not see what was taking place. "shut your eyes, baby," she pleaded. "we'll soon be out of this dark old place." daisy did not answer. the wreath of daisies with which madge had crowned her little head still hung loosely down among her black curls. it seemed ages before dot was safely landed on the ground and gathered in phil's arms. during that time madge had never ceased comforting daisy. but when the basket descended for the second time daisy refused to get into it. she was too frightened. she clung desperately to madge and would not unloosen her fat arms from about the girl's neck. what was to be done? the little captain was afraid to put daisy in the basket while the little girl fought and struggled. she would probably fling herself out in her fright and be badly hurt. it was almost a miracle the way in which the two babies managed to fall straight down in the well without striking against the sides. "can't you coax her, phil?" asked madge in desperation. "she is determined not to go into the basket." but all phyllis's efforts to persuade her baby sister to return to terra firma via the basket route proved unavailing. daisy kicked and screamed at the slightest attempt on madge's part to put her into the basket. "if you will bring a ladder and lower it into the well i believe i can climb up with daisy on my back," proposed madge faintly. the strain was beginning to tell upon her. "i'll have one down in ten seconds," called david cheerily. he was back to the edge of the well almost instantly with a long ladder that he had spied leaning against a fruit tree. he cautiously lowered it to the waiting girl. madge tested it to see that it was firm, then, setting daisy down, she bent almost double. "climb on madge's back, dear. daisy must be very brave. then we'll go up, up, up the ladder to sister dot. put your arms around madge's neck as tightly as ever you can," directed the little captain. the novelty of the situation appealed to daisy and she fastened her fat little arms about poor madge's neck in a suffocating clasp. slowly but surely, in spite of the hampering embrace, madge climbed steadily to the top, to be met by the firm, reassuring grasp of david's strong hands. phil lifted the clinging daisy from madge's tired back. the little captain staggered and would have fallen but for david, whose hand on her elbow quickly steadied her. then the boy of whom miss betsey entertained such unpleasant suspicions, the "ne'er-do-weel" of the community, took charge of the situation with a dignity that surprised even madge, who believed in him. "i think it will be best for me to notify dr. alden of what has happened. i will telephone him, then drive over and bring him back. it will be better not to let mrs. alden know that the children fell into the well. dr. alden can look them over. as your mother is recovering from a long illness, she must not be worried or frightened. what do you think of my plan, miss alden?" phyllis quite approved of the suggestion. she looked at david almost wonderingly. was this resolute, self-contained young man the surly, unapproachable boy she had always disliked to encounter when calling upon miss betsey? she awoke to a tardy realization that whatever faults david brewster possessed, they were merely on the surface, and that at heart he was a good man and true. and although david never knew it, on that day he made another friend whose friendship was destined to prove as faithful as that of madge morton. that night as the two chums, wrapped in their kimonos, were having a comfortable little session together before going to bed, phyllis said thoughtfully, "do you know, madge, i think david brewster is splendid. i am afraid i have misjudged him." "phil," said madge with conviction, "david is a man, and i am sure he is good and true at heart, no matter how gruff he may seem on the surface. i asked tom to take him with us on the trip, and now that he has consented to go, i feel as though i were responsible for him. i know miss betsey believes him to be sneaking and undependable. so far, however, i have seen nothing about him that looks suspicious, and i do not believe him to be a sneak. i trust david now, and i am going to keep on trusting him." chapter v pulling up anchor for new scenes a motor boat ploughed restlessly about near the broad mouth of the rappahannock river. it flew a red and white pennant, with the initials of the owner, "t. c.," emblazoned on it. the name of the boat, "sea gull," was painted near the stern. it was a trim little craft with a fair-sized cabin amidships and was capable of making eight knots an hour at its highest speed. "toot, toot, toot, chug, chug, chug!" the whistle blew and the engine thumped. the captain stood with his hand on the wheel, gazing restlessly out over the water. "i wonder what can have happened?" muttered tom curtis impatiently. "here it is, as plain as the nose on your face: the 'merry maid' with four houseboat girls, a chaperon and one other passenger, will join the 'sea gull' at the entrance to the rappahannock river on the southern side of the virginia shore near shingray point, on august first, at ten a.m." tom looked up from the paper he was reading. "we have the time and the place all right, haven't we, fellows? but where are the girls?" "cheer up, old man!" jack bolling clapped tom on the shoulder. "a houseboat is not the fastest vessel afloat. who knows what kind of tug the girls have had to hire to get them here? and a woman is never on time, anyhow." "we'll be in luck if the houseboat gets here by to-night, curtis," argued harry sears, another member of the motor boat crew of five youths. "do slow down; there is no use ploughing around these waters. we had better stay close to the meeting place. it's after twelve o'clock; can't we have a little feed?" "here, brewster, stir around and get out the lunch hamper," ordered george robinson. "we must all have something to sustain us while we wait for the girls." david brewster's face colored at the other's tone of command, but he went quietly to work to obey. "david," interposed tom curtis, "come put your hand on this engine for me, won't you? i will dig in the larder if robinson is too tired. i know where the stores are kept better than you other chaps do, anyhow." "tom curtis is a splendid fellow," thought david gratefully. "miss morton was right. he doesn't treat one like a dog, just because he has plenty of money." david brewster and tom curtis had traveled down from new york to virginia together. their fellow motor boat passengers they had picked up at different points along the way. david had come to understand tom curtis pretty well during their trip--better than tom did david. but then, tom curtis was a fine, frank young man with nothing to hide or to be ashamed of. david had many things which he did not wish the public to know. the houseboat party had arranged to join one another in richmond. from there they were to go by rail to a point up the chesapeake bay, where the "merry maid" had been kept in winter quarters since the houseboat trip of the fall before. a tug was to escort the houseboat to the mouth of the rappahannock river, where they were to meet tom and his motor launch. phyllis alden had accompanied madge to "forest house," so the two girls and eleanor were not far from richmond. miss jenny ann jones and lillian had come from baltimore together. but miss betsey taylor took her life in her own hands and traveled alone. she carried only the expenses of her railroad trip in her purse. but in a bag, which she wore securely fastened under her skirt, miss betsey had brought a sum of money large enough to last her during the entire houseboat trip, for when a maiden lady leaves her home to trust herself to a frisky party of young people, she should be prepared for any emergency. miss betsey also bore in her bag a number of pieces of old family jewelry, which she wore on state occasions. * * * * * when luncheon time passed and there was still no sign of the "merry maid," tom curtis could bear the suspense of waiting no longer. "something has happened, or the girls would have been here before this," he declared positively. "bolling, i am going to leave you and sears to wait here in the rowboat. i am going to look down the coast." "all right, old man," agreed the other boys. they did not share tom's uneasiness. indeed, as the "sea gull" headed down the coast, the three men on board her heard harry sears shouting an improvised verse: "where, oh, where, is the 'merry maid'? what wind or wave has her delayed? our hearts are breaking, our launch is quaking, fear and despair are us overtaking, where, oh, where----" the rest of this remarkable effusion was lost to their ears as they glided along. "it is rather strange that we haven't picked them up yet, isn't it?" david brewster said nothing. he was always a silent youth. with tom's telescope in his hand he stood eagerly scanning the line of the coast as the motor launch ran along near the shore. "ho, there!" he cried. "what's that? look over there!" tom shut off speed and hurriedly seized the spy-glass. there, apparently peacefully resting on the bosom of the water, was an odd craft, gleaming white in the afternoon sun. tom curtis at once recognized the "merry maid." no one on board the houseboat noticed the approach of tom's motor launch until he blew the automatic whistle. then, with one accord, the four girls rushed to one side of the boat. they made frantic signals, then all began to talk at the same time. "what's up? where's your tug?" demanded tom. "here you are, as peaceful as clams, while we have been scouring the coast for you." "don't scold, tom," laughed madge, "and don't refer to us as clams. we are stuck in the mud. our wretched little tug brought us too near the shore, piled us up here and then went away two hours ago for help. we were so afraid you would go on without us. what can we do?" while the girls talked tom, jack and david had been quietly at work. they had secured the houseboat to the launch by means of their towing ropes. tom put on all speed. his motor launch tugged and strained forward. the "merry maid" did not move. she was a fairly heavy craft, with her large cabin and broad beam. miss betsey taylor and miss jenny ann joined the crowd of anxious watchers on the houseboat deck. instead of gliding up a peaceful river, gazing at fruitful orchards and lovely old virginia homesteads through the oncoming twilight, the houseboat crew would have to remain ignominiously on a sand bank until a larger boat came along to pull her off. tom tried again. once more the "sea gull" went bravely forward--the length of her towing rope. the girls were almost in tears. suddenly madge laughed. eleanor and lillian looked at her reproachfully. "i don't see anything to laugh at," expostulated eleanor. "i don't either, nellie," agreed madge. "we ought to cry, we are such geese. tom! david!" she cried. "you have never pulled up our anchor. of course we can't get off the sand bank. we forgot to tell you that the captain on the little tug anchored us here to keep us from drifting away. i am so sorry." in a little while tom curtis's motor launch, followed by the "merry maid," entered the rappahannock from the chesapeake bay. it was tom's intention to tow the houseboat along several of the virginia rivers during their vacation. it looked as though they might have a peaceful excursion with nothing to mar its serenity. but there were five boys and four girls aboard the boats, besides the two older women. the voyagers did not journey far the first day. it was about sundown when they came along shore near a wonderful peach orchard and it was here that they decided to spend the night. the crew of the "merry maid" entertained the crew of the "sea gull" at dinner, the young folks spending the evening together. as tom was about to bid madge good night she said almost timidly, "thank you so much, tom, for being so good to david. i hope he hasn't disappointed you?" "oh, he is all right," replied tom. "he is a queer fellow, though; never has much to say. he has asked me to let him have an hour or so to himself every day that we are on shore. of course, it is only fair for him to have the time, but why does he wish to go off by himself?" "i don't know." madge shook her head disapprovingly. then she adroitly changed the subject, but she could not help hoping that david would not incur the displeasure of the boys by his mysterious ways. it looked as though the boy she had determined to trust was to prove very troublesome. chapter vi wanderlust "miss jenny ann, i don't think i can endure her," declared madge mournfully. it was late afternoon. the houseboat was gliding serenely along the river bank. several yards ahead of her puffed the motor launch. harry sears and george robinson were in the kitchen of the houseboat, helping lillian and eleanor wash the dinner dishes. phil sat comfortably in the motor launch, having her usual argument with jack bolling. tom curtis was steering his launch, with a cloud over his usually bright face. david brewster was looking after the engine. he was silent and sullen. but unless he was at work this was his ordinary expression. "you can see for yourself, miss jenny ann," continued madge, her lips trembling with vexation, "that nothing i can do pleases miss betsey. i am just as polite to her as i know how to be, but she just hates me. according to what she says, everything that goes wrong is my fault. i have a great mind to leave the houseboat and let you and the other girls take the trip. it isn't much fun for the rest of the party to have miss betsey and me quarrel all the time. it is unpleasant for everyone, isn't it?" miss jenny ann did not answer. madge caught hold of her impulsively. "do scold or preach, whichever you like, jenny ann," she pleaded, "but please answer me. it is not polite to be so silent." "what is it now?" miss jenny ann inquired teasingly. the little captain's face sobered. "it isn't a little thing this time, like my putting the sheet on miss betsey's bed wrong side up. it's very important. miss betsey says," whispered madge in miss jenny ann's ear, although they were standing some distance away from any one else, "that nearly every day for the past week some of her money has disappeared out of her wretched old money bag. not very much at a time. first she noticed that three dollars had gone, then five, and now it's ten. she seems to think that i ought to know how it happens. she doesn't want to worry you about it. of course, i know she is mistaken," cried madge indignantly. "she just does not know how much money she had. there hasn't been a single person on this boat this whole week except our party." miss jenny ann looked serious. "does miss taylor suspect any one?" she asked carelessly, not glancing at madge. madge's cheeks reddened. "miss betsey says she does not suspect any one, but she spoke darkly of poor david brewster. she says he never took anything that she knows of when he was on her farm, but that his father was almost a tramp. he came up to new england from goodness-knows-where, and every now and then he disappears and is gone for months at a time. miss taylor believes that when tom ties up our boats in the afternoons, and david goes off and leaves everybody, it is his vagabond blood showing in him. isn't it cruel to make the poor fellow responsible for his father's sins? i am going to stand up for him through thick and thin. coming, miss betsey," answered madge cheerfully, in response to a call from the tyrannical old spinster. miss jenny ann remained by herself a few moments longer. she wondered why miss taylor required more attention from poor madge than she did from any of the other girls. it was certain that she liked her least. but miss jenny ann shrewdly suspected that prim miss betsey thought that their impetuous captain needed discipline and had set herself to administer it to her. about david brewster miss jenny ann was more worried. she did not like the lad. no one did. he was the discordant element in their whole party. lillian and eleanor fought shy of him. phyllis was kind to him but had little to say to him, and the boys in the motor launch, except tom, treated him with a kind of scornful coolness. the boy was neither a gentleman nor a servant. it was small wonder that generous-hearted madge championed him. miss jenny ann understood, from madge's allusion to david's father, one reason why madge was kind to the boy. miss jenny ann jones and miss betsey taylor shared one of the houseboat staterooms. the four girls, to their great joy, bunked together in the other. it was exactly a half hour before miss betsey would let madge come out on deck again. she wished her money carefully counted and a new place discovered for concealing it. madge was strangely patient, for she had had a long talk with dr. alden before she left hartford. he had told her that she would have a good deal to bear from miss betsey. yet, if she wished to give the pleasure of the houseboat trip to her friends and to herself, she must remember the tiresome old adage, "what is worth having is worth paying for." so far madge had paid with little grumbling. this afternoon, as she reappeared on deck, her red lips were pouting and her cheeks were a deeper color. her resentment against miss betsey was at its height. no one noticed the little captain standing alone on deck. usually she would have thought nothing of it, but this evening she was tired and cross. it did not seem fair for her to have to take all the trouble with their houseboat boarder on her shoulders. she could hear lillian, nellie, harry sears and george robinson singing on the upper deck of the little houseboat. phyllis was talking busily to jack bolling and did not even glance over toward madge from her seat on the launch. madge knew that tom was angry because she had not joined him in the motor boat earlier in the afternoon, when the boats had put in to the shore. she had not been able to go on account of miss betsey, but she certainly had no intention of explaining anything to tom. he could think what he chose. the two boats were in the habit of landing several times during a day's cruise. ordinarily they went ashore just before sunset, and the boys and girls had their dinner together in some sequestered place. they then spent the night with the houseboat and motor boat at anchor. but this evening it was so lovely, gliding along the face of the river, with its hills on one side and meadows and orchards on the other, that miss jenny ann requested tom not to land until just about bed-time. madge stood looking at the sunset for a few minutes. there was nothing to do and no one wished to talk to her. she would go to bed. a little later she tumbled into her bed and shed a few tears, she was so sorry for herself. she did not waken until the other three girls came in for the night at about ten o'clock. "is there anything the matter, madge?" whispered phil before she crept into the berth above her chum. "we missed you dreadfully." madge gave phyllis a repentant kiss. she knew that she had been absurd. but now that phyllis had awakened her, she could not go back to sleep again. it was a hot august night, with a moon almost in the full. not a breath of air was stirring along the river. the moonlight shone through the little cabin window, flooding the room with its radiance. madge felt that if she could only get a breath of air, she might be able to go to sleep. just now she was suffocating. yet the other girls were breathing gently. she slipped softly into her clothes, put on a long light coat, tucked her hair under a boy's cap and stole silently out on the houseboat deck. all was solemn and still. she was the only person awake on either of the two boats. an almost tropical heat made the moon look red and ominous. madge was oppressed by its mysterious reflection on the water. the shore seemed peaceful, deserted. she went noiselessly down the gang plank. she walked up and down the bank, keeping the boats in sight. however, the shore was not quiet. the ceaseless hum of the august insects set her nerves on edge. "katy did, katy did," the noise was insistent. to madge's ears the name was transposed. "david did, david did," it rang. yet she did not really believe that david had stolen miss betsey taylor's money. if not david, who else? surely the money could never be found in the new hiding place where she and miss taylor had stored it that afternoon. it was quite secure from thievish fingers. it was lonely along the river bank. the sudden hooting of an owl sent her flying toward the houseboat. she waited a second before going aboard. the "water witch" was floating peacefully on the water, tied to the rail of the "merry maid!" all at once the passionate love which madge felt for the water, that she believed to be an inheritance, woke in her. it was wrong and reckless in her, yet the desire to be alone out there on the river was uncontrollable. she went swiftly to their little rowboat, and without making a single unnecessary sound she rowed straight out into the moonlight that streamed across the water. no one heard her or saw her leave the shelter of the two boats. only david, who was also awake, thought for an instant that he caught the splash of a pair of oars skimming past the motor launch. he supposed it to be some idle oarsman who lived along the river, and he never glanced out of his cabin window. madge rowed for more than an hour in the golden moonlight, meeting no one. a cool breeze sprang up. her restlessness, impatience and suspicion passed away. she felt that she would like to move on forever up this silent river, near her well-loved virginia shores. it never dawned upon her how far she had gone, or that she might be missed, or that the river would be dark when the moon went down. neither did she consider that she was not familiar with the spot where the houseboat and motor boat were anchored. tom had chosen the landing place for the night after she had gone into her stateroom. for a long time madge rowed on, regardless of time. she was dreaming of her own father. to-night she felt that she would find him. the night seemed trying to convey to her the message, "he lives." it was nearly one o'clock when the moon went down. madge felt, rather than saw, the darkness on the water. she was so oblivious to time that she believed for a few minutes that the moon had only gone behind a cloud. at last she realized that it was now time for her to turn back. she had been rowing in the middle of the river, where the water was deep, and she was unfamiliar with the line of the shore. yet she knew that here and there along either bank of the river there were shoals and shallow places where rocks jutted out of the water. once or twice tom steered them past places in the river where there were falls and swift eddies in the current. now she awoke to the fact that she was in danger. she could go down the river in the center of the stream as she had come up. but in the black darkness she could not pull in close to the river bank without nearing perilous places. yet, unless she kept near the shore, how could she ever spy either the houseboat or the motor launch? madge rowed slowly and cautiously along. she tried to keep at a safe distance from the land while she strained her eyes for a glimmer of light that might come from either one of their boats. she was growing tired, for she was beginning to feel the effects of her long row. her arms and back ached. all at once she became stupidly sleepy. she wondered dimly what on earth miss jenny ann and the girls would do if they discovered that she had disappeared. what would miss betsey taylor think of her now, when she learned that she, madge morton, had gone out on the river alone at night without a word to any one? madge sleepily pulled on her oars. she wished that she had persuaded phil to come out on the water with her. now the loneliness of the deserted river began to oppress her. she could have fallen over in the boat from sheer exhaustion. through the darkness she suddenly saw a flickering light. thank goodness, she was home at last! the light came from the left bank of the river, where their boats were moored. madge rowed joyfully toward it. a little further in she saw that the light was on land. she had seen only its reflection in the water. after another half hour's steady pulling madge believed that she must have passed by their boats. surely she could not have gone so far up the river as she had rowed down. she turned her boat and began to retrace her way, then drew in a few yards nearer the shore. danger or no danger, she must not pass the houseboat by again. she wondered if she would have to stay out on the water until the dawn came to show her the way home. she would have to cease rowing and let the boat drift. she was too tired to keep on. she was growing so drowsy. all at once the "water witch" trembled violently. it gave a forward leap in the dark and went downward. madge was thrown roughly forward. but she kept a firm grasp on her oars. she could not see, yet she knew exactly what had happened. her boat had gone over some falls in the river. there was nothing for her to do but to try to stay in her boat. the "water witch" might overturn, or else right herself, at the end of her downward plunge. the little skiff did neither. at the end of the falls she was caught in a swift whirlpool. crouched in the boat, with her teeth clenched and her eyes watching the white spray that she could see even in the darkness, madge felt her boat rotate like a wheel. she had never let go her oars. now she braced herself with all her strength and gave one forward, final pull. the "water witch" leaped ahead. it was safely out of the eddy and in the current. but madge's oar struck against a rock. it snapped in two and the lower half went floating with the stream. there was a grating sound, then she felt her boat ground between two rocks and stick fast. ahead the river seemed to gurgle and splash alarmingly. there might be other falls and whirlpools in her course. madge had sense enough to know when she was beaten. if she pushed out from the rocks, where her boat was caught, with her single oar, she might find herself in far worse danger. she was grateful that the "water witch" had run aground. madge lay down in the bottom of her boat. she would wait until the daylight came and see what was best to be done. she did not mean to go to sleep, for she realized her peril. she idly watched a single star that shone through the clouds, then her heavy eyelids closed and she fell asleep to the sound of the water beating against the side of her skiff. chapter vii the rescue when madge opened her eyes the sun was shining into them. it was already broad daylight. her boat was no longer held fast between rocks. in the night it had made its own way out and had floated toward the land. it was now only a few yards from the shore. with her one oar madge pushed herself gently toward land. hills rose up along the river bank. the farmhouses lay farther back, she supposed. certainly she had not the faintest idea where she was. the hills were thickly covered with scrub oaks and pines. she had not landed in a friendly spot. it was far more deserted than any place that she had ever noticed along the rappahannock. at least, so she thought in the gray dawn of the august morning. yet she knew that there were plenty of kind people who would be glad to help her if she could get over the hills to their homes. from the appearance of madge's clothes she might easily have been mistaken for a tramp. her long coat was wet to her ankles and her shoes and stockings were muddy. she had long since lost her little cap and her hair was rough and tumbled from her night's sleep in the boat, while her face was white and haggard. instead of following the line of the river, where she was sure to find some life stirring in another hour or so, madge foolishly pushed up over the hill. she did not find a path, so she might have guessed that she was off the beaten track. she must have walked up the hill for half a mile when she saw a sight that at last gave her hope. an old, broken-down horse was tethered to a tree, eating grass. surely he was a sign-post to some human habitation farther on. madge spied a cornfield to the left of her, though some distance off. she knew that the virginia farmers cultivated the low hills for their crops, and that she was near some house. she sniffed the fresh morning air. a delicious odor wafted toward her, the smell of boiling coffee, which came from the thickest part of the hillside, away to the right of the cornfield. madge made straight for it. she had to push aside branches and underbrush, and the place was farther off than she supposed, but she found it at last. seated on the ground before a small fire was an old woman, the oldest the little captain had ever seen. she was weather-beaten and brown, withered like a crumpled autumn leaf. she was roasting something in the fire and muttering to herself. a little farther on a man was drinking coffee from a quart cup. they were rough-looking people to come across in the woods. but madge knew that in the harvest season many tramps and gypsies traveled about through virginia, living on the crops of the fruitful land. they were usually harmless people, so she felt no fear of the strangers. they had no tent, but a few logs with branches over them formed a sort of hiding place. "please," began madge timidly, "will you tell me where i am?" the man sprang up and rushed toward her with a big stick in his hand. he seemed not so angry as frightened. the little captain's appearance disarmed his suspicions. he dropped his stick to the ground. the strange girl was a gypsy or tramp herself. "will you give me some coffee?" asked madge pleadingly. she was beginning to feel weak and faint. with the instant hospitality of the road the man passed madge his own quart can. she took it, shuddering a little, but she was too thirsty to hesitate. she held the cup to her lips and drank. then she went over and dropped down on the ground by the side of the old woman, who, although her eyes were fastened on the girl, had never ceased to mutter to herself. madge began telling the story of her night's adventure. "i haven't any money with me," she declared as she finished her story, "but if the man will get an oar and take me down the river to my friends, i will pay him whatever he thinks is right. i dragged my rowboat up on the shore not very far from here. i must return to my friends at once." the old woman looked at the man questioningly. madge's eyes were also on him. it did not dawn on her that the fellow could have any reason for refusing her simple request. the man shook his head doggedly. "i can't row," he announced. "oh, that does not matter," replied madge. "if you will get me an oar and come with me, i can do the rowing. i am rested now." the man grunted unintelligibly, then went on with his breakfast. he paid no further attention to madge. the old woman continued her curious muttering. "won't you try to find me an oar?" asked madge again. the man shook his head. his face darkened with anger. "then i might as well leave you," declared madge haughtily. "if you are so unaccommodating, i will look for some one else." she struggled wearily to her feet to continue her search. her body still ached with the fatigue. "don't be rough with her," the old crone spoke from behind madge. the young girl felt her arms roughly seized and drawn back. she was forced to the ground. she struggled at first, but she was powerless. the man took a small rope and bound her feet together so that she could not move them. the ropes were not tight. the fellow did not wish to hurt her, but merely to prevent her getting away. "you can't leave this place by day, miss," he announced quietly. "i can't have anybody following you back here and running me down. when night comes i'll let you go." madge bit her lips. night! once more she must wander alone in the darkness in a vain search for her lost friends. what would they think if a day, as well as a night, passed with no sign of her? her big blue eyes were dark with grief and protest. "please let me go," she entreated. "i promise, on my honor, that i will never show any one your hiding place, or say that i have seen you. i must get back to my friends, they will be so frightened." she was shaking with terror and anger, but she struggled to keep back her tears. surely the man must relent and let her go back to the houseboat. he turned away without paying the least attention to her demands. creeping under the pile of underbrush, he lay so still that no one would have dreamed that a human being was concealed there. it came over poor madge, at first dully, then with complete conviction, that the man whom she had come upon in the woods was a fugitive from justice--an outlaw hiding from the police. madge flung herself down in the warm, soft grass. for the first time in the seventeen years of her life she cried without any one to care for or comfort her. until to-day eleanor, her uncle or aunt, or one of her chums--some one--had always been near at hand to soothe her grief. madge knew that her own recklessness had got her into this predicament. she had deserved some of the punishment. but she thought, as a great many other people do, that she was being judged more severely than her fault merited. "here, child," a voice said not unkindly, "bathe your face and eyes. there's no use crying. we don't mean you no harm. only you have got to wait here." madge sat up; the old woman, who looked like an aged gypsy, was handing her a dirty basin filled with a small supply of river water. the woman evidently went about and got what was necessary for the existence of the man and herself. at other times she kept guard over his hiding place. madge bathed her tired eyes and face. she was glad to have the use of her hands. she even managed to smile gratefully when the woman offered her a piece of cornbread and an ear of roasted corn. she resolved to summon all of her courage and endurance to her aid. she would not plead or argue again. she would wait patiently until the long day had passed. perhaps tom or david or one of the other boys would see her skiff on the beach and come to her aid. the morning went by. no one spoke or moved. only once the man crawled out from under the brush for food and water. then he stole back again. madge grew more tired with every hour. it was hard to have to sit still so long in one place, so she lay down on the grass. she did not go to sleep, but was drowsy from the heat and fatigue. the old woman came over to where she lay and stood looking at her sadly. her pretty white face, with its crown of sun-kissed hair, gleaming with red and gold lights, her brilliantly red lips, brought back to this ugly, time-worn crone the memory of her own youth. madge always caused other women to think of their own youth, she was so radiant, so full of faith and enthusiasm. it was partly because of this that miss betsey taylor disliked her. her own springtime had been prim and narrow. she had wasted the years that madge was living so abundantly, and unconsciously miss betsey envied madge. the little captain saw the old gypsy's little, beady eyes fixed on her. she tried to sit up, but found herself too tired to do so. the woman dropped down near her and lifted her up. she had a pack of dirty cards in her hand. "want your fortune told, honey?" she asked. "then cross my palm with gold." the crone looked narrowly at the single gold seal ring that madge wore. it had been a gift to her from her three houseboat chums. madge shook her head. "no, thank you," she answered politely, then listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. she looked up toward the crest of the hill. "'from whence cometh my strength'," she thought to herself. but she could not see or hear any one. the little spot where she was held a prisoner was surrounded with heavy shrubbery and walled in with ancient trees that had grown on the virginia hillside for centuries. the woman ran the cards through her withered hands. "better let me tell your fortune; never mind the gold." she shook her head and muttered so mysteriously that madge's cheeks flushed. "i see, i see," the gypsy crooned, "many hearts in your fortune, but as yet few diamonds. and here, there, everywhere there is mystery. you are always seeking something. i can't tell whether it is a person, or whether you are only looking for happiness. but you are very restless." for a long time after this the old woman said nothing more. she sighed and mumbled to herself. two or three times she went over her pack of cards. madge watched her in fascination. "now i see a light-haired and a dark-haired man. they will come together when you are older. one of them will bring diamonds and the other spades. neither are for you, not at first, not at first. i see water all about you and a fortune in the sea. but be careful, child, be careful. go slow and----" madge was no longer interested. "there is always a dark man and a light one in everyone's fortune," she thought wearily. "what a silly old woman, and what utter nonsense she is talking! oh, if you would only let me go away from this place?" she begged aloud. [illustration: david came to her rescue.] at some distance off there was an unmistakable sound of people coming through the woods. madge's heart leaped within her. she gave one glad cry, when the gypsy woman clapped both hands over her mouth. madge fought the woman off. she cried out again. the man crept from his hiding place, half dragging, half pulling madge behind a thick cluster of trees, keeping his coarse, heavy hand over her mouth. madge heard phyllis alden's and david brewster's voices, yet she could not call out to them for aid. she saw some one pull aside the low branch of a tree, then david's face appeared, discolored with anger as he caught sight of her. before the man who had seized her could strike at the boy david had grasped him by both shoulders and hurled him to the ground. whipping out his knife david cut the cords that bound madge and raising her to her feet, placed one arm protectingly around her. her captor had also risen and stood glowering at david without offering to attack him. the boy's rage was so terrifying that even this hardened lawbreaker quailed before it. "we didn't mean any harm," mumbled the old woman. "you know us, boy. you know we wouldn't hurt the young lady. you won't say you saw us, will you?" but ignoring her question david turned to help madge back to her friends. chapter viii the motor boat disaster it was miss betsey taylor who had first discovered madge's absence. just before daylight she awakened with the feeling that some one had stolen into her stateroom, for she was dreaming of her lost money. miss betsey sat straight up in bed and looked about her small cabin. there was no one to be seen. "miss betsey," called miss jenny ann from the berth above, "what is the matter?" nor would miss jones go back to sleep until she had explored the houseboat thoroughly. as she stole into the next cabin where the girls slept she noticed that madge was not in her bed. she must have heard the same noise that had disturbed miss betsey, and gone to investigate the cause. but miss jenny ann could not ascertain the cause of the noise nor did she find madge on the decks. she aroused phil and they sought for her together. then eleanor and lillian joined them, and miss betsey, a prey to curiosity, came forth to find out what all the commotion was about. it took a very brief space of time to examine the entire houseboat. the girls held the lanterns and scurried about, calling "madge!" it seemed incredible that she did not answer. tom was the first of the boys on the motor launch to be disturbed by the unusual sounds from the "merry maid." his first thought was fire. with a cry to the other boys on the "sea gull" he rushed to the houseboat. but the appearance of the five young men, who had come to join in the search for the lost madge, merely added to the confusion. they tumbled over one another, and as they were half asleep, most of them did not know what or whom they were looking for. "come on, brewster," commanded tom curtis, "it is absurd to think that miss morton can be anywhere near and not have heard us. it may be she became restless and went for a little walk on the shore; let us look there." david and tom crept along the river bank, their eyes turned to the ground. they detected madge's footprints leading away from the launch and then returning to the houseboat. the revelation only added to the mystery. there was one thought in the minds of the seekers. could madge have walked in her sleep and fallen over into the water? the river was shallow along the bank, but she might have been borne by the current out into the stream. it did not seem a very probable idea. but then, no one had any possible explanation to offer for the little captain's vanishing into the night like this. no one had yet seen that the rowboat, too, was missing. it was an hour after the first alarm, and daylight was beginning to dawn, when phyllis alden heard a noise from miss betsey's stateroom. she went in, to find the old lady seated on her trunk wringing her hands. she had been awake so long that she was tired and querulous. her corkscrew curls were carefully arranged and she was fully dressed. her head was bobbing with indignation. "i am perfectly willing to confess that i am worried about that child," she announced to phyllis. "but i knew, as soon as i set my eyes upon her, that wherever madge morton went there was sure to be some kind of excitement. it may not be her fault, but----" miss betsey paused dramatically. "and your father, phyllis alden, was a great goose, and i an even greater one, to trust myself on this ridiculous houseboat excursion. a rest cure! good for my nerves to be among young people!" miss betsey fairly snorted. "i shall be a happy woman when i am safe in my own home again!" phyllis hurried into the galley and came back with a glass of milk for the exhausted old lady. "come, take a walk around the boat with me, miss betsey," she invited comfortingly. "we can't do anything more to find madge until the morning comes." phil was always a consolation to persons in trouble, she was so quiet and steadfast. she wrapped miss betsey in a light woolen shawl and together they walked up and down the little houseboat deck. phyllis kept her eyes fixed on the shore. madge had surely gone out for a walk and something had detained her. her loyal friend would not confess even to herself the uneasiness she really felt. miss betsey and phil stood for a quiet minute in the stern of the "merry maid," watching the morning break in a splendor of yellow and rose across the eastern sky. not far away miss jenny ann was talking to several of the boys, with her arms about eleanor and lillian. miss betsey taylor glanced down at the mirroring gold and rose of the water under her feet. "my gracious, sakes alive, it has gone!" she exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger toward the river. "what has gone, miss betsey?" inquired phil. "don't tell us that anything else besides madge has vanished." "but it has," miss betsey taylor insisted. "where is that little rowboat that you girls call the 'water witch,' that is always hitched to the stern of this houseboat? i saw it last night just before i went to bed. wherever that child has gone the boat has gone with her." everyone crowded around miss betsey and phyllis. tom and david returned from their search on the shore. "i am sure i don't know what it all means," declared miss jenny ann in distracted tones. "don't worry so, miss jenny ann," protested phil. "it only means that runaway madge went out for a row by herself on the river last night after we went to bed." and phil's voice was not so assured. "something must have happened to keep her from getting back home. we shall just have to look along the river until we find her." tom was already aboard his motor launch. it took only a few moments to get his engine ready for service. "come on, sears and robinson," he cried, "you can help me by being on the lookout for miss morton while i run the boat. i'll go from one end of the rappahannock to the other unless i find her sooner." "let me go with you, tom, please do," pleaded eleanor, looking very wan and white in the morning light. "it's too dreadful to wait here on the houseboat with nothing to do." tom nodded his consent. he was too busy to waste time in conversation. so harry sears helped lillian and eleanor to the cabin of the "sea gull." tom put on full speed, heading his launch up the river. he had been the captain of his own boat for several years. to-day he was unusually excited. the speed limit of his boat was eight knots an hour. tom tested his motor engine to the extent of its power as he dashed up the river, the water churning and foaming under him. eleanor, lillian, harry and george looked vainly up and down the shore for a sign of madge. tom was going so fast they could see nothing. "do, please, go a little slower, tom," begged eleanor. "we shall never find madge at the rate you are traveling." it was morning on the river. the river craft were moving up and down. steamboats carrying freight and heavy barges loaded with coal made it necessary for tom to steer carefully. the "sea gull" slowed down. every now and then tom would put in alongside another boat to inquire if a girl in a rowboat had been seen. no one gave any news of madge. after gliding up the rappahannock for ten miles, and finding no trace of the lost girl, tom decided she must have rowed down stream instead of up. so the "sea gull" turned and went down the river. the launch's engine was not in the best of humors. it may not have liked being roused so early in the morning, and david brewster was not by to tend it under tom's careful directions. every now and then the gasoline engine would emit a strange, whirring noise. harry sears, who was watching the engine, heard it lose a beat in its regular rhythmical throb. "see here, tom," he called suddenly, "something is wrong with this machinery. i can't tell what it is." harry had spoken just in time. the motor launch stopped stock still in the middle of the river. tom flew to his beloved engine. "don't worry," he urged cheerfully, "i'll have her started again in a few seconds." tom kept doing mysterious things to the disgruntled engine. the two boys and lillian watched him in fascinated silence. eleanor was not interested. they were only a few miles from the houseboat, and she wondered if madge could possibly have returned home. eleanor stepped out of the little cabin of the launch toward the fore part of the boat. drifting down toward them, directly ahead and in their straight course, was a line of great coal barges, three or four of them joined together, with a colored man seated on a pile of coal, idly smoking and paying little heed to where his barges were going. it was the place of the smaller boats to get out of his way. the barges could only float with the current. but the "sea gull" was stock still and there was no way to move her. "tom!" eleanor cried quietly, although her face was as white as her white gown, "if we don't get out of the way those coal barges will sink us in a few minutes. you will have to hurry to save the 'sea gull'." tom sprang up from his work at the engine. eleanor was right. yet his motor engine was hopelessly crippled. he could not make it move. "get to work with the paddle, robinson, and paddle for the shore for dear life," he commanded, seizing the other oar himself. tom was a magnificently built fellow, with broad shoulders and muscles as hard as iron. he never worked harder in his life than he did for the next few minutes. the girls and harry sears watched tom and george robinson in anxious silence. the coal barges were creeping so near that the "sea gull" was in the shadow they cast. the two boys had to turn the launch half way around with their paddles before her nose pointed to the land. the man on the coal barge was shouting hoarse commands when the side of the first barge passed within six inches of the stern of tom's launch. tom wiped the perspiration from his face. "i think i had better take the girls to land," he decided. "then we can find out what is best to be done." "your automobile boat's busted, ain't it?" inquired a friendly voice as the entire party, except tom, piled out of the launch to the land. a colored boy of about eighteen was standing on the river bank grinning at them. he held a piece of juicy watermelon in his hand. eleanor and lillian eyed it hungrily. they suddenly remembered that they had had no breakfast. "the young ladies had better come up to my ole missus's place?" the boy invited hospitably. "they look kind of petered out. i spect it will take some time to fix up your boat." the entire company of young people looked up beyond the sloping river bank to the farm country back of it. there, on the crest of a small hill, was a beautiful old virginia homestead, painted white, with green shutters and a broad, comfortable porch in front of it. it looked like home to eleanor. "yes; suppose we go up there to rest, lillian," pleaded eleanor. "if tom can't get his engine mended, we can row back to the houseboat in a little while." david brewster and phyllis alden had not waited quietly on the "merry maid" while tom and his launch party went out in search of madge. five minutes after the "sea gull" moved away david left the houseboat and went on shore. "where are you going, david?" called phyllis after him. "i am going to look for miss morton along the river bank," he answered in a surly fashion. "anybody ought to know that if an accident happened to her rowboat, the boat would have drifted in to the land." "i am going along with david brewster, miss jenny ann," announced phil. "it's mean to leave you and miss betsey alone, but i simply can't stay behind." david's face grew dark and sullen. "i won't have a girl poking along with me," he muttered. "you will have me," returned phyllis cheerfully. "i won't be in your way. i can keep up with you." at first david did not pay the least attention to phyllis, who kept steadily at his heels. phyllis could not but wonder what was the matter with this fellow, who was so strange and taciturn until something stirred him to action. only once, when phil stumbled along a steep incline, david looked back. "you had better go home, miss alden," he remarked more gently. "i'll find miss morton and bring her to you." and phil, as madge had been at another time, was comforted by the boy's assurance. "i am not tired," she answered, just as gently, "i would rather go on." at one o'clock david made phyllis sit down. he disappeared for a few minutes, but came back with his hands full of peaches and grapes. he had some milk in a rusty tin cup that he always carried. "did some one give this to you?" asked phil gratefully. david shook his head. "stole it," he answered briefly. phil, who could see that david was torn with impatience for them to resume their march, ate the fruit and drank the milk without protest. it was about four o'clock in the afternoon, when david spied the "water witch," drawn up on the river bank out of the reach of the water. some unknown force must have led him to madge's hiding place in the woods. afterward he made no explanation either to phyllis or madge of his unexpected acquaintance with the man who had kept madge a prisoner, and neither girl asked him any questions. david managed to get the "water witch" out into the river with the single oar, and a party of young people in another skiff, seeing their plight, brought them safely home to the houseboat. chapter ix leaving the houseboat to take care of itself "i should dearly love it," declared eleanor. "i think it would be a great lark," agreed lillian. "are you sure you would like it, miss betsey?" asked phyllis and miss jenny ann in the same breath. "i certainly should," miss betsey asserted positively. madge was unusually silent. she had been in such deep disgrace since her escapade, both with miss taylor and miss jenny ann, that she felt she had no right to express her opinion in regard to any possible plan. but her eyes were dancing under her long lashes, which she kept discreetly down. miss taylor had just suggested that, in view of the fact that tom curtis was obliged to take his motor launch to the nearest large town to have it repaired, and their excursion up the river must cease for a time, the houseboat party desert the river bank and spend ten days or more farther inland. george robinson had offered to go back with tom. david brewster expected to do as he was ordered, but harry sears and jack bolling positively refused to give up their holiday. and there was no room for them on the houseboat. eleanor and lillian had come back from the old farmhouse, where they had spent the day before, filled with enthusiasm. mr. and mrs. preston were the most delightful people they had ever met. their house was filled with the loveliest old mahogany and silver, and they had no visitors and no family. eleanor was sure that, if she begged her prettiest, mrs. preston could be persuaded to take them all in her home until tom came back with his motor launch. "you see, jenny ann," entreated eleanor, with her hands clasped together, "every year mr. preston has the most wonderful entertainment. he told us all about it. in august he gives what he calls 'the feast of the corn.' all the country people for miles around come to it. he asked me to bring every member of our party over for it at the end of the week. it's just like hiawatha's feast. do let's ask them to take us in, if only for a little while." miss betsey taylor's new england imagination was fired. the house that eleanor described was just such a virginia home as she had dreamed of in her earlier days. she must see it. also, lillian had related the story of a wonderful sulphur well not many miles from the preston estate. miss betsey was sure that sulphur water would be good for her nerves. two days later the entire party stood out on the deck of the "merry maid" to see tom and george robinson start off with their broken-down motor launch before the rest of the party moved over to wait for them at the preston farm. "i am so sorry, tom," apologized madge, with her eyes full of remorse. "it is really my fault that you will have to miss this part of our holiday. i wish i could go back with the boat instead of you. can't you send david and stay here with us?" tom shook his head. he was ashamed of his previous grumbling. "of course not. it wasn't your fault. the engine would have broken down just the same if i hadn't been searching the river for you. but i must see to its being mended myself, and robinson is a brick to go along with me. i shall have no use for brewster. perhaps, after all, we may be able to get back in time for the indian feast. good-bye, madge." a few minutes after the launch was seen moving back down the river, being ignominiously towed by an old horse, the same gay craft that had proudly advanced up the stream only a few days before with the "merry maid" in her wake. the houseboat party waved tom and george a sad farewell, and then promptly forgot almost all about them in the excitement of moving their clothes and a few other possessions up to the farm, eleanor having persuaded the prestons to take them for a few days as boarders. mrs. preston drove down in her own phaeton to take miss betsey and miss jenny ann home with her. a farm hand came with a wagon for the trunks. but the young people decided to walk. the preston house was only two miles away from the houseboat landing. sam, the colored boy, who had been lillian's and eleanor's original guide to the farm, had been engaged to show them the way. the houseboat party formed a gay procession. none of the four girls wore hats. lillian and eleanor, who took some care of their complexions, carried pink and blue parasols to match their linen gowns, but madge and phil bared their heads to the sun, as did harry sears, jack bolling and david. sam lugged a lunch basket, which mrs. preston had sent down to the party; and david, who kept in the rear, carried a dress suit case that had accidentally been left behind. most of the road ran past meadows and orchards, with few houses in sight. the ripening fruits made the air heavy with their summer sweetness. david was shy and silent, as usual, but the others were in gay humor. beyond a broken-down rail fence phil espied a tree laden with luscious peaches. farther on, past the orchard, she could just catch the outline of a house. "let's get some fruit, jack?" phil suggested to bolling, who was walking with her. they both climbed over the fence. "wait a minute, everybody," phil called. "wouldn't you like to go up to the old house back there to ask for some water. i am nearly dead, i am so thirsty." "don't go in that thar place," sam entreated, turning around suddenly, his brown face ashen, "and don't eat them peaches. the house is a ha'nt and them peaches is hoodooed." eleanor and madge burst into peals of laughter. the other young people, who were not southerners, smiled and stared. "what is a hoodoo, sam?" harry sears, whose home was in boston, inquired teasingly. sam scratched his head. "i can't splain it," he announced. "but you'll know a hoodoo all right if it gets hold of you. that young lady and man'll sure have bad luck if they eat them peaches. nobody'll touch 'em around here." "a hoodoo is a kind of wicked charm, like the evil eye, harry," madge explained, her eyes twinkling. "all we southerners believe in it, don't we, sam? go and warn miss alden and mr. bolling, david. they must not bring bad luck on themselves without knowing it." madge had not meant to order david brewster to do what she wished; she merely requested him to take her message, as she would any one of the other boys. david looked stolidly ahead and made madge no answer. he was in a black humor. he had reasons of his own for not wishing to stay near the place where he had discovered madge. he had hoped that tom would take him down the river in the motor launch, but tom had believed that he was doing david a favor by allowing him to remain with the others to enjoy the holiday on the farm. "don't you hear miss morton, brewster?" shouted harry sears angrily. "she told you to tell miss alden something." harry sears was always particularly disagreeable with david. to-day his anger seemed justified. a wave of crimson swept over david's brown face. he looked as though he would have liked to leap on harry sears and throw him into the dust. only the presence of the girls and madge's quick action deterred him. "never mind anybody telling phil and jack," she added quietly. "it's too late to save them now. besides, i want a peep at sam's 'ha'nted house' and a drink of water from the ghost's well. so follow me, good people, if you are not afraid." phyllis and jack bolling led the way to the haunted house, as the place had been their discovery. the old house had been a beautiful one in its day. it was built of shingles that had mellowed to the beautiful shade of gray that only time can give. the front door hung loosely on its hinges. spider-webs obscured the windows, with their narrow diamond panes of broken glass. rank weeds grew everywhere and poison ivy hung in long branches from the ancient trees. to the left, where the old garden had once been, there was a glory of scarlet poppies and cornflowers growing amid the weeds. their triumphant beauty had repeated itself year after year here in this neglected spot with no one to marvel at it. madge, eleanor and lillian gathered great bunches of the red and blue flowers. phyllis and jack discovered the well, with its crystal cold water. harry sears prowled about near the old house, with sam at his heels. the boy was frightened, but too faithful to desert his party. david kept at some distance from the others. "don't you think this a good place to eat the luncheon mrs. preston has given us?" harry called out, poised on the broken steps that led up to the tumbled-down front porch. "the well is here to supply us with water and i'm jolly hungry." the houseboat travelers formed a circle on the grass just in front of the old house. sam spread out the luncheon. it was a warm day, the clouds hung low in the sky and the garden was humming with honey-full bees. there was nothing mysterious about the place that sam described as "ha'nted," except that it was entirely deserted. harry sears reached out for a sandwich. "tell us why this old house is supposed to be inhabited by ghosts, sam," he ordered. chapter x a ghost story "it all happened such a long time ago i can't zactly call to mind the whole story," confessed sam. "but they was two brothers that owned this here old place. they was in the war and fought side by side. then they lived here together, peaceful, for a long time. one of them was married and the other wasn't, but it didn't seem to make no difference. all of a sudden they fell out, and after a while one of the brothers died, mysterious like. the live man went away from here and he hasn't been heard of since. but they do say," sam shivered and looked fearfully at the dilapidated mansion, "that the murdered man still walks around this here place at night. people even claim to see him in the daytime. sometimes he is by himself, and then again he brings a lady-ghost with him, but there ain't nobody ever lived in this here house since them two brothers fell out," sam concluded, mightily pleased with the gruesome impression that his tale had made on his hearers. "i should think not," agreed lillian seldon hastily. "i don't like ghost stories." "i am sorry, lillian, because i know a perfectly stunning one that is as true as history," declared harry sears. "if we had time, and lillian didn't mind, i was going to tell it to you while we rested." madge put her arm around lillian. "do tell it, harry," she begged. "i'll protect lillian from the 'ghosties.'" the other young people clamored for the ghost story. harry looked serious. "my story isn't a joke," he announced. "it hasn't a beginning or much of an end, like ordinary ghost stories, but it is true. the people to whom the ghost appeared are great friends of my mother and father. somehow this deserted place here makes me think of the one down on cape cod. that house was also uninhabited for years and years, and no one knew exactly why, except that there were rumors that the place was haunted. one day a mr. peabody, of boston, an old friend of ours, went down to cape cod to look for a home for the summer. the ghost house was what he wanted, so he rented it and left orders for it to be fixed up. he didn't know about the ghosts, though, and he wondered why the real estate agent let him have the place so cheaply. mr. peabody was a bachelor, so he asked two friends, captain smith and his wife, to occupy the house with him for the summer." "oh, trot out your ghosts, harry. we are getting impatient," interposed jack bolling. "the first day that mrs. smith was alone in the house," continued harry, "she was in the sitting room with the door open when a fragile old lady passed right through the hall. she disappeared into space. that very same night, just at midnight, when mr. peabody, captain smith and his wife were in the library, they heard the fall of a heavy body upstairs on the second floor. captain smith and mr. peabody rushed up the steps just in time to see an old man, leading a young girl by the hand, enter a room where the door was locked. when they got the door unfastened there was no one in the room." "harry, don't go on with that horrible tale," entreated lillian, looking timidly up at the dusty windows of the old house, under whose shadow they had taken refuge. the sun was no longer shining brightly, but the shade was grateful to the little circle of listeners on the grass. "don't be such a goose, lillian," protested phil. "what have harry's massachusetts ghosts to do with us way down here in 'ole virginny'?" lillian gave a shriek. the entire company sprang to their feet, scattering sandwiches, cakes and pickles on the grass. inside the empty house there had been a distinct noise. something had fallen heavily to the floor. at the same instant david, who had been apart from the others, appeared around the corner of the house. "whew, i am glad it was you who made that racket, brewster!" declared jack bolling, grinning rather foolishly. the young people looked at one another with relieved expressions. "i'm so grateful it isn't night time," sighed eleanor. "i didn't make any noise," declared david, seeming rather confused. no one paid any attention to his reply. they were again clustered about harry sears, begging him to go on with his ghost story. "things went from bad to worse in the house i was telling you about," continued harry. "every night, at the same hour, the same noise was heard and the old man and the girl reappeared. why, once mr. peabody was sitting in his garden, just as we are doing here"--harry glanced across the old garden. was it a branch that stirred behind the tangle of evergreen bushes? the day was very still--"and he saw the same old man walk by him and enter his house through a closed side door. after awhile mrs. smith became ill from the strain and she sent for a physician who had been living in the neighborhood a long time. the doctor did not wish to come to see mrs. smith just at first. when he did he related his own experience in the same house years before. he had just moved into the neighborhood, as a young physician, when one night, at about midnight, he was aroused by some one ringing his bell. an old man asked the doctor to come with him at once, as a young girl, his grand-daughter, was dangerously ill. dr. block went with the old gentleman. he found the young girl, dying with consumption, in a room on the second floor of a house. an old lady was with her, but the doctor saw no one else. he wrote a prescription, put it on the mantel-piece and said he would come back in the morning." harry stopped talking. a distant roll of thunder interrupted him. "do hurry, harry; we must be off!" exclaimed jack bolling. "the next morning the doctor went back to the same house. it was closed and boarded up, and the caretaker told the physician that no one had lived in the house for many years. the doctor was indignant, so the caretaker opened the door and let dr. block into the house, so he could see for himself that it was empty. the hall was covered with dust, but a single pair of footprints could be seen going from the hall door to the bedroom on the second floor. the old man had left no tracks. the physician entered the room, which was empty. there was no old man, no old woman, no sick girl, not even a bed, but"--harry made a dramatic pause--"the doctor walked over to the mantel-piece and there lay the prescription that he had written the night before!" "oh, my! oh, my!" exclaimed lillian. she was on her feet, pointing with trembling fingers toward a window of the old house which was back of the rest of the party. "i am sure i saw a face at that window," she cried. "no one will believe me, but i did, i did! it was a girl's face, too, very white and thin. please take me away from here." madge slipped her arms about the frightened lillian. for an instant she almost believed that she, too, had seen the specter that must have been born of lillian's overwrought imagination as a result of the ghost stories she had just heard. madge and lillian led the way down the tangled path from the haunted house. they were some distance from the others when the little captain discovered that david was following them. she had not looked at him, not spoken to him since he had so rudely refused her simple request. now she walked on, with her head in the air. lillian did not like david, but now she was almost sorry for the boy: she knew the weight of madge's displeasure. "david brewster wants to speak to you, madge, dear," she whispered in her friend's ear. madge made no answer, nor glanced behind her. "miss morton!"--david's face was very white; he was bitterly ashamed--"i am sorry, beastly sorry, i was so rude to you this morning. i was angry, not with you, but about something else. i don't seem to know how to control my temper. perhaps it is because i am not a gentleman. i would do anything i knew how to serve you." david was not looking at madge, but on the ground in front of him. madge's expression cleared as though by magic. "never mind, david," she said impulsively. "let's not think anything more about it. i lose my temper quite as often as any one else. and don't say it is because you are not a gentleman; you _are_ a gentleman, if you wish to be." the other young people came hurrying on. the clouds were now heavy overhead and the thunder seemed ominously near. the lightning began to streak in forked flames across the summer sky. "i think everybody had better run for the farm," suggested phyllis. "sam says it is only a short distance away." no one cared to linger any longer in the deserted grounds. the story of the tragic old house, oddly mixed as it was with harry sears's ghostly tale and lillian's fancied apparition of a girl's white face at the window, did not leave a pleasant recollection of the morning spent near sam's "ha'nted house." chapter xi the feast of mondamin "minnehaha, laughing water, otherwise known as madge morton, you are the loveliest person i ever saw," announced phyllis alden, while eleanor and lillian gazed at madge in her indian costume with equally admiring eyes. "see, here is the description of minnehaha. doesn't it sound like madge?" phil went on, reading from a volume of longfellow: "'wayward as the minnehaha, with her moods of shade and sunshine, eyes that smiled and frowned alternate, feet as rapid as the river, tresses flowing like the water, and as musical a laughter.'" phyllis paused and madge swept her a low curtsey. "thank you, phil," she said, her blue eyes suddenly misty at her chum's compliment. it was the day of the great corn feast on the preston estate, and madge had been selected to appear in the costume of minnehaha and to read to the guests certain parts of hiawatha that referred to the indian legend of the corn. all the young people were to appear in the guise of indians. phyllis, with her olive skin, black eyes and hair, made a striking pocahontas. phil looked more like an indian maiden than madge, but madge had more dramatic skill. lillian, with her hair as yellow as the corn, was the paleface princess stolen by the indians in her babyhood. eleanor wore an indian costume, also, but she represented no especial character. much against his will david brewster impersonated hiawatha. he hated it. he did not wish to come to the entertainment at all, much less in the conspicuous position of the hero of the evening. but mr. preston had taken a deep fancy to david. he seemed not to mind the boy's queer, moody ways, and he had a great respect for his practical judgment. mr. preston had asked david to remain in his service when the houseboat party disbanded, but david, for reasons that he would not tell, had refused. the boy did not think he could decline to impersonate hiawatha when mr. preston considered that he had paid him a compliment in asking him. in spite of his embarrassment david brewster was a good representation of a young indian brave, with his swarthy skin, his dark eyes that flashed fire when his anger was aroused, and his vigorous, muscular body, made lean and hard by his work in the open fields. in the middle of the preston estate, between the orchards and the cornfields, a huge platform had been erected with a small stage at one end. the place was decorated with sheaves of wheat, oats and barley, with great stacks of green and yellowing corn standing in the four corners. the platform was filled with chairs and hung with lanterns, some of them made from hollowed-out gourds and pumpkins, to carry out the harvest idea. after the reading of hiawatha the platform was to be cleared and the young people were to have a dance. the invitations to the feast read for six o'clock. at seven a dozen open wood fires were roasting the green ears of corn for more than a hundred guests. the long tables under the trees in the yard were laden with every kind of delicious food. but madge wished the feast was over and her poem read. her knees were knocking together when she rose to read before so many people. the august moon was in the full. it was a golden night. in a semi-circle behind her crowded her friends from the houseboat party. they formed an indian tableau in the background, and david stood near her at the front of the stage. "and in rapture hiawatha cried aloud, 'it is mondamin!'" read madge, with a shy glance at the young hiawatha standing beside her. at this moment there crept up on the platform an old woman, so old that the audience stared at one another in amazement. they believed that the strange visitor was a part of the performance. david and madge knew better. david's face turned white as chalk, but madge's voice never faltered as she went on with the reading: "'yes, the friend of man, mondamin! then he called to old nokomis'." the old woman's presence was explained to at least those of the audience who were familiar with the story of hiawatha. the ancient gypsy woman who had appeared on the stage among the young people so unexpectedly was "old nokomis," hiawatha's grandmother, one of the principal characters in longfellow's poem. the moment that madge finished her recitation david brewster disappeared. but the old gypsy went about among the prestons' guests, keeping their attention engaged by telling their fortunes. the gypsy woman was not the only mysterious visitor at the famous corn feast. madge and lillian were dancing with two young country boys when two indian braves unexpectedly appeared in the midst of the guests. they had on extremely handsome indian costumes and their faces were completely covered with indian masks. they spoke in strange, guttural voices, so that no one could guess who they were. madge and lillian tried in vain to escape them. wherever the girls went the indian chiefs followed them. as the evening progressed madge grew very tired. the apparition of the old woman, whom she had seen before on the day when she was held a prisoner in the woods, had made her nervous. she longed to ask phil if she also recalled the face of the old woman. "miss jenny ann," madge kept a tight hold on phil's hand, "phyllis and i are a little tired. we are going away by ourselves to rest. you and miss betsey won't be frightened about us?" madge gave her chaperon a repentant hug and miss jenny ann smiled at her. the little captain had promised never to wander off again without saying where she was going. the fires where the corn had been roasted were still burning dimly. the girls made a circuit of the fires and went over into another nearby field, where a haystack formed a good hiding place. there they dropped down on the ground and madge, who was more easily tired than phil, laid her head in her chum's lap. no matter how much phyllis and madge enjoyed parties and people, they were never happier than when they could stroll off to have a quiet talk with each other. the two girls were splendid associates. phil had the calm sweetness, poise and good sense that impetuous madge often lacked, while madge had the fire and ardor that phyllis needed to give her enthusiasm. "i wish tom and george robinson were here at the farm to-night, phil!" exclaimed madge, after a short pause, giving a little sigh. phyllis looked at her chum closely. the moonlight shone full in madge's wistful blue eyes. phil patted her hand by way of sympathy. "you see, phil, it is like this," went on madge. "i feel sorry about tom, because i was really responsible for making him break his engine and spoiling a part of his holiday. if i had not run away by myself in the moonlight, tom might have been here with us. it seems to me that i am having a perfectly lovely time, while poor tom is being punished for my fault. it isn't fair." "sh-sh!" phyllis put her fingers gently over her friend's lips. some one was stealing quietly past them on the other side of the haystack. he disappeared in the darkness, a little way off, and the girls supposed that he was one of the prestons' guests escaping from the crowd. a few minutes later phil exclaimed: "madge, is that one of the fires from the corn roast over there? i did not think that there was any corn roasted so near to mr. preston's barn." madge glanced idly across the field. the girls were at one side of the group of buildings where mr. preston kept his live stock. she saw a tiny jet of flame, apparently running along near the ground. both watchers stared at it silently. a larger flame crawled up the outside wall of the barn, then smoke began to pour out through the cracks. the two girls sprang to their feet. "one of the barns has caught fire!" cried phil. "i'll find mr. preston. you give the alarm to the men about the place." phil ran toward the festival grounds. as madge turned she heard a slight sound behind her. some one was coming toward her, moving cautiously over the grass. she slipped to one side of the haystack so that she could see who it was. "why, david brewster!" she cried, "what are you doing way off here? quick! hurry! phil and i think mr. preston's barn is afire!" david set his teeth in rage as he sped across the field with madge close at his heels. he had taken off his indian costume, but his face was still stained and painted in indian fashion, so that it gave him a wild, unnatural appearance. instead of stopping at the barn david, without a word of explanation, ran on to the preston house. madge found a crowd of men already gathered about the burning barn. mr. preston had formed a bucket brigade and a dozen men were passing buckets from the well to the fire. half a dozen of the more valorous men, three of them farm-hands, were fighting their way into the barn, leading, driving, or coaxing out the terrified horses and cattle. mr. preston stood at the barn door, giving commands to the workers. by this time the hay in the loft had caught and the whole barn was a seething mass of fire. mrs. preston stood near the scene, with madge and phil on either side of her. david brewster suddenly joined them. no one noticed his peculiar expression. "let the barn go, men!" shouted mr. preston. "quick, out of it! it will fall in a minute. we have saved the other buildings, and we must let this go." "oh, my poor fanny!" wailed mrs. preston, as though she were talking of a human being. fanny was a beloved old horse that had belonged to mrs. preston for twelve years. she had driven her in her phaeton nearly every day in all this time and loved the old horse almost as a member of the family. madge felt sure that mr. preston could not know that fanny was still in the burning barn. the little captain broke away from her friends and made a rush toward the smoke and flames. mr. preston was within a few feet of the partially consumed building. from the inside of the barn came a groan of anguish and terror that was human in its appeal. mr. preston covered his face with his hands. "don't try it, men," he commanded authoritatively; "the old mare can't be saved. it is useless to try to go into the barn now." madge could no longer endure the piteous sounds. she made a headlong plunge toward the barn door. she could not see her way inside, but the noise that the horse was making would guide her, she thought. just at the threshold of the barn she felt herself shoved aside and hurled several feet out of harm's way. she fell backward on the ground and lay still. it was david who had flung her from the reach of the fire's scorching heat and plunged into the barn in her stead. the crowd watched the brave young man in horrified silence. seconds that seemed ages passed. the front of the barn collapsed. madge felt mr. preston seize her and drag her away with him, but not before she and all the watchers had caught sight of david. he stood in the far corner of the barn with his coat thrown over the terrified horse's head. his face was almost unrecognizable through the smoke, but the ringing tones of his voice urging the old horse forward could be heard above the crackling wood. "hurrah!" shouted mr. preston hoarsely. he almost trampled over madge, who was sitting on the ground staring wildly at david. then she saw mr. preston and a half dozen other men pick david up on their shoulders and bear him away from the crowd, while two of the farm-hands took charge of old fanny. david's burns, though not serious, were painful. his hands and arms were severely blistered. but the excitement occasioned by the fire had hardly passed when it was discovered that during the fire some one had entered the preston house and had stolen a quantity of old family silver. miss betsey taylor's money bag, which she had carefully concealed under the day pillow on her four-post mahogany bed, had also disappeared. there would probably never be any way to discover how or when the thief entered the house. there had been more than a hundred visitors about the place, and the house had been open for hours. during the fire every one of the servants had rushed into the yard. there was also another disturbing fact to be considered. either before or after the fire the old gypsy woman, who had unexpectedly appeared to take the character part of old nokomis in the hiawatha recitation, had completely vanished; also, the two men disguised as indian braves had gone. the prestons and their guests discussed all these pertinent features of the affair until long after midnight. miss betsey wept and mourned over the loss of her money bag, and dolefully repeated that she wished she had never, never heard of a houseboat. the four girls and miss jenny ann became thoroughly disgusted with the disgruntled spinster's selfish bewailing of her own loss, when the prestons, who had met with a much heavier loss, were heroically making light of their misfortune. madge also had a private grievance, one that was quite her own. david had behaved roughly, almost brutally, toward her when she had tried to dash into the burning barn. she decided that she did not in the least like david, and that she was not at all grateful to him for literally hurling her out of harm's way. as for david himself, he had slipped away from the men who had borne him in triumph on their shoulders and, in spite of the pain of his burns, was striding across the fields in the direction of the woods with angry eyes and sternly set mouth. chapter xii a boy's temptation in the days that followed david kept more than ever to himself. he occupied a small room alone, and for hours at a time he would stay inside it, with his door locked against intruders. few sounds ever came forth to show what the lad was doing. his hands and arms were bandaged almost to the elbows, but he had use of his fingers and his face was uninjured. madge had forced herself to thank david, both for his rescue of her and of the old horse, which she had intended to save. but david had not had the courtesy to apologize to her for having thrown her aside so roughly. he wished to, but the poor fellow did not know what to say to her, nor how to say it. the girls had all offered to read to david, or to entertain him in any way he desired, while he was suffering from his burns. but the boy had refused their offers so flatly that no one of them felt any wish to be agreeable to him again. the young people spent a great part of their holiday on the preston farm in riding horseback by daylight and by moonlight, and in exploring the old salt and sulphur springs and mines in the neighborhood. word had come from tom curtis and george robinson that the accident to the engine of the motor launch had been more serious than they had at first supposed. the boys would be compelled to remain away some time longer. mrs. curtis wished to see tom on business, so he had gone on to new york for a few days. since the corn roast, the burning of his barn and the burglarizing of his house mr. preston had been quietly endeavoring to discover the evil-doers. he had notified the county sheriff and the latter had set his men to work on the case, but so far there were no clues. mr. preston believed that the same person who had set fire to the barn had committed the robbery. the barn, must have been burned in order to keep the attention of the family and guests centered on the outside disaster while the thief was exploring the house. madge did not like to mention to mr. preston that david brewster might be able to give him some information about the burglary; for madge remembered having seen david run toward the house at about the time the fire was started. he did not come back for some minutes afterward. yet, as david did not speak of his presence in the house to mr. preston or to any one else, she did not feel that it was her place to speak of it. david might have some reason for his silence which he would explain later on. miss betsey taylor was now more than ever convinced that the same thief who had robbed her of various small sums on the houseboat had but completed his work. how the robber had pursued her to mr. preston's home she did not explain. but she certainly cast aside with scorn madge's suggestion that no one had stolen from her while she was aboard the "merry maid." she had only miscounted her money, as many a woman has done before, madge had contended. miss betsey had been fearful that the little captain might be right before the final disappearance of her money bag. but now she regretted, far more than her money, the loss of the few family jewels that she had inherited from her thrifty new england grandmothers. david brewster stood at his little back window, watching madge, phyllis, lillian, eleanor, harry sears and jack bolling mount their horses for a long afternoon's ride over to some old sulphur springs a few miles from the preston estate. the party was to eat supper at the springs and to ride home before bed time. mrs. preston, miss jenny ann and miss betsey taylor were already driving out of the yard in mrs. preston's old phaeton. they were to be the advance guard of the riding party, as no one except their hostess knew the route they should take. mrs. preston had invited david to drive with her, as he was not able to use his injured hands sufficiently to guide a riding horse, but david had refused. the party were to be away for some time. mr. preston would be out on the farm, looking after his harvesting. david brewster had other plans for the afternoon. once the others were fairly out of the yard the boy found an old slouch hat in his shabby suit case. he pulled it well down over his face. then he got into an old coat that he had been ashamed to wear before the new friends, but it served his present purpose. inside his coat pocket david thrust a small, flat object that, in some form, always accompanied him whenever there was a possible chance of his being alone for any length of time. then david left the farm. he said good-bye to no one. to one of the maids who saw him leaving he merely explained that he was going for a walk. he did not ask for food to take with him. his one idea was to be off as soon as possible. the boy was not entirely certain of the route that he must travel. he knew of but one way to go, and it stretched over many miles. it might mean delay and difficulty. david was not as strong as he had been before the shock and injury of the fire. still, the thing must be done. it was not the physical effort that worried david. the trip seemed interminable. the lad had to travel along the road that led back to the houseboat, and from there to follow the line of the river bank to a well-remembered spot. david swung along as rapidly as possible. his greatest desire was to make his journey and to return to the farm before the riding party got home. he might then have an explanation to make. what could he say if anybody demanded to know where he had been? his silence would create suspicion. but then, david had kept his own counsel before to-day. it was well into the afternoon before the boy reached his destination. slowly and cautiously, making as little noise as possible, he climbed a hill that rose before him. the crest of the hill was heavily wooded and a high pile of sticks and branches formed a clever hiding place. but there was no human being in sight, no old woman, no man, no sign of a fire except a few ashes that had been carefully scattered over the ground. when the youth reached the top he stood still and looked cautiously about him. he could hear the rush of the river below the hill and the rustle of the wind in the trees. he crouched low and put his ear to the ground, like an indian, then rose and, with a frown, went to the brush heap and crawled under it. presently he came out, holding in his hand a small red handkerchief which was knotted and tied together. david's face was very stern. it seemed that something which he had feared had come true; yet the lad turned and went down the hill again, whistling and kicking at the underbrush and shrubbery as he walked, as though he were trying to make as much noise as possible. ten minutes later david came back up the hill by another route as quietly as some creature of the woods in hiding from a foe. behind a tree the boy lay down flat. he took out of his pocket the small package that he had brought with him from the farm and, holding it before him, seemed to lose himself completely in earnest contemplation of it. after a while some one else drew near the same place, walking even more stealthily than had the boy. david did not stir nor turn his head. he was hidden by the trees. an old woman crept to the pile of underbrush. she crawled under it and stayed for some time. when she came out she had forgotten to be silent; she was mumbling and muttering to herself. "granny," david touched the gypsy woman on the shoulder. "is it you, boy?" she asked, riveting her small black eyes on him. "how came you to virginia? we thought that you were many hundreds of miles away. it's a pity!" she shook her head. "fate is too strong for us all," she muttered to herself. "i am sure i am as sorry as you are that i am here," david interrupted her passionately. "but perhaps you are right, and it is fate. i came to virginia because i had work to do here. where is _he_?" "i don't know. i ain't seen him but once since," answered the woman. david laughed rather drearily. "don't try to fool me. you've got to tell me the truth before i go away from here. you might as well do it first as last." the old woman looked furtively and anxiously at the heap of dead branches. "i _am_ telling you the truth," she asserted. "where is he, granny?" continued david. "i've got to find him." "you _ain't_ got to find him," protested the old woman. "you can't give him away, and it won't do no good. ain't you his----" she stopped short. "you can't make him change now; it is too late." "i don't want to talk; i've got to get back," returned david quietly. "if you don't tell me where he is, i'll give the alarm and have the country scoured for him." the old woman whispered something in david's ear. "i am not sure he is there, but i think that's the place. i know we can trust you, boy, for all your high and mighty ways." "you had better get away from here, granny," answered david. "you are too old for this sort of life, and some day you will get into trouble." the gypsy's hand moved patiently. "it's the only kind of life i have been used to for many, many years. i don't mind, so long as he keeps on getting off." david strode down the hill. it was just before sunset. he was beginning to doubt his being able to make his way back to the preston place before the picnic party came home. he could not walk so fast as he had come, for he was tired and disheartened. after a few miles' journey along the river bank he came to a bend where he could see, farther ahead, the "merry maid," the poor little houseboat, looking as deserted and lonely as david felt. her decks were cleared and her cabins locked until the return of the houseboat party. she was being taken care of by a colored boy who lived not far away. david felt a sudden rush of longing. the houseboat was filled with happy memories of the girls. he was tired out and exhausted. he must rest somewhere. the boy climbed aboard the houseboat. but he did not rest. he walked feverishly up and down the deck. an overwhelming impulse never to return to the preston farm swept over david. the love of wandering was in his blood. to-day he did not feel fit to associate with the girls and boys who made up the two boat parties. he ought never to have come with them. his lowly birth and lack of training were against him. david knew that trouble, and perhaps disgrace, might be in store for him if he went back to mr. preston's and faced what was probably going to happen. the poor boy wrestled with temptation. mr. and mrs. preston had been good to him. miss betsey meant to be kind, in spite of her fussiness, and she had evidently told his new acquaintances nothing to his discredit. tom curtis and madge morton trusted him. yet could he face the suspicion which he felt sure would fall upon him? the sun was going down and the river was a flaming pathway of gold when david turned his back on the houseboat and started for mr. preston's home. his steps grew heavier and heavier as he walked. he was stiff, sore and weary. the bandages were nearly off his hands and the flesh smarted and burned from the exposure to the air. david was also ravenously hungry. against his heart the things wrapped in the old red handkerchief cut like sharp tools. night and the stars came. david was still far from home. he decided that it might be best for him to struggle on no farther. it would be easier to explain in the morning that he had gone out for a walk and lost his way; than to face his friends to-night with any explanation of his trip. david remembered that the house that the colored boy, sam, had described as "ha'nted" lay midway between the houseboat and the farm. he could sleep out on its old porch. david filled his hat with sam's "hoodoo" peaches. he sat on the veranda steps as he ate them, thinking idly of sam's story of the old place and getting it oddly mixed with what he had heard of harry sears's ghost story. david was not superstitious. he did not believe that he could be afraid of ghosts. he had other live troubles to worry him, which seemed far worse. still, he hoped that if ghosts did walk at midnight about this forlorn old spot that they would choose any other night than this. it was a soft, warm summer evening with a waning moon. david rolled his coat up under his head for a pillow and lay down in one corner of the porch. he did not go to sleep at once; he was too tired and his bed was too hard. how long he slept he did not know. he was awakened by a sound so indescribably soft and vague that it might have been only a breath of wind stirring. but david felt his hands grow icy cold and his breath come in gasps. he was conscious of something uncanny near him. something warm touched him. he could have screamed with terror. but it was only a thin, black cat, the color of the night shadows. the boy sat up. he was wide awake. he was not dreaming. stealing up the path to the house was a wraith; tall, thin, emaciated, with hair absolutely white and thin, and skeleton-like hands; it was the semblance of an old man. he was not human; he made no noise, he did not seem to walk, he floated along. there was something dreadfully sad in the ghost's appearance. yet he was not alone. he led some one by the hand, a young girl, who was more ghost-like than he was. her hair was floating out from her tiny, gnome-like face. she was thinner and more pathetic than the old man. she had no expression in her face and she, too, made no sound. the awestruck boy did not stir. the midnight visitants to the empty house did not notice him. they came up to the porch. they mounted the steps and, without touching the fallen front door, passed silently into the deserted mansion. david did not know how long he waited, spellbound, after this apparition. but no sound came forth from the house; no one reappeared. the black cat rubbed against him the second time. even the cat must have been dumb, for she made no noise, did not even purr. david brewster was not a coward. if you had asked him in the broad daylight if he were afraid of ghosts he would have been too disgusted at the idea even to answer you. but to-night he could not reason, could not think. as soon as he could get his breath he ran with all his speed down through the yard of the "ha'nted house," over the fence and into the road, and then for the rest of the distance to the preston house. he forgot his fatigue, forgot that he might have to answer difficult questions once he got home. david wanted to be with real, live people after his night of fears. the boy found no lights in the preston house. the front door was closed and the back one barred for the night. evidently the excursionists had come back late and, believing him to be in bed, had not wished to disturb him. david prowled around the house. he hated to wake anybody up to let him in. he knew that miss betsey would be frightened into hysterics by the sudden ringing of a bell. the boy found a pantry window unlocked. opening it, he crawled into the house. he got up to his bedroom without anybody coming out to see who it was that had entered the house at such a mysterious hour. it was not until early the next morning that david learned that he need not have been so careful, as there was no one in the preston house except himself and some of the servants. chapter xiii eleanor gets into mischief mrs. preston, miss jenny ann and miss betsey, in the old phaeton, plodded on ahead of the young people to show them the route to the old sulphur springs. they passed by a number of beautiful virginia farms and old homesteads along the shady roads. miss betsey was deeply interested in the history of the neighborhood, and in the old families that had lived in this vicinity since the close of the civil war. mrs. preston liked nothing better than to relate that history to her new england guest. to tell the truth, miss betsey taylor was far more clever than any one might have supposed. she remembered very well that the friend of her youth, mr. john randolph, had come from somewhere near culpepper, virginia. nor was she by any means unwilling to know what had become of him after he had disappeared from her horizon. but miss taylor did not intend to ask her hostess any direct questions if she could be persuaded to relate the story of this john randolph in the natural course of her conversation. it may be that miss betsey had even been influenced in her desire to spend some time on the preston estate by this same thirst for information in regard to the friend who had certainly lived not far from this very neighborhood. "whose place is that over there?" inquired miss jenny ann unexpectedly, pointing to an old brick house overgrown with ivy. mrs. preston flicked her horse. "it belongs to the grinsteads. they are descendants of the randolphs, who used to live in these parts." miss betsey's eyelids never quivered. "the randolphs?" she inquired casually. "what randolphs?" "james and john were the heads of the family in my day, but they have both---dear me! are the young people following us? we must hurry along," returned mrs. preston absently. miss jenny ann looked out of the phaeton. she reported that she could see madge and phil, who were riding side by side, leading the horseback cavalcade. miss betsey's side curls bobbed impatiently, but she decided to ask no more questions of her hostess just at present. behind madge and phil, lillian and jack bolling were riding companions, and eleanor and harry sears brought up the rear. the four front riders kept close together, but every now and then harry and eleanor would lag behind until they were almost out of sight of the other riders. madge did not like harry sears. he was not always straightforward, and he was not kind to those who were less fortunate than himself. it may be that the little captain's dislike was due to the fact that harry was always particularly rude to david and never failed to try to make the boy feel his inferior position. she did not believe, as harry did, that because he was well off and well-born he had the privilege of being impolite to poorer and less aristocratic people. so madge could not imagine how eleanor could like harry sears. she did not know that harry showed only his best side to eleanor. "i do wish nellie would keep up with us, phil!" she exclaimed a little impatiently. "i am afraid she and harry may get lost if they keep on loitering; they don't know which roads to take." phil looked back anxiously over the road. at some distance down the lane harry and eleanor were riding slowly, deep in conversation. "i think i will ride back and ask nellie to hurry," proposed madge, turning her horse and cantering back to her cousin. "hurry along, eleanor," she said rather crossly. "it is ever so much nicer for us to keep together." eleanor laughed. "don't worry about me, madge. i am not going to fall off my horse and we can catch up with you at any time we wish. i don't wish to ride fast. harry and i are talking and i like to look at the scenery along the road." madge's face flushed. eleanor was generally easy to influence, but once she made up her mind to a thing she was quietly stubborn and unyielding. "all right, nellie," madge shrugged her shoulders eloquently, "but if you and harry are lost, don't expect us to come back to hunt for you. mrs. preston particularly asked us to keep her in sight, as the roads about here are confusing. i am sure i beg your pardon for intruding." madge touched her horse with the tip of her riding whip and cantered back to phil's side, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes snapping. hereafter eleanor could go her own way. madge had heard harry sears chuckle derisively as she turned away and it made her very angry. eleanor gazed after madge's horse a little regretfully; not that she intended doing what her cousin had asked of her, but she was sorry that madge had become so cross over nothing. [illustration: "hurry along, eleanor," called madge.] [blank page] "i tell you, miss eleanor," harry sears continued when madge was out of hearing, "i don't trust that fellow brewster. i know we are going to have trouble with him before this holiday is over. i want to warn you, because i know you don't like the fellow either. tom curtis won't hear a word against him. but i know brewster is up to some mischief when he goes off for hours and stays by himself. i have pretty well made up my mind to follow him some day to find out what he does." eleanor shook her gentle, brown head. "i don't think i would spy on him, harry," she protested. "i don't like david, because he is so rough and rude, but i don't think he is positively bad." "oh, it wouldn't be spying," argued harry. "if i think the fellow is going to get us in trouble, i believe it is my duty to keep a close watch on him." "he'll be awfully angry," sighed eleanor. harry made no answer, but merely smiled contemptuously. eleanor's horse was ambling down a road that was cut along the foot of a tall hill. on the other side there was a steep declivity that dropped nearly twenty feet to the ground. a low rail fence separated the embankment from the road, which was rough and narrow. all of a sudden eleanor's horse began to shy off to one side of the road. the more eleanor pulled on her left rein, the more her horse moved toward the right; and on the right side of the road was the precipice. one of her horse's forefeet went down beneath the level of the road. eleanor tried to rein in, but she felt herself sliding backward over the right side of her horse. "harry!" she cried desperately. harry sears turned in amazement. he was not in time. eleanor rolled off her horse. in falling she struck her back on the rail fence. but the fence saved her life. she tumbled forward toward the road, instead of rolling down the steep embankment. harry was off his horse in a moment. eleanor was huddled on the ground, her face white with pain. she had fallen off her horse, though the animal had not tried to run away. it had stumbled back into the road and stood waiting to know what had happened. "your saddle girth broke, eleanor," explained harry. "are you much hurt?" "no-o-o," replied eleanor bravely, with her lips trembling. "i believe i have bruised my shoulder, but it isn't very bad." harry had eleanor on her feet, but he could see that she was suffering intensely. he did not know what to do. the rest of the riding party was well out of sight. he did not like to leave eleanor alone while he galloped after them; yet he did not believe that she would be able to ride on. "can you fix my saddle girth, harry?" questioned eleanor. "we shall be left behind sure enough, and miss jenny ann will be angry with me." it took harry quite ten minutes to mend eleanor's saddle girth. she sat limply on the grass, hoping that the pain in her shoulder would pass. it did not, but she managed, with harry's help, to get back on her horse. harry started off at a brisk canter, a little uneasy. he and eleanor were entirely unfamiliar with the country through which they were traveling. there were roads that intersected each other every few miles. these were not marked with sign-posts and harry had no idea in what direction lay the old sulphur springs. but nellie was not following him. he reined up and rode back to her. "what's the matter now?" he asked impatiently. "i am so sorry, harry," apologized eleanor. "i think i can ride, but i can't go fast; it hurts my shoulder so dreadfully." eleanor's soft brown eyes were filled with tears, which she tried in vain to keep from falling. her pretty, light-brown hair, which she had braided and tied up with a black velvet ribbon, hung in a long plait down her back. slowly, keeping the horses in a walk, harry and eleanor continued their journey. harry hoped that some one would ride back to see what had delayed them. eleanor knew that no one would. madge would think that they had purposely tarried. she would say so to the others, and no one would seriously miss them until after the arrival at the picnic grounds. but eleanor and her companion conquered another mile of the way, when they came to what harry had feared, two roads that crossed their path like two sides of a triangle, each leading in a totally different direction. both riders reined up. harry found a spring and eleanor felt refreshed after drinking and bathing her face in the cold water. but which road should they take? they had both given up all hope of rejoining the rest of the party on their way to the springs; all the two now dreamed of was ultimately to arrive there. after careful consideration harry and eleanor chose the wrong road. the old sulphur springs had been a fashionable summer resort in virginia twenty-five years before. it still had its famous sulphur well and a dozen or more brick cottages in various stages of dilapidation. the big hotel had been burned down and no one had attempted to rebuild it. it had been miss betsey taylor's special desire to drink the waters of the famous sulphur well. she had heard of it as a cure for all the ills of the flesh. when the riding party dismounted from their horses madge and phil espied miss betsey peering down the old well. madge had visited sulphur wells before. "want a drink, miss betsey?" she inquired innocently, coming up to the old lady. she decided to revenge herself on miss betsey for the excellent daily advice that the maiden lady bestowed upon her. miss betsey looked pleased. "certainly. i intend to drink the sulphur water all day, and to have some of it put up in bottles to take back home with me. i can't say that i exactly like the odor." miss betsey's aquiline nose was slightly tilted. "here you are," interrupted madge, passing miss betsey a glass of the sulphur water. miss betsey took one swallow and gave a hurried gasp. "take it away, child," she urged faintly. "it is the most horrible thing i ever tasted in my life." the old maid's eyes almost twinkled. "i think, my dear, that i will cure my nerves in a pleasanter way," she decided. miss jenny ann hurried over to them. "what has become of nellie, madge?" she questioned immediately. the little captain shook her head. "she will be along soon. she and harry sears were loitering a little behind the rest of us." but eleanor and harry did not arrive. an hour passed, then miss jenny ann and the girls began to feel uneasy. it was growing late. the time had long since come for supper. finally jack bolling suggested that he ride back to see what had become of the wanderers. in the meantime the supper was spread out on the grass. no one ate much. the whole party kept gazing up the road. it was nearly dark when jack bolling returned--alone. he had galloped back over the way they had come for three miles without seeing a sign of either eleanor or harry. chapter xiv "confusion worse confounded" "i can't go any farther, harry," said eleanor despairingly. harry sears reached her just in time. eleanor fell forward on her horse's neck. she had fainted with the pain in her shoulder, which had increased with every step her horse had taken. harry laid eleanor on the ground under a tree. then he stood staring at her pallid face. he had not the faintest idea what he should do. he knew of no spring nearby where he could get water. girls were an awful nuisance, anyway; something was always happening to them. harry was sorry that he had ever ridden with eleanor. it was stupid of him to have let the rest of the party get so far ahead of them. still, poor nellie did not open her eyes. harry hitched both of the horses to a fence rail and then came back to gaze at eleanor until she came to herself. when eleanor opened her eyes it was to see harry's frown, partly of impatience and partly from worry. she tried to sit up, but the pain made her ill and she lay back on the ground. she realized that she must have sprained her shoulder when she fell from her horse. she had been wrong in believing it to be only bruised. "what shall we do, eleanor?" asked harry gloomily. "you can't ride any more and i can't leave you here by yourself. this road seems to be cut through a wilderness. we have not passed a house in miles!" "you can help me over into that woods, harry," she said faintly. "i'll lie down under the trees and wait--the sulphur springs can't be very far from here--then you ride on and find the others. madge will drive back in mrs. preston's phaeton for me," smiled eleanor, though her lips were almost colorless with pain. "please don't forget where you leave me, harry." harry sears's face cleared. eleanor's idea was the only possible one, and she was a brave girl to be willing to be left alone. "don't you fear," he comforted her, as he led her deeper into the thick grove of trees. "i'll tie my handkerchief to the tree nearest the road. besides, your horse will be hitched near here. when you hear us driving along the road, in about ten or fifteen minutes, just you sing out." eleanor was grateful when harry left her, and she could give way to her real feelings. she was on a bed of moss and harry had rolled up his coat for a pillow to put under her head. but the pain in her shoulder was excruciating. she could not get into any position where it seemed to hurt less. each time she moved a twinge caught her and she would have liked to scream aloud. but eleanor did not scream; she waited patiently, though now and then the tears would rise in her eyes of their own accord and trickle down her white cheeks. madge was such a long time in coming to find her. however, harry did not know his way to the sulphur well. it might take him some time to find it. how late it was getting! the sun was low in the west. after taking a last look at the spot where eleanor lay, at her horse hitched to a fence rail, at his own white handkerchief, which fluttered from a low branch of a tree near the road, harry rode furiously off. he would surely find their friends in a few moments. but harry continued to ride in exactly the wrong direction. every yard he covered took him farther away from the sulphur springs. while he was galloping on his wild-goose chase the party at the springs decided to return to the preston farm. they were too uneasy about harry and eleanor to have a good time, and they concluded that they would either overtake the lost couple on the way home or else find that the two young people had given up and returned to the farm. the three girls gave their horses free rein and cantered home with all speed. yet it was dark when they arrived. no word had been heard of eleanor or harry. it was a cloudy evening and the sun had disappeared quickly. without waiting, except to give the alarm to mr. preston, the entire riding party set out again. madge thought that she would have liked to ask david to help them, but there was no time to spare. the riders met mrs. preston, miss jenny ann and miss betsey, who had set out for home in the phaeton. the three older women also refused to go back to prestons, until eleanor and her companion were discovered. in the meantime harry sears had finally reached the decision that he was not on the right road to the sulphur well. at the end of a five-mile gallop he turned his horse and cantered back. he passed eleanor's horse, tugging impatiently at the reins that bound her; he saw his own white handkerchief tied on the tree; but he could not see or hear eleanor. he would have liked to stop to find out that all was well with her, but he dreaded to let eleanor know that he had spent all this time and was still without assistance. at the crossroads, where the young man had made his original mistake in the roads, he at last turned down the lane that led to the sulphur springs. but by this time his friends were well on their way home to the preston farm. eleanor's horse had grown weary of remaining standing. it was past her supper time and she wished her measure of oats. the horse tossed her head restlessly, walked forward a few steps and then backward, tugging and straining at her bridle. in his excitement and hurry to be off, harry had not tied the horse very securely. he had no other hitching rope than her bridle. the mare gave one final jerk and shake of her head and was free. quite innocent of the mischief her desertion would cause, she trotted back to her own stable at the prestons. at nine o'clock in the evening rain began to fall. the night was pitch dark, except for an occasional jagged flash of lightning. when madge, in advance of all the others, passed along only a few rods from the very spot where harry had left eleanor the latter must have heard nothing, for she made not the faintest outcry. it was almost midnight before eleanor's friends discovered that harry was not with her. not finding any of the party at the sulphur springs, sears had lost his head completely. instead of returning to poor eleanor he went on to the preston farm, hoping stupidly that nellie had in some way been rescued and that he would find her there. the journey back home was a long, weary one. his horse was completely fagged out and had gone lame in one foot. harry was terrified at the emptiness of the preston farm; only one or two servants were about; the others had gone with mr. preston to look for eleanor. there were no horses left on the place. so, on foot, harry set out again, only to have eleanor's riderless horse pass by him in the night. he hardly saw the animal in his excitement. he did not dream that it was the horse he had hitched to mark eleanor's resting place, but plodded on, tired and dispirited. harry finally ran across madge, phyllis and jack. he told them his story as best he could. foot by foot the young people retraced their way over the same road, looking for the fluttering signal of harry's white handkerchief and the waiting horse. the horse, of course, had run off, and at first it seemed impossible to find the handkerchief. madge was desperate. it was her fault that poor nellie was alone at midnight in the rain with her injured shoulder. if only madge had begged eleanor to ride on faster, she knew that eleanor would have consented. it was only because she had commanded it that her cousin had been so obstinate. the other members of the preston household were almost as miserable as madge. even miss betsey taylor could not be persuaded to return to her bed. she forgot all about her health and her nerves, and was intent only on finding eleanor, who was her favorite of the four girls. the rain was still pouring in heavy, unrelenting streams, and everyone was soaked to the skin. "my poor nellie!" cried madge. she and phil were leading their tired horses along the road. "i shall never forgive harry sears for leaving her by herself and chasing all over the country for help. what an idiot he is!" "sh-sh!" phil comforted her, although she herself was quietly crying. it was so dark that no one could see the girls' tears. "don't blame harry. he did what he thought was best at the time, although it seems silly to us now." it was harry, though, who at last found his rain-soaked handkerchief tied to the branch of a tree. he had held a dark lantern up by every bush or tree that he passed in the neighborhood where he believed he had left poor eleanor. "i've found the place, i've found the place!" he cried triumphantly. "just a minute, eleanor, and we will come to you!" he ran toward the spot where he remembered to have left eleanor. madge hurried after him, phyllis keeping tight hold of her hand. harry's cry had thrilled all the searchers. jack and lillian came next to hunt, with mr. preston close behind them. they stood together under the tree where eleanor had lain. the dark lanterns lit up their haggard faces. eleanor was not there! "you have made a mistake in the place, sears," declared jack. harry reached down and picked up his own coat. "no, this is my coat," he declared. madge dropped to the ground, shaking with sobs. she had found eleanor's little, soft felt riding hat. "children," urged mr. preston, "don't be so alarmed. it is very natural that, when we took so long to find the poor child, she got up and wandered off somewhere to get out of the rain. i will rouse the neighborhood and we men will search the woods and fields. we will inquire at all the farmhouses in the vicinity. why, we are sure to find eleanor. you girls must run along home and wait until morning. i can't have you all ill on my hands with pneumonia." miss jenny ann, mrs. preston and miss betsey were crawling out of the phaeton when mr. preston led three of the girls back to "i can't go home, jenny ann," insisted madge. "it was my fault that nellie is lost. uncle and aunt will never forgive me." it was in vain that miss jenny ann pleaded, argued and commanded the little captain to return with the other women to the preston farm. she simply would not go. so phyllis stayed behind with her for company. just before daylight one of the farmers who lived near the woods where eleanor was supposed to have been left took the two girls home with him. eleanor had not then been found. chapter xv the black hole hours and hours had gone by, and eleanor had lain quite still. sometimes she was conscious, but oftener she was not. the pain in her shoulder, the exhaustion from the long waiting, had made her delirious. when the rain began it seemed at first to refresh her, she was so hot and feverish. later rheumatic twinges began to dart through her injured shoulder; her whole body was racked with pain. she seemed to be in some horrible nightmare. she forgot what had happened to her. she no longer realized that she was waiting for her friends to come to her rescue; she only believed that, if she could in some way get back to her own home, "forest house," the agony and terror would cease. in her delirium eleanor managed to get up from the wet ground. she never knew how or when, but she remembered groping her way cautiously through the dark forest. the hundreds of trees seemed like a great army of terrible men and women waving angry arms at the frightened girl. now and then she would bump into one of the trees. eleanor would then step back and apologize; she thought that she had collided with a human being. at times eleanor was dimly conscious that she could hear the sound of her own voice. she was singing in high, sweet tones a song of her babyhood: "when the long day's work is over, when the light begins to fade, watching, waiting in the gloaming, weary, faint and half afraid, then from out the deep'ning twilight, clear and sweet a voice shall come, softly through the silence falling- child, thy father calls, 'come home.'" there was something in the familiar words that comforted eleanor. she would soon find her mother and father and madge. but step by step eleanor went farther away from civilization and deeper into the woods. at last she came out of the woods altogether to a more forbidding part of the country. a group of small hills rose up at the edge of the woodlands. they seemed to poor eleanor's distorted imagination to be a collection of strange houses. a yawning hole gaped in the side of one of the hills. years before a company of promoters had believed that rich coal deposits could be found in these virginia hills. a coal mine had been dug in the side of this solitary hillock. but the coal yield had not been rich enough. later on the company had abandoned it and the old coal mine was disused and almost forgotten. a strange freak of destiny led eleanor to the spot. she felt, rather than saw, the opening. the rain had ceased, but the night was still dark. eleanor believed that she had found the door of her own home at "forest house." why was it so dark in the hall? had no one lighted the lamps? surely, she heard some one cry out her name! "mother! father!" she called. "madge!" she put out one hand--the other was useless--and stepped into the black hole. it was all so dark and horrible. eleanor took a few steps forward; a suffocating odor of coal gas greeted her; she stumbled and fell face downward. eleanor was literally buried alive. she had wandered into a place that the world had forgotten, and she was too ill to make any effort to save herself. so it was that eleanor butler heard no sound and saw no sign of the desperate search that was being made for her. but if eleanor were unconscious, there was some one else who knew that the woods and all the nearby fields and countryside were being investigated, inch by inch, by a party of determined seekers. the man believed that the search was being made for him. for several days he had been in hiding on the edge of the woods, not far from the old coal mine into which eleanor had stumbled. he had his own reasons for hiding, although he believed that until to-night no crime had been fixed on him. while eleanor was groping her way out of the woods this man was crouched in the branches of a heavily wooded tree. he had spent all his life in the open, and knew that a party of men searching through a forest on a dark night would not spy him out so long as the darkness covered him. but he knew that at dawn he must find a better hiding place. just before daylight the woods were silent once more. the fugitive understood that the searching parties had gone home to rest and to get reinforcements in order to begin a more thorough hunt at dawn. the greater part of the night the man had spent in trying to decide where he should conceal himself before the daylight. he knew of but one possible hiding place that was safe. he had tracked through the country for miles to hide his treasures in the old coal mine, although he had believed that he was absolutely free from suspicion. who had betrayed him? not the old gypsy woman. the man did not consider her. but there was--_the boy_! as soon as the woods were free from the hunting parties the man slipped down from his tree. it was a poor place of refuge, but he would crawl into the disused coal mine, for the day at least, to guard his life and his stolen property. he crept cautiously along. as soon as he could get word to the gypsy woman they would both try to get away from the neighborhood. things were getting too hot for them both. and again, there was _the boy_! there was some one else afoot in the woods. the man could hear a cat-like tread. nearer stole the other prowler. there was another sound, a faint call, which the man answered. an instant later the old gypsy woman appeared. "i have been searching for you, lad. the boy says he has got to see you." it was hardly dawn, but a faint light had appeared in the sky that was not daylight but its herald. a pause hung over the world that always comes just before its awakening. the man and woman hesitated just a moment at the opening of the old mine. it was dreadful to shut themselves away from the daylight. the man went in first, the old woman close behind him. but a few feet from the entrance he staggered back; he had struck his foot against something. the man's first thought was that some one had crept into the mine to steal his treasure. a few seconds later he became more accustomed to the dim light and saw the still figure of eleanor. the man and the woman stared at the girl as though they had seen an apparition. she was so deathly pale it was not strange that they thought at first that she was not alive. both the man and the woman kept close to the ground, so as not to inhale the odor of the coal gas. the old gypsy took eleanor's limp, white hand. "she is alive," she whispered to the man. the man nodded. he realized at once that the woods were being searched, not for him, but for this lost girl. he could not imagine how the girl had wandered into this dreadful place of concealment. but she was certainly innocent of any wrong or suspicion of him. yet, if she stayed in the coal mine with them all day, she might die. there has hardly ever been born into this world any human creature who is wholly wicked. the man in the mine with eleanor was not a cruel fellow. he had one strange, wicked theory, that the world owed him a living and he would rather steal than work for it. unexpectedly eleanor opened her eyes. she did not cry out with terror. she was no longer delirious. she smiled at the man and at the old woman in a puzzled, friendly fashion. "it is so dark and dreadful in here! won't you take, me out?" she pleaded. fortunately eleanor had fallen near enough to the entrance of the mine to get the fresh air from the outside. she struggled to sit up, but the pain in her shoulder again overcame her. "how did you get in here?" the man asked eleanor suspiciously. "i don't know," she answered, beginning to cry gently. "please take me out." the man realized that whatever was to be done for eleanor must be done at once. every minute that passed made it the more dangerous for him to return to the forest. later on, when the woods were full of people, he would not dare leave the mine. he knew that even now he was risking his own freedom if he carried the girl out from the safe shelter that concealed them. the man lifted eleanor in his arms as gently as he could. she cried out when he first touched her; then she set her teeth and bore stoically the pain of being moved. "you can trust me," her rescuer said kindly. "i can't take you to your friends, but i will take you to a place where they can find you. now you must promise me that you will never say that you have ever seen me or the old woman, and that you will never mention the old coal mine." eleanor promised and the fugitive seemed impressed with her sincerity. the man carried her about a quarter of a mile into the woods. then he laid her down in the grass and hurried away. eleanor watched him with grateful eyes. she did not wonder why the man and the old woman had come to the mysterious hole in the earth, nor why they wished her to keep their hiding place a secret; she was not troubled about it. she was still in great pain, but her fever had gone and she was no longer delirious. she remembered the events of the day before up to the time when she started to wander in the woods. now eleanor waited, content and full of faith. the day had come, with its wonderful promise. she knew that she would soon be found. she would bear the pain as well as she could until then. "nellie! nellie!" it was madge's voice calling to her from afar off. the tones sounded queer and strained, but eleanor felt sure they were those of her cousin. she could not be mistaken, as she had been last night. she must have been dreaming when some one seemed to summon her from the mouth of the cave. eleanor did not realize that she had but caught an echo of some one crying to her through the heart of the forest. eleanor was weak and faint, but she summoned her strength. "madge! here i am!" she cried. her voice was too feeble to carry far. neither madge nor any of her companions caught the answering sound. david brewster, jack bolling, phil and lillian were with her. harry sears had given out at daylight and had gone back to the preston farm. again they were wandering away from the spot where nellie waited so patiently. "nellie! nellie!" madge called once more, her voice breaking. poor eleanor realized that madge's voice was farther off than it had been when she first called. eleanor made an heroic effort. she raised herself to a sitting position. "madge! phil! oh, come to me!" she cried. then eleanor fainted. it was a limp, white figure that madge, running ahead of all the others, found stretched out on the grass. her companions soon caught up with her. "nellie is dead!" cried lillian, bursting into tears and sinking down beside her friend on the grass. "oh, no," assured phil, "nellie has only fainted." she turned quietly to david and jack. "go back, please, and tell mr. preston and some of the other men to bring a cot on which to carry eleanor. she is only worn out and exhausted with exposure and pain. she will be all right soon. don't look so heartbroken madge." madge had not taken her eyes from her cousin's pale, haggard face. she could not believe that she was really looking at eleanor. could this poor, white, exhausted little creature be her nellie? why, it was only the afternoon before when madge had last seen eleanor laughing and talking to harry sears. and now----! a few minutes later the men came with the cot and eleanor was carried to the preston home. everybody, except david, followed her in triumph. for david brewster did not go back home with the others; he wished to find out about an old coal mine which he had been told was in this vicinity. he did not, of course, dream of eleanor's connection with the place, but he had his own reasons for wishing to discover it. an hour later the man and the old gypsy woman were startled by another visitor. david crept into the opening in the side of the hill. when he left, the man and woman in the mine had promised the lad to leave the countryside as soon as possible. they had also agreed to return to david the silver and the greater part of the money stolen from the preston house on the night of the corn roast. it remained for david to see that the stolen goods were returned to the house without suspicion falling on any one. david believed that he could save the evil-doers from disgrace and detection. but how was he to save himself? chapter xvi the better man "eleanor, dear, do you know who the two indian chiefs were who appeared so mysteriously at our 'feast of mondamin'? they followed lillian and me about all evening and wouldn't take off their masks." eleanor was propped up in a big, four-post mahogany bed with half a dozen pillows under her lame shoulder. one arm and shoulder were tightly bandaged. eleanor had had a serious time since her accident. for rheumatism, caused by her exposure to the rain, had set in in the strained shoulder. she was now much better, though still feeling a good deal used up, and she found it very difficult to move. eleanor turned her head and smiled languidly at the excited madge. "of course i don't know who the indians were. dear me, i had forgotten all about them. i suppose they must have been mrs. preston's and miss betsey's burglars. has any one caught them?" eleanor was getting interested. "i should say not," giggled madge cheerfully. "those indian braves were no other persons than our highly respected friends, mr. tom curtis and mr. george robinson! the sillies came all the way here just to be present at the corn roast, and then rushed off without telling us who they were. tom was awfully cross because i never mentioned their appearance at the feast in any of my first letters. but i forgot all about them, there has been so much else going on. only in my last letter i just happened to say that mr. preston had never been able to find out anything about his burglars, and that the two men dressed as indians, whom mr. preston had always suspected, had disappeared." eleanor laughed. "of course tom had to 'fess up' after that, didn't he? tom would so hate to do anything that might arouse suspicion. i think tom curtis is the most honorable boy i ever knew. don't you?" asked eleanor. "of course i do," answered madge emphatically. "by the way, tom and george will be back in a short time now with the motor launch. as soon as you are well enough we shall probably start off again, though our holiday time is almost over. you and i have distinguished ourselves by getting lost on this houseboat trip, haven't we, nellie, dear? only it is the old story. it was my fault that i got into trouble, while yours was only an accident, you poor thing!" madge patted eleanor's hand softly. the bedroom door now opened to admit phyllis and lillian. phil carried a large dish of ginger cookies, hot from the oven, and lillian a platter heaped with a pile of snowy popcorn. both girls planted themselves on the side of eleanor's bed. "phil, i thought you and lillian promised to go walking with harry sears and jack bolling," protested madge. "i was to take care of nellie this afternoon while miss jenny ann and miss betsey drove with mrs. preston to look at the 'ha'nted house' we have talked so much about." lillian shook her golden head calmly. "did not want to go walking," she remarked calmly. "phil and i broke our engagements. we decided that we would much rather stay with you and nellie." she smiled and gave eleanor a hug. "cook is going to send up a big pitcher of lemonade in a few minutes. who wouldn't rather stay at home than go walking with two tiresome boys on an afternoon like this?" "you girls are terribly good and unselfish about me," exclaimed eleanor. "it's worth being ill, and having a sprained shoulder, and being rescued by an old gypsy woman and a strange looking man to----" eleanor stopped short. her face flushed painfully and her eyes filled with tears. "oh!" she exclaimed, "i'm so sorry i have broken my word. i promised not to tell. please, please, don't anybody ask me any questions, for i can't answer them even to please you girls." lillian looked mystified and extremely curious. phyllis and madge gazed at each other blankly. neither of them spoke, but they were both concerned with the same question. could it be possible that nellie had also run across the old gypsy woman and the man who had held madge a prisoner until phil and david had rescued her? but then, eleanor had been found several miles from the spot where the two old people were in hiding when madge ran across them. the little captain made up her mind to one thing; she would not trouble eleanor with questions. but she would ask david if he thought his mysterious acquaintances were still in the neighborhood. neither she nor phil had ever spoken of them, though they had never ceased to wonder at david's knowing such peculiar people. "is david brewster going for a walk with jack and harry?" inquired madge casually. lillian shook her head. "of course not," she replied. "david is going off on his usual secret mission. he goes on one every single afternoon!" "it doesn't concern any one but him, does it?" lillian shrugged her shoulders. "i am certainly not in the least interested," she answered disdainfully. "i think he is the rudest person i ever met." unfortunately, there were other members of the boat party who were much concerned with david's peculiar behavior. harry sears and jack bolling were rather bored with their stay on the preston farm since eleanor's accident. the girls devoted all their time to nursing eleanor; they could rarely be persuaded to take a walk or a drive, or to stir up a lark of any kind. neither harry nor jack, who were from the city, felt the least interest in the farm work. david spent every morning in the fields with mr. preston. so harry and jack, having nothing else to think about, began to worry and pry into david's actions. it was strange that the boy went away every afternoon and never told any one where he was going, nor spoke afterward of what he had done or where he had been! jack bolling did not really care a great deal about brewster's affairs, but harry sears was a regular "paul pry." he had made up his mind to find out what brewster was "after" on these afternoons when he "sneaked" off and hid himself. just before jack and harry started on their walk david brewster came out on the side porch of the preston house with his coat pockets bulging with flat, hard packages. he had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and was hurrying off without looking either to the right or left, when harry sears called out: "where are you off to, brewster? if you are going for a walk, bolling and i would like to go with you. we are looking for something to do." david turned red. it was unexpected friendliness for harry sears to suggest coming for a walk with him. harry usually never noticed david at all, except to order him about at every possible opportunity. but david was resolute. he particularly needed to be alone on this afternoon. besides his usual occupation, he must make up his mind how he could go about restoring to the prestons and miss taylor their stolen property. "i'm off on personal business, mr. sears," he returned politely. "i can't let any one else come along." "well, you are a nice, sociable person, brewster," sneered harry. "sorry to have intruded. i might have known better." david swung out of the yard without answering. it never occurred to him to glance back to see what sears and bolling were doing. "let's go after the fellow, bolling," proposed harry. "we have nothing else to do this afternoon. it would be rather good fun to find out what knavery the chap is up to and to show him off before the girls. i actually believe that madge morton and phyllis alden like the common fellow. maybe they think brewster is a kind of hero; he is so silent, dark and sullen, like the hero chap in a weepy sort of play." jack bolling hesitated. "i don't think it is square of us to spy on brewster, no matter what he is doing," he argued. "i _do_," returned harry briefly. "if he isn't up to something he has no business doing, what harm is there in our chancing to run across him--quite by accident, of course? if he is up to some deviltry, it is our business to find it out." david had turned a corner in the road and had jumped over a low stone fence into a field when the other two young men started after him. harry soon espied david, and he and jack tramped after him cautiously, always keeping at a safe distance. but david brewster was wholly unaware that he was being followed. he hurried from one field to another until he came to a meadow that had been left uncultivated for a number of years. it was uneven, running into little hills and valleys, with big rocks jutting out of the earth. one of these rocks formed a complete screen. david walked straight toward this spot as though he were accustomed to going to it. he lay down on the grass under the rock. on his way to his retreat he had made up his mind how he should try to return the stolen goods to the rightful owners, so there was nothing to keep him from his regular occupation. david pulled out of his pocket one of the small, flat objects that he carried and almost completely concealed it with his body as he leaned over it. a few minutes later harry sears crept up on tip-toe from the back of the rock. jack bolling was considerably farther off. he meant to give david some warning of his presence before he approached him. harry sears lay down flat on top of the rock. he made a sudden dive toward david, grabbing at the object that david held in his hand. "what have you there?" he demanded. "out with it! you've got to tell what you do every afternoon, hiding off by yourself." david brewster sprang to his feet, his face white with passion. he thrust the object that harry coveted back into his pocket. "get up from there!" he shouted hoarsely. "what do you mean by spying on me like this? what business is it of yours how i spend my time? i am answerable to tom curtis, not to you. here is your friend, mr. bolling, sneaking behind you on the same errand; and i suppose you both think you are gentlemen," he sneered. "oh, come, brewster," interrupted jack bolling apologetically, "i suppose harry and i were overdoing things a bit to come over here after you. but there is no use getting so all-fired angry. if you are not up to mischief, why do you care if we do happen to come up with you?" "because i care to keep my own business to myself," answered david. "look here, you fellow, don't be impertinent," broke in harry sears coolly, as though david had scarcely the right to speak to him. david felt a blind, hot rage sweep over him. the boy was no longer master of himself. some day, when he learned to control this white heat of passion, it was to make him a great power for good in the world. now his rage was the master. "take care!" he called suddenly to harry. he swung himself up on the rock opposite harry, forcing his opponent into an open place in the field. then david let loose a swinging blow with his closed fist. harry and david were evenly matched fighters. harry was taller and older, and had been trained as a boxer in school and college gymnasiums; but david was a firmly built fellow, of medium height, with muscles as hard as iron from his work in the open. in addition, david was furiously angry. harry parried the first blow with his left arm, then made a lunge at david. "here, you fellows, cut that out!" commanded jack bolling. "you are almost men. don't scrap like a couple of schoolboys. you know the women in our party will be disgusted with you." neither harry nor david paid the least attention to jack's excellent advice. both fighters had their blood up. harry's face was crimson and david's white. few blows were struck, because david made a headlong rush at his opponent and the combatants wrestled back and forth, each boy trying to force the other on the ground. it was by sheer force of determination that david won. david got one hand loose and struck harry over the eye. harry went down with a sudden crash. his head struck the earth with a whack that temporarily put him out of the fight. but david kept his knee on harry's chest. he made no effort to get up. his face was still working with anger. "say, get off of sears, brewster, can't you?" growled jack bolling. "you see he is down and out and you've won the fight. don't you know that the rules of the game won't let you hit a man when he is down?" david straightened up and stood upright. "thank you, bolling," he said curtly. "i wasn't a sport and i am glad you reminded me of it. i was too angry with sears to want to quit the fight." harry was sitting upon the ground, looking greatly chagrined. he had a bruise over one eye and the place was rapidly swelling. "i expect i ought to apologize to you, sears, for not having let you alone when you were down," remarked david proudly. "but in the future you will kindly leave my private affairs alone." david made off across the fields. he hoped to be able to get back to the preston house before miss betsey taylor returned from her ride to the haunted house. he was lucky enough to find miss betsey still out. as david passed through the hall he was glad to find her bedroom door open. he had just time enough to slip into her room and thrust a red cotton handkerchief, which was tied up in a curious knot, under miss betsey's pillow, when he thought he heard some one about to enter the room. david hurried out into the hall just as madge and phyllis passed by. both girls nodded to david in a friendly fashion, though madge's expressive face was alive with the question: "what is david brewster doing in miss betsey's room?" chapter xvii the birth of suspicion miss betsey taylor had a very successful drive to the "ha'nted house." she returned home with the secret curiosity of years partly satisfied. not that miss betsey saw the "ghosts walk," or that anything in the least unusual took place at the "ha'nted house"; it was simply that mrs. preston at last unveiled to miss betsey taylor all she knew of the history of the particular "john randolph" in whom miss betsey had once been interested. it happened that miss jenny ann, miss betsey and mrs. preston, in driving up the road to the "ha'nted house," had met an old colored mammy coming toward them, carrying a basket on her arm and talking to herself. she raised up one hand dramatically when she caught sight of the three women. "stay where you is. don't come no farder," she warned. "the house you is drawing nigher to is a house of 'ha'nts.' ghosties walk here in the day and sleep here in the night. it am mighty onlucky to bother a ghostie." "why, mammy ellen," protested mrs. preston, smiling kindly at the old woman, "you don't tell me that you believe in ghosts? i thought you had too much sense." "child," argued the old woman, "they is some as _says_ they is ghosts in this here house of cain and abel; but they is one that _knows_ they is ghosts here." she shook her head. "i hev seen 'em. jest you let sleepin' ghosts lie." "we are not going to disturb them, mammy ellen," promised mrs. preston. "we are just going to drive about the old place, so that my friends, who are from the north, can see what this old, deserted estate looks like." "that old woman once belonged to the family of john randolph, miss betsey. do you recall your speaking of him to me a few days ago?" inquired mrs. preston as the old colored woman marched solemnly away. "yes, i remember," answered miss betsey vaguely. "i believe i knew this same john randolph when i was a girl." "then i am sorry to tell you his story, because it is a sad one," sighed mrs. preston. "my husband and i often talk of him. we feel, somehow, that we ought to have done something. john randolph came back here suddenly, after spending a year or so in new york, after the close of the war. he married three or four years afterward a girl from the next county. she wasn't much of a wife; the poor thing was ill and never liked the country. she persuaded john to sell out his share in the estate to his brother james. you remember, it was the grinstead place i showed to you on our drive to the sulphur well the other day. well, john and his wife settled in richmond and john tried to practise law. he wasn't much of a success. i reckon poor john did not know much but farming. he and his wife had one child, a girl. she married and died, leaving a baby for her father and mother to look after. a few years ago john's wife died, too, and the old man came back here to the old place. he didn't have any money, and i expect he didn't have any other home to go to." mrs. preston paused. she had driven around the haunted house, but her visitors were more interested in her story than they were in the sight of the deserted mansion. "then, i suppose, poor john died," added miss betsey sadly, her face clouding with memories; the john randolph she had known had been so full of youth and enthusiasm. mrs. preston flapped her reins. "i reckon so," she sighed. "you see, john randolph did not have any real claim on the grinsteads. they were his brother james's wife's people, and i suppose they were not very good to him; or it may be the old man was just sensitive. anyway, john randolph went away from the grinstead place about six months ago. no word has been heard of him, so i suppose he is dead." miss betsey surreptitiously wiped away a few tears for her dead romance. they were not very bitter tears. of course, her old lover, john randolph, was only a memory. but it was sad to hear that he had had such an unfortunate life; he might better have been less "touchy" and not have left _her_ so abruptly. miss betsey's tears passed unnoticed. miss jenny ann was also depressed by the story, and as for kind mrs. preston, she sighed deeply every five or ten minutes during the ride home. but miss betsey was so quiet and unlike herself all the evening that madge, phyllis and lillian decided that she must feel ill. the girls would never have believed, even if they had been told, that miss betsey, who was on the shady side of sixty, could possibly have been sorrowing over a lover whom she had not seen in nearly forty years. but girls do not know that the minds of older people travel backward, and that an old maid is a "girl" at heart to the longest day she lives. miss taylor went up to her own room early. madge and phyllis were undressing to jump into bed, when a knock on their door startled them. "girls!" a voice cried in trembling tones. "it's poor miss betsey!" exclaimed phil. "i'll wager she is ill or something, she has been acting so queerly all evening." phil ran to open their door. "take me in, children," whispered miss betsey, shaking her head. "sh-sh! don't make a noise; something so strange has happened. i couldn't wait until morning to tell you." miss betsey dropped into a chair by the window. she was minus her side curls and she had her still jet-black hair screwed up into a tight knot at the back of her head. but in honor of her present frivolous life as one of the houseboat girls she wore a bright red flannelette dressing gown. madge looked at miss betsey, then choked and began to cough violently to conceal her laughter. "don't make that noise, madge; laugh out-right if you think i am funny," whispered miss betsey, instead of giving the little captain the lecture she deserved. "i don't want any one to know i am in here with you. i've got something so strange to show you." miss betsey slipped her hand into the capacious pocket of her dressing gown. she drew out a bright red cotton handkerchief, knotted and tied together into a dirty ball. "what on earth have you there, miss betsey?" asked phil. "i should be afraid to touch such a dreadful looking handkerchief." miss betsey fingered it gingerly. she seemed to be trying to open it. madge picked up a pair of curling tongs and caught the handkerchief by one end. "do let me throw it out of the window for you, miss betsey!" she urged. miss betsey gave a little shriek of protest. but madge and phil were staring in miss betsey's lap, their eyes wide with amazement. into the old lady's lap had fallen, from the dirty cotton handkerchief, all her stolen jewelry. "where did it come from, miss betsey?" demanded phil. "from under my pillow," answered miss betsey. "then the thief must have put it back!" exclaimed madge impetuously. miss betsey nodded emphatically. "yes, of course he did. but who and why and how? my money has not been returned. why should the burglar take pity on me and return me my poor little jewelry? it is of some value. and now mr. preston will have a much easier time in tracing the thief, with this handkerchief as a clue to go on. i can't help suspecting one of the servants, for, girls," miss betsey lowered her voice solemnly, "i was in my own room all the morning. i made my bed, as it has been my custom to do every day of my life, and when i made my bed there was certainly no red cotton pocket handkerchief with my jewelry in it under my pillow. i have been out this afternoon, but you children have been up on this floor with eleanor. now think. did you hear anything or see any one enter my room at any time?" madge and phyllis stood still, thinking deeply. suddenly madge's cheeks flamed. "david!" exclaimed phil alden involuntarily at the same moment. "david?" miss betsey's face was a study. she turned almost as red as madge. "you don't mean that you girls saw david brewster enter my room this afternoon? no, no, children, it couldn't be! the boy has a bad disposition, i know. he is surly and cross. but then the lad has had no training of any kind. he has had everything against him. he seemed to be quite honest when he lived with me. but, but----" miss betsey hesitated. "of course, david will tell me why he came into my room this afternoon. he probably went there on an errand." phyllis alden shook her head regretfully. she said nothing. "you don't suspect david, do you, phil?" questioned madge. "i don't know what to think," remarked phil judicially. "of course, i don't really suspect david. no one has the right to suspect him without any real proof. but it does seem queer to me that miss betsey lost her money first on the houseboat and then here. what is your honest opinion?" to save her life, madge could not but think of david's mysterious trip to the preston house while the barn was burning on the night of the robbery. still, she did not answer phyllis. "tell us what you think, madge," insisted miss betsey. "why, i was beginning to feel proud of the boy, his manners have improved so much since he came on this trip. and i have been saying to myself that if i had believed in the boy and tried to help him, as you have done, perhaps he might have been less surly years ago. some day i may tell you children more of the lad's history." "miss betsey," madge's voice was very grave, "to tell you the truth, i don't know what to think. i know that there are some things that point toward david's being a thief. but, just the same, i don't believe he is one. you know i have always been sorry for david, miss betsey, ever since he pulled me out from under dr. alden's buggy, when i was trying to spoil your lawn, as the donkeys did miss betsey trotter's in 'david copperfield.' and somehow"--she paused reflectively--"i believe in him still. i _know_ that david brewster wouldn't steal! it may be my intuition that makes me say this; i have no real reason for thinking it. i trust david, trust him fully. i am sure that he is absolutely honest." miss betsey patted madge's auburn head almost affectionately. she felt nearly fond of her for her loyalty toward david. "we won't, any of us, speak of suspecting any one, children," she concluded. "you are not to mention having seen david brewster come out of my room. i would not have suspicion rest on the boy wrongfully for a great deal; it might ruin his whole future life. but we must be very careful; say nothing and watch! there are sure to be other developments that will point toward the real thief. if we do see or hear anything else that seems suspicious, then we owe it to mr. and mrs. preston to take them into our confidence. we must remember that their property was stolen as well as mine, and that they have taken us into their household and treated us as members of their own family. much as i may wish it," miss betsey lowered her voice solemnly, "i feel that we have no right to shield david if he is at fault. but"--miss taylor's voice was even more serious--"it would be a far more wicked thing for us to accuse the boy if he is guiltless." miss betsey rose to go. in spite of her funny, old maid appearance and her usually severe manner toward madge, that young woman flung her arms around the spinster's neck and hugged her warmly. "you are perfectly splendid, miss betsey," she whispered. as miss betsey tip-toed cautiously out of the room, madge blew a kiss toward her retreating back. "you can just lecture me, after this, as much as you like. and i promise, i promise"--madge hesitated--"i promise not to like it a bit better than i do now," she ended truthfully. then madge turned to phil, her rock of refuge. "phyllis alden, if david brewster stole from miss betsey or mrs. preston, i don't care what excuse he has, i shall never forgive him, or myself for bringing him on this boat trip. oh, dear me! i wish dear old tom were here! i would ask tom to ask david to clear things up. i suppose if i try to talk to david brewster, he will bite my head off." "come to bed this minute, madge, and don't talk to anybody about anything until you know more," commanded phil stolidly. and madge obeyed. chapter xviii david's mysterious errand poor david brewster was facing a more difficult problem than he ever had had to conquer in his life. he must manage to get over to the old coal mine, bring back the preston silver and as much of miss betsey's money as he could force the thief to leave behind him, without being noticed or suspected of any unusual design. the jewels that david had already returned to miss betsey had been in charge of the old gypsy woman; david had found them on his first visit to her. but to carry back a quantity of old family silver, some of it in fairly large pieces, was not so simple a task. yet david had one thing in his favor: harry sears and jack bolling had both left the preston farm. after harry's encounter with david, and the latter's frank account of his own part in the fight, harry had not cared to linger at the farm. he knew that some day madge and phyllis alden would find out why david had been tempted to fight. harry sears had no desire to recount his own unsuccessful attempt to act the part of "paul pry," so harry and jack had gone on to join tom curtis and george robinson, and the four boys were to come on to the houseboat party in a few days. david brewster knew that whatever he had to do must be done quickly. so he borrowed a horse and cart from mr. preston a day or so after miss betsey's midnight talk with madge and phyllis. he did not explain what he wished with the horse. however, his host asked no questions, for mr. preston had entire faith in the boy. madge happened to be in the yard as david drove out from the stable. she waved her hand to david in a friendly fashion, feeling secretly ashamed of having even discussed the question of his possible guilt. david was too worried and unhappy to respond to madge's greeting pleasantly, but he acknowledged her salutation with a curt nod of his head. he had lately been more silent and reserved than ever in his manner, because, in his heart, he longed so deeply to know some one in whom he could confide. yet he was afraid to trust even madge. "going driving all alone, david?" questioned madge. "yes," answered david harshly. yet he was thinking at the same moment that if he only could confide in her, madge was just the kind of a girl to help a fellow out of a scrape and to stand shoulder to shoulder with him if he got into a difficulty. madge hesitated. she wanted so much to be friendly with david. she thought that perhaps if he talked with her alone, he might explain a number of things about himself that she wanted to understand, not from curiosity but in a real spirit of friendliness. yet she could not make up her mind to make this request of david. if he had been like tom, or any one of the other motor launch boys, she would not have hesitated for an instant. "stop a minute, please, david," she said, looking earnestly at the boy, "i have a favor to ask of you." she knew that david had some mysterious occupation that took him away from the farm every afternoon, and that he would brook no interference. "if you are going to drive alone and i won't be in the way, won't you take me with you?" david brewster colored to the roots of his dark hair. never in his whole life had a nice girl approached him in the friendly way that madge had just done. yet he knew he must refuse her request, though david would have dearly loved to have madge drive with him. he simply must return the stolen goods to mr. preston's house to-day, or else run the risk of never restoring them to their rightful owners. he would not dare to ask mr. preston to lend him a horse again soon, and tom might return any day with his launch. madge realized before david answered her that he meant to refuse to take her with him. she felt furiously angry, more with herself than with the boy. "i am sorry," muttered david, when he at last found his voice. "i've got to attend to some business this afternoon and i've got to attend to it alone, or i would like very much to have you come along with me." "oh, never mind, then," answered madge coldly, turning away from david, who took a step toward her retreating figure, then, with a muttered exclamation, sprang into the cart and drove off. as for madge, she decided never to speak to david again; he was insufferable. about five o'clock on the same afternoon madge, phyllis, lillian and miss betsey were out on the lawn eating watermelon. eleanor stood at her front window gazing down wistfully at her friends. miss jenny ann was reading to amuse her, but it was really more fun to look down at the girls. nellie was getting dreadfully tired of being confined to one room, and yet she did not feel well enough to go downstairs. david brewster drove back into the yard. inside his cart madge noticed a square, wooden box, which she had not seen when david left the farm. without saying a word to any one, the boy lifted the box and carried it into the house. a little later he came out on the lawn to where miss betsey and the girls were sitting and approached madge rather diffidently. "miss morton," david's voice was unusually gentle, "don't you think i might carry your cousin, miss butler, downstairs? i saw her at the window as i drove into the yard. she looks lonely. perhaps she would like to be down here." madge blew a kiss up to eleanor. she, too, had caught her cousin's wistful expression. the little captain's heart melted toward david. "i don't know," she answered doubtfully. "i'll go upstairs and ask miss jenny ann what she thinks." "i'd be awfully careful," urged david. "i know i could carry miss butler without hurting her shoulder. we could bring a steamer chair out here on the lawn for her when i get her down." madge hurried away. a few seconds later david saw her at the open window waving her hand and nodding her head energetically. "yes; do come up," she called. "eleanor is _so_ anxious to have you carry her down into the yard, and miss jenny ann is willing that you should try." the girls busied themselves with arranging nellie's chair in the shadiest spot on the lawn, under a great horse-chestnut tree, and piling the chair with sofa cushions and a pale pink shawl, and in cutting the "heart" out of the choicest watermelon to bestow on the invalid and her cavalier. david bore nellie as comfortably as though she were a baby. she had her well arm about his neck and the other, the bandaged one, rested comfortably in her lap. david's face had completely lost its sullen look. he was actually smiling at eleanor as she apologized for being "so heavy." then he sat down on the ground in the midst of the bevy of laughing girls. lillian passed him his piece of watermelon in her prettiest fashion. david accepted it as gracefully as tom curtis might have done. when the watermelon feast was over david helped the three girls to clear away the dishes. when he came back he dropped down at miss betsey's side and began to wind her ball of yarn. "i wish you would knit me some gloves this winter, cousin betsey," he begged boyishly. the old lady patted him affectionately. when, before, had the boy ever called her "cousin betsey"? he had seemed always to try to ignore their relationship. "the lad isn't so bad-looking after all," miss taylor thought to herself. "he is handsome when he is happy." david had on a soft, faded, blue shirt, with a turned-down collar that showed the fine, muscular lines of his throat. he had a strong, clear-cut face, and his brown eyes were large and expressive. when he laughed his whole face changed. he looked actually happy. then miss betsey realized all of a sudden how seldom she had ever seen the boy even smile before. perhaps, after all, dr. alden's prescription for miss betsey taylor was precisely what she needed. sunshine and the company of young people had really given her something to think about besides her own nerves. "mr. brewster," eleanor's voice was still a little weak from her illness, "where were you the night i was lost? madge said you did not join the searching party until early next morning. i believe if you had been with the others, you might have found me sooner, you were so clever about finding madge." david's face changed suddenly. the old, sullen look crept over it. then, as he glanced straight into eleanor's clear eyes, his expression softened. "i was sorry i wasn't along with the others," he answered kindly. "but i forgot to tell you something. i had an experience of my own that night. i went for a long walk. on my way back i decided to take a nap on the porch of the 'ha'nted house.' what do you think happened?" david lowered his voice to a whisper. "you saw the ghosts?" shivered lillian. david nodded his head solemnly. "i suppose you'll think i am quite mad," he insisted. "i think i am myself when i recall the story in broad daylight. but, as sure as i am sitting here, i saw two ghosts walk up the path and pass into the empty house. they were those of an old man and a young girl. they flitted along like shadows." "you were dreaming, boy," insisted miss betsey. david shook his head. "i don't think so," he argued. "i was as wide awake as i am now. i got up and made a blind rush for home as soon as the spooks went by me." "girls! miss betsey!" called mrs. preston from the veranda, "it is time to come into the house to get ready for tea." as the watermelon party scrambled to their feet madge waved one hand dramatically. "pause, kind friends," she commanded. "who among us has the courage to find out whether david brewster's 'spooks' are real? i have always longed to spend a night in a haunted house. now, here's our chance!" "i'm with you," answered david. "i'll go." "so will i," announced phil. miss jenny ann, who was in for most larks, hesitated. "of course, i don't believe in ghosts, children; there are no such things," she declared. "still, i shouldn't like to meet them at night." before the laughter at miss jenny ann had ceased reinforcement for madge's ghost party arrived from an unexpected quarter. miss betsey taylor offered her services as chaperon, and suggested that the "spook investigation" take place the very next night. chapter xix ghosts of the past it was nearly ten o'clock the following evening when four excited adventurers set out from the preston house. they carried dark lanterns, while practical phil had a package of lunch stored away out of sight. she had an idea that sitting up all night in a forlorn, dirty old house was not going to be half as much sport as enthusiastic madge anticipated. the little captain was not the only enthusiast in the ghost party, which was composed of herself, phil, david and miss betsey. miss betsey taylor had cast from her the sobriety of years. she was as eager and as interested in their midnight excursion as any young girl could have been. not that the pursuit of ghosts had been a secret passion of miss betsey's. it was only that, at the age of sixty, she was at last beginning to understand how it felt to be young, and she was as ready for adventure as any other one of the party of young folks. indeed, she was far more eager than lillian seldon, who could not be persuaded even to contemplate the thought of approaching the "ha'nted house." lillian insisted that it was her duty to stay at home with eleanor and miss jenny ann. no one had been told of the proposed trip except mr. and mrs. preston. the ghost party had no intention of allowing practical jokers in the neighborhood to get up "fake spooks" for their entertainment. they were seriously determined to find out why the ancient house was supposed to be inhabited by spirits from another world, and whether david brewster had seen real ghosts during his visit to the house or only creatures of his own imagination. miss betsey clung tightly to david's arm as they made their way along the dark road. the old lady wore a pale gray dress, with a soft real lace collar around her neck. recently the houseboat girls had persuaded her to leave off her false side curls and to wave her hair a little over her ears. no change of costume could make miss betsey a beauty, but she was improved, and she did look a little less like an old maid. to-night miss betsey had concealed her dress with a long, black macintosh cape, which completely enveloped her. with her tall, spare form and her lean, square shoulders miss betsey looked like a grenadier. on her head she had tied, with a long gray veil, one of jack bolling's soft felt hats. "madge, if you keep on prattling such gruesome tales i shall turn back and leave you to your fate," expostulated phil, as she urged madge along behind david and their chaperon. "i know nothing will happen to-night, except that we will all be dead tired and wish we were safe at home in our little beds. good gracious, what was that?" phil gave madge's arm a sudden pinch. "that" was an old woman hobbling along the road in the opposite direction from the four adventurers. "scat!" cried miss betsey nervously as the woman came face to face with her. david laughed and took off his hat in the dark. the old woman had picked up her skirts and started to scurry off as fast as she could. but as she caught sight of miss betsey's face in the light of the lantern that david carried the old mammy paused. she was the "mammy ellen" to whom mrs. preston had talked on the day of the drive to the "ha'nted house." "land sakes alive, chillun, how you scairt me!" grumbled the old woman. "when you done said 'scat!' i thought certain you'd seen a black cat, and it jest nacherally means bad luck. ain't you the lady i seen with mrs. preston?" inquired mammy ellen of miss betsey, with the marvelous memory that colored people have for faces. miss betsey nodded. "i wish you would come to see me in the morning, mammy," suggested miss betsey. "long years ago i used to know mr. john randolph, and mrs. preston tells me you were a member of his family. we can't stop to-night. we are going--on up the road," concluded miss taylor vaguely. even in the darkness madge and phyllis could see the whites of mammy ellen's eyes grow larger. "you ain't a-goin' near the house of 'ha'nts,' is you? if you do, you'll sure meet trouble, one of you, i ain't a saying which. but ef you disturb a dead ghost, he am just as apt to put his ice cold fingers on you, and you ain't no more good after that. you am sure enough done for." "why not, auntie?" inquired madge, her blue eyes dancing. meeting this aged colored woman with her mysterious tale of ghost signs and warnings was the best possible beginning for their lark. "child, ef a ghost's cold fingers teches you, your heart grows stone cold. there ain't nobody that loves you and you don't love nobody ever after. don't you go near that old house, chilluns. it ain't no place for the likes of you," pleaded mammy ellen. "i tell you there am more buried there than youall knows. that old house am a grave for the young and the old. mind what i say. it sure am." "why do you think we are going to the 'ghost house,' mammy?" queried david, laughing. the old colored woman shook her head slowly. "it ain't caze i think youall's going to the old place that i warn ye; it am only caze i's so afeerd you might. i know there ain't nobody, in their right good senses as would want their wits scairt clean out of 'em." "but we don't believe in ghosts, mammy," argued madge. mammy ellen peered into madge's bright face. "go 'long, child," she said. "you don't believe in ghosts caze you ain't seen 'em, jest as ye don't believe in most of the things you's got to find out." mammy ellen bowed courteously to miss betsey and the young people as she walked away from them. "i do wish we hadn't met that old colored woman, madge," whispered phil. "she makes me feel as though we were intruding on ghosts when we go prying about their haunts at night." every leaf of every tree, every rustling blade of grass, every stirring breath of the night wind took on a more sinister character as the four ghost-investigators slipped up the tangled, overgrown path to the house of mystery. "we must put out all our lanterns but one," ordered david. "if any one happens to be walking along the road, we don't wish them to see us prowling about this place. besides, we don't want to frighten the ghosts." the three women put out the light of their lanterns. david kept his light, walking in front, with miss betsey next and madge and phyllis bringing up the rear. the women clutched at one another's skirts as they went around and around the dark old house, tumbling over crumbling bricks and tangled vines. they thought it best to look thoroughly around the outside of the house for loiterers, whether ghostly or real, before exploring the inside. "'chickamy, chickamy, crainey crow, went to the well to wash her toe! when she came back her chickens were all gone.' what time is it, old witch?" murmured madge, giving phil's skirt a wicked pull. phil fell back, almost upsetting miss betsey, who clutched feverishly at david's coatsleeve. "what on earth happened to you, child?" she asked tremulously. "it was that good-for-nothing madge's fault," laughed phyllis. no one of the party took the first part of their ghost hunt seriously, but when david reported that the hour was growing late, and that it was now time for them to enter the old house, a different feeling stole over each one of them--a kind of curious foreboding of evil, or unhappiness, or some unexplainable mystery. "let's give up and go back, madge," proposed phyllis. "the old house is so musty, dark and horrible that it is sure to have rats in it, if nothing worse. i feel that it would be better for all of us not to go in. suppose we should see something queer? what could we do?" "phyllis alden, the very idea of your suggesting that we turn 'quitters'!" expostulated madge. "do you suppose we could face miss jenny ann and the girls if we retreat before we even know there is an enemy? come on, miss betsey; you and i will go on ahead. let phil come with david if she likes." madge danced up the old, tumbled-down veranda steps, guided by the rays of her lantern. each one of the women had relit her lantern to enter the deserted house. once inside they might put them out again. but who could tell what they might stumble against in a house that was supposed never to have been entered in nearly forty years? madge pushed at the front door, which hung by a broken hinge, and drew miss betsey in after her. "oh, dear me, isn't it awful?" she whispered. not one of the ghost party had spoken in an ordinary voice since the start of their adventure. somehow their errand, the darkness of the night and their own feelings made whispered tones seem more appropriate. the four explorers gazed silently at the sight that madge described as "awful." they had expected to find the "ha'nted house" empty of furniture. yet in the broad hall there was an open fireplace. on either side of it were great oak arm-chairs. spider webs hung in beautiful silver festoons from the mantel, with their many-legged spinners caught in their mesh. gray mice, lean and terrified, scuttled across the dusty floor. a bat flapped blindly overhead. miss betsey caught madge by the hand. "i can almost see dead people sitting in those dusty chairs," she murmured. "let us go on upstairs. i wish this thing were over." the railing had fallen away from the steps, that were covered not only with dust but with a kind of slippery mould, as many winters' rain had fallen down upon them from the holes in the roof. david crawled up first, pulling madge, phyllis and miss betsey after him. they groped their way to the front bedroom. "i won't go in there; i shall wait here in the hall," phil said pettishly. "i can't help thinking of harry sears's story about the sick girl in that old house on cape cod." david shoved at the closed door. it was fastened tight. had the room been locked against intruders for nearly half a century? but ghosts do not hesitate at closed doors. david pushed harder than he knew. the lock on the old door gave way. it fell forward, striking the floor with a terrific crash. phyllis screamed with horror, then turned rigid. not one of the others made a single sound, except that madge's lantern dropped to the floor at her feet and her light went out. an old man rose slowly from the side of a tumbled bed. he was so thin, so white, so ethereal that he could not be human. but the four pair of frightened eyes strained past the ghostly old man to a thin wraith that lay on the bed. it was a girl, frail, white and wasted, staring not at the intruders before the fallen door, but at an object that she seemed to see afar off. madge's voice caught in her throat. her knees trembled and she swayed helplessly toward phil. if only she and phil could have run from the sight before them! but they stood stupidly still, unable to move. there was absolutely not a ray of light in the ghostly bedroom, save that which came from the reflection of the dark lanterns in the hall. david had jumped back when the door fell before him. but miss betsey's tall, thin figure, in her queer, military coat, cast a long black shadow across the old room. why did not some one speak? ghosts can not talk and the onlookers were dumb with fear and amazement. then the ghost laughed drearily. "you have found me out," it said mournfully. "i have no place, even in this house of darkness. i can not see your faces. but i wonder why you wish to disturb an old man's last retreat?" for answer, madge burst into tears. she was nervous and overwrought, and to find that "the ghost" was a real person was more than she could bear. "we didn't know there was any one living in the house," she faltered. "we are strangers in this neighborhood. the people about here told us that this old place was haunted, and we came to-night to see if ghosts were real." "come in and bring your lights," invited the old gentleman. "there are many kinds of ghosts, child. i will tell you who i am." the four visitors crowded into the musty room. phyllis and madge had their eyes fixed on the girl's figure in the bed. she did not return their look, although the muscles of her face were twitching pathetically. miss betsey taylor was behaving very curiously. she held her dark lantern up so that its light fell full on the white face of the old man whom they had so rudely disturbed. "bless my soul!" she murmured out loud, "it _can't_ be!" "my name is john randolph," explained the old gentleman, with a fine stateliness. "my grandchild and i have been living in this deserted house because we had no other home in the world." "i knew it!" announced miss betsey. "isn't it just like john randolph! would rather bury himself alive than let his friends take care of him. southern pride!" sniffed miss betsey. "i call it southern foolishness." "madam," answered mr. randolph coldly, "i have no friends. i can not see that i have done wrong to any one by hiding away in this old place, that was once the property of my friends. if people have thought of me as a ghost, and i have tried to encourage them in the idea, well, lives that are finished and have no place in the world are but ghosts of the unhappy past." "nonsense!" said miss betsey vigorously, her black eyes snapping, though she felt a curious lump in her throat. "you were always a sentimentalist, john randolph. but you can't live on memories. you still are obliged to eat and to breathe god's fresh air. how do you do it?" if the broken old man wondered why miss betsey taylor took such an interest in his affairs, he was too courteous to show it. "an old colored woman, 'mammy ellen,' who was a girl in our family when i was a young man, has not forgotten us. she brings us each day such food as she can procure. as for air"--the old man hesitated--"we do not go out in the daytime. i prefer that the people of the neighborhood should think of me as dead. but at night my little grand-daughter and i walk about over the old place." madge, phil and david gasped involuntarily. they had been silent and amazed listeners to the dialogue between the two old people. now the thought of a girl younger than themselves being shut up all day in this dreadful house, and only being allowed to go out-of-doors at night was too dreadful to contemplate. "oh, but surely you can't keep your little grand-daughter shut away from the daylight!" exclaimed impetuous madge, her face alive with sympathy as she gazed at the thin little form on the bed. "daylight and darkness are as one to my little girl," the old gentleman answered quietly, "she is blind." madge shivered. phil went over to the bed and patted the girl's hand softly. but they both longed, with all their hearts, to get away from this house of tragedy. it was strange that miss betsey did not offer to go and leave the old man and child to their privacy. miss betsey's black eyes were no longer snapping; they were wet with tears. "i am coming to take you both away from this place in the morning, john randolph. if you won't come for your own sake, you must come for the child's. so like a man not to know that that poor baby needs to _feel_ all the more sunlight because she can't _see_ it! and she may even be able to see it some day with proper care." miss betsey bent over the child so caressingly that she looked more like a funny old angel in her strange, long cape and her ridiculous hat than a selfish, cross-grained old maid. "i do not understand your kindness, madam," returned the old gentleman with courteous curiosity. "because i am your friend," answered miss betsey curtly. "i'm betsey taylor, whom you used to know a great many years ago. you have forgotten me because you have had many interests in your life that have crowded me out. but i--i have remembered," concluded miss betsey abruptly. "good night." she swung her dark lantern and, looking more than ever like a grenadier, led the little procession out. chapter xx the fancy dress party "mrs. preston says we may have a dance before we go back to the houseboat, eleanor," announced lillian. the two girls were out under the big grape arbor filling a basket with great bunches of red and purple grapes. "and madge suggests that we have a surprise dance for the boys the night they get back with the motor launch." eleanor laughed happily. "what a perfectly delightful idea! isn't mrs. preston a dear? we must have been a lot of trouble to her." lillian shook her head thoughtfully. "i don't think so," she answered. "at least, i believe mrs. preston has liked the trouble. she says that we have made her feel younger and jollier than she ever expected to feel again in her life. she says that she is awfully fond of each one of us, and that mr. preston has never cared as much for a boy since his own son died, many years ago, as he does for david brewster." "lillian," eleanor's tones were serious, "i think that we ought to change our opinions of david. somehow, he seems so much nicer recently, since the other boys went away. he is awfully quiet and sad, but i don't believe he is hateful and sullen, as we thought him at first. poor david!" lillian did not reply at once. a sympathetic expression crossed her delicate, high-bred face. "i suppose, nellie, dear, it must be hard for david to be with fellows who have everything in the world, like the motor launch boys--money and family and friends--when david has nothing." "madge declares that david will some day be a great man," rejoined eleanor. "there he is now over there under the trees with madge, phil and little blind alice. isn't she a quaint child? she says she loves madge best of all of us, because she can feel the color in madge's red hair and cheeks. miss betsey is almost jealous of our little captain." lillian finished eating a bunch of catawba grapes. "miss betsey wants to take that blind child back to hartford with her. she says that if alice sees specialists in new york her sight may be restored. and her grandfather has consented to let her go, though i don't see how the old man can bear to give her up. mr. and mrs. preston have asked him to live here with them, but he says he will go into a confederate home for old southern soldiers as soon as alice leaves. let's go over under the trees with madge and phil. we can eat our grapes and talk about the party." madge waved a yellow telegram frantically as nellie and lillian came toward them. "tom and the boys will be back with the motor launch the day after to-morrow," she announced. "and that darling, mrs. preston, says we can have our dance on that very night, and it's to be a fancy dress party if we like, because she has stores and stores of lovely old-fashioned clothes up in her attic and she won't mind our dressing up in them. so we must drive round the neighborhood this afternoon and deliver our invitations and decide what characters we are to represent and----" madge gasped for breath, while phil fanned her violently with a large palm-leaf fan. "come right on upstairs to the attic with me," ordered madge, as soon as she could speak again. "we have no time to waste. we can look at the dresses and then see what characters we wish to represent. david, you can come, too," invited madge graciously. "you can carry alice up the steps." david lifted the blind girl to his shoulder and trotted obediently after the girls. he no longer minded madge's occasionally imperious manner, for he knew she was unconscious of it. on top of all the other clothes in mrs. preston's cedar chest was a black velvet gown, made with a long train and a v-shaped neck. phyllis laid it regretfully aside. "this is perfectly elegant," she sighed, "but it isn't appropriate for any of us to wear." lillian seldon received the rejected costume with outstretched arms. for some time she had cherished the belief that she bore a faint resemblance to the beautiful but ill-fated "mary, queen of scots." lillian had come across a picture of the lovely mary stuart in an illustrated "book of queens" in miss tolliver's school, and had borne the book to her bedroom and carefully locked her door. there she had gazed thoughtfully at the picture and then at her own reflection in the glass. of course, it would never do for her to mention it, not even to one of the beloved houseboat girls, but it did appear to lillian that her own blonde hair grew in a low point on her forehead in much the same fashion as mary stuart's. also, she had a similar line to her aristocratic, aquiline nose, and her chin was almost as delicately pointed. assuredly lillian was not vain. she did not think for a moment that she was beautiful, like mary queen of scots, still she thought that she bore a faint resemblance to the ill-fated queen. in the velvet gown lay lillian's opportunity to impersonate the lovely mary, but she blushed as she smoothed it softly. "i wonder if i might not wear this dress to the party?" she suggested meekly. madge shook her head critically. "it is much too old for you, dear," she argued. "but i have always wanted to wear a black velvet gown so much, madge, i mean to buy one as soon as i am really grown-up," she pleaded, "and i could come to our dance as 'mary, queen of scots.'" the three girls surveyed pretty, blonde lillian thoughtfully. then three heads nodded approvingly. "here is a costume for nellie. it looks like her, doesn't it, girls?" exclaimed phyllis, picking up a soft, white silk gown with a greek border of silver braid a little tarnished by time. "isn't it just too sweet for anything?" "it is a love of a frock," sighed eleanor rapturously, "but i don't think it suggests any special character." madge frowned thoughtfully. "oh, it doesn't make so much difference about representing a particular character, nellie. you can go as a lady of king arthur's time. i imagine the women wore just such gowns in the days of beauty and chivalry." "all right," said eleanor obediently. "there is a 'king arthur's knights' in the library. i'll get it and read up on the doings of the king and his subjects. perhaps i'll find a character that will just suit me. i'm too dark to ever think of impersonating elaine." "i can't represent a great historical character," declared madge, peering into the trunk--"who ever heard of a heroine with red hair and a turned-up nose?--but i am going to wear this dress." madge held up a flowered silk of softest, palest blue, with great pale-pink roses trailing over it. it was made with a long, pointed blouse, and had little paniers over the hips. madge slipped the gown on over her frock. the dress had a little bag of the same silk hanging at its side and in it a dainty lace handkerchief, sweet with a far-off fragrance of lavender. david and the three girls gazed admiringly at madge. "miss dolly varden!" exclaimed phil. "it is just the kind of costume that dickens makes dolly varden wear in 'barnaby rudge.' only miss jenny ann must make you a poke bonnet. but what about poor me? i am such a dreadfully unromantic-looking person. i am not a tall, stately maiden like our rare, pale lillian, nor a witch like madge, nor a dainty little maid like nellie. i am just plain phil!" phyllis sighed, half in jest and half in earnest. "i know what character i want you to represent, phyllis, darling," cried madge. "there is no costume here that is very appropriate for it, but i know how to make a helmet and shield out of silver paper and cardboard. and i am sure we could get up the rest of the costume." "whom do you mean, madge?" inquired phil. "guess. my character is a wonderfully brave girl, who sacrificed her life to save her king and her country. just lately she has been declared a saint by her church." david glanced up from the floor, where he was amusing little alice. "joan of arc, you mean, don't you?" he asked. "of course i do, david. how did you guess it? i don't say that phil looks just like the pictures of joan of arc, but she is like her. she would do anything in the world that she thought was right, even if she lost her life in doing it," declared her friend admiringly. "now, mr. david brewster, having arranged the costumes of four important members of the preston household, what character will you represent?" "my own humble self," announced david firmly. "please don't ask me to 'dress up.' i felt like a perfect chump the night i had to rig myself up as 'hiawatha.' i rushed up to the house and got the crazy clothes off, even before i--before i----" david stopped, then continued nervously: "remember, the other fellows won't have time to get themselves into fancy costumes, so please let me off. i'll clear out, now, and let you girls fix up your costumes." to save her life, madge could not help looking curiously at david. it was the usual hour in the afternoon when the young man disappeared. when, late that afternoon, the lad came home he had lost his cheerful mood of the morning. he was sullen and downcast. david had made up his mind that his best chance to restore the stolen property to miss betsey taylor and mrs. preston was on the night of the fancy dress ball. the upstairs part of the house would then probably be empty, and no one would think of him or notice him. at any rate, he dared not wait longer. as soon as tom and the other boys returned, the houseboat party would start off up the river again in tow of the "sea gull," and his opportunity would be lost. chapter xxi the interruption all afternoon, just before the night of the fancy dress ball, the four girls took turns watching at the front windows of the preston house for the belated boys. in spite of tom's telegram, plainly stating the day of their arrival, the motor launch boys had not put in an appearance. soon after luncheon david went down to the river bank to watch for them. at six o'clock he came back to say that he had waited as long as possible and had seen no sign of the "sea gull." it looked as though the boys had been delayed. the girls were in despair. here they had planned a wonderful surprise party for the boys, and their guests of honor were not going to be present. the young people from the nearby country houses had been invited to the dance, to begin at eight o'clock that evening, so it was quite impossible to put it off. at half-past eight the old virginia homestead, where belles and beaux had made merry many long years before, was gay with the voices of the invited guests. but the dancing had not yet begun. each time the old door-bell rang the four girls hoped it meant the return of the four boys. under the great curved stairway the orchestra of colored musicians was tuning up. sam, the colored boy, who had first introduced two of the houseboat girls to mrs. preston, was the leader of the band of six instruments. if you have never heard old-time colored people play dance music, you can hardly imagine how delightful it is. to-night sam's orchestra was composed of six instruments, a bass violin, which he played himself, two banjos, two guitars and a tambourine. in the long parlors that were to be used for the dancing mr. and mrs. preston stood, shaking hands with their guests. just back of them sat miss betsey in her best black silk dress, and dear miss jenny ann in a white silk gown, looking as young as any one of her girls. between them was little alice. on the other side of miss betsey a stately old gentleman smiled indulgently on the young people. mr. john randolph could no longer have been mistaken for a ghost. a few days of cheerful conversation with his old friends, good food and sunshine had revived him wonderfully. mrs. preston explained to her friends that mr. randolph had been living alone and, accompanied by his grand-daughter, had lately come to make them a visit. the four girls walked about the great room, receiving their visitors, talking to them, trying to entertain them, doing everything in their power to delay the dancing, in the vain hope that their friends would still appear. in answer to a nod from mrs. preston, madge and phil hurried to her side. "it is time to begin the dance, dears," reminded mrs. preston. "i am sorry that your friends have not arrived, but we can't disappoint our other guests on their account. tell sam to begin with an old-fashioned virginia reel. it is the way we begin our dances down here in the country." madge slipped out in the back hall. she noticed david standing alone near the front door. he seemed shy and ill at ease. he did not know how to dance, and it was hard to pretend to be cheerful when he had such a load on his mind. a loud ring at the front-door bell and a knock on the door startled david. he went forward to open it, but a witch of a girl in a pale blue flowered silk, her blue eyes dancing under her poke bonnet, flitted by him. "please let me open the door, david," she entreated. "i feel just sure tom and the other boys have come at last." tom curtis stared blankly. who was this lovely apparition that had opened the old farmhouse door for him? was he dreaming, or had he and his friends strayed into the wrong house? there were the sounds of music and strange boys and girls were about everywhere. tom took off his hat. with a familiar gesture he ran his fingers through his curly light hair, making it stand on end. "who is it, and where am i?" he asked feebly, pretending to be overcome with emotion, like the hero in a romantic play. "come into the house, tom curtis, this minute, and don't be a goose! you know perfectly well i am madge. only to-night i am appearing in the character of miss dolly varden. we were giving you boys a surprise party, but we were afraid you would not get here in time for it. hello, everybody!" madge shook hands first with tom, and then with the other three boys. she then took tom by one hand and her cousin, jack bolling, by the other. with harry sears and george robinson following her, she escorted them proudly across the room to mr. and mrs. preston. lillian, phil and eleanor hurried to join them, tendering the belated guests an enthusiastic welcome. "here the young men are, at the last minute, mrs. preston," exclaimed madge triumphantly. "now our dance can really begin." tom leaned over to whisper in miss dolly varden's ear, "you'll dance with me, won't you, madge, for old time's sake?" madge nodded happily. "i have waited for you," she answered. "i felt perfectly sure you wouldn't disappoint us." jack bolling asked phyllis to dance with him, harry sears and lillian were partners and eleanor and george robinson. "get your places for the virginia reel!" sam shouted. mr. and mrs. preston stood, each one of them at the head of a long line. miss jenny ann came next, with her partner, a man from the next farm. the four girls were hurrying off with the motor launch boys when madge stopped suddenly. old mr. john randolph smiled at her. it was hard not to smile at madge when she was happy. the little captain whispered something in the old man's ear. "do, please," she urged, "it will be such fun." mr. randolph rose and bowed low to miss betsey taylor, with his right hand over his heart in the manner of half a century ago. "miss betsey, will you do me the honor to dance this reel with me?" he asked, almost with a twinkle in his eye. "my gracious, sakes alive!" exclaimed miss betsey nervously. "i haven't danced in half a lifetime. i am sure my bones are much too stiff." nevertheless, frivolous miss betsey allowed her old admirer to lead her to her place in the line. "the camels are coming, ho, ho, ho, ho! the camels are coming from baltimo'," piped up sam's orchestra, and jolly mr. and mrs. preston swept down the long line of the dancers with the energy of boy and girl. david brewster watched the scene for a minute from the open doorway. he tried to still the feeling of jealousy that swept over him; but he could not help but have a sore feeling in his heart. the girls, who had been so friendly with him in the last few days, had forgotten his very existence, now that the other boys had returned. also, not one of the motor boys had stopped to speak to him as they passed him in the hall. poor david! well, it was just as well that he had been forgotten for to-night, at least, for he had work to do. now was the appointed time for the return of miss betsey's money and mrs. preston's silver. the servants were busy downstairs; the guests were dancing. he would try to accomplish his purpose. [illustration: david was kneeling before the open box.] david slipped quietly up the steps and went into his own small room. the preston house was divided by a long hall, with four large bedrooms on either side. david's room was on the same floor, but at the back of the house. he dragged a big wooden box out from under his bed and silently went to work to open it. he had already got together the tools that were necessary for the purpose. the box lid came off and on top of a pile of silver was miss betsey's money bag. it contained all the money that david had been able to persuade the thief to leave behind him. david emptied his own pockets of every cent he had earned from tom curtis during the summer, and postponed the dearest ambition of his life as he did it. then he crept out into the hall--like a thief, he thought bitterly. the hall was deserted--not even a servant in sight. it was the work of a moment for david to slip into miss betsey's bedroom and place her money bag under her pillow. but to return the silver to the prestons was a far more difficult matter. the burglar, on the night of the fire, had swept the old mahogany sideboard clean. he had taken away dozens of solid silver knives, forks, spoons and some large, old-fashioned goblets. it was impossible for david to return the silver to its rightful place in the dining room. he gathered up a load in his arms and ran to the front bedroom, where mr. and mrs. preston slept. his cheeks were flaming from shame and nervousness. he hated, with all the hatred of a passionate, honest nature, the task he was engaged in, but he knew of no other way to do what he believed to be right. david made his first trip with the silver in safety. but there were still a few pieces remaining in the box. he could hear the music and the merry laughter downstairs. in a few seconds his task would be accomplished. he would bear in silence whatever came afterward. the lad was kneeling on the floor before the open box. he had just reached down to gather the last handful of silver. his door was partly open; in his hurry david neglected to close it. "hello, old chap! how are you?" a cheerful voice called out. tom curtis's frank, friendly face appeared at the now open door. "i did not have a chance to speak to you downstairs when i first came in, but madge sent me up here for her fan, and i thought i'd take a peep in here to see if you could be found. what have you got there?" tom stared with open curiosity at david's box of silver; then he looked puzzled and unhappy. david had sprung to his feet with a muttered exclamation of anger. neither boy spoke for a moment. some one was coming up the steps. "couldn't you find my fan, tom? it is almost time for our dance," called madge. "why, here you are gossiping with david." madge was now at the open door. she, too, stared at the open box of silver. then her face turned white. "o david! what does it mean?" she pleaded. "i simply can't believe my own eyes." chapter xxii madge morton's trust david would make no reply to either madge's or tom's questionings. he was sullen, angry and silent. after a while his two friends gave up in despair. but madge and tom decided that it would be better not to tell their dreadful secret to any one until the party was over. they did not wish to spoil the evening for the others. the two friends went back among the dancers and madge danced the rest of the evening as though nothing had happened. yet all the time she felt sick at heart. she had trusted david and looked on him as her friend, while he had done her many kindnesses and she was grateful for them. in spite of the evidence of her own eyes she told herself that she still trusted him. for the rest of the long evening david brewster never left his own chamber, where tom had found him. he did not even trouble to take the rest of the silver in to mrs. preston. he just sat, staring miserably in front of him, looking old and haggard. the worst had happened. he had been found with the stolen goods in his possession and he had absolutely no explanation to make to his friends. it was after one o'clock in the morning when the last guest had departed from the preston home. "dolly varden looks tired," said mrs. preston kindly to madge, who was lingering near her. "you had better run upstairs to bed, my dear." "o mrs. preston!" cried madge brokenly, "something strange--has--happened. won't--you--make--david explain--it to--you?" then she threw her arms about the good woman's neck and began sobbing disconsolately. "what's the matter, little girl?" asked mr. preston in alarm. he had come upon the scene just in time to witness madge's outburst of grief. but all madge would say was: "ask david. make him explain. he isn't guilty; i know he isn't. he didn't steal the silver and miss betsey's money; i am sure he didn't." while madge was sobbing forth her defense of david, ned, the old butler, came hurrying in with an excited, "won't you please come into your bed room, sah; de silver am all back again." mr. preston hurried after ned. sure enough, there was the silver, spread out on the sidetable. david was nowhere to be seen, however, and mr. preston decided not to ask the boy any questions that night concerning the mysterious fashion in which the lost silver had suddenly been returned. neither would he discuss the situation with any member of the household, and for this madge was secretly very thankful. david did not come down to breakfast with the family. soon after mr. preston went upstairs to his room. the household was strangely divided in its feeling. jack bolling, harry sears and george robinson were all against david. tom was silent and depressed. miss betsey taylor had not closed her eyes all night, and was extremely cross. she hated to admit it, but her own judgment told her that david was a thief. though phil was bitterly sorry and would have done anything in the world she could to help david out of the scrape, she was forced to agree with miss betsey. the young people openly discussed the question of david's guilt. only madge was absolutely silent. she would give no opinion one way or the other. but poor david found an unexpected champion in eleanor. she did not believe that david had taken the money and silver. if he had, he must have meant it for a joke, or he had had some other good reason. nellie felt perfectly sure he would explain later on. the entire party was out on the veranda that led from the dining room when mr. preston came back from his interview with david. mr. preston's face was very grave, and sterner than any one of his young guests had ever seen it. "the boy refuses to give me any explanation of his strange behavior," announced mr. preston to his wife in a voice that they could all hear. "he begs only that i let him leave the house at once. he says that the silver is all safe, and that he will pay miss betsey back the rest of her money as soon as he is able to earn it." "what answer did you make to him, william?" asked mrs. preston nervously. her kind face was clouded with sympathy and regret. "i told david that he most certainly should not leave us," returned mr. preston severely. "i insisted that he come among us, as he has before, and remain here until mr. curtis wishes to take his friends away. he will then do what he thinks wisest with the boy. but david shall _not_ escape the penalty of his own act. i have no desire to punish him by law. he has returned the stolen property, so i presume that he has had a change of heart; but his refusal to explain why he committed the theft, or to say that he is sorry for his deed, makes it hard for me to have patience with him. he is very trying." the gloomy morning went by slowly. the motor launch boys took phil, lillian and eleanor down the river bank. madge would not go. the young people wished to see that the houseboat was set in order for sailing, and tom suggested that they eat their luncheon aboard the "sea gull." only madge guessed that generous-hearted tom curtis wished to spare david the embarrassment of meeting his former friends so soon after his disgrace. david came down to mrs. preston's luncheon table. his face looked as though it were cut from marble; only his black eyes burned brilliantly, and his mouth was drawn in a fine, hard line. he bowed quietly as he entered the room, but spoke to no one during the meal. miss betsey talked to him kindly, and asked him to come to her room some time during the afternoon. david shook his head firmly. "it wouldn't do any good, miss taylor," he said in a firm tone. "i am willing to let you do anything to me that you like, but i have absolutely nothing to say." after leaving the dining room, david hurried toward his retreat in the woods. madge had gone upstairs and was watching the lad from her open window. as she saw him disappear down the road she ran quietly after him. david had the start of her and he strode on so rapidly that it was difficult to catch up with him. then, too, madge did not wish david to see her until they were both well away from the preston house. but once the boy had vaulted the fence into the field, madge called after him softly: "david, please stop a minute, won't you? i only wish to speak to you." david marched straight on. if he heard madge, he did not turn his head. she climbed the fence into the field after him and ran on. "david, don't you hear me?" she panted, for david was walking faster than ever. she was now so near to david that she knew there was no possibility of his not knowing that she had called to him. when he did not turn his head or show any sign of answering her, she stopped still in the center of the field, with an involuntary exclamation of hurt surprise. then she turned her back on the boy and began to slowly retrace her steps toward home. david had heard every sound that madge made, even to her last little admission of defeat. as she moved away from him he stopped still. he then swung himself around and gazed wistfully after her retreating form. "if she asked me the truth, i think i would have to tell it to her," he murmured to himself. "i don't dare trust myself. it is better that she should think me the rude boor that i am. but i am not a thief; i wish i could tell her that, at least." madge's eyes were full of tears as she stumbled back across the fields. she was hurt, angry and disappointed. somehow, in spite of everything, she had believed that david could explain his mysterious possession of the stolen property. she would not try again to tell him that she still had faith in him, she thought resentfully. the field was full of loose rocks and stones, but madge was apparently oblivious to this. suddenly a stone rolled under her foot, giving her ankle an unexpected wrench. with a little cry of pain she sank down on the ground to get her breath. in an instant david brewster was at her side. "i am afraid you have hurt yourself," he said humbly. "no," she returned coldly. "i wrenched my ankle for a second; it is all right now." "do let me help you home," offered david miserably. madge shook her head. "no, thank you; i wouldn't trouble you for worlds," she protested icily. "but you wouldn't trouble me; i should dearly love to do it," replied david so honestly that the little captain's heart softened though her severe manner never changed. "see here, miss morton," david burst out impetuously, "if you won't let me take you home, do let me help you to that old tree over there. you can't stay here in the broiling sun; it will give you a dreadful headache. i know you don't want to speak to me, and i will go right away again." "i _did_ want to speak to you very much, david," returned madge gently; "only you would not let me." "i know," answered david. "i did hear you call to me. i am not going to lie to you, too. i didn't answer because i didn't dare." madge put her hand on david's arm and let him assist her across the field to the tree. her ankle was really well enough by this time for her to have walked alone, but madge was not quite ready to walk alone. david sat down abruptly beside his companion under the shadow of a mammoth tulip tree, staring moodily in front of him. madge said nothing. a minute, two minutes of silence passed. "i don't believe you stole the things, david," she avowed simply. david's eyes dropped and his face twitched. "how can you fail to believe that i stole them?" he questioned doggedly. "i had them in my possession. you know that." madge turned her sweet, honest face full on the boy. "i don't know why i think so, david, but i do. i trust you, and i _know_ you are honest. do you dare to look me squarely in the face and say: 'madge morton, you are mistaken. i _did_ steal miss betsey's money and mr. preston's silver'? if you will say this, i promise never to betray you and i will never trouble you with questions again. but if you don't, david brewster, i am going to work until i come to the bottom of this mystery." david brewster covered his face with his hands. "i can't say it, madge," he faltered; "it is too much to ask of me." the little captain's face broke into happy smiles. "never mind, david," she comforted him, "i believe i understand." chapter xxiii the little captain's story david brewster rose to his feet. "if your ankle is all right now," he suggested hurriedly, "i had better go." "why?" asked madge innocently. "i have some work to do," returned david. "the same work that you do every afternoon?" david bowed his head. "yes," he replied. "see here, miss morton, there isn't any reason why i shouldn't tell you what i do when off by myself every afternoon. i don't want you to think that i am always up to some dishonest kind of business." david flushed hotly. "i am only studying when i hide off here in the woods. you see, i have always had to work awfully hard; i never have had much time for schooling. but i don't want the other fellows to get too far ahead of me, for i am going to college some day, even if i am a grown man, when my chance comes." "good for _you_, david!" cried madge, clapping her hands softly. "of course you will go to college if you have set your mind upon going. i don't believe you are the kind of boy that gives up. you'll do most anything you want to do some day." david's face flushed under madge's enthusiasm. "oh, no, i won't," he answered miserably. "there are some things a fellow can't live down." "you mean this theft?" inquired madge. "yes," nodded the boy. "everyone believes me to be a common thief." "but you didn't steal the things. i believe i know who took them," hazarded madge; "that man and the old woman who were hiding in the woods." madge saw at a glance that her guess was true. david gazed at her helplessly. then he shook his head. "those people must have been far away from this neighborhood when the things were taken," he replied. "oh, no, they weren't," retorted madge. "the old woman was at the farm the night of the fire, dressed up as 'old nokomis.' i wondered, at the time, if she was not up to some kind of mischief. then, later on, when nellie was lost, she saw the same man and woman. i believe they changed their hiding place for fear they might be suspected of the theft, and that we would send the sheriff to look for them." "but why should i try to shield _them_, miss morton?" asked david obstinately, "and how could i have the stolen goods if other people took them?" it was madge's turn to flush and be silent. "don't make me tell you why i think you are trying to shield them, david, by taking the shame on yourself," she pleaded. "you see, i believe i have guessed what those people are to you." "you can't have guessed," protested david hoarsely. "you don't know anything of me or my people." "girls are good at guessing," explained madge apologetically. "you see, miss betsey told us that your father wasn't a very good kind of man, and that he sometimes went away from home and wandered around the country for a long time. and, and----" madge hesitated. "at first when you spoke to the man and old woman, i was just surprised at your knowing such curious people. then i began to think. the man looked something like you, david. so i have just worked it out in my own mind that the man took the things, and that you made him let you return them to miss betsey and mrs. preston, and that you are willing to take the blame on yourself because--because----" madge hesitated again and looked down. "because the man is your father!" she said gently. "am i right, david? please tell me." david's face turned red, then white, then red again. "you think that thief is my father, because i look like him, and because i am willing to bear the burden of his guilt?" david was not conscious that he had at last confessed to madge that the man she suspected was the actual robber! "he is not my father," continued david passionately. "my father is good for nothing; he comes of bad people, and he has dragged my mother down with him. but he is not a thief! the man who stole the money from miss betsey and the silver from the prestons is my first cousin. he is a great deal older than i am. his father was my father's eldest brother. hal used to live with us when i was a little boy, and i was fond of him then. but he got too bad, even for us to stand, and he has since been tramping around the country, stealing, or living any way that he could. he would not give me back the things until i promised to take the blame if anybody was suspected. he threatened to implicate me in the robbery if i told any one, so i thought the best thing to do was to return the things and let him go." madge's face was burning and her hands quite cold. "i am sure i beg your pardon, david, with all my heart," she said humbly. "i know that you never can forgive me for insulting your father. i ought not to have tried to find out your secret. once, long ago, a girl told my friends a story about my father. she said that he had been disgraced when he was a captain in the navy, and had been dismissed from the service. it wasn't true," faltered madge, "but most people believed it. i had to try awfully hard to forgive that girl when, later on, she asked me to pardon her. so i don't even ask you to forgive me, david," she insisted mournfully; "only you will believe me when i say that i am awfully sorry for my mistake." david was staring at her intently. "forgive you," he replied. "of course i won't--because there is nothing to forgive. you have been the best friend i ever had. to think that, even when you thought my father was a thief and a tramp, you were still willing to believe in me and to be my friend! you are simply great! some day i am going to do something splendid that will make you feel glad to know david brewster." david shook madge's hand warmly, his eyes clear and untroubled for the first time in their acquaintance. this girl had thought the worst of his family and still had trusted him. no one with a faithful friend need ever be discouraged. madge and david walked slowly back to the preston house, across the august fields. it was late afternoon. the boy and girl had talked together for a long time under the old tree. they had confided to each other many of their hopes and ambitions. they were not to see each other alone again for a long time. but neither one of them was to forget that summer afternoon. at the front gate madge turned and faced david squarely. her charming face wore an expression of stubborn determination. "david brewster, i have not promised your cousin to keep his secret, or to let you be suspected of his crime. i am going to tell mr. and mrs. preston and miss betsey that you did not steal their property, and that just as soon as i get inside the house." david shook his head resolutely. "i thought i could trust you, madge." "you can," urged madge. "only, please, don't be so stubborn. it can't hurt your cousin for me to tell what he has done. mr. preston and miss betsey have never seen him and they will both promise never to try to punish him for the theft. they have their things back, so they are not hurt, except by----" "by what?" asked david unsuspiciously. "by their lack of faith in you, david," answered madge convincingly. "it hurts awfully to be deceived in people. miss betsey cried all night, and mr. preston ate hardly any breakfast or luncheon, they have been so unhappy over you." the little captain thought she saw signs of relenting in david's face. "do let me tell," she pleaded. "i really can't bear it, if you don't," she ended in characteristic madge-fashion. david smiled and nodded. without waiting to give him a chance to change his mind she ran into the house and up the front steps. the three girls and the motor launch boys had returned and were wondering what had become of her. madge swept them all before her into the preston library. then, summoning her host and hostess, miss betsey and miss jenny ann, madge told david's story. perhaps she made him a hero in explaining how he was willing to take his cousin's crime on his own shoulders, rather than have miss betsey and mrs. preston lose their property, but at least, after she had finished, there was no one present who did not have a feeling of admiration for david, who had tried to do his duty even at the expense of his good name. chapter xxiv "good luck to the bride" "do you think it is very funny, tom?" inquired phil. she and madge, lillian, eleanor and the four motor launch boys were on the deck of the "sea gull." they were gliding down the rappahannock toward the great chesapeake bay. moving gracefully behind the motor boat was the familiar form of the "merry maid." a group of older people sat out on her deck, gazing along the sun-lit shores of the river. the cruise of the houseboat was almost over. tom curtis hesitated at phil's question. "i ought not to say it is funny," he returned, "but i really think it is." "don't any of you dare to let miss betsey know you think so," warned madge. eleanor looked aggrieved. "i am sure i don't know what there is funny about it," she protested. "i think it is lovely. only it wasn't nice in miss betsey not to let us be her bridesmaids." eleanor gazed across the little space of water to where mr. and mrs. john randolph sat together on the deck of the "merry maid" with the blind child, alice. madge laughed softly. "miss betsey said she felt enough like a fool, being married at her age, without having a lot of young girls standing around to laugh at her. but john randolph wouldn't let her take care of him unless she did marry him, and she had no idea of separating him from his grandchild," concluded madge. "what a lot of things have happened this summer," remarked lillian. "who would have thought that we should leave david brewster in virginia! mr. preston says that if david will work for him he will help him go to college." "david is a bully fellow!" declared tom. "i don't think we understood him just at first." "yes, and tom curtis is another," teased madge; "only he won't blow his own horn, unless it is his fog-horn. tom offered to pay david's expenses at college if he would come home with us, but david said he thought it would be better for him to earn his own way." miss jenny ann waved frantically from the deck of the houseboat. "tie up along shore, tom; it is growing late. remember, this is our last supper party together this summer," she called out. it was the first week in september. the evening had grown unexpectedly cool when tom ran the two boats up by the river bank. in the morning they were to put into shore at a nearby town, and the little company of friends would disband to travel to their homes in various parts of the country. so for to-night they had planned to have a wonderful feast on land, and to make it their good-bye memory of their summer cruise. tom had selected a line of open shore, with a grove of chestnut trees just back of it. each member of the party went on land, bearing boxes, lunch-hampers and baskets of fruit. tom staggered under a particularly large box that was very tall and round, as though it contained a new easter bonnet with feathers standing straight up on it. madge and phil marched behind him, urging him to be careful every foot of the way. "girls!" cried miss betsey excitedly, coming up beside them with her bonnet over one ear and her long cape flying out behind her, "i have a confession to make to you; i had better out with it before i forget it. you remember those small sums of money that i vowed i had lost when we were first aboard the houseboat?" both girls nodded, though their faces clouded at the recollection. "well, they were not stolen at all," announced miss betsey shamefacedly. "i am an old woman, children, in spite of my present performances. i had tucked that money away in the little table drawer in my cabin on the houseboat; i suppose i meant to use it for something, and then forgot it. i have a short memory for some things and a long one for others," miss betsey's eyes twinkled as her husband came up to join her. harry sears and george robinson made a huge campfire near the spot where the voyagers had chosen to have their supper. miss jenny ann got out the big coffee pot. the rest of the party started in to spread the feast on a big damask table cloth that miss betsey had arranged on the grass. "madge, you and tom curtis go off to some place to find water for the lemonade," ordered miss betsey. madge and tom each seized a large tin bucket. not far off they could see a funny little log house that must belong to one of the river men, it was set so close to the river. they would find water there. "i have something important to tell you, madge," said tom. he began searching diligently in his coat pocket for something, pulled out half a dozen letters, his knife and pocket-book, then with a blank look he exclaimed, "jiminy! i hope i haven't lost it. mother will never forgive me if i have." "lost what?" demanded madge. "why, mother sent you a present, and i have forgotten to give it to you. now i am afraid i have lost it somewhere." "tom curtis, put down that wretched bucket and hunt for it until you find it," insisted madge. "what's that sticking out on the front pocket of your coat?" tom smiled in a relieved fashion as he handed madge a box about four inches square. "it's mother and it's a beauty," he announced. madge opened the box to find an exquisite miniature of her friend, mrs. curtis. it was painted on ivory and was about the size of a locket. around it were exquisite pearls, and it hung on a slender gold chain. the little captain's eyes filled with tears as she looked at it. "i would rather have it than anything in the world," she murmured. in the lining of the box madge found a note, written on a card: "for my madge," it read, "whom i shall never cease to wish to have for my daughter." "i have something to tell you, too," added tom. "my sister, madeleine, is going to be married." madge nearly dropped her gift in her excitement. "married! madeleine! what do you mean? whom is she going to marry? why didn't you tell me before?" she demanded, all in one breath. "do hurry and tell me." tom laughed. "you'll never guess. she is going to marry the judge hilliard who rescued you and phil the night that that wretched mike muldoon put you out of his sailboat. judge hilliard has always been a friend of ours, you know. at first madeleine was just grateful to him for what he did for her. afterward"--tom colored--"i suppose she fell in love with him. i am not quite sure as to what it means to 'fall in love.' but madeleine isn't going to be married for a year. then she wants the four houseboat girls to be her bridesmaids." madge clasped her hands in rapture. "won't it be fun!" she exclaimed. "but do hurry on, tom, or we shall never get the water for the lemonade." they were almost back with their other friends when tom had finished his mother's message: "when madeleine is married, mother means to ask you again to be her adopted daughter, madge," continued tom; "and you know how much i want you." madge shook her auburn head, her face pale with emotion. "it is too soon to talk about it, tom," she answered. "you see, when i finish school i am going first to hunt for my father." "madge and tom, do hurry here this minute!" scolded phil from her seat on the grass. "the lemonade is all ready, except pouring on the water, and we are waiting supper for you." the two boat parties were in a great circle about the big table cloth, with mr. and mrs. john randolph at the head as the guests of honor of the feast. it was growing dark, but the bushes and trees nearby were strung with lanterns borrowed from the two boats. the feast was almost over when madge whispered something in tom's ear and phil nodded emphatically. tom slipped away, to return bearing the big box which he had carried so tenderly up from the houseboat. between them madge and phil lifted out a mammoth wedding cake and placed it, with a flourish, in the center of the feast. "you wouldn't have a wedding supper at mrs. preston's, miss betsey--mrs. randolph, i mean," announced madge, "so we have made you have it here." madge handed her a knife, saying, "you must cut your own wedding cake." "i can't cut it," protested mrs. randolph; "it is too lovely." on top of the cake was an exquisite frosted ship, made to represent the houseboat. six tiny dolls danced about it, phil, lillian, eleanor, madge, miss jenny ann and miss betsey! on it was written in icing: "good luck to the bride." it was too dark to see the bride's radiant old face as she cut into her wedding cake, but her hand trembled. a minute later eleanor gave a little cry of surprise. in biting her cake she had come across a small gold ring. "eleanor will be married first, but i shall be the richest," announced lillian, as she held up a bright silver dime. "who will be the old maid?" nobody spoke, but madge produced a small, bent thimble. "i am going to be the old maid, of course. haven't i always said so?" she inquired. "_not_ if i know it!" whispered tom into madge's unheeding ears. "come on, children, to the boats," ordered miss jenny ann, a little later. "night has come on. we must say good-bye. we won't have any farewells, even in the morning. they are too dismal. but pleasant dreams on the houseboat and the motor launch. and may we meet again!" miss jennie ann's wish was prophetic. there were other happy times in store for the four girls and their teacher on board their beloved "ship of dreams," the "merry maid." what happened to them during a summer at cape may and how madge kept her vow to find her father are fully set forth in "madge morton's victory," the record of another summer vacation spent at the seashore which no friend of the little captain and her chums lillian, phyllis and eleanor, not to mention miss jenny ann jones, can afford to miss reading. the end. henry altemus company's catalogue of the best and least expensive books for real boys and girls * * * * * really good and new stories for boys and girls are not plentiful. many stories, too, are so highly improbable as to bring a grin of derision to the young reader's face before he has gone far. the name of altemus is a distinctive brand on the cover of a book, always ensuring the buyer of having a book that is up-to-date and fine throughout. no buyer of an altemus book is ever disappointed. many are the claims made as to the inexpensiveness of books. go into any bookstore and ask for an altemus book. compare the price charged you for altemus books with the price demanded for other juvenile books. you will at once discover that a given outlay of money will buy more of the altemus books than of those published by other houses. every dealer in books carries the altemus books. * * * * * sold by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price henry altemus company 1326-1336 vine street, philadelphia the motor boat club series by h. irving hancock the keynote of these books is manliness. the stories are wonderfully entertaining, and they are at the same time sound and wholesome. no boy will willingly lay down an unfinished book in this series. 1 the motor boat club of the kennebec; 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or, dick & co. start things moving. 2 the grammar school boys snowbound; or, dick & co. at winter sports. 3 the grammar school boys in the woods; or, dick & co. trail fun and knowledge. 4 the grammar school boys in summer athletics; or, dick & co. make their fame secure. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. high school boys' vacation series by h. irving hancock "give us more dick prescott books!" this has been the burden of the cry from young readers of the country over. almost numberless letters have been received by the publishers, making this eager demand; for dick prescott, dave darrin, tom reade, and the other members of dick & co. are the most popular high school boys in the land. boys will alternately thrill and chuckle when reading these splendid narratives. 1 the high school boys' canoe club; or, dick & co.'s rivals on lake pleasant. 2 the high school boys in summer camp; or, the dick prescott six training for the gridley eleven. 3 the high school boys' fishing trip; or, dick & co. in the wilderness. 4 the high school boys' training hike; 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or, fast friends in the sororities. 4 grace harlowe's senior year at high school; or, the parting of the ways. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. the automobile girls series by laura dent crane no girl's library--no family book-case can be considered at all complete unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books. 1 the automobile girls at newport; or, watching the summer parade.--2 the automobile girls in the berkshires; or, the ghost of lost man's trail.--3 the automobile girls along the hudson; or, fighting fire in sleepy hollow--4 the automobile girls at chicago; or, winning out against heavy odds.--5 the automobile girls at palm beach; or, proving their mettle under southern skies.--6 the automobile girls at washington; or, checkmating the plots of foreign spies. cloth, illustrated price, per volume, 50c. transcriber's note: page 14 yet is was impossible to _changed to_ yet it was impossible to page 26 phillis was a little girl _changed to_ phyllis was a little girl page 63 as she re-appeared on deck _changed to_ as she reappeared on deck page 137 fullstop removed after chapter heading eleanor gets into mischief page 234 david found an unexpected champon _changed to_ david found an unexpected champion virginia: the old dominion as seen from its colonial waterway, the historic river james, whose every succeeding turn reveals country replete with monuments and scenes recalling the march of history and its figures from the days of captain john smith to the present time. by frank and cortelle hutchins with a map, and fifty-four plates, of which six are in full color, from photographs by the authors. 1910 [illustration: the portico of brandon, from the garden. (see page 119)] to the honourable francis e. hutchins, the father of one author, the more than father-in-law of the other, and the ever-staunch friend of gadabout, this book is affectionately dedicated. this volume was formerly published under the title, "houseboating on a colonial waterway"; but its appropriateness for inclusion in the "see america first series" to represent the state of virginia is so obvious that the publishers have, in this new edition, changed the title to "virginia: the old dominion," and reissued the book in a new dress, generally uniform with the other volumes in the series. contents chapter i. all about gadabout ii. our first run and a cozy harbour iii. land, ho! our country's birthplace iv. a run around jamestown island v. fancies afloat and ruins ashore vi. in the old churchyard vii. seeing where things happened viii. pioneer village life ix. good-bye to old james towne x. a short sail and an old romance xi. at the pier marked "brandon" xii. harbour days and a foggy night xiii. old silver, old papers, and an old court gown xiv. a one-engine run and a forest tomb xv. navigating an unnavigable stream xvi. in which we get to weyanoke xvii. across river to fleur de hundred xviii. gadabout goes to church xix. westover, the home of a colonial belle xx. an old courtyard and a sun-dial xxi. an underground mystery and a ducking-stool xxii. a bad start and a view of berkeley xxiii. the right way to go to shirley xxiv. from creek harbour to colonial reception xxv. an incongruous bit of houseboating. xxvi. the end of the voyage index list of illustrations the portico of brandon, from the garden (in full color) (see page 119) frontispiece map of the james river from richmond to its mouth the houseboat gadabout in the forward cabin.--looking aft from the forward cabin along the shore of chuckatuck creek (in full color) "just the wild beauty of the shores, the noble expanse of the stream, ... and gadabout" jamestown island from the river (in full color) in back river.--the beach at jamestown island wharf sign at jamestown island.--the "lone cypress" the bridge across back river.--the road across the island the ruined tower of the old village church a corner in the old graveyard (in full color) view from the confederate fort.--looking toward the first landing-place locating what is left of the site of the first settlement an excursion day at jamestown island gadabout looking for the lost isthmus.--a visit to the "lone cypress" one of the earliest excavations.--hunting for the first state house entrance to chippoak creek.--cove in chippoak creek riverward front of brandon (in full color) a side path to the manor-house.--the woodsway to brandon in the drawing-room "venerable four-posters, richly carved and dark" a corner in the dining-room.--the drawing-room fireplace treasured parchments, including the original grant of 1616 the ancient garrison house miss harrison in the court gown of her colonial aunt, evelyn byrd sturgeon point landing.--at the mouth of kittewan creek the forest tomb.--the old kittewan house hunting for the channel.--approaching a narrow place lower weyanoke an ancestress of weyanoke.--chief-justice john marshall upper weyanoke.--at anchor off weyanoke present-day fleur de hundred a fishing hamlet.--a river landing "little boats were nosing into the bank here and there" riverward front of westover the hall, with its carved mahogany staircase the hepplewhite sideboard with butler's desk.--"four-posters and the things of four-poster days" the romantic centre of westover; evelyn byrd's old room the colonial courtyard gates.--tomb of colonel william byrd the drawing-room mantelpiece at westover tombs in the old westover churchyard (in the foreground is the tomb of evelyn byrd) a trapper's home by the river bank.--"often ... the wandering houseboat comes along to find only an empty pier" berkeley; the ancestral home of a signer of the declaration of independence and of two presidents of the united states the field road and the quarters riverward front of shirley (in full color) the old "great hall" the drawing-room the kitchen building, fifty yards from the manor-house a brick oven in the bake-room some noteworthy pieces of old shirley plate peale's portrait of george washington varina dutch gap canal.--falling creek the voyage ended, gadabout in winter quarters chapter i all about gadabout it was dark and still and four o'clock on a summer morning. the few cottages clustering about a landing upon a virginia river were, for the most part, sleeping soundly, though here and there a flickering light told of some awakening home. down close by the landing was one little house wide awake. its windows were aglow; lights moved about; and busy figures passed from room to room and out upon the porch in front. suddenly, with a series of quick, muffled explosions, the whole cottage seemed carried from its foundations. it slipped sidewise, turned almost end for end, then drifted slowly away from its neighbours, out into the darkness and the river. its occupants seemed unconscious of danger. there was one of them standing on the porch quite unconcernedly turning a wheel, while two or three others were watching, with rather amused expressions, two little engines chugging away near the kitchen stove. and thus it was that the houseboat gadabout left her moorings in the outskirts of old norfolk, and went spluttering down the elizabeth to find hampton roads and to start upon her cruise up the historic james river. but to tell the story we must begin before that summer morning. it was this way. we were three: the daughter-wife (who happened to see the magazine article that led to it all), her mother, and her husband. the head of the family, true to the spirit of the age, had achieved a nervous breakdown and was under instructions from his physician to betake himself upon a long, a very long, vacation. it was while we were in perplexed consideration as to where to go and what to do, that the magazine article appeared--devoted to houseboating. it was a most fetching production with a picture that appealed to every overwrought nerve. there was a charming bit of water with trees hanging over; a sky all soft and blue (you knew it was soft and blue just as you knew that the air was soft and cool; just as you knew that a drowsy peace and quiet was brooding over all); and there, in the midst, idly floated a houseboat with a woman idly swinging in a hammock and a man idly fishing from the back porch. that article opened a new field for our consideration. landlubbers of the landlubbers though we were, its water-gypsy charm yet sank deep. we thirsted for more. we haunted the libraries until we had exhausted the literature of houseboating. and what a dangerously attractive literature we found! how the cares and responsibilities of life fell away when people went a-houseboating! what peace unutterable fell upon the worn and weary soul as it drifted lazily on, far from the noise and the toil and the reek of the world! all times were calm; all waters kind. the days rolled on in ever-changing scenes of beauty; the nights, star-gemmed and mystic, were filled with music and the witchery of the sea. it made good reading. it made altogether too good reading. we did not see that then. we did not know that most of the literature of houseboating is the work of people with plenty of imagination and no houseboats. we resolved to build a houseboat. there was excitement in the mere decision; there was more when our friends came to hear of it. their marked disapproval made our new departure seem almost indecorous. it was too late; the tide had us; and disapproval only gave zest to the project. as a first step, we proceeded to rechristen ourselves from a nautical standpoint. the little mother was so hopelessly what the boatmen call a fair-weather sailor that her weakness named her, and she became lady fairweather. the daughter-wife, after immuring herself for half a day with nautical dictionaries and chocolate creams, could not tell whether she was rudderina or maratima; she finally concluded that she was nautica. it required neither time nor confectionery to enable these two members of the family to rename the third. they viewed the strut of plain mr. so-and-so at the prospect of commanding a vessel, and promptly dubbed him commodore. an earnest quest was next made for anybody and everybody who had ever used, seen, or heard of a houseboat; and the commodore made journeys to various waters where specimens of this queer craft were to be found. all the time, three lead pencils were kept busy, and plans and specifications became as autumn leaves. we soon learned that there was little room for the artistic. once nautica had a charming creation, all verandas and overhanging roofs and things; but an old waterman came along and talked about wind and waves, and most of the overhanging art on that little houseboat disappeared under the eraser. "that's all good enough for one of those things you just tie to a bank and hang chinese lanterns on," he said. "but it would never do for a boat that's going to get out in wide water and take what's coming to it." when we concluded that we had the plans to our satisfaction (or rather that we never should have, which amounted to the same thing), we turned over to a builder the task of making them into something that would float and hold people and go. the resulting craft, after passing through a wrecking and some rebuilding, we called gadabout. she was about fifty feet long and twelve feet wide over all, as the watermen say; and was propelled by twin screws, driven by two small gasoline engines. though not a thing of beauty, yet, as she swung lazily at her moorings with her wide, low windows and the little hooded cockpit that we tried hard not to call a porch, she looked cozy and comfortable. her colouring was colonial yellow and white, with a contrast of dark olive on the side runways and the decks. inside, gadabout was arranged as house-like and, we thought, as homelike as boating requirements would permit. there were two cabins, one at either end of the craft. between these, and at one side of the passageway connecting them, was what we always thought of as the kitchen, but always took care to speak of as the galley. at first glance, each of the cabins would be taken as a general living-room. each was that; but also a little of everything else. at customary intervals, one compartment or the other would become a dining-cabin. again, innocent looking bits of wall would give way, and there would appear beds, presses, lavatories, and a lamentable lack of room. both cabins were finished in old oak, dark and dead; there is a superabundance of brightness on the water. the ceilings showed the uncovered, dark carlines or rafters. the walls had, along the top, a row of niches for books; and along the bottom, a deceptive sort of wainscoting, each panel of which was a locker door. between book niches above and wainscoting below, the walls were paneled in green burlap with brown rope for molding. the furnishing was plain. [illustration: the houseboat gadabout.] the kitchen or galley was rather small as kitchens go, and rather large as galleys go. it would not do to tell all the things that were in it; for anybody would see that they could not all be there. perhaps it would be well to mention merely the gasoline stove, the refrigerator, the pump and sink, the wall-table, the cupboards for supplies, the closet for the man's serving coats and aprons, the racks of blue willow ware dishes, and the big sliding door. one has to mention the big sliding door; for it made such a difference. it worked up and down like a window-sash, and always suggested the conundrum, when is a galley not a galley? for when it was down, it disclosed nothing and the galley was a galley; but when it was up, it disclosed a recess in which two little gasoline motors sat side by side, and the galley was an engine-room. it was a very ingenious and inconvenient arrangement. operating the stove and the engines at the same time was scarcely practicable; and we were often forced to the hard choice of lying still on a full stomach or travelling on an empty one. there yet remains to be described the crew's quarters. the crew consisted of two hands, both strong and sturdy, and both belonging to the same coloured man. though our trusty tar, henry, had doubtless never heard "the yarn of the 'nancy bell'" and had never eaten a shipmate in his life, yet he had a whole crew within himself as truly as the "elderly naval man" who had eaten one. there was therefore no occasion for extensive quarters. fortunately, an available space at the stern was ample for the crew's cabin and all appointments. all these interior arrangements were without the makeshifts so often found in houseboats. there were no curtains for partition walls nor crude bunks for beds. people aboard a houseboat must at best be living in close quarters. but, upon even the moderate priced craft, much of the comfort, privacy, and refinement of home life may be enjoyed by heading off an outlay that tends toward gilt and grill work and turning it into substantial partitions, real beds, baths, and lavatories. gadabout was square at both ends; so that the uninitiated were not always sure which way she was going to go. indeed, for a while, her closest associates were conservative in forecasting on that point. but that was for another reason. the boat was of extremely light draft. while such a feature enables the houseboater to navigate very shallow waters (where often he finds his most charming retreats), yet it also enables the houseboat, under certain conditions of wind and tide, to go sidewise with all the blundering facility of a crab. [illustration: in the forward cabin.] [illustration: looking aft from the forward cabin.] at first, in making landings we were forced to leave it pretty much to gadabout as to which side of the pier she was to come up on, and which end first, and with how much of a bump. but all such troubles soon disappeared; and, as there seemed no change in the craft herself, we were forced to believe that our own inexperience had had something to do with our difficulties. to gadabout and her crew, add anchors, chains and ropes, small boats, poles and sweeps, parallel rulers, dividers and charts, anchor-lights, lanterns and side-lights, compasses, barometers and megaphones, fenders, grapnels and boathooks--until the landlubberly owners are almost frightened back to solid land; and then all is ready for a houseboat cruise. chapter ii our first run and a cozy harbour daylight came while gadabout was lumbering down the elizabeth, and in the glory of the early morning she followed its waters out into hampton roads, the yawning estuarial mouth of the james emptying into chesapeake bay. she would probably have started in upon her cruise up the historic river without more ado if we had not bethought ourselves that she was carrying us into the undertaking breakfastless. the wheel was put over hard to port (we got that out of the books) and the craft was run in behind craney island and anchored. while our breakfast was preparing, we all gathered in the forward cockpit to enjoy the scene and the life about us. the houseboat was lying in a quiet lagoon bordered on the mainland side by a bit of virginia's great truck garden. here and there glimpses of chimneys and roof lines told of truckers' homes, while cultivated fields stretched far inland. the height of the trucking season was past, yet crates and barrels of vegetables were being hauled to the water's edge for shipment. the negroes sang as they drove, but often punctuated the melody with strong language designed to encourage the mules. one wailing voice came to our ears with the set refrain, "o feed me, white folks! white folks, feed me!" the crates and barrels were loaded on lighters and floated out to little sailing boats that went tacking past our bows on their way to norfolk. it was a pretty scene, but there was one drawback to it all. everything showed the season so far advanced, and served to remind us of the lateness of our start. we had intended to take our little voyage on the james in the springtime. it had been a good deal a matter of sentiment; but sentiment will have its way in houseboating. we had wished to begin in that gentle season when the history of the river itself began, and when the history of this country of ours began with it. for, whatever may have gone before, the real story of the james and of america too commences with the bloom of the dogwood some three hundred years ago, when from the wild waste of the atlantic three puny, storm-worn vessels (scarcely more seaworthy than our tub of a houseboat) beat their way into the sheltering mouth of this unknown river. that was in the days when the nations of europe were greedily contending for what columbus had found on the other side of the world. in that struggle england was slow to get a foothold. neglect, difficulty, and misfortune made her colonies few and short-lived. by the opening of the seventeenth century spain and france, or perhaps spain alone, seemed destined to possess the entire new hemisphere. in all the extent of the americas, england was not then in possession of so much as a log fort. apparently the struggle was ended and england defeated. no one then could have imagined what we now behold--english-speaking people possessing most and dominating all of that newfound western world. this miracle was wrought by the coming of those three little old-time ships, the sarah constant, the goodspeed, and the discovery. it was in the year 1607 that the quaint, high-sterned caravels, representing the forlorn hope of england, crossed the ocean to found a colony on roanoke island. storm-tossed and driven out of their reckoning, they turned for refuge one april day into a yawning break in the coast-line that we now call chesapeake bay. following the sheltering, inviting waters inland, they took their way up a "greate river," bringing to it practically the first touch of civilization and establishing upon its shore the first permanent english settlement in the new world--the birthplace of our country. the civilizers began their work promptly. even as they sailed up the river looking for a place to found their colony, they robbed the stream of its indian name, powhatan, that so befitted the bold, tawny flow, bestowing instead the name of the puerile king of england. that was the first step toward writing in english the story of the james river, the "greate river," the "king's river." it was later by three hundred years lacking one when our houseboat came along to gather up that story. but to our regret it was not springtime. the dogwood blossoms had come and gone when gadabout lay behind craney island; and she would start upon her cruise up the james in the heart of the summertime. in some way that only those who know the laze of houseboating can understand, the hours slipped by in that tiny, tucked-away haven, and it was the middle of the afternoon when gadabout slowly felt her way out from behind the island and started up the james in the wake of the sarah constant, the goodspeed, and the discovery. that historic wake we were to follow for the first thirty miles of our journey, when it would bring us to the spot on the bank of the river where those first colonists landed and built their little settlement which (still honouring an unworthy king) they called james towne. as gadabout sturdily headed her stubby bow up the wide, majestic waterway, we looked about us. after all, what had three centuries done to this gateway of american civilization? surely not very much. keeping one's eyes in the right direction it was easy to blot out three hundred years, and to feel that we were looking upon about the same scene that those first colonists beheld--just the primeval waste of rolling waters, lonely marsh, and wooded shore. but eyes are unruly things; and, to be sure, there were other directions in which to look. glances northward took in a scene different enough from the one that met the eyes of those early voyagers. upon the low point of land along which they at last found a channel into the james and which (in their relief) they named point comfort, now stood a huge modern hostelry. to the left of this, the ancient shore-line was now broken by a dull, square structure that reared its ugly bulk against the sky--a strangely grim marker of the progress of three centuries. for this was the grain elevator at newport news, spouting its endless stream to feed the old world, and standing almost on the spot where those first settlers in the new world, sick and starving, once begged and then fought the indians for corn. lying in the offing were great ships from overseas that had come to this land of the starving colonists for grain. beyond all these could be seen something of the town of newport news itself. towers and spires and home smoke-wreaths we saw, where those beginners of our country saw only the spires of the lonely pines and the smoke from hostile fires. as our houseboat skirted the southern shore of the james in the sunny afternoon, our engines chugging merrily, our flags flying, and our two trailing rowboats dancing on the boiling surge kicked up astern, we felt that our cruise was well begun. not that we were misled for a moment by that boiling surge astern into the belief that we were making much progress. we had early perceived that gadabout made a great stir over small things, and that she went faster at the stern than anywhere else. yet all that was well enough. so long as the sun shines and the water lies good and flat, dawdling along in such a craft is an ideal way to travel. if the houseboat is built with the accent on the first syllable, as it ought to be, the homey feeling comes quickly to the family group aboard. day after day brings new scenes and places, yet the family life goes on unbroken. it is as though aladdin had rubbed the wonderful lamp, and the old home had magically drifted away and started out to see what the world was like. now, just ahead of us where the chart had a little asterisk, the river had a little lighthouse perched high over the water on its long spindling legs. gadabout ran just inside the light and quite close to it. it is an old and a pretty custom by which a passing vessel "speaks" a lighthouse. in this instance perhaps we were a trifle tardy, for the kindly keeper greeted us first with three strokes of his deep-toned bell. gadabout responded with three of her bravest blasts. it was not long before the sun got low, and with the late afternoon something of a wind whipped up from the bay, and the wide, low-shored river rolled dark and unfriendly. we found our thoughts outstripping gadabout in the run toward a harbour for the night. that word "harbour" comes to mean a good deal to the houseboater who attempts to make a cruiser of his unseaworthy, lubberly craft. a little experience on even inland waters in their less friendly moods develops in him a remarkable aptitude for finding holes in the bank to stick his boat in. sometimes the vessel is seaworthy enough to lie out and take whatever wind and waves may inflict; but that is usually where much of the charm and comfort of the houseboat has been sacrificed to make her so. then too the houseboater is usually quite a landlubber after all; so that even if the boat is strong enough to meet an angry sea, the owner's stomach is not. and, over and above all this, is the fact that miserably pitching and rolling about in grim battle with the elements is not houseboating. it is easy then to see that snug harbours count for much when cruising in the true spirit of houseboating, and in the charming, awkward tubs that make the best and the most lovable of houseboats. so, as gadabout was passing barrel point and the wind was freshening and the waves were slapping her square bow, we were thinking not unpleasantly of a small tributary stream that the chart indicated just ahead, and in which we should find quiet anchorage. there seemed something snug and cozy about the very name of the stream, chuckatuck. in this case the pale-face has left undisturbed the red man's picturesque appellation; and we knew that we should like--chuckatuck. just before we reached the creek, two row-boats put out from the river shore filled with boys and curiosity. a cheery salute was given us as the houseboat passed close by the skiffs, and we thought no more of them. but after a while footsteps were heard overhead and we found that we had a full cargo of boys. they had made their boats fast to gadabout's stern as she passed, and were now grouped in some uncertainty on the upper deck. a nod from nautica put them at ease, and in a moment they were scattered all over the outside of the boat, calling to one another, peering into windows, and asking no end of questions. the boys proved helpful too. they were fisher-lads, well acquainted with those waters, and were better than the chart in guiding us among the shoals and into the channel of the creek. [illustration: along the shore of chuckatuck creek.] a low headland prevented our getting a good view up the stream until gadabout swung into the middle of it. we seemed to be entering a little lake bordered by tree-covered hills. at the far end of the blue basin was a break and a gleam of lighter water to show that this was not really a lake but a stream. there it made the last of its many turnings and spread its waters in this beautiful harbour before losing them in the james. on the hills to our right, houses showed among the trees, some with the ever-pleasing white-pillared porticoes; and on the hills to our left was a village that straggled down the slope to the wharf as if coming to greet the strangers. in this little harbour was quite a fleet, mostly fishing craft, and all bowing politely on the swell of the tide. there was such diversity of opinion among our self-constituted pilots as to the best place for us to drop anchor, that the commodore turned a deaf ear to them all and attempted to run alongside a schooner to make inquiries. she was a good sized craft, and it did not seem as if he could miss her. he claimed that he did not. he explained that when we got up there, our ropes fell short and we drifted helplessly past because the blundering captain of the schooner had anchored her too far away from us. kindly overlooking this error of a fellow navigator, the commodore patiently spent considerable of the beautiful summer evening in getting gadabout turned around; and then again bore down upon the schooner. this time her being in the wrong place did not seem to matter; for we reached her all right, and there probably was no place along that side where we did not remove more or less paint. the captain of the schooner gave us the needed information about the harbour; our lines were cast off, and the houseboat was soon anchored in a snug berth for the night. then, sitting upon our canopied upper deck, enjoying the last of our city melons cooled with the last of our city ice, we looked out over what we supposed was but the first of many such beautiful creek-harbour scenes to be found along the river. we did not know that there was to be no other like chuckatuck. after a while, a small steamer came in from the james, a boat plying regularly between norfolk and landings along this creek. it was just the kind of steamer, any one would say, to be running on the chuckatuck--a fat, wheezy side-wheeler that came up to its landing near us with three hearty whistles and such a jovial puffing as seemed to say, "now, i'm certainly mighty glad to get back again to you all." just the sort of steamer that wouldn't mind a bit if the pretty girls were "a right smart time" kissing goodbye; or if the colonel had to finish his best story; or if old maria had to "study a spell" because she had "done forgot" what miss clarissa wanted the steward to bring from the city next day. as the sun sank behind the hills (or rather some time after, for we never could be nautically prompt), our flags were run down and the anchor-light was hoisted on the forward flagstaff. the summer night closed in softly; the blue waters grew dark, and caught from the sky the rich lights that the setting sun had left behind. we could see figures sitting upon the white porticoes looking out over the miniature harbour. somewhere were the music of a merry-go-round and the calls and laughter of children. in from the wider waters came more boats, their white sails folding down as they neared their haven. all the beautiful mystery of the deepening twilight touched water and masts, and shadowed the circling shore. then came the long hours of darkness when, with all aboard asleep, gadabout lay quietly at anchor, the riding-light upon her flagstaff gently swaying throughout the night. silently, with none to heed and none to know, was enacted again in the gloom the play that is as old as the first ship upon tideway. with bow turned up-stream, gadabout sank slowly lower and lower, as even little chuckatuck heard the voice of the far-away ocean calling its waters home. then, crossing slowly over her anchor and turning to head the other way, gadabout rose once more higher and higher, as the night wore on and as the great recurring swell rolled landward again the waters of the sea. chapter iii land, ho! our country's birthplace when we hoisted our anchor next day, it came up reluctantly; and we sailed away with faces often turned backward toward the little harbour of chuckatuck, with its blue of wave and sky, its white of cloud and beach, its green of circling hills, and the picturesque life on its waters. out again in the james (still some four miles wide), we felt that nature had almost overdone the matter of supplying us with a waterway for our voyage. we should willingly have dispensed with a mile or so on either side of our houseboat. there was a wind that kept steadily freshening, so that after rounding day's point we noticed that the river was getting rather rough; and we soon found that gadabout was equally observing. she rolled and pitched; but with both engines and the tide to help her along she made good enough headway. and in navigating the broad stream what advantages we had over those early mariners upon the sarah constant, the goodspeed, and the discovery! their passage up this river was upon unknown waters through an unknown land. we knew just where we were, and where we were going. they even fancied that they might be upon an arm of the ocean that would lead through the new-found world and open a direct route to the south sea and to the indies. our maps showed us that even this wide waterway was but a river; and that while it flowed some four hundred miles from its source beyond the blue ridge mountains, yet we could ascend it only about one hundred miles, as we should then come upon a line of falls and rapids that would prevent farther navigation. in the case of those early voyagers, savages lurked along the wooded shores and greater dangers lay in the unknown, treacherous currents and hidden bars of the stream itself. we should have to imagine all our savages; and there, on the table in gadabout's little cockpit, close to the man (or, quite as likely, the woman) at the wheel, lay charts that told the hidden features of the river highway. quaint old-time sarah and her sister ships could not have sailed up this waterway very far before finding navigation difficult. even small as they were, they must often have found scant water if the james of that time, like the james of to-day, had its top and bottom so close together every here and there. a majestic river several miles wide, often fifty to seventy-five feet deep, yet barred by such tangles of shoals as one would not expect to find in a respectable creek. and shoals too that the colour of the water hides from the keenest eyes. to be sure, for us it was all plain sailing. the charts told where the shoals were and how to avoid them. our chief danger lay in presuming too much upon our light draft and in venturing too far from the indicated channels. but how about those deeper-draft, chartless sailing craft? well, they managed to get along anyway, and our houseboat must on after them. one more straight reach of the river, one more great sweeping bend, and we should come upon the site of that old village of james towne. still the tawny powhatan, like many another proud savage, showed small sign of succumbing to civilization. there seemed scarce any mark of human habitation. the life of the people, where there were people, must have been back from the banks. the river itself was empty. nowhere was there wreath of smoke or shimmer of sail. just the wild beauty of the shores, the noble expanse of the stream, the cloudless blue of the summer sky, and gadabout. yet, we were not seeing quite the james that those first english eyes beheld. for them the slopes and headlands were covered with far nobler forests and nature wore her may-time gown. life and colour were everywhere. in the clear atmosphere of the virginia spring, the woodland was a wealth of living green radiantly starred with flowers. what a canaan those weary, storm-tossed colonists must have thought it all! we can well imagine the little family groups gathered on the decks, eagerly planning for their new life. we can see the brightening in the tired eyes of women and of children as the ships tack near to the flowery shore; as schools of fish break the river into patches of flashing silver; as strange, brilliant birds go flaming in the sunlight; as beauty is added to beauty in this wondrous new home-land. no! we blunder in our history. there were no women and children on the sarah constant, nor on the goodspeed, nor on the discovery. the story of these ships is not like that later one of the mayflower. the colour dies out of the picture; and there remains only the worn, motley band of men--men who have taken possession of the country by the sign of the cross, fit omen of the fate awaiting them. [illustration: "just the wild beauty of the shores, the noble expanse of the stream ... and gadabout."] at last our houseboat came about the bend in the river and before us along the northern shore lay jamestown island, the site of old james towne. we could make out little yet but the low wooded shore and the wide opening that we knew was the mouth of back river, the waterway that cuts off from the mainland that storied piece of soil. now gadabout's steering-wheel was counting spokes to starboard; she headed diagonally up the river toward the northern shore, and we were soon nearing the historic island. so, here was where those three little ships, that we had been following at the respectful distance of three centuries, terminated their voyage; here was where that handful of colonists founded the first permanent english settlement in the new world; here was the cradle of our country. however, the place in those old days was not exactly an island, although even the early colonists often called it so. there was a low isthmus (that has since been washed away) connecting with the mainland; so that the site of the settlement was in reality a peninsula. it was a low and marshy peninsula, an unhealthful place for the site of a colony. the settlers had a hard time from the beginning. they would have had a harder time but for the presence of a remarkable man among them. he was one of the best of men, or he was one of the worst--dependent upon which history you happen to pick up. at all events, he was the man for the hour. but for him the colony would have perished at the outset. this man of course was the schoolboy's hero, captain john smith. the chief hardships of the colonists at first were scarcity of food and frequent indian attacks. to these were soon added a malarial epidemic caused by the unhealthful surroundings. as if there were yet not suffering enough, the "supplies" (the ships that came over with reinforcements and food) brought bubonic plague and cholera from english ports. often, if they had touched at the west indies, they brought yellow fever too. the sufferings in that little pioneer settlement of our country have scarcely been equalled in modern colonization. time went on; and the population waxed and waned as reinforcements built it up and as the terrible mortality cut it down again. all the while there seemed no outcome to the struggle. james towne had in it not even the promise of a successful colony. the settlers did not find the gold and precious stones that were expected, nor did they find or produce in quantities any valuable commodities. they were not even self-supporting. the colony held on because constantly fed with men and provisions by the "supplies." there was dissatisfaction in london; in james towne misery and often despair. the climax of disappointment and suffering was reached in the spring of 1610, ever since known as the "starving time." in that season of horror, the settlement almost passed out of existence. after that matters improved, and chiefly because of a single development: james towne learned to grow tobacco; europe learned to use it. from that time the place took on new life and made great strides toward becoming self-supporting. more and better settlers arrived, and the colony even put out offshoots, so that soon there were several settlements up and down the river and upon other rivers. and of all, james towne was the seat of government, the proud little capital of the colony of virginia. but trouble was still in store for this pioneer village, and this time final disaster. the very cause of prosperity became the chief cause of downfall. tobacco and towns could not long flourish together. the famous weed rapidly exhausted the soil, and there was constant need for new lands to clear and cultivate. the leading virginians turned their backs upon james towne and upon the other struggling settlements too, and established vast individual estates along the river to which they drew the body of the people. to be sure there still had to be some place as the seat of government; and in that capacity the village hung on a good while longer, though with few inhabitants aside from colonial officials and some tavern-keepers. it was not to be allowed to keep even these. despite every effort to force the growth of the town, it dwindled; and in 1699 it received its deathblow upon the removal of the seat of government to williamsburg. the rest is a matter of a few words. the pioneer village was gradually abandoned and fell to ruins. as though natural decay could not tear down and bury fast enough, the greedy river came to its aid. besides eating away the ancient isthmus, the james attacked the upper end of the island, devouring part of the site of the old-time settlement. between decay and the river, james towne, the birthplace of our country, vanished from the face of the earth. chapter iv a run around jamestown island now gadabout, her engines slowed down, drifted almost unguided among the shallows beside jamestown island; for our eyes were only for that close-lying shore and our thoughts for what it had to tell us. the end of the island toward us was well wooded though fringed with marsh. all of it that could be seen was just as we would have it--without a mark of civilization; wild, lonely, and still. in keeping with the whole sad story seemed the gloom of the forest, the loneness of the marsh, and the surge of the waves upon the desolate shore. when we took gadabout in hand again, we did not keep along the front of the island to where the colonists "tied their ships to the trees" and made their landing; but, instead, we turned from the james and ran up back river in behind the island. our plan was to sail up this stream to a point where the chart showed a roadway and a bridge, and to tie up the houseboat there. that would be convenient for us and for gadabout too. the roadway we should use in crossing the island to visit the chief points of interest, which were on the james river side; and gadabout would have a more protected harbour than could be found for her in front. [illustration: jamestown island from the river.] though nothing serious came of the matter, we were not taking a good time to run up the little stream behind jamestown island, as the tide had long since turned and we were going in on a falling tide. we did not relish the idea of running aground perhaps, and of having the ebbing waters leave our craft to settle and wreck herself upon some hidden obstruction. so gadabout took plenty of time to run up back river, feeling her way cautiously with a sounding-pole, like some fat old lady with a walking-stick. there must once have been a better channel here; for in the early days of the colony, vessels did not always land at the front of the island, but sometimes ran up back river as our houseboat was now doing. indeed, we were expecting to come soon to the wooded rise of land once called "pyping point," where of old a boat in passing would sound "a musical note" to apprise the townspeople of its coming. and but a little way beyond that again, near the present-day bridge where we expected to stop, we should find the site of the ancient landing-place which was called "friggett landing." as gadabout slowly moved along, she occasionally got out of the channel into the shallows, in spite of chart and sounding-pole; and more than once she struck bottom. but she always discovered the channel and scrabbled back into it before the soft mud, even aided by the falling tide, could get a good hold of her. no, not quite always was she so fortunate. for at last, in following a turn of the channel toward the island, she went too far; her stern swung about and grounded in the shallows; her propeller clogged in the mud, and she came to a stop. we accepted that stop as final. no attempt was made to put out a kedge anchor and to "haul off" with the windlass. we simply walked around the houseboat on the guard taking soundings. finding that the boat was settling upon fairly level bottom, and feeling that the farther she went the worse she would fare, we took our chances as to what might be under her and made no further effort. [illustration: in back river.] [illustration: the beach at jamestown island.] nautica had a good motto, which was, "when in trouble, eat." so the next thing was dinner. then nautica and the commodore embarked in a shore-boat on a voyage of discovery, a search for the lost channel. by this time the water was but a few inches deep around the houseboat. evidently, the explorers would not dare to go far or to be gone long for fear the ebbing tide would prevent their getting back. but it was not necessary to go far to find the channel. indeed it was found unpleasantly near. the houseboat had stranded on a safe, level shoal, but almost on the edge of a steep declivity leading down into twelve feet of water. we felt that if gadabout had to go aground, she at least might have done it a little farther away from precipitous channel banks. sitting on the upper deck, we talked and read, and watched the water slowly drawing away from our houseboat until all about us was bare ground; to starboard a narrow strip of it between us and the channel, and to port a wide stretch of it between us and the shore. we thought most and talked most of the historic island on the edge of which we had become squatters. it was a small stage for the world-shaping drama that had been enacted upon it. toward evening the tide turned again and the truant waters came back, lapping once more the sides of our boat. the commodore had to see that anchors were run ahead and astern, and all made snug for the night. then, in the enjoyment of one of the most charming features of houseboating, an evening meal served on the upper deck, we watched the sun dip down behind the island and the twilight shadows gather in. still about us was no sight or sound of human life. the shadows deepened and darkness came. then gradually a faint silvery light stole over water and marsh and wooded shore; and the stillness was broken by a burst of faint, high, tremulous tones, as though a host of unseen hands swept tiny invisible mandolins. the silvery light came from the rising moon; the rest was just mosquitoes. next day, as soon as gadabout was afloat, she started up stream again to find the bridge and a landing-place. there was no trouble about the channel this time. the waterway, as if taking pity upon indifferent navigators, suddenly contracted to a very narrow stream, deep almost from bank to bank, so that we could not well have got out of the channel if we had tried. in such a place, we were stout-hearted mariners and the good houseboat stemmed the waters gallantly. already we were thinking of how we too, in passing "pyping point," should sound a blast most lustily. perhaps it would not be exactly a "musical note" such as the townspeople were used to; but being two or three centuries dead, they probably would not notice the difference. however, we did not subject them to the experiment. instead, we suddenly reversed our engine; gadabout tried to stop in time; the ladies tried to look pleasant; the commodore tried to shun over-expressive speech. there, just ahead, was a row of close-set pilings, blocking the stream from shore to shore. there was nothing to do but to turn back, run around the island, and attempt to get in behind it at the other end. we probably should have tried the upper entrance in the first place had it not been that our chart showed by dotted lines some sort of obstruction there, while it did not at all indicate the barrier we had just encountered. fortunately, as the tide was now rising and as we had got some knowledge of the channel, gadabout made good progress in returning down the stream, and was soon out in the wide james again, sailing along the front of the island. as we proceeded, the marshes gave way to a bank of good height edged with a gravel beach. buildings were now in sight, and horses and cattle grazing. we passed a pier with a warehouse on it, bearing a sign which read, "jamestown island, site of the first permanent english settlement in america, 1607." now, a glimpse could be had of a relic of old james towne, the ruined church tower, deep-set among the trees. could our eyes have pierced the water under us, we might have seen more of the ruins of the ancient village. for gadabout was holding in quite close to shore where no vessel could have gone in james towne days, as the place was then solid land and a part of the settlement. now, that part lay buried at the bottom of the river, and our boat was passing over it. coasting around the end of the island, we came upon a tree standing out in the water a hundred yards from shore. it was the famous "lone cypress," once growing on the island, now spreading its green branches in the midst of a watery waste--silently attesting the sacrifice of historic soil to the greedy river. a little way beyond the tree was what we were seeking, the upper entrance into the waterway behind the island. [illustration: wharf sign at jamestown island.] [illustration: the "lone cypress."] in the days of the old settlement, there was no such entrance at this end; for here the narrow isthmus extended across, connecting with the mainland. but the same resistless wash of waves that had carried part of james towne into the bed of the river, had broken down and submerged the isthmus too; and our chart showed that there was water enough for our houseboat to sail over where the colonists used to walk dry-shod. as to the obstruction we had seen indicated on the chart, that proved to be the ruins of an old bridge extending out from the mainland along the submerged isthmus. but the island end of it had been carried away, and we readily passed through the opening left and got again into back river behind the island. following this for a few hundred yards, we found ourselves at last beside the bridge we long had sought. standing on the upper deck, we could look down stream to the place where our houseboat had been stopped by the row of pilings. we had practically circumnavigated the island. while making gadabout fast to some convenient pilings, we heard gay voices and the rumble of wheels on the bridge. "look! look!" cried one of a carriage-full of hatless girls in white muslins. "there's a houseboat. how in the world did it get in here?" and we rather wondered ourselves. chapter v fancies afloat and ruins ashore it was midday when we tied gadabout to the pilings beside the bridge, and the weather was hot and sultry. so, we deferred until evening the long walk across the island. but already, sitting under our own awning, we were in the thick of historic association. where our houseboat lay, the early colonists used to find haven for their vessels, "lashed to one another and moor'd a shore secure from all wind and weather whatsoever." as they found back river at this point so we found it, a stream without banks; instead, on either hand stretched lonely marshes, jungles of reeds and rushes, now as then more than man high. but our thoughts, busy with scenes two or three centuries gone, kept stumbling over two features of the landscape that were out of keeping with those old times. back of us, where an isthmus should be stretching from island to mainland, was the open water gateway through which we had come; and in front of us, where there should be nothing but river and marsh, that modern bridge reached from shore to shore. our quickened fancy made short work of such anachronisms. we promptly raised the submerged isthmus, tying the island to the mainland once more. then we attacked the bridge; and, as the pilings to which our boat was fastened did not have any connection with that structure, we felt no misgivings as the troublesome modernism faded away. the bridge disposed of, we bethought us that the road with which it had connected was also a latter-day feature. to be sure, our maps showed us that in colonial times too a road had crossed the island, and along much the same lines; but it had come out a little farther down back river, at the point already referred to as "friggett landing." to put the roadway right, then, we had first to locate the site of the old landing. and in this important matter what painstaking archeologists we were! not by guesswork, but by a long string, did we locate "friggett landing." after reading all that our authorities had to say on the subject (and understanding part of it), we sent our man down stream in a rowboat, confident that he would find the landing at the end of the measured string. when the string ran out, the rowboat was opposite a point on the marshy edge of the island about one hundred feet below the present-day road. the correctness of our work was at once evident. all the indications pointed to that; for the place showed not the slightest sign of ever having been used as a landing-place--which is just what you would expect after the lapse of two or three centuries. after that, it was but the work of a moment to crook the end of the modern road, where it approached the river through a bit of elevated woodland (the only piece of solid land anywhere near us), and so make it come out, like the road of old, at the "landing." now, our man held aloft a stick with the houseboat's burgee on it, and a photograph was taken that we might not forget where our diverted road came out and where to go to meet the "friggetts" that might be coming in almost any time. our trifling bits of restoration made all satisfactory: an isthmus more, a bridge less, a crook in the end of a road--and the scene went back, as our thoughts went back, to those old james towne days. to be sure, the village itself was still clear across the island on the "maine river" side, and we could not catch a glimpse of the colonists in their little streets nor even of the english colours flying over the fort. however, there was enough taking place on our own side of the island. we had no sooner got the isthmus up out of the water than figures began to move across it. but such figures! was there a mistake somewhere? these were not englishmen, and they were not indians. behold, crossing our isthmus, dutchmen, italians, and poles! suddenly, from the midst of the group, came a glint and a flash of blue. then we understood. these were the "skilful workmen from foreign parts" early sent over to the colony to make glass beads, preferably blue ones, for barter with the indians. now, there were only two people on our isthmus--an indian and a red-headed man. the indian was tall and "a most strong stout salvage"; the red-headed man was short but a most strong, stout englishman. the indian was wowinchopunk, chief of the paspaheghs; the red-headed man was captain john smith. a desperate hand-to-hand struggle ensued. we remembered that fight in the school-books, but we had never expected to really see it. our sympathies were of course largely with the captain, but more with the isthmus. we had raised it out of the water for temporary purposes only, and with no idea of its being subjected to a strain like this. it was a relief when the two fighters rolled off into the water. by the time they had struggled out again, the white man was victor. as dripping captor and captive set off toward james towne, we saw fame stick another laurel leaf in the wet, red hair in commemoration of the single combat in which captain john smith defeated the "strong, stout salvage," wowinchopunk, on the james towne isthmus. for a while after that, nothing much happened over our way. indians occasionally passed and repassed; now striding openly across to the island on friendly visit, now skulking over to pick off unwary settlers. once we caught, in a hazy way, the most touching picture associated with the old isthmus--the little savage maiden, pocahontas, with heart divided between her own people and the pale-faces, crossing over at the head of her train of indians bearing venison and corn for the half-famished settlers. pathetic little figure! often all that seemed to stand between the colonists and destruction. it was the sound of voices that now made us turn and look the other way. many people were following the crook in our road, passing through the bit of woodland and coming out at "friggett landing." we had heard no "musical note," but evidently the townspeople had; and there, surely enough, was a queer little vessel stopping right where we had marked the spot. it was a pleasure to see that she so readily took our measurements for it. but how she got there perplexed us not a little, as we remembered the row of pilings across the stream that had stopped the houseboat, and which, even in our ardour to restore the colonial setting, we had not once thought to remove. back and forth across our isthmus played the old-time life of the colony. rather sombre figures for a while, and all afoot. then colour came, and colour on horseback too. they were seeing more prosperous times in the little village across the island. prancing by went the "qualitye" in flaming silks, and high dignitaries in glittering gold lace. there was even a coach or two. that one attended by soldiers in queer "coats of mail" must belong to sir william berkeley, governor of the colony. however, we watched and waited long before anything of importance happened--probably several years. but time does not count for much in house-boating. at last, some soldiers marched across the island from the james towne side to ours, and built a fort near the isthmus. some more soldiers appeared on the mainland and began to build a fort on their side, near the isthmus. then we knew that james towne was seeing its most stirring days. stubborn old governor berkeley and hot-headed young nathaniel bacon had fallen out over the indian question. the people were divided; and here were the preparations for the trial of arms. while the bacon fort, the one on the mainland, was yet incomplete, we beheld a strange line of white objects fluttering from the top of it. with the aid of field-glasses and some historical works, we at last made out that it was a row of women in white aprons. as our eyes became accustomed to the trying perspective of over two hundred years, we were able to recognize the charming wives of some of the most prominent men in the other fort. the ungallant bacon had sent out and captured these excellent ladies, and now placed them in plain sight of their husbands, thus preventing the other fort from opening fire upon him until he had his fortification completed. after the ladies had been helped down from the rough earthworks and had spoken their minds and taken off their white aprons and gone home, the battle began. soldiers from the island fort made a sally across our isthmus, were repulsed, and later abandoned their works and fled pell-mell toward james towne. at the height of our interest, the flow of life across the historic isthmus lost colour, then died away. no more painted savages; no more soldiers; no more gay groups of mounted men and women in bright london dress; no more worshipful personages in rich velvet and gold lace. instead, a slow sombre train crossing heavily over and disappearing along the forest road on the mainland leading to williamsburg. here, colonial records going by, telling that the brave little capital is a capital no more; there, a quaint church service, bespeaking abandoned holy walls and sacred doors flapping in the idle wind; and all along, those shapeless loads, telling of forsaken firesides, empty streets, a village deserted. after that, came only an occasional ox-cart, a load of hay, or (from the other direction) a carryall filled with strangers curious to visit the site of a little village that was once called james towne. sadly we let our isthmus sink back beneath the waters; we straightened the old roadway, and rebuilt the bridge. then we went ashore to visit the island, knowing that we should find only a few ruins and one of the best truck farms on the river. landing from our shore-boat near the end of the bridge at a little cove that made in through a greenery of fox grape and woodbine, we reached the road and started off through the woodland. it was a pleasant walk among the fragrant pine trees and in the soft light and the lengthening shadows of the waning summer day. abruptly the grove ended, and thereafter the road led across a succession of marshy hollows and cleared ridges on its way to the other side of the island. about midway in its course it divided; one branch passing into a large enclosure, the other making a detour around it. the enclosed land, twenty-three acres at the southwest corner of the island, belongs to the association for the preservation of virginia antiquities. it was given to that society by the present owner of the island, mrs. edward e. barney. [illustration: the bridge across back river.] [illustration: the road across the island.] passing within the enclosure and following the caretaker, we approached with interest, and something of reverence too, a grove near the river bank. it was a grove in whose shadowy depths is all of james towne that remains above ground--a ruined church tower and some crumbling tombs. as we walked along the curving road, we caught glimpses now and then of the venerable tower; and gradually it emerged as out of the shadows of the past, and we stood facing it. silently we gazed at the ancient pile, the most impressive ruin of english colonization. a hollow shaft of brick, with two high arched openings, a crumbling top, and a hold on the heart of every american. how fitting that the four little broken walls alone remaining of all that the colonists built, should be not the walls of house or tavern or fort, but of the tower of the village church! almost with the solemn significance of a tomb above the ashes of the dead, stands the sacred pile over the buried remains of old james towne. the ruin is about thirty-six feet high, though doubtless originally several feet higher. near the top are loopholes that perhaps suggest the reason why the tower is of such massive build; in those days the red man influenced even church architecture. excavations to the east of the tower have disclosed the foundation walls of the remainder of the church, and have helped to fix the date of erection as about 1639. within these foundations, the ruins of a yet older building have been unearthed. they are doubtless the remains of a wooden church with brick foundations that was built about 1617. so, in the contemplation of these little ruins within ruins, the mind is carried back to the very beginnings of our country, to within ten years perhaps of the day when those first settlers landed. what this old wooden church looked like probably nobody can tell; but much has been determined as to the general appearance of the brick church, that to which the venerable tower belonged. the visitor will not be far wrong if, as he stands in the presence of these ruins, he sees in fancy a picture like this: the old tower with several feet of lost height regained, and with a roof sloping up from each of the four sides to a peak in the middle surmounted by a cross; behind the tower, those crumbling church foundations built up into strong walls, bearing a high-pitched roof; each side of the church with four flying buttresses and three lancet windows; the entrance, a pair of arched doorways, one in the front and one in the back of the tower; above the doorway in the front, a large arched window; and, yet higher, the six ominous loopholes; all the walls of the structure composed of brick in mingled red and black, and the roofs of slate. now, if the visitor will enter the quaint old church that his fancy has thus restored--moving softly, for truly he is on holy ground and every step is over unknown dead--he may see in vague vision a very little of the ancient interior: the nave lighted by diamond-paned windows, not stained; the aisles between the rows of pews paved with brick; the chancel paved with tile; a gallery at the end next the tower; and, over all, the heavy timbers of the high-pitched roof. perhaps beyond this fancy can not safely go. pilgrims to this broken shrine will be of two opinions as to a work of preservation that the society owning this part of the island has entered into. about and within the church ruins, we saw evidences of building in progress, and learned that preparation was being made for a memorial structure or chapel, to be erected not on but over the old church foundation walls, to preserve them from the elements. it was to be a gift to the association for the preservation of virginia antiquities from the national society of the colonial dames of america. within the building, the ancient church foundations were to be left visible. though the broken tower was to be untouched, yet this building was to be placed practically against it--to be, in fact, a restoration of the main body of the church. from what we learned then and later, it was evident that the work was undertaken after the most careful study and in the most painstaking spirit. the structure has since been completed, and is doubtless as desirable a one as could be erected for the preservation of the church foundations. still, there will be the difference of opinion as to the wisdom of placing a building of any kind close to the old tower. and this, even though the hard alternative should be to preserve the foundations with a cement covering merely, and to place some inconspicuous protection over the chancel. [illustration: the ruined tower of the old village church.] to the unimaginative visitor, the plan that has been adopted will appeal. to him the ancient broken tower, standing alone, would have little charm in comparison with this faithful restoration of the old church, that enables him to see what he never could have seen but for its being shown to him in brick and mortar. but to the pilgrim of the other sort--day-dreamer, if you will--there must come a sense not of gain but of loss. he will feel that, for a questionable combination of a restoration with a ruin, there has been sacrificed the most impressive spectacle on the island--the ancient church tower of vanished james towne, standing in the shadow of the little grove by the river, broken, desolate, alone. as we stood amidst ruins and building stuff, we tried to bear in mind that, of the two pilgrims, the unimaginative one is much the bigger; but we were so hopelessly a part of the other fellow. chapter vi in the old churchyard for two or three days after our visit to the church ruins, rain kept us prisoners within the houseboat. such times are good tests to determine how much one possesses of the houseboating spirit. all the charms usually associated with such a life are blotted out by the lowering clouds, washed away by the falling water. and how the houseboat shrinks when it gets so wet! with decks unavailable, what a little thing the floating home suddenly becomes! then there is the ceaseless patter overhead, and so close overhead that one almost feels like raising an umbrella. but to the true houseboater there is a charm in it all. with water above, below, and all around, the little craft is yet tight and snug. there is plenty of food for the mind on the book-shelves above and plenty for the body in the lockers below. lady fairweather found a diversion of her own. she sat for a good part of one wet afternoon, with a short pole thrust out of a window, a baited hook in the water, and an expectant look on her face. but we had an omelet for supper. on the first bright morning we made preparations to visit the island again. as we were about to start, the sailor rushed into the forward cabin with story enough in his eyes, but only one word on his lips--" fire!" then there was commotion. nautica ran into the galley and lady fairweather ran for the commodore, who was out on deck. he reached the galley to find one end of it in flames and himself half buried under a shower of boxes, cans, paper bags, and packages of breakfast food. nautica, suddenly remembering one of the best things for extinguishing burning gasoline, was making everything fly as she frantically sought to reach a stowed-away bag of flour. the bag and the commodore appeared about the same time, and together they made toward the gasoline stove from which the blaze was flaming across the galley. in an instant all of the flour was cast into the flames. it proved wholly insufficient, though warranted on the bag to go farther than any other brand. already the blaze was about the gasoline font. all knew that there was over a barrelful of the inflammable liquid in the tank on the upper deck. calling to the sailor to get the shore-boat ready, the commodore scooped up the fallen flour and cast it again on the fire. distracted lady fairweather suddenly rushed to her cabin and back again, and she too wildly cast a shower of something white into the blaze. then she stood pale and speechless, all unconscious of the dainty, empty pink box clasped in both hands, and of her own heroism in sacrificing her complexion to save the houseboat. as it turned out, we had no need to row ashore. with little or nothing to account for it, except the perversity of gasoline, or perhaps the contents of the little pink box, the flames with a final flare went out. then we took account of the situation. flour was everywhere. nautica had eyebrows and hair singed, though she found that out only when she got the flour off. it was hard to tell what was the matter with the commodore, or to take his troubles seriously. he had slightly scorched hands of course. but then one forgot them in looking at his expressive face made out of flour and soot, and in watching him spill breakfast food and tapioca when he walked. we never knew how the fire came to start, any more than how it came to go out. when fairly presentable again, we went up on the upper deck to find a cool place under the awning. evidently, we were adapting ourselves promptly to the ways of the country. having fires seems to have been one of the chief diversions in old james towne, and we had no sooner got to the island than we fell in with the custom. it was not a good custom. even with the fire out we were in trouble; for gadabout hadn't a piece of bread to her name, and we had thrown on the fire the last bit of flour aboard. we were falling in with more than one of the ways of the colonists--it was fire and famine too. the commodore suggested that we send a message to the owner of the island praying that a "supply" be despatched to the starving new colonists. but nautica held that such an appeal should be made in person; that the commodore, like a true captain john smith, should start out himself to get food for his famishing little colony. thus put upon his mettle, the commodore, trailed by the sailor with his basket, soon set off along the island road. upon reaching the neighbourhood of the church ruins he met an old negro. "mornin', suh." and the shapeless hat came off in a way that told that this was a survival of the old school. "good morning, uncle. can you tell me which way to go to find the big house?" "yas, suh. i don' b'long heah myse'f, suh; but you see dat brick house down de road yondah, what's done been burn down? well, dat was de big house, yas, suh. but it ain' no good to stop dere now, no, suh. you go right on by, and de big house now is de firs' little house you comes to." according to these directions, the way was now along a road leading down the island. it ran not far from the river bank and through grounds having a border of trees skirting the water's edge. at last the "little big" house was reached. all the members of the family were away for the summer except one daughter who, with a friend from richmond for company, was in charge of the servants and managing the island. the commodore introduced himself and his sad story of fire and famine. he explained that it would be two or three days before supplies could be got from norfolk, and darkly hinted at a new chapter of suffering that might be added to the woeful history of the island unless something were done at once. the gloomy picture did not seem to impress the young woman very painfully, for her reply was a laughing one; but a sack of flour went into the basket and a big loaf of bread besides. upon its coming out in the conversation that we wished to remain at our anchorage for some time and should like to know of any limitations placed upon visitors, the freedom of the island was most kindly extended to us. the commodore proudly returned with his supplies to the houseboat. "saved by the daughter of the island!" exclaimed lady fairweather. and by that name we came to speak of our benefactress. after we had broken bread, borrowed bread and good too, another and more successful attempt was made to go on the island. our object was to visit the old graveyard. crossing again to the grove on the james river side, we entered in among the shadows that enwrap the ruined church and the crumbling tombs of the village dead. the graveyard, or what remains of it, is coextensive with the grove. when most of the deserted church crumbled and fell a hundred years ago, some of the bricks were used to build a wall around the old burying-ground. parts of it are standing yet in picturesque, moss-covered ruins. this time we found workmen engaged on the foundations for the memorial building. so we were prevented from seeing satisfactorily some of the tombs, as they were boxed over to protect them while this work was in progress. however, the caretaker did all that he could for us. pitifully few are the stones remaining to mark the graves of that vanguard of english colonization. for most who lie here, the last record has crumbled away. proud knight, proud lady, gentlemen, gentlewomen, and unknown humble folk, in common brotherhood at last, "dust to dust" and unmarked level ground above them. one of the most notable of the remaining tombs is that of lady frances berkeley, who rests beneath the shadow of the great hackberry tree that is said to have been brought over, a slender sapling, from england. but a few parts of words remain on the broken stone, and the date is gone. though after the death of her husband, sir william berkeley, this lady became mrs. philip ludwell, yet she clung to the greater name and insisted that her long sleep should be under its carven pomp. [illustration. a corner in the old graveyard.] peeping into a shed that temporarily covered the old chancel floor, we caught a glimpse of the mysterious tomb of the island. it is an ironstone tablet, once doubtless inlaid with brass, as the channellings for the metal are yet clearly defined. they show a draped figure and some smaller designs that have been taken as indications of knighthood, and have led to the conjecture that this is the tomb of sir george yeardley, governor of the colony of virginia, who died here in 1627. it is said to be the only tomb of the kind in america. evidently, the stone has become somewhat displaced; for instead of being orientated as it must once have been, it now lies almost north and south. we were not able to see the grave of william sherwood, that humble but hopeful wrong-doer who lies under the chiselled words, "a great sinner waiting for a joyfull resurrection." the old graveyard, like the hoary tower, awes the mind and touches the heart. and this partly because of its pitiful littleness. a handful of cracked and broken stones to tell of all that terrible harvest that death reaped in the ruined village! but perhaps they tell it all as hosts of tombs could not do. one reads between the stones, then far out beyond them where mouldering bones are feeding the smiling fields; and there is borne in upon him the thought that our country had life through so much of death that this whole island is a graveyard. after leaving the old tombs, we crossed a roadway and entered a ruined fort. in those few steps we made a long plunge down the years of history, and passed far away from old james towne. none of the colonists ever saw those walls of earth. they are the remains of a confederate fort. but, modern as they are, they have done what they could to put themselves in harmony with the ancientness all about. the slopes are grass-grown and even tree-grown. within the walls is the caretaker's cottage in the midst of such a wealth of trees, flowering shrubs, and vines as makes a greenwood retreat. the grass-grown embrasures and the drooping branches over them form frames for river views that seem set there in place of the rusty cannon pieces. it was toward evening when we started back across the island, houseboatward. we sauntered slowly at first, turning for a backward glance at the old church tower and pausing again to look out over the water at the island's outer sentinel, the "lone cypress." we paused yet another time down where the marsh reeds lined the way. grasping handfuls of the coarse grass, the commodore started to illustrate how the colonists bound thatch, doubtless from that very marsh, to make roofs for their flimsy cabins. but the marsh furnished something besides grasses; and before the commodore's explanation had gone far, his auditors had gone farther. he valiantly slew the snake, the whole six inches of it, and hastening forward found those more progressive houseboaters safely ensconced in the shore-boat. as the little skiff moved out upon the river, a carriage rattled across the bridge. sightseers who had driven over from williamsburg were returning. however satisfied they may have felt with their short visit, we could only pity them. yet such a visit, of a few hours at most, is all that is possible here except for one who brings his home with him, for there is no public house on the island. stepping aboard gadabout, we congratulated ourselves that she enabled us to live indefinitely right in the suburbs of old james towne. however, as days went on, lady fairweather became somewhat daunted by the dire predictions of chills and fever as a result of our long lying in the marshes; and one day she deserted the ship and sailed away on a bigger one. we thought she was to be gone only a little while, but she proved a real deserter and gadabout saw no more of her to the end of the cruise. but chills and fever never came to gadabout's household, though the dog-day sun beat upon the waste of reeds and rushes about us and though striped-legged mosquitoes were our nearest and most attentive neighbours. fortunately, the mosquitoes did not feel that hospitality required them to call upon the strangers or to show them any attention except in the evening. even then they were more or less distant, rarely coming into the houseboat, but lingering in a neighbourly way about doors and windows, and whispering assurances of their regard through some crossed wires that we happened to have there. one of the chief causes of illness among the colonists, impure water, we did not have to contend with. in the early days of james towne, the river was the only water supply; later, shallow wells were dug; both the river and the wells furnished impure, brackish water. to-day, two artesian wells are flowing on the island. as we got our supply from them, we often thought of how those first settlers suffered and died for want of pure water, when all the while this inexhaustible supply lay imprisoned beneath their cornfields. but even the water from the artesian wells we took the precaution to boil. so, pitting screens against mosquitoes and the teakettle against water germs, we lived on, chill-less and fever-less in the marshes of back river. chapter vii seeing where things happened we were fortunate in visiting jamestown island after considerable had been accomplished in the way of lessening the number of its historic sites. for a long while, almost every important event in its story had occurred at so many different places that it was scarcely possible for the pilgrim to do justice to them all. but, some time before our visit to the island, an era of scientific investigation set in; researches were made among old musty records; and even the soil was turned up in order to determine the place where this or that event really did happen. the reduction in the number of places of interest was astonishing. in every instance, it was found that the historic event in question had happened at but a single place; and consequently all its other time-honoured sites suddenly became unhistoric soil. an instance or two will serve to illustrate. upon our visit to james towne, we found that the site of the colonists' first fort (long variously fixed at several points along the river front) was now limited to a single spot near the caretaker's cottage; so that all the brave fighting that had been going on at those other sites, had been for nothing. in like manner, it had long been well established that pocahontas and john rolfe were married in the church whose tower is yet standing; also in the brick and wood church that just preceded this one; also in a rough timber church that just preceded that one. each of these edifices was the true, genuine scene of the romantic event. but, under the new arrangement, we found only one church where rolfe and pocahontas were married--just the old timber one. indeed, in this instance, the work of elimination seemed almost unduly rigorous. the other churches were set aside upon circumstantial evidence merely; there being nothing against them except that they were found to have been built some years after the ceremony. on the whole, however, the work of fixing sites authoritatively was doubtless just. in any event, there was no opportunity for us to protest; for by the time we got to the island, they had everything down on a map in a book. we bought a copy of the book, and resolved to stage by it the events of the james towne story. we resolved also to be most methodical from now on; and to "do" things as nearly as possible in the same order as the colonists had done them. so one morning we gathered up our authorities and started out to see where the settlers first landed and where they first lived. according to the map, that historic, first landing-place would be anything but a landing-place to-day; for figure "25" (that was it) stood well out in the river. the loss by erosion had been great along that part of the shore since those first settlers arrived. but even though the landing-place could not be seen, one could look out on the waters anyway and see where it used to be. at first we feared that there might be some trouble in telling where the "25" on the map would be on the water. but it was a very simple thing to do, largely owing to the thoughtfulness of the settlers in landing almost opposite a jetty that runs out from the shore a little above the confederate fort. [illustration: view from the confederate fort.] [illustration: looking toward the first landing-place.] upon reaching the river front of the island, we took our bearings from the map and walked slowly toward the water's edge, being careful not to walk too far as the water's edge is so much closer in now than it used to be. going to the uppermost of the several jetties, we sighted along it straight out over the water and kept on looking, in accordance with the measurements on the map, until we had looked one hundred and thirty-five yards; then, turned our eyes sharply to the right and looked thirty-three and one third yards more. we then had the satisfaction of feeling that the spot our eyes rested upon was, in 1607, on the shore of the island, and was the place where the original settlers first landed. nor was our satisfaction at all dampened by the discovery that the spot was two spots--nautica gazing spellbound at one place, and the commodore at another. after all, it made very little difference, for the settlers did not stay where they landed anyway. they seem to have built their fort and their little settlement within it about five hundred feet farther down stream and some distance back from the shore. it was in the form of a triangle and had an area of about an acre. its entire site has been generally supposed to be washed away, but the recent researches show that such is not the case. a considerable part of it is left and is now safe behind a protecting sea-wall. as, at the time of our visit, nothing marked this remnant of the historic acre, we undertook to locate it. fortunately, the confederate fort stands in such position as to help in running the boundaries by the map. for a rough approximation, all we had to do was to get mr. leal, the caretaker, to stand at the most westerly angle of the fort, and his son on the sea-wall at the lower end of the fort, and henry on the sea-wall a hundred yards farther up stream; then, straight lines connecting these three men enclosed all that is left of that first little fortified settlement where anglo-saxon america began. while the three men stood at the three corners, we took a photograph of the historic bit of land; and long after they had gone we lingered reflectively about it. here, in that spring of 1607, within the strong palisade, the settlers built their first cabins. here, captain newport left them, and sailed back to england. here, too, he found them again--a pitiful few of them--when he returned the next winter with reinforcements for the colony. by another winter, the palisaded village had extended somewhat, mostly eastward. it then included, so far as we could make out, all the land now within the confederate fort and probably also the site of the present ruined church and graveyard. upon this little four-acre settlement hung the destiny of a hemisphere for the next few years. [illustration: locating what is left of the site of the first settlement.] we trudged about within the old town limits and tried to picture the chief events of those years; but we could not remember what they were; so we sat down on the grassy fort, regardless of ticks and redbugs, to read up some more. for a while there was no sound but the twitter of the birds and the murmur of the river. then the commodore found something in his book, and he began very solemnly to tell of how on that very spot the colonists endured the horrors of the "starving time." at this there was such a genuine exclamation of pleasure from nautica that the commodore knew he was too late; she had not even heard. she had found something in her book too, and was already announcing that it was right there that john rolfe and pocahontas were married. but the commodore insisted that his story came first, as nautica's romantic event was not until 1614, while his famine was in 1609-10. nautica sighed resignedly as she agreed that we should starve first and get married afterward. after all, we found that we could not speak lightly, sitting there in the midst of the scene of the "starving time." by the winter of 1609-10 there were perhaps five hundred persons in this little settlement by the river, including now, unfortunately, some women and children. when there was no more corn, the people managed for a while to keep alive on roots and herbs; then, half-crazed by starvation, they fell to cannibalism. gaunt, desperate, de-humanized, they crouched about the kettle that held their own dead. a bible fed the flames, cast in by a poor wretch as he cried, "alas! there is no god!" the succeeding spring brought two ships, a belated portion of one of the "supplies." but sixty of the five hundred colonists were found alive--sixty haggard men, women, and children, hunger-crazed, huddled behind the broken palisades. sadly suggestive must have seemed the names of the two vessels that appeared upon that awful scene--patience and deliverance. but the deliverance that they brought was of a poor sort. they had not on board provisions enough to last a month. it was decided that it was vain for the colony to try to hold out longer. james towne, upon which so much blood and treasure had been spent and that had seemed at last to give england a hold in the new world, must be abandoned. to the roll of drums, the remnant of the colony boarded the vessels, sails were set, and the little ships dropped down the river bound for far-away england. the last sail passed around the bend in the stream, and only a desolate blotch in the wilderness was left to tell of england's attempt to colonize america; only a great gash in the forest, there in the quiet and the sunlight, at the edge of the river. within it were the shapeless ruins of those queer things the pale-faces had made--broken palisades, yawning houses, the tottering thing they called a church; and, all about, the hideous, ghastly traces of living and of dying. the sun went down; and, in the gloom of the summer night, from the forest and the marsh wild things came creeping to the edge of the clearing, sat peering there, then ventured nearer--curious, suspicious, greedy. soft, noiseless, and ghost-like was the flight of the great owl through the desolation, and his uncanny cry and the wail of the whippoorwill filled the night as with mockery and mourning. quick, startling, and almost miraculous was the next change in the scene: a change from the emptiness of desolation to the bustling fulness of life and colour--the harbour dotted with ships, the little village crowded with people, james towne alive again. for even in the dark hour of abandonment, it was not destined that the settlement should perish. even as the colonists sailed down the james, a fleet bearing reinforcements and stores of supplies was entering the mouth of the river. the settlers were turned back; and following them came the fleet, bringing to deserted james towne not only new colonists, but pomp, ceremony, and the stately, capable new governor, lord delaware. "he was the one who went to church with so much show and flourish, wasn't he?" asked nautica. "yes," answered the commodore confidently, as he happened to have his book open at the right page. "lord delaware attended the little church in the wilderness in all state, accompanied by his council and guarded by fifty halberd bearers wearing crimson cloaks. he sat in a green velvet chair and--" "where do you think that church was?" interrupted nautica. "right near here. they say it stood about a hundred yards above the later one whose ruins are over there in the graveyard. and in that church lord delaware and his council--" "yes," nautica broke in again. "that was the church that they were married in--john rolfe and pocahontas." "to be sure," said the commodore. "let the wedding bells ring. it is time now for the ceremony." and a strange ceremony it must have been that the little timber church saw that april day in the year 1614, when the young colonist of good english family linked his fate with that of the dark-skinned girl of the tepee. it was the first marriage of englishman and indian in the colony, and meant much to the struggling settlers in furthering peaceful relations with the savages. speaking in the society-column vernacular of a later day, the occasion was marred by the absence of the bride's father. the wary old chieftain was not willing to place himself within the power of the english. but the bride's family was represented by two of her brothers and by her old uncle, opachisco, who gave her away. other red men were present. doubtless the governor of the colony, sir thomas dale, who much approved the marriage, added a touch of official dignity by attending the ceremony resplendent in uniform and accompanied by colonial officials. it was a strange wedding, party. while the minister (was it the reverend richard buck or the good alexander whittaker?) read the marriage service of the church of england, the eyes of haughty cavalier and of impassive savage met above the kneeling pair and sought to read each other. and a strange fate hung over the pale-face groom and the dusky bride--that in her land and by her people he should be slain; that in his land and among his people she should die and find a lonely grave beside an english river. "that is just one marriage that you have been so interested in, isn't it?" the commodore's tone was one to provoke inquiry. "just one?" repeated nautica, "why, to be sure, unless it takes two weddings to marry two people." "just one wedding," persisted the commodore. "now, i am interested in dozens and dozens of weddings that happened right here, and all in one day." there were several things the matter with james towne from the outset. prominent among them was the absence of women and children. after a while a few colonists with families arrived; but, to introduce the home element more generally into the colony, "young women to make wives ninety" came from england in 1619. the scene upon their arrival must have been one of the most unique in the annals of matrimony. the streets of james towne were undoubtedly crowded. the little capital had bachelors enough of her own, but now she held also those that came flocking in from the other settlements of the colony. the maids were not to be compelled to marry against their choice; and they were so outnumbered by their suitors that they could do a good deal of picking and choosing. with rusty finery and rusty wooing, the bachelor colonists strove for the fair hands that were all too few, and there was many a rejected swain that day. we might have forgotten the other important events that had happened round about where we were sitting, in that first little town by the river, if a coloured man had not wandered our way. he had driven some sightseers over from williamsburg, and while waiting for them to visit the graveyard, he seemed to find relief in confiding to us some of his burden of colonial lore and that his name was cornelius. we had over again the story of rolfe and pocahontas, but it seemed not at all wearisome, for the new version was such a vast improvement upon the one that we got out of the books. however, his next statement eclipsed the pocahontas story. "de firs' time folks evah meek dey own laws for dey se'fs was right heah, suh, right in dat ole chu'ch." while again facts could not quite keep up with cornelius, yet it was true that our little four-acre town had seen the beginnings of american self-government. so early did the spirit of home rule assert itself, that it bore fruit in 1619, when a local lawmaking body was created, called the general assembly and consisting in part of a house of burgesses chosen by the people. on july 30 of that year, the general assembly met in the village church--the first representative legislature in america. the place of meeting was not, as is often stated, the church in which rolfe and pocahontas were married, but its successor--the earliest of the churches whose ruined foundations are yet to be seen behind the old tower. perhaps our thoughts had wandered some from cornelius, but he brought them back again. "dey set in de chu'ch an' meek de laws wid dey hats on," he asserted. and as the house of burgesses had indeed followed in this respect the custom of the english house of commons, we were glad to see cornelius for once in accord with other historians. then, nautica spoke of how the very year that saw the beginning of free government in america saw the beginning of slavery too; and she asked cornelius if he knew that the first coloured people were brought to america in 1619 and landed there at james towne. "yas'm; ev'ybody tole me 'bout dat. seem like we got heah 'bout as soon as de white folks." it was a comfortable view to take of the matter, and we would not disturb it. cornelius told us other things. "dis, now, is de off season for touris'," he explained. "we has two mos' reg'lar seasons, de spring an' de fall, yas, suh. i drives right many ovah heah from willi'msburg. i's pretty sho to git hol' of de bes' an' de riches'. an' i reckon i knows 'bout all dere is to be knowed 'bout dis firs' settlemen'. i's got it all so's i kin talk it off an' take in de extry change. i don' know is you evah notice, but folks is mighty diffrunt 'bout seem' dese ole things. yas, suh, dey sut'n'y is. some what i drives jes looks at de towah an' nuver gits out de ker'ige; an' den othahs jes peers into ev'ythin'. foh myse'f, now, i nuver keers much 'bout dese ole sceneries; but den i reckon i would ef i was rich." chapter viii pioneer village life that first little four-acre james towne, located in the neighbourhood of the present confederate fort, soon outgrew its palisades. in what may be called its typical days, the village stretched in a straggling way for perhaps three quarters of a mile up and down the river front, and with outlying parts reaching across the island to back river. it usually consisted of a church, a few public buildings, about a score of dwellings, and perhaps a hundred people. one of the principal streets (if james towne's thoroughfares could be called streets) ran close along the water front. while it must once have had some shorter name, it has come down in the records as "the way along the greate river." here and there traces of this highway can still be found; and the mulberry trees now standing along the river bank are supposed to be descendants of those that bordered the old village highway. next came back street upon which some prominent people seem to have lived. apparently leading across the head of the island from the town toward the isthmus was the "old greate road." there still appear some signs of this also near the graveyard. besides these highways there were several lanes and cart-paths. the eastward extension of the village, called new towne, was the principal part. it was the fashionable and official quarter. here lived many "people of qualitye." royal governors and ex-governors, knights and members of the council had their homes along the river front, where they lived in all the state that they could transplant from "london towne." the buildings, in the early days of wood and later of brick, were plainly rectangular. the later ones were usually two stories high with steep-pitched roofs. some of the dwellings, or dwellings and public buildings, were built together in rows to save in the cost of construction. probably most of the homes had "hort yards" and gardens. the colonists were not content with having about them the native flowers and fruits and those that they brought from england; but they made persistent efforts for years to grow in their gardens oranges, lemons, pomegranates, and pineapples. usually there was not much going on in old james towne, but periodically the place was enlivened by the sessions of the general assembly and of the court. at such times the planters and their following gathered in; and then doubtless there were stirring days in the village capital of "his majesty's colony of virginia." barges of the river planters were tied alongshore, and about the "tavernes" were horses, carts and a very few more pretentious vehicles. many of the people on the streets were in showy dress; though only the governor, councillors, and heads of "hundreds" were allowed to wear gold on their clothes. james towne, in her later days, seems to have had a "taverne" or two even when she had scarcely anything else; and doubtless these "alehouses" were the centres of life in those bustling court and assembly days. for not only was deep drinking a trait of the times, but many of the sessions both of the assembly and of the court were held in the "tavernes." three or four state-houses were built; but with almost suspicious regularity they burned down, and homeless assembly and court betook themselves and the affairs of the colony to the inns. there, in the ruddy glow of the great fireplaces, the judges could sit comfortably and dispense justice tempered with spirits. so life in james towne went on until the village had completed almost a hundred years of existence. but this was accomplished only by the most strenuous efforts. when at last, in 1699, the long struggle was given up and the seat of government was removed to williamsburg, nothing but utter dissolution was left for james towne. the fated little village had played its part. through untold suffering and a woeful cost of human life, it had fought on until england obtained a firm hold in america--a hold that was to make the new world essentially anglo-saxon. then this pioneer colony's mission was ended. it was not destined to have any place in the great nation that its struggle had made possible. one by one the lights in the poor little windows flickered and went out. the deserted hearthstones grew cold. abandoned and forgotten, the pitiful hamlet crumbled away. james towne dead, the island gradually fell into fewer hands until it became, as it is to-day, the property of a single owner; simply a plantation like any other. and yet, how unlike! even were every vestige of that pioneer settlement gone forever, memory would hold this island a place apart. but all is not gone. despite decay and the greedy river, there yet remains to us a handful of ruins of vanished james towne. despite a nation's shameful neglect, time has spared to her some relics of the community that gave her birth--a few broken tombs and the crumbling, tower of the old village church. every year come many of our people to look upon these ancient ruins and to pause in the midst of hurried lives to recall again their story. [illustration: an excursion day at jamestown island.] chapter ix good-bye to old james towne two or three times we ran the houseboat around in front of the island. on one occasion we took the notion to stop at places of interest along the way. upon coming out from back river, we spent some time poking about in the water for the old-time isthmus. we were not successful at first and almost feared that, after raising it for our own selfish purposes some days before, we had let it go down again in the wrong place. this troubled us the more because we had hoped to settle a vexed question as to how wide an isthmus had once connected the island with the mainland. nautica insisted that the width had been ten paces because a woman, mrs. an. cotton, who once lived near james towne, had said so. but the commodore pointed out that we had never seen mrs. cotton, and that we did not know whether she was a tall woman or a little dumpy woman; and so could not have the slightest idea of how far ten paces would carry her. on his part, he pinned his faith to the statement of strachey, a man who had lived in james towne and who had said that the isthmus was no broader than "a man will quaite a tileshard." but this nautica refused to accept as satisfactory because we did not know what a "tileshard" was nor how far a man would "quaite" one. so we were naturally anxious to see which of us was right. [illustration: gadabout looking for the lost isthmus.] [illustration: a visit to the "lone cypress."] after a while we found traces of the isthmus. and the matter turned out just as most disputes will, if both parties patiently wait until the facts are all in--that is, both sides were right. the soundings showed the isthmus to shelve off so gradually at the sides that we found we could put the stakes, marking its edges, almost any distance apart. so, the width across the isthmus could very well be ten of mrs. cotton's paces, no matter what sort of a woman she was; and it could just as well be the distance that "a man will quaite a tileshard," be a tileshard what it may. now, coasting along the end of the island, we had designs on the "lone cypress" for a sort of novel sensation. we approached the hoary old sentinel carefully, for it would be a sin to even bark its shaggy sides; and, dropping a rope over a projecting broken "knee," we enjoyed a striking object lesson on the effects of erosion. in several feet of water, and nearly three hundred feet from land, our houseboat was tied to a tree; tied to a tree that a hundred years before stood on the shore--a tree that likely, in the early days of the colony (for who knows the age of the "lone cypress"?), stood hundreds of yards back on the island. but it may never be farther from shore than we found it; for there, glistening in the sunshine, stood the sea-wall holding the hungry river at bay. carefully slipping our rope from the tree, we let the tide carry us out a little way before starting an engine. then, bidding goodbye to the old cypress, we moved on along the shore. we were aware from our map of ancient holdings that we were ruthlessly cutting across lots over the colonial acres of one captain edward ross; but, seeing neither dogs nor trespass signs, we sailed right on. the captain would not have to resort to irrigation on his lands to-day. while dawdling about this submerged portion of old james towne, we thought we would make a stop at the spot where those first settlers landed. after consulting the map, we manoeuvred the houseboat so as to enable us to do some rough sort of triangulation with the compass, and finally dropped anchor, satisfied that we were at the historic spot, even though it was too wet to get out and look for the footprints. and there, well out on the yellow waters of the james, gadabout lay lazily in the sunshine where sarah constant was once tied to the bank; where those first settlers stepped ashore; where america began. after following the island a little farther down stream, we cast anchor in a hollow of the shore-line near the steamboat pier. it was not much of a hollow after all and really formed no harbour. when the west wind came howling down the james, picking up the water for miles and hurling it at gadabout, our only consolation lay in knowing that it could not have done that if we had only got there two or three centuries earlier. at that time, the point, or headland, upon which the colonists landed reached out and protected this shallow bay below. doubtless, throughout james towne days, the smaller vessels found fair harbour where gadabout one night rolled many of her possessions into fragments, and her proud commander into something very weak and wan and unhappy. in the last few years, there has been an awakening of interest in long-forgotten james towne. to mrs. edward e. barney for her generous gift of the southwest corner of the island to the association for the preservation of virginia antiquities, and to that society for its work in staying the course of decay and the hand of vandalism, our country is indebted. the recent researches of mr. samuel h. yonge too have added new interest. it had long been supposed that almost the entire site of the ancient village was lost in the river. mr. yonge has shown that in fact but a small part of it is gone. he has even located on the island the exact sites of so many of the more important village buildings that, it is said, old james towne could be practically reproduced in wood and brick from his map, based upon the ancient records. to verify his work, mr. yonge undertook (in 1903) to discover the buried ruins of a certain row of buildings that the records described as made up of a state-house, a "country house," and three dwellings. the search was begun with a steel probe, which struck the hidden foundations within twenty-five feet of their position as indicated on his plat. then the association began excavating; the foundations were uncovered, and are now among the things to see on the island. [illustration: one of the earliest excavations.] [illustration: hunting for the first state house.] as mr. yonge's map shows the larger part of the site of james towne to be lying to the east of the church tower and outside of the a.p.v.a. grounds, the daughter of the island was interested too in seeing what probe and pick and shovel could do. it was at one of james towne's old homes that we next met her. the meeting, judging from our map of the village, was probably at captain roger smith's, though one could not be sure. there was no name on the door, nor indeed any door to put a name on, nor indeed any house to put a door on--just an ancient basement that the daughter of the island had discovered and was having cleaned out. it badly needed it, nothing of the kind having been done perhaps for over two hundred years. "come and see my find," she cried. the testing probe having struck something that indicated a buried foundation, there in the black pea field, this young antiquarian had put men at work and was being rewarded by finding the ruins of some ancient house. portions of two rooms had been disclosed and the stairway leading down into one of them. "come down the stairs," said the proud lady in the cellar. "oh, what narrow steps!" nautica exclaimed. "they used to build out those brick treads with wood to make them wider," explained our hostess. "you can see where the wooden parts have been burned away." the two rooms were paved with brick, and in one a chimney-place had come to light. everywhere were bits of charred wood. did no place in james towne escape the scourge of fire? a kitten came springing over the mounds of excavated earth and began to prowl about the old fireplace. except for a skittish pebble that she chased across the empty front, she found nothing of interest; no hint of savoury odours from the great spit over the blazing logs that may have caused a james towne cat to sit and gaze and sniff some two centuries or more ago. but we suddenly left the frivolous kitten upon being told of what had been found in the other room just before we came. it was a heavy earthen pot sunk below the floor. we crouched about it with great interest, chiefly because we did not know what it was for. perhaps it was merely to collect the drainage. anyway it was not what the daughter of the island had fondly thought when it was first uncovered. "i was sure," she laughed, "that i had found a pot of money." standing down there in the ruins we wondered what was the story of the old house. what feet had trod those paved floors? what had those walls seen and known of being and loving, of hopes and fears, of joys and griefs, of life and death? of all this the uncovered ruin told nothing. while we were at the island, three or four excavations were made and we watched them all with interest. when the steel probe had located the ruin, the digging and the excitement began. slowly the buried walls came to light. within the walls was usually a mass of debris to be thrown out--bricks of various sizes, shapes, and colours; cakes of the ancient shell lime; pieces of charred wood, and relics of all sorts. some of the bricks were quite imperfectly made and had a greenish hue. we supposed them to be the oldest ones and to have been baked or dried in the sun before the colonists had kilns. some of them had indentations that were evidently finger imprints. "i wants to fin' dey ole papahs," said big john, digging heartily. "dis hyer is a histoyacal ole place; an' i rathah fin' a box of dey ole papahs than three hunderd dollahs." among the coloured people was an unquenchable hope of finding a pot full of money. it was a most interesting experience to sit in the brick rubbish and watch for the queer little relics that were thrown out now and then. no great finds were made, but the small ones did very well. there appeared an endless number of pieces of broken pottery; and the design of a blue dog chasing a blue fox was evidently a popular one for such ware in james towne. but where was the blue dog's head? the question grew to be an absorbing one. each handful of dirt began or ended with a wrong piece of the blue dog mixed with bits of brass and iron and pottery that brought vividly to mind the scenes and the folk of that vanished village. handful after handful of dirt ran through our ringers like hourglass sands of ancient days, and the clicking relics were left in our hands in the quest of the blue dog's head. and this was the way things went. a piece of a bowl bearing most of the blue dog's tail; a woman's spur, gilt and broken, worn when merry eyes peeped through silken riding masks; a bit of indian pottery with basketry marks upon it; a blue fox and the fore legs of the blue dog; a shoe-buckle, silver too--must have been people of "qualitye" here; a piece of a cream white cup that may have been a "lily pot" such as the colonist kept his pipe tobacco in; pieces and pieces of the blue dog, but never a bit of a head; a tiny red pipe and a piece of a white one--so that must have been a "lily pot"; a door key, some rusty scissors, and a blue head--of the fox; glass beads, blue beads, such as john smith told powhatan were worn by great kings, thus obtaining a hundred bushels of corn for a handful of the beads; a pewter spoon, a bent thimble, and a whole blue dog--no, his miserable head was off. we never became discouraged and are quite sure yet that we should have found the blue dog's head if we could have gone on searching. but by this time the summer was waning, and on up the river was much yet for gadabout to see. it was a long visit that we had made at the island, yet one that had grown in interest as in days. indeed only in the passing of many days could such interest come--could old james towne so seem to live again. lingeringly we had dreamed along its forgotten ways, by its ruined hearthstones, and among its nameless tombs; and so dreaming had seemed to draw close to the little old-time hamlet and to the scenes of hope and of fear, of joy and of despair, that had marked the planting of our race in america. now, on the last evening of our stay at the island, we walked again the familiar paths; looked for the hundredth time down the great brown river that had borne our people to this place of beginning; stood once more beside the graveyard wall; then started toward the houseboat, turning for a last look at the broken church tower and to bid good night and good-bye to old james towne. chapter x a short sail and an old romance next day, bustling about with making all things shipshape, we could scarcely realize that we were actually getting under way again. but when our mooring-lines were hauled in, gadabout backed away from her old friend, the bridge, swung around in the narrow marsh-channel, and soon carried us from back river out into the james. and by this time how impressed we had become with the significance of that wide, brown flood--that nestor of american rivers! when is the james to find its rightful place in american song and story? our oldest colonial waterway--upon whose banks the foundations of our country were laid, along whose shores our earliest homes and home-sites can still be pointed out--and yet almost without a place in our literature. other rivers, historically lesser rivers, have had their stories told again and again, their beauties lauded, and their praises sung. but this great pioneer waterway, fit theme for an ode, is to-day our unsung river. gadabout, with the wind in her favour and all the buoys leaning her way, made good progress. it was not long before we were looking back catching the last glimpses of the white sea-wall of jamestown island. we now were on our way to pick up other bits of the river story, and especially those concerning the peculiar colonial home life on the james. when tobacco culture, with its ceaseless demand for virgin soil, led many of the colonists to abandon james towne and to build up great individual estates, each estate had to have its water front; and old powhatan became lined on both sides with vast plantations. later, the lands along other rivers were similarly occupied. so pronounced was the development of plantation life that it affected, even controlled, the character of the colony and determined the type of civilization in virginia. the great estates became so many independent, self-sufficient communities--almost kingdoms. each had its own permanent population including, besides slaves and common labourers, many mechanics, carpenters, coopers, and artisans of various kinds. an unbroken water highway stretched from each plantation wharf to the wharves of london. directly from his own pier, each planter shipped his tobacco to england; and in return there was unloaded upon his own pier the commodities needed for his plantation community. thus was established the peculiar type of virginia society, the aristocracy of planters, that dotted the old dominion with lordly manor-houses and filled them with gay, ample life--a life almost feudal in its pride and power. in this day of our nation's tardy awakening to an appreciation of its colonial homes, a particular interest attaches to these old virginia mansions, once the centres of those proud little principalities in the wilderness. and the particular interest of gadabout's people, as jamestown island faded from sight, attached to a few of the earliest and most typical of those colonial homes that we knew yet stood on the banks of the "king's river." from kindly responses to our notes of inquiry, we also knew that long-suffering virginia courtesy was not yet quite exhausted, and that it still swung wide the doors of those old manor-houses to even the passing stranger. our next harbour was to be chippoak creek, which empties into the river about twelve miles above jamestown island. there we should be near two or three colonial homes including the well-known brandon. it seemed good to be under way again. there was music in the chug of our engines and in the purl of the water about our homely bows. the touch of the wind in our faces was tonic, and we could almost persuade ourselves that there was fragrance in the occasional whiffs of gasoline. we soon came to an opening in the shore to starboard where the james receives one of its chief tributaries, the chickahominy, memorable for its association with the first american romance. though the tale is perhaps a trifle hackneyed, yet the duty of every good american is to listen whenever it is told. so here it is. of course the hero was captain john smith. how that man does brighten up the record of those old times! well, one day the captain with a small party from james towne was hunting in the marshes of the chickahominy for food, or adventure, or the south sea, or something, and some indians were hunting there also; and the indians captured the captain. they took him before the great chief powhatan; and as john lay there, with a large stone under his head and some clubs waving above him, the general impression was that he was going to die. but that was not john's way in those days; he was always in trouble but he never died. suddenly, just as the clubs were about to descend, soft arms were about the captain's head, and pocahontas, the favourite daughter of the old chief, was pleading for the ever-lucky smith. the dramatic requirements of the case were apparent to everybody. powhatan spared the pale-face; and our country had its first romance. to be sure, some people say that all this never happened. indeed the growing skepticism about this precious bit of our history, this international romance that began in the marshes of the chickahominy, is our chief reason for repeating it here. it is time for the story to be told by those who can vouch for it--those who have actually seen the river that flows by the marshes that the captain was captured in. on we went with tide, wind, and engines carrying us up the james. dancing point reached sharply out as if to intercept us. but the owner of those strong dark hands that happened to be at the wheel knew the story of dancing point--of how many an ebony tam o'shanter had seen ghostly revelry there; and gadabout was held well out in the river. again, how completely we had the james to ourselves! we thought of how, even back in those old colonial days, our little craft would have had more company. here, with slender bows pushing down stream, the indian canoes went on their way to trade with the settlers at james towne; their cargoes varying with the seasons--fish from their weirs in the moon of blossoms, and, in the moon of cohonks, limp furred and feathered things and reed-woven baskets of golden maize. returning, the red men would have the axes, hatchets, and strange articles that the pale-faces used, and the cherished "blew" beads that the cape merchant had given them in barter. here sailed the little shallops of the colonists as they explored and charted this unknown land. a few years later and, with rhythmic sway of black bodies and dip of many oars, came the barges of the river planters. right royally came the lords of the wilderness--members of the council perhaps, and in brave gold-laced attire--dropping down with the ebb tide to the tiny capital in the island marshes. and up the stream came ships from "london towne," spreading soft white clouds of canvas where sail was never seen before; and carrying past the naked indian in his tepee the sweet-scented powders and the rose brocade that the weed of his peace-pipe had bought for the lady of the manor. now, gadabout began to sidle toward the port bank of the river as our next harbour, chippoak creek, was on that side. here the shore grew steep; and at one point high up we caught glimpses of the little village of claremont. at its pier lay a three-masted schooner and several barges and smaller boats. along the water's edge were mills, their steam and smoke drifting lazily across the face of the bluffs. on a little farther, we came to the mouth of chippoak creek with the bluffs of claremont on one hand, the sweeping, wooded shores of brandon on the other, and, in between, a beautiful expanse of water, wide enough for a river and possibly deep enough for a heavy dew. we scurried for chart and sounding-pole. following the narrow, crooked channel indicated on the chart, we worked our way well into the mouth of the stream and cast anchor near a point of woods. from the chart we could tell that somewhere beyond that forest wall, over near the bank of the river, was the old manor-house that we had come chiefly to see--brandon, one of america's most noted colonial homes. next morning we were ready for a visit to brandon. but first, we had to let the sailor make a foraging trip to the village. one of the troubles about living in a home that wanders on the waters, is that each time you change anchorage you must hunt up new places for getting things and getting things done. while it is charming to drop anchor every now and then in a snug, new harbour, where nature, as she tucks you in with woodland green, has smiles and graces that you never saw before, yet the houseboater soon learns that each delightful, new-found pocket in the watery world means necessity for several other new-found things. there must be a new-found washerwoman, and new-found somebodies who can supply meats, eggs, vegetables, ice, milk, and water--the last two separate if possible. true, the little harbour is beautiful; but as you lie there day after day watching waving trees and rippling water, the soiled-clothes bags are growing fatter; and then too, even in the midst of beauty, one wearies of a life fed wholly out of tin cans. [illustration: entrance to chippoak creek.] [illustration: cove in chippoak creek.] henry was a good forager; and we were confident, as his strong strokes carried him from the houseboat shoreward, that he would soon put us in touch with all the necessary sources of supply, so that in the afternoon we could make our visit to the old manor-house. and he did not fail us. his little boat came back well loaded, and he bore the welcome news that "sally" (whoever she might be) would take the washing. but now, a matter of religion got in between us and brandon. a launch came down the creek; and, as we were nearly out of gasoline, the commodore hailed the craft and made inquiry as to where we could get some. one of the two men aboard proved to deal in gasoline, and appeared to be the only one about who did. he had some of it then on the pier at claremont; and would sell it any day in the week except saturday. the rather puzzling exception he explained by saying that he was a seventh-day adventist. to be sure, it was then only thursday; but as it seemed making up for bad weather that might prevent our running down to the pier next day, we arranged to take on a barrel of the gasoline that afternoon. we started after a rather late dinner; and ran back down the river to where we had seen the schooner and the barges the day before. just as the commodore made a nice, soft-bump landing at the pier, a man informed him that the gasoline had been carried to the adventist's mill by mistake. so, we cast off our ropes again, and went farther down to where the little mills steamed away at the foot of the bluffs. off shore, several sloops and rowboats were tied to tall stakes in the water. we went as close to shore as we dared; and gadabout crept cautiously up to one of the stakes, so as not to knock it over, and was tied to it. then, the commodore went ashore and arranged to have the gasoline brought out to us. presently, two negroes rolled the barrel into a lighter. they poled their awkward craft out to gadabout and made fast to a cleat. it took a long time to pump the gasoline into cans, and then to strain it into our tank on the upper deck. the day was about over. relinquishing our plan of visiting brandon, we ran back to our chippoak harbour, and our anchor went to bed in the creek as the sun went down. chapter xi at the pier marked "brandon" it was late on the following afternoon when gadabout was out of the creek, out in the river, and bound for the little pier marked _brandon_. a belated steamboat was swashing down stream, and a schooner, having but little of wind and less of tide to help it along, was rocking listlessly in the long swell. in the shadow of the slack sails a man sprawled upon the schooner's deck, while against the old-fashioned tiller another leaned lazily. gadabout had to make quite a detour to get around some shad-net poles before she could head in toward the brandon wharf; and her roundabout course gave time for a thought or two upon the famous old river plantation. starting but a few years after those first colonists landed at jamestown island, the story of brandon is naturally a long one. but, working on the scale of a few words to a century, we may get the gist of it in here. among those first settlers was one captain john martin, a considerable figure of those days and a member of the council appointed by the king for the government of the colony. he seems to have been the only man who believed in holding on at james towne after the horrors of the "starving time." he made vigorous protest when the settlers took to the ships and abandoned the settlement. about 1616, he secured a grant of several thousand acres of land in the neighbourhood of this creek that we were now lying in, and the estate became known as brandon--martin's brandon. the terms of the grant were so unusually favourable that they came near making the captain a little lord in the wilderness. he was to "enjoye his landes in as large and ample manner to all intentes and purposes as any lord of any manours in england dothe holde his grounde." and he certainly started out to do it. but soon the general assembly attacked the lordly prerogatives of the owner of martin's brandon. it did not relish the idea of making laws for everybody in the colony except john martin, and he was requested to relinquish certain of his high privileges. this he refused to do, saying, "i hold my patente for my service don, which noe newe or late comers can meritt or challenge." after a while, however, he was induced to surrender the objectionable "parte of his patente," and manorial brandon became like any other great estate in the colony. after several changes of ownership, brandon came into the possession of another prominent colonial family, the harrisons. the founder of this virginia house (the various branches of which have given us so many men prominent in our colonial and national life) was benjamin harrison, one of the early settlers, a large land holder, and a member of the council. his son benjamin (also a man of position in the colony and a member of the council) was probably the first of the family to hold lands at brandon. but it was not until the third generation that the harrisons became thoroughly identified with the two great plantations that have ever since been associated with the name; benjamin harrison, the third, acquiring berkeley, and his brother nathaniel completing the acquisition of the broad acres of brandon. berkeley passed to strangers many years ago; but brandon has come down through unbroken succession from the harrisons of over two centuries ago to the harrisons of to-day. that makes a great many harrisons. and as it happened, while gadabout was on her way that day to visit their ancestral home, a genealogical chart with its maze of family ramifications was lying on a table in the forward cabin, and henry saw it. "king's sake!" he exclaimed. "that must be the host they couldn't count. don't you know john say how he saw a host no man could number? that's cert'nly them!" as we approached the brandon pier, we saw a man on it who proved to be the gardener and who helped to handle our ropes as we made our landing. then, with the aid of a beautiful collie, he led us up the slope toward the still invisible homestead. entering the wooded grounds through quaint, old-fashioned gateways, we followed our guide along a trail that topped the river bluff, where honeysuckle ran riot in the shrubbery and tumbled in confusion to the beach below. the trail ended in a cleared spot on the crest of the bluff--a river lookout, where one could rest upon the rustic seat and enjoy the ever-varying picture of water, sky, and shore. [illustration: riverward front of brandon.] but we turned our backs upon it all, for to us it was not yet brandon. now, our course lay directly away from the river along a broad avenue of yielding turf, straight through an aged garden. above were the arching boughs of giant trees; below and all about, a wealth of old-fashioned bloom. the sunlight drifted through shadowing fringe-trees, mimosas, magnolias, and oaks. hoary old age marked the garden in the breadth of the box, in the height of the slow-growing yews, and in the denseness of the ivy that swathed the great-girthed trees. it all lay basking in the soft, mellow light of sunset, in the hush of coming twilight, like some garden of sleep. suddenly, the grove and the garden ended and we were over the threshold of a square of sward, an out-of-door reception room, no tree or shrub encroaching. beyond this was a row of sentinel trees; and then a massive hedge of box with a break in the middle where stood the white portal of brandon. we could tell little about the building. the eye could catch only a charming confusion: foliage-broken lines of wall and roof; ivy-framed windows; and, topping all, just above the deep green of a magnolia tree, the white carved pineapple of welcome and hospitality. in the softened light of evening, the charm of the place was upon us--old brandon, standing tree-shadowed and dim, its storied walls in time-toned tints, its seams and crannies traced in the greens of moss and lichen, its ancient air suggestive, secretive, "in green old gardens hidden away from sight of revel and sound of strife." we entered a large, dusky hall with white pillars and arches midway, and with two rooms opening off from it--the dining-room on the one hand, the drawing-room on the other. in the old chimney-pieces, fire leaped behind quaint andirons taking the chill from the evening air. and there in the dusk and the fire-glow, where shadows half hid and half revealed, where old mahogany now loomed dark and now flashed back the flickering light, where old-time worthies fitfully came and went upon the shadowy, panelled walls--we made our acquaintance with brandon and with the gracious lady of the manor. our talk ran one with the hour and the dusk and the firelight--old days, old ways, and all that brandon stands for. when our twilight call was over, it was with dreamy thoughts on the far days of queen anne and of the georges that we went from the white-pillared portico down the worn stone steps and followed a side path back toward our boat. in the gloaming the side-lights were being put in place, and gadabout turned a baleful green eye upon us, as though overhearing our talk of such unnautical things as gardens and heirlooms and ancestral halls. next morning there was much puffing of engines and ringing of signal bells down in chippoak creek. gadabout went ahead and backed and sidled. and it was all to find a new way to go to brandon. mrs. harrison had told us of a landing-place in the woods at the creek side from which a sort of roadway led to the house. fortunately, our charts indicated, near this landing, a small depression in the bed of the creek where there would be sufficient depth of water for our houseboat to float even at low tide. at last, we got over the flats and into the hole in the bottom of the creek that seemed to have been made for us. we rowed ashore to a yellow crescent of sandy beach shaded by cypresses where a cart-path led off through the woods. we called it the woods-way to brandon. it followed the shore of the creek a little way, and through the leafy screen we caught glimpses of gadabout out in the stream, now with a cone-tipped branch of pine and again with a star-leaved limb of sweet gum for a foreground setting. farther along were many dogwood trees; and in the springtime these woods must be dotted with those white blossom-tents that so charmed the first settlers on their way up the river. here, for the first time, we came upon the trailing cedar spreading its feathery carpet under the trees. ferns lifted their fronds in thick, wavy clusters. the freshness from a night storm was upon every growing thing; a clearing northwest wind was in the tree-tops; and the air was filled with the spicy sweetness of the woodland. the way led out of the shadow of the trees into the open, and we came upon "the quarters"--long, low buildings with patches of corn and sweet potatoes about them. two coloured women were digging in the gardens and another was busy over an out-of-door washtub. a group of picaninnies played about a steaming kettle swung upon a cross-stick above an open-air fire. one fat brown baby sat in a doorway poking a pudgy thumb into a saucer of food and keeping very watchful eyes on the strangers. beyond the quarters were barns and some small houses. [illustration: a side path to the manor-house.] [illustration: the woods-way to brandon.] and here was our first reminder of a distressing chapter in the story of brandon. we knew that but few of these buildings were old-time outbuildings of the estate. the civil war bore hard upon this as upon other homes along the james. it left little upon the plantation except the old manor-house itself, and that injured and defaced. on ahead, we could see the great grove in which the manor-house stands, looming up in the midst of the cleared land like a small forest reservation. our route this time brought us to the homestead from the landward side through an open park, and we got a better view of the building than the dense foliage on the other side had permitted. the house is of the long colonial type, consisting of a square central building, two large flanking wings, and two connecting corridors. it is built of brick laid in flemish bond, showing a broken pattern of glazed headers. each front has its wide central porch and double-door entranceway. the emblem of hospitality that tops the central roof is truly characteristic of the spirit within. old colonial worthies, foreign dignitaries, presidents and their cabinets, house-parties of "virginia cousins," and "strangers within the gates"--all have known the open hospitality of brandon. and the two latest strangers now moved on assured of kindly welcome at the doorway. entering brandon from the landward front, we found ourselves again in the large central hall. it is divided midway by arches resting on fluted ionic columns and has a fine example of the colonial staircase. this hall and the drawing-room and the dining-room on either side of it cover the entire ground floor of the central building. offices and bedrooms occupy the wings. the rooms are lofty, and most of them have fireplaces and panelled walls. through the east doorway one looks down a long vista to the river. in the sunlight it is striking: the shadows from the dense foliage before the portal lie black upon the grass; beyond is the stretch of sunny sward; and then the turf walk under meeting boughs, a green tunnel through whose far opening one sees a bit of brown river and perhaps a white glint of sail. in drawing-room and dining-room are gathered numerous paintings forming a collection well known as the brandon gallery. it represents the work of celebrated old court painters and of notable early american artists. [illustration: in the drawing-room.] in the drawing-room, a canvas by charles wilson peale may be regarded as the portrait-host among the shadowy figures gathered there, its subject being colonel benjamin harrison. he was friend and college roommate of thomas jefferson, and a member of the first state executive council in 1776. against the dense background is shown a slender gentleman of the old school, with an intellectual, kindly face and expressive eyes. about him is a distinguished gathering--dames and damsels in rich attire and languid elegance; gallants and nobles in court costume and dashing pose, jewelled hand on jewelled sword. in the dining-room, the portrait hostess is found, the wife of the colonel harrison who presides in the drawing-room. she was the granddaughter of the noted colonial exquisite and man of letters, colonel william byrd, whose old home, westover, we should soon visit on our way up the river. it was through her marriage to colonel harrison that there were added to the brandon collection many of the paintings and other art treasures of the byrd family, including a certain, well-known canvas that carries a story with it. it is an old, old story--indeed the painting itself is dimmed by the passing of nearly two centuries; but just as the sweet face looks out from its frame ever girlish, so does perennial youth seem to dwell in the romance of the "fair maid of the james." the portrait is by sir godfrey kneller. it shows a beautiful young woman. her gray-blue gown is cut in a stiff, long-waisted style of the eighteenth century, yet still showing the slim grace of the maiden. the head is daintily poised. a red rose is in her hair and one dark curl falls across a white shoulder. her face is oval and delicately tinted. she follows you with her soft, brown eyes, and her lips have the thought of a smile. such was the colonial beauty, evelyn byrd, daughter of colonel william byrd. though her home was not here but at westover, and there she sleeps under her altar-tomb, yet the girlish presence seems at brandon too, where the winsome face looks down from the wall, and where we must pause to tell her story. this virginia girl was educated in london where she had most of her social triumphs. there she was presented at court and there began the pitiful romance of her life in her meeting with charles mordaunt. in all youth's happy heedlessness these two fell in love--the daughter of "the baron of the james" and the grandson and heir of london's social leader, lord peterborough. it seemed a pretty knot of cupid's tying; but just here william byrd cast himself in the role of fate. some say because of religious differences, some say because of an old family feud, he refused to permit the marriage. he brought his daughter back to virginia where, as the old records say, "refusing all offers from other gentlemen, she died of a broken heart." that day when we left the manor-house, we started homeward, or boatward, with our faces set the wrong way; for we wandered first into the old garden. it is a typical colonial garden that lies down by the river--a great roomy garden where trees and fruit bushes stand among the blossoming shrubs and vines and plants. it is a garden to wander in, to sit in, to dream in. all is very quiet here and the world seems a great way off. only the birds come to share the beauty with you, and their singing seems a part of the very peace and quiet of it all. the old-fashioned flowers are set out in the old-fashioned way. there are (or once were) the prim squares, each with its cowslip border, and the stiffly regular little hedgerows. one may hunt them all out now; but for so many generations have shrub and vine and plant lived together here, that a good deal of formality has been dispensed with, and across old lines bloom mingles with bloom. the old garden calendars the seasons as they come and go. as an early blossom fades, a later one takes its place through all the flowery way from crocus to aster. trifling, cold, and unfriendly seem most gardens of to-day in comparison with these old-fashioned ones. perhaps the entire display in the modern garden comes fresh from the florist in the spring, and is allowed to die out in the fall, to be replaced the next spring by plants not only new but even of different varieties from those of the year before. not so at brandon. here, the garden is one of exclusive old families. its flower people can trace their pedigrees back to the floral emigrants from england. the young plants that may replace some dead ones are scions of the old stock. strange blossoms, changing every spring like dwellers in a city flat, would not be in good standing with the blue flags that great(many times great-) grandmother planted, nor with the venerable peonies and day lilies, the lilacs and syringas that remember the day when the elms and magnolias above them were puny saplings. even a huge pecan tree, twenty-one feet around, whose planting was recorded in the "plantation book" over a century ago, is considered rather a new-comer by the ancient family of english cowslips. here is restful permanence in this world of restless change. loved ones may pass away, friends may fail, neighbours may come and go; but here in the quiet old garden, the dear flower faces that look up to cheer are the same that have given heart and comfort to generations so remote that they lie half-forgotten beneath gray, crumbling stones with quaint time-dimmed inscriptions. chapter xii harbour days and a foggy night day after day, we lay in our beautiful harbour of chippoak creek as the last of the summer-time went by and as autumn began to fly her bright signal flags in the trees along the shore. sometimes we moored in the little depression that nature had scooped out for us close by the brandon woods; sometimes we scrambled out from it at high tide and went across and cast anchor by the claremont shore. now and then we would go for a run up the creek, or out for a while on the broad james. it is well to stay in a pretty harbour long enough to get acquainted with it. by the time we could tell the stage of the tide by a glance at the lily pads, and could get in and out over the flats in the dark, and could go right to the deep place in brandon cove without sounding, we had learned where the late wild flowers grew, that the washing would get scorched on one side of the creek and lost on the other, that the best place for fishing was around behind the island, and that the claremont "butcher" had fresh meat on tuesdays and fridays. gradually, our neighbours of marsh and woodland lost their shyness, and some of them paid us the compliment of simply ignoring us. most of the blue herons flew high or curved widely past gadabout--long necks stretched straight before, long legs stretched straight behind. but the tragedian (he was the longest and the lankest) minded us not at all. at the last of the ebb, a snag over near the shore would suddenly add on another angle and jab down in the water, coming up again with a shiver and a fish. then, it would approach the houseboat and stalk the waters beside our windows. the stage stride of the creature won for it the name of the tragedian. knowing the shyness of his kind we felt especially pleased by a still further proof of his confidence. one morning, in response to a cautious whisper from the sailor, we stole stealthily upon the after deck and saw that the tragedian was, truly enough, "settin' on an awnin'-pole pickin' hisself." there was a dead tree on our brandon shore-line. it stood among tall pines and sweet gums and beeches as far up as they went, after that it stood alone in the blue. we called it old lookout. a bald eagle used it for a watch-tower. lesser birds dared plume themselves up there when the king was away: crows cawed and sidled along the smooth branches; hawks and buzzards came on tippy wing and lighted there; and even little birds perched pompously where the big eagle's claws had been. but when the snowy head above the dark, square shoulders tipped old lookout, the national emblem had it all to himself. occasionally he preened his feathers; but he did it in a bored, awkward way, as if forced on account of his valet's absence into unfamiliar details of toilet quite beneath his dignity. now and then he would scream. it is hard to believe that such a bird can have such a voice. he always lost caste in our eyes when he had his little, choked-up penny whistle going. the attractions of harbour life did not keep us away from the old manor-house. once when gadabout ran around to the river front, she found a yacht from philadelphia at the pier; and so passed on a little way and cast anchor in a cove opposite the garden. few other notable houses in america, still used as homes, are the objects of so many pilgrimages as the historic places on the james. indeed, few people but the hospitable virginians would so frequently and so courteously fling wide their doors to strangers. when the yachting visitors were gone that day and we were at the old home engrossed in the architecture of the harrison colonial cradle, there came the long blasts of the steamer pocahontas blowing for the brandon landing. not that she had any passengers or freight for brandon perhaps, or brandon for her, but because all these river estates are postoffices and the pocahontas carries the river mail. after a considerable time (for even the united states mail moves slowly through the sleepy old garden), a coloured boy brought in a bag with most promising knobs and bulges all over it. the postoffice at brandon is over in the south wing where there are pigeon-holes and desks and such things. but the family mail is brought into the great dining-room and there, in the good plantation way, it is opened on the old mahogany. the mail that morning made a very good directory of the present-day family at brandon. there were letters and packages for the mistress of the plantation and for the daughter and the son living in the manor-house with her, and also for the other daughter and her husband, mr. randolph cuyler, who live across the lawn in brandon cottage with its dormer windows and wistaria-draped veranda. mrs. harrison is the widow of mr. george evelyn harrison, and the daughter of the late william washington gordon, who was the first president of the central railroad of georgia and one of the most prominent men in that state. [illustration: "venerable four-posters, richly carved and dark."] brandon to-day keeps up correspondence with relatives and friends in england and on the continent, reads english papers and magazines, sends cuttings from rosebushes and shrubs across seas, makes visits there and is visited in turn. so, it was pleasant to have the reading of our own welcome letters diversified by bits of foreign news that came out of the bag for brandon. we could imagine an expression of personal interest on the handsome face of colonel byrd, as he stood in court costume on the wall above us, when the wrappings were taken from a volume containing the correspondence of his old friend, the earl of orrery, and sent by the present earl to mrs. harrison. in it were some of the colonel's letters written from his james river home, and in which he spoke of how his daughters missed the gaieties of the english court. the torn wrappings and bits of string were gathered up and a little blaze was made of them behind the old fire-dogs. then we were shown more of brandon. up quaint staircases in the wings we went to the roomy bedrooms with their ivy-cased windows, mellow-toned panelling, and old open fireplaces. as daily living at brandon is truly in the paths of ancestral worthies, so, at night, there are venerable four-posters, richly carved and dark, to induce eighteenth century dreams in the twentieth century harrisons. massive mahogany wardrobes, bureaus, and washstands are as generations of forebears have used them. some of the bedrooms once had small rooms opening off from them, one on either side of the fireplace, each having a window. an english kinswoman of the family says that such rooms were called "powdering rooms." through holes in the doors, the colonial belles and beaux used to thrust their elaborately dressed heads into these rooms, that they might be powdered in there without the sweet-scented clouds enveloping silks and velvets too. from bedrooms to basement is a long way; but we would see the old stone bench down there where used to sit the row of black boys to answer bells from these rooms above. just over the bench hangs still a tangle of the broken bell wires. when colonial brandon was filled with guests, there must often have been a merry jangle above the old stone bench and a swift patter of feet on the flags. standing there to-day, one can almost fancy an impatient tinkle. is it from some high-coiffured beauty in the south wing with a message that must go post-haste--a missive sanded, scented, and sealed by a trembling hand and to be opened by one no steadier? or is it perhaps from some bewigged councillor with knee-buckles glinting in the firelight as he waits for the subtle heart-warming of an apple toddy? now, we were ready to go home; but we did not start at once. a stranger going anywhere from brandon should imitate the cautious railways and have his schedule subject to change without notice. at the last moment, some new old thing is bound to get between him and the door. in our case, two or three of them did. somebody spoke of a secret panel. that sounded well; and even though we were assured that nothing had been found behind it, we went to the south wing to look at the hole in the wall. at one side of a fireplace, a bit of metal had been found under the molding of a panel in the wainscoting. it was evidently a secret spring, but one that had long since lost its cunning; stiff with age and rust, it failed to respond to the discovering touch. in the end, the panel had to be just prosaically pried out. and, worst of all, the dim recess behind it was empty. when we had peered within the roomy secret space and had wondered what had been concealed there and what hands had pressed the hidden spring, we might really have started for the houseboat if it had not been for the skull story. but there, just underneath a window of the secret-panel room, was another place of secrets. it was a brick projection from the wall of such peculiar form as to have invited investigation. when some bricks had been removed and some earth taken out, a human skull showed white and ghastly. then, at the touch of moving air, it crumbled away. that was no story to start anywhere on, even in broad daylight; so we had another. we were taken into the drawing-room and there, sharing honours with the portraits, was a little gold ring hanging high from the chandelier rosette. while not a work of art like one of the canvases on the wall, it has its own sufficient charm--it is a mystery. the dainty gold band has hung above the heads of generations of harrisons, and somewhere in the long line its story has been lost. who placed the ring where it hangs, and whether in joy or in grief, nobody longer knows. but it will swing safely there while brandon stands, for in this ancient house, down the ages undisturbed, come the mysteries and the ghosts. that evening a wind came up and rain set in from a depressing dark-blue-calico sky. gadabout did not take the trouble to run back into her creek harbour; but put down a heavier anchor and made herself comfortable for the night in the cove above the brandon pier. the cradling boat and the patter upon the roof soon put us to sleep. then something put us very wide awake again. we listened, but there was nothing to hear. the wind had died out and the boat had stopped rolling. in a moment, the long blast of a steamer whistle told what was the matter. in blanket-robe and slippers, the commodore got quickly to a window, and found the river world all gone--swallowed up in fog. [illustration: a corner in the dining--room.] [illustration: the drawing-room fireplace.] another weird, warning call out of the mysterious, impenetrable mist; the steamer for richmond was groping her way up the river. to be sure, anchored as we were so far inshore of the channel, we were well clear of the steamer's course; but in such heavy fogs the river boats often go astray. as succeeding blasts sounded nearer, the commodore became anxious and, without waiting to turn out the crew, he started for the fog-bell. but where was the fog-bell? not where it ought to be, we well knew. some changes in the cockpit had crowded it from its place, and for some time it had been stowed away--but where? the commodore scurried from locker to locker. "couldn't we just as well whistle?" asked nautica. "no, no. a boat under way whistles in a fog, but one at anchor must ring a bell." one more locker, and, "i've found it!" triumphantly cried the commodore; but then, in dismay, "there goes the tongue out of the thing." suddenly came another blast from the steamer. she sounded almost atop of us, and the whistling was followed by a swashing of water as though her propeller had been reversed. "why don't you call henry?" asked nautica. "no time now," said the commodore. "i must find something to pound this bell with." of course there seemed nothing available. the commodore seized a whisk broom, but dropped that in favour of a hair-brush; and then in the excitement some harder object was thrust into his hand and he started for the door. nautica hurried to a window, and now saw a blur of light through the fog, showing that the steamer had safely passed us; but, though she called joyously, she was not in time to stay the commodore, who had already dashed into the cockpit beating the tongueless bell with her curling-irons. when he was at last caught and silenced, we could hear voices on the steamer, orders being given, and then the rattle of running chain. she had given up trying to make headway in the fog, and was coming to anchor just above us. we heartened up the hickory fire and dressed after a fashion; and sat down to talk things over. the steamer did not ring her bell, so we did not summon the sailor to apply dressing-table accessories to ours. going to a window now and then, we noticed that the fog was thinning; and at one place there seemed a luminous blur, indicating perhaps where the steamer lay. we wondered whether running so close upon gadabout was what had determined the captain to cast anchor. and then we wondered other things about fogs and mists and bewildered ships. nautica sat studying the firelight (not exactly in a dreamy old fireplace, but through a damper-hole in the stove), and at length voiced the inspiration that she got. "if only one could see things in a fog, it wouldn't be so bad," she said conclusively. "no," came the answer dryly, "a fog that one could see in would be quite an improvement." "wait a moment," laughed nautica. "i mean it isn't merely the dangers lurking in a fog, but the way you go into them that is so terrible. the dangers of a storm you can meet, looking them straight in the face; but those of a fog you have to meet blindfold." "i thought of that when i got up to-night and stood by the window," said the commodore. "as the steamer's whistle kept sounding nearer, i could imagine the great, blinded creature slowly groping its way up the river. i think i quite agree that it would be nicer to have fogs that people could see in." and we felt that gadabout would be of the same way of thinking. indeed, could we not hear her joining in as we talked, and good naturedly grumbling that if we couldn't have that kind of fogs, why then we ought to get close in shore among the crabs and the sand-fiddlers, where the big boats could not come; or else go into a quiet little creek with a sleepy little houseboat. but by this time no one was listening to gadabout. any further fussy complaining of this little craft was drowned by the commodore reading aloud. he had bethought him of a book containing some chapters on brandon that we had got from the manor-house. and reading made us hungry; and there were two apple tarts on the upper shelf of the refrigerator (for had not the cook provided them "in case an' you should wish 'em befo' you retiah"?); and by the time the tarts were gone, so was the fog; and the steamer headed again for richmond and we for dreamland. chapter xiii old silver, old papers, and an old court gown toward the last of our stay in chippoak creek, the weather was bad; but it was surprising how agreeable disagreeable days could be at brandon. it was dark and gloomy that afternoon when we got to looking at the old family silver, and even raining dismally by the time we were carefully unfolding the faded court gown; but on we went from treasure to treasure oblivious of the weather. fine and quaint pieces of old silver are among the family plate. many of them bear the harrison crest--a demi-lion rampant supporting a laurel wreath. and who would know what the weather was doing, when those ancient pieces were passing from hand to hand, and the fascinating study of hall marks was revealing dates more than two centuries past? there is even some ecclesiastical silver in the old home--the communion service once used in the martin's brandon church, a building no longer standing. the inscription tells that the service was the gift of major john westhrope, and the marks give date of about 1659. but no one form of the antique can hold you long at brandon. from out some drawer or chest or closet, another treasure will appear and lure you away with another story of the long ago. with the inimitable sheen of old silver still in our eyes, our ears caught the crackle of ancient parchment; and we turned to the fascinations of venerable records and dingy red seals and queer blue tax stamps. the papers were delightfully quaint and yellow and worn, but from their very age a little awesome too. the most valued one of them all is the original grant of martin's brandon bearing date 1616--four years before the pilgrims landed at plymouth. the grant covers a page and a half of the large sheets of heavy parchment, and the ink is a stronger black than that on records a century younger. [illustration: treasured parchments, including the original grant of 1616.] on a worn paper dated 1702 is a plat of brandon plantation. it shows that at that time the central portion of the manor-house had not been built as only two disconnected buildings (the present wings) are given. a part of the sketch is marked "a corner of the garden." so, for two hundred years (and who knows how much longer?) there has been that garden by the river. off at one side of the old map, we found our landing-place in the woods beside some wavy lines that, a neat clerkly hand informed us in pale brown ink, were the "meanderings of chippoak creek." poring so intently over those ancient papers with their great old english capitals, their stiff flourishes, their quaint abbreviations, we should scarcely have been startled to see a peruked head bend above them and a hand with noisy quill go tracing along the lines of those long-ago "whereases" and "be it knowns." but, instead, something quite different came out of the past: something very soft and feminine fell over the blotched old papers--the treasured silk brocade in which evelyn byrd was presented at the court of george i. like a shadowy passing of that famous colonial belle, was the sweep of the faint-flowered gown. a fabric of the patch-and-powder days is this, with embroidered flowers in old blues and pinks clustered on its deep cream ground. its fashioning is quaint: the watteau pleat in the back with tiny tucks each side at the slim waist line, the square low neck, the close elbow sleeves, the open front to display the quilted petticoat. mingled feelings rise at sight of the soft brocade whose bodice once throbbed with the happy heartbeats of this virginia maiden, making pretty curtsy in rosy pleasure, the admiration of the english court. perhaps in this very gown she danced the stately minuet with young charles mordaunt; perhaps hid beneath its fluttering laces his first love sonnet. so, in those far colonial days it knew the life of her. the grace of the young body seems still to linger in the pale, shimmering folds; and the clinging touch of the old court gown is like a timid appeal for remembrance. after that rainy afternoon at the manorhouse, we were storm-bound aboard gadabout for a few days. at last the weather cleared and we again thought of a trip ashore. there was yet a brisk wind; and for some time our rowboat rocked alongside, industriously bumping the paint off the houseboat, while we sat on the windlass box enjoying the fresh breeze in our faces and watching the driftage catch on our anchor chain. of course one can sit right down on the bobby bow itself with feet hanging over, and poke with a stick at the flotsam. but that is only for moments of lazy leisure, not for a time when one is about to visit brandon. at last, we were ashore and again in the "woods-way." that was the day we got into trouble, all owing to nautica's passion for ancient tombstones. we were half way to brandon when she concluded that it was not the manor-house that she wished to visit first, but the old graveyard. we stopped at the manager's house to inquire the way. the road led inland. it soon dipped to a bridge over a little stream, where the banks were masses of honeysuckle whose fragrance followed us up the slope beyond. on a little farther was a field with a grove in the centre of it that we knew, from the directions given us, contained the cemetery. we entered the field, and had got almost to the grove when nautica suddenly stopped, stared, and turned pale. the commodore's glance followed hers; whereupon, he uttered brave words calculated to reassure the timid feminine heart, and in a voice that would have been steady enough if his knees had kept still. the bull said nothing. very soon, and without his moving at all, that bull was far away from us. we recognized at once that the field was properly his preserve and that we really had no right there; but we trusted that our intrusion in coming in would be atoned for by our promptness in getting out. in the absorbing process of putting space between the bull and the houseboaters, the restlessness of the commodore's knees was really an advantage. they moved so fast that he was able to keep in advance of nautica, and so be ready to protect her if another bull should appear on ahead. when he felt satisfied that he need no longer expose himself in the van (and, incidentally, that the bull in the rear had been left out of sight), he slackened his pace. we managed to get down to a walk in the course of half a mile or so; and at last approached brandon at a quite decorous gait. there, we learned that we had gone to the wrong cemetery anyway--to the one that had belonged to the old brandon church whose communion service we had seen. the harrison burying-ground was not far from the home. so, with members of the household, we went out across the lawn and around a corner of the garden to the family graveyard. the first benjamin harrison, the emigrant, who died about 1649, is not buried here. his tomb stands near the great sycamore tree in the churchyard at james towne. however, the tombs of his descendants, owners of brandon, are (with one exception) in this old plantation burying-ground. [illustration: the ancient garrison house.] in the walk back to the house, we stopped to see what is probably the oldest, and in many respects the most interesting, building on the plantation. it is just an odd stubby brick house with a crumbling cellar-hut at one end. but family tradition says that it is one of the old garrison houses, or "defensible houses," built in early times for protection against the indians. it certainly looks the part, with its heavy walls, its iron doors and shutters, and the indications of former loopholes. upon those first scattered plantations, a characteristic feature was such a strong-house or "block-house" surrounded by a stockade or "palisado" of logs. while this strong-house at brandon must have been built after the terrible indian massacre of 1622, yet it doubtless served as a place of refuge in later attacks. many a time that dread alarm may have spread over this plantation. we thought of the hurrying to and fro; of the gathering of weapons, ammunition, bullet-molds, food, and whatever necessities there may have been time to catch up; and of the panic-stricken men, women and children fleeing from field and cabin to the shelter of the stockade and of the strong-house. back again in the manor-house, we spent our last hour at brandon; for gadabout was to sail away next day. it was a colonial hour; for brandon clocks tick off no other, nor would any other seem natural within those walls. sitting there in the old home, we slipped easily back into the centuries; back perhaps to the day of the great mahogany sofa that we sat upon. it all seemed very real. the afternoon sun--some eighteenth century afternoon sun--came in through deep-casemented windows. it lighted up the high, panelled room, falling warmly upon antique furniture about us, upon by-gone worthies on the wall, and (quite as naturally, it seemed) upon a colonial girl, who now smilingly appeared in the doorway. bringing the finishing touch of life to the old-time setting, she came, a curl of her dark hair across a white shoulder and her gown a quaintly fashioned silk brocade. this eighteenth century presentment was in kindly compliance with a wish that we had expressed on that rainy day when we were looking over brandon treasures. it was brandon's daughter in the court gown of her colonial aunt, evelyn byrd. and we thought in how few american homes could this charming visitor from the colonies so find the colonial waiting to receive her. [illustration: miss harrison in the court gown of her colonial aunt, evelyn byrd.] nowhere in the world, it is said, are there so many new, comfortable homes built for the passing day as in america; but also in no civilized country are there so few old homes. more and more, as this fact comes to be realized, will americans who care for the permanent and the storied appreciate such colonial homesteads as brandon, the ancestral home of the harrisons. chapter xiv a one-engine run and a forest tomb by the time we had finished our visit at brandon, we were in the midst of the beautiful virginia autumn. though much of the warmth of summer was yet in the midday hours, the mornings were often crisp and the evenings seemed to lose heart and grow chill as they saw the sun go down. part of the houseboat was heated by oil stoves, but the forward cabin had a wood stove, and above it on the upper deck was our little sheet-iron chimney. it had a hood that turned with the wind and creaked just enough for company. so, during mornings and evenings and wet days, gadabout smoked away, cozy and comfortable. she was smoking vigorously on the day that we bade good-bye to chippoak creek. that was a glorious morning--one of those mornings when the sun tries to warm the northwest wind and the northwest wind tries to chill the sun, and between the two a tonic gets into the air and people want to do things. we wanted to "see the wheels go round" (not knowing then that only one would go round); and we prepared to start for kittewan creek, a few miles farther up the james. kittewan creek is no place in particular, but near it are two old plantations that historians and story-writers have talked a good deal about. these two estates, weyanoke and fleur de hundred, having no longer pretentious colonial mansions, are often overlooked by the traveller on the james, who thereby loses a worthy chapter of the river story. when our anchors came up out of the friendly mud of chippoak creek, we let the northwest wind push us across the flats and into the channel. then we summoned the engines to do their duty. the port one responded promptly, but the other would do nothing; and as we ran out of the creek and headed up the river, the commodore was appealing to the obdurate machine with a screwdriver and a monkey-wrench. the tide was hurrying up-stream and the wind was hurrying down-stream, and old powhatan was much troubled. gadabout rolled awkwardly among the white-caps but continued to make headway. pocahontas, the big river steamer, was coming down-stream. we could see her making a landing at a wharf above us where a little mill puffed away and a barge was loading. evidently, the steamer was to stop next at a landing that we were just passing, for there men and mules were hurrying to get ready for her. now the starboard bank of the river grew high and sightly, but on the port side there was only a great waste of marsh. the commodore spent much time with the ailing motor. once he lost a portion of the creature's anatomy in the bottom of the boat. nautica found him, inverted and full of emotion, fishing about in the bilge-water for the lost piece. she offered him everything from the toasting-rack to the pancake-turner to scrape about with; but he would trust nothing of the sort, and kept searching until he found the piece with his own black, oily fingers. "i believe the man that built this boat was a prophet!" he exclaimed as his face, flushed with triumph and congestion, appeared above the floor. "he said that if we put gasoline motors in, we should have more fun and more trouble than we ever had in our lives before; and we surely are getting all he promised." [illustration: sturgeon point landing.] [illustration: at the mouth of kittewan creek.] as we rounded the next bend in the river, we got the full force of the wind and, with but one engine running, it was a question for a while whether we were going to go on up the river or to drift back down stream. fortunately, the james narrowed at this point, thus increasing the sweep of the tide that was helping us along, and slowly gadabout pushed on, slapping down hard on the big waves and holding steady. a short distance beyond sturgeon point was the indentation in the shore marking the mouth of kittewan creek. old cypress trees stepped out into the river on either side, while a row of stakes seemed to indicate the channel of the little waterway. sounding along we went in with four feet of water under us. our plan was to find an anchorage a little way up the creek, and then next day to start with the rising tide for a run on up to weyanoke. of course weyanoke fronted upon the james, but our idea was to make a sort of back-door landing by running up this stream and in behind the plantation. there was no sheltering cove to lie in on the river front; and besides, to make the visit at the regular pier was so hopelessly commonplace. any of the ordinary palace yachts could do the thing that way. but it took a gypsy craft like gadabout to wriggle up the little back-country creek and to land among the chickens and the geese and--bulls perhaps; but then all explorers must take chances. kittewan creek is a marsh stream; yet for some distance in from the mouth tall cypresses stand along the reedy banks. these trees protected us from the high wind and made it easy for us to take gadabout up the narrow watercourse. as she moved slowly along, we were looking for an ancient tomb that we had been told stood on the left bank of the stream not far from the mouth--"the mysterious tomb of the james" some one had called it. while we could see nothing of it then, we resolved to search for it upon returning from our run up the creek to visit weyanoke. but we were destined to see the tomb before seeing weyanoke. [illustration: the forest tomb.] [illustration: the old kittewan house] upon reaching the first bend in the stream, our tree-protection failed us and gadabout became so absorbed in the antics of wind and tide that she paid no further heed to any suggestions on our part as to the proper way to navigate kittewan creek. her notion seemed to be to run down a few fish-nets whose corks were bobbing about on the water, and then to go over and hang herself up on some cypress stumps at the edge of the marsh. we insisted upon her going a little way farther up the creek. but a compromise was all that could be effected; anchors were dropped and operations temporarily suspended on both sides. we had a much belated dinner, and then all went ashore to make inquiries and to get supplies at a house that stood on a bluff above the bend in the stream. it proved to be a very old building and quite a landmark. it was called the kittewan house. there, we learned that the tomb we were looking for was on the bank almost opposite where our houseboat lay. we found it close to the creek. it was an altar-tomb, broken and timeworn and almost covered with an accumulation of earth and moss and leaves. one corner support and one side of the caving base were gone, letting ferns and lichens find a home within, tender green fronds touching the shadowing slab above them. the strange, unremembered grave was that of a woman. for, when we had scraped clear a little of the slab, we came upon the name elizabeth. our floating home was near enough to lend shovel and broom; and we undertook to free the tomb (that was itself being slowly buried) and to bring to light again the chiseled story of the long-ago elizabeth who lay in this lonely place. when the granite slab was uncovered and swept clean, we were able to read most of the words upon it, although the stone was cut almost as deep by the little fingers of rain and of frost as by the graver's heavy hand that had itself gone to dust long ago. slowly we found the words telling that there rested the body of elizabeth hollingshorst, whose husband, thomas hollingshorst, was a shipmaster; that her father was mr. piner gordon of the family of tilliangus in aberdeenshire, scotland; and that she died november 30, 1728. the father's name, gordon (so proud a one in aberdeenshire), and the use before it of the prefix mr. (a term then synonymous with "gentleman" and never lightly given in those days of well-defined rank) show that this elizabeth was of gentle birth. the words "ship master" tell of how the breath of the old north sea had called thomas hollingshorst from the banks and braes and led him to point the bow of his merchant ship across seas, bound for england's far-away colony. little would he dream--crowding canvas to speed his cargo to the virginia plantations--that his gentle-born elizabeth was to find a grave in that feared american wilderness. the longer we worked over the ancient stone the more we came to feel the pitiful meaning of it. we felt that this elizabeth was a true heart and a brave one, who ventured the perilous sea-voyage of the early days with her shipmaster husband. she did not come as other women came--to make a home in the new land and to have friends and neighbours there. she came, a passing stranger, upon her husband's trading ship; a ship that would anchor but to exchange its english wares for the planter's tobacco, and then turn prow again to the perils of the sea. when illness came in the new, wild land, how distant must have seemed aberdeenshire in those days of the little ship and the slow sail! and here, longing for one more sight of scottish heather, this elizabeth died. seeking for her a last resting-place, the stranger ship moved up the river and came to anchor at the mouth of this creek. they lowered her gently over the ship's side into a long-boat and then rowed up the stream into the forest. here by the creek's side they buried her, and (doubtless by the ship's own compass) they orientated the forest grave. then again the ship sailed across seas and bore sad tidings to some family of gordons in aberdeenshire. in those days it must have been long before the returning vessel could sail up the james, this time bearing the graven tomb from scotland. for a little while, the stillness of the forest was once more broken, startling the timid woodland folk; and then these strangers from overseas were gone. again the great silence fell and the wilderness took the grave to itself. slowly it set upon the tomb its seal of moss and lichen and vine. unmindful of the mark of human loss and grief, the wild folk came and went. joyously the cardinal flashed his crimson wing above the darkening stone; the deer came to drink from the stream and lifted their heads to scent the breeze that came with the dawn through the cypress trees, across a forgotten grave; hard and incurious, the weyanoke indians slipped by like darker shadows in the forest gloom; and only the little night birds seemed to know or to care as they called plaintively in the marshes at twilight. as we were about to leave the tomb, we bethought us that the anniversary of the death of this elizabeth was drawing near. we heaped the holly with its glowing berries above the crumbling stone. and still we lingered; for the gordons of tilliangus seemed very far away from this daughter of their house. as the sunset lights were fading, we saw a new moon pale on the tinted sky; and we thought of how for almost two centuries crescent moons had trembled from silver to gold above this forlorn grave on the bank of the kittewan. a short row in the dusk out upon the stream, and we stepped aboard gadabout. she never seemed more cozy and homelike. a great bowl of pink and yellow chrysanthemums from brandon's old garden and trailing cedar and ferns and red-berried holly added to the cheer. soon our home-lights streamed from the broad windows out across the water, and some faint glow must have touched that lonely tomb on shore. chapter xv navigating an unnavigable stream in the morning the sun and the mist filled our little harbour with a golden shimmer, and all the marsh reeds were quivering in the radiance. the blue herons were winging out to the river, and the doves were weaving spells round and round the dormer-windowed cottage on the hill. gadabout's household was early astir ready for the run up kittewan creek. we had only to get a chicken or two at the house on the bluff, and then we should be ready to start at the turn of the tide. imagine, then, our chagrin when the sailor returned with not only the chickens but the information also that we could not get the houseboat any farther up the stream, on account of numerous shallows and submerged cypress stumps. once more the charts were got out and spread upon a table. we still felt that if the sounding-marks were right gadabout could navigate the stream. however, at two places islands were shown where there seemed scarcely room in the creek for islands and gadabout too; and if we had also to throw in a few cypress stumps for good measure, our prospects for visiting weyanoke by the chickens-and-geese route were indeed not promising. but we knew gadabout and how we had taken the craft almost everywhere that people had told us she could not go. for, to our minds, one of the chief charms of houseboating lay in poking about in such out-of-the-way places. let the yacht reign supreme as the deep-water pleasure craft, that trails its elegance perforce ever up and down the same prescribed channels. the ideal houseboat is the light-draft water gypsy, that turns often from the buoyed course and wanders off into the picturesque world of little waters; along streamlets that lead in winding ways to quaint bits of nowhere, and into quiet shallows of forgotten lagoons that have fallen asleep to the lullaby of their own rushes. so it was settled that our houseboat was to try to go up the creek to weyanoke's back door, and again we were waiting only for the turn of the tide. when sticks and straws and frost-tinted leaves, floating down past us toward the james, changed their minds and started back up the kittewan, gadabout went with them. after a while the creek began to shallow rapidly and we kept the sailor on ahead in a shore-boat sounding, while we tried to keep the houseboat from running over him. the southerly breeze was gradually freshening and gadabout began to show a corresponding partiality for the northern bank of the stream. but, on the whole, she was behaving very well and apparently the mutinous spirit of the day before had entirely disappeared. we had to stop just before coming to an island standing in a sharp turn of the little waterway. "looks like we can't make this bend, sir," called the sailor from the shore-boat. "there's a sure enough bar 'cross here." by keeping at it, he managed to find a channel for going round on the port side of the island. then he came aboard, started an engine, and we moved on again. but gadabout had been deceiving us; she still had no notion of going up the creek. we were just starting to go around the island when she suddenly transferred her allegiance from the steering-wheel to the wind, and sidled off in the marshes till she brought up hard aground. there was nothing to do but to wait for the rising tide. nautica got out the chart again to see where we were. at weyanoke there are two plantations, an upper one and a lower one; and for a while she was busy measuring between the stream and the little black dots that indicated the plantation buildings. at last, after a final counting up on her fingers, she announced, "if we can get around six more bends of this curly stream, we shall be within less than half a mile of the house at lower weyanoke." as the water rose around the houseboat, we threw out a kedge anchor, hauled off, and got under way again. now, gadabout started at once to go around the island--but (mutiny again!) she was going around on the wrong side. the commodore and the sailor, with long poles, pushed frantically in the mud striving to set the unruly craft in the way she should go; but she was determined to take the wrong channel and was slowly getting the better of us. "she's gittin' away from us, sir," called the sailor. "i see she is," said the commodore, "and i don't believe she can get around the island on this side." but away she went, wind and tide carrying her up the wrong channel. laughing at the amusing persistence of the craft, all we could do was to keep her away from the marshes and let her go. the creek rapidly narrowed; the marsh gave way to woodland; and just ahead was but a small passage between island and mainland for us to go through. we pushed in between waving walls of autumn foliage. branches tapped on our windows, and crimson sweet gum leaves pressed against the panes as if to make the most of their little moment for looking in. gadabout passed through the narrow opening without a stop, though carrying twigs and bright leaves away with her. we ran the next straight stretch of the creek, and at the bend came upon another island. here shoals and cypress stumps quite blocked the channel. in a good, old landlubberly manner we hitched gadabout to a tree and waited to see if the rising tide would make a way for us. [illustration: hunting for the channel.] [illustration: approaching in a narrow place.] houseboating was taking us into strange places. and yet what a comfortable way to journey into the world in the rough! many are the advantages of houseboating over camping or any other form of outing. in a floating home one goes into the wild without sacrificing the comforts or even the essential refinements of life. for women it is an ideal way to visit dame nature. but now the houseboaters upon gadabout were becoming fearful lest dame nature had closed her doors on ahead of them and would not receive them up the kittewan. it was good news when the sailor called from his rowboat that he had found a channel for going on around the island. this tune gadabout showed a willingness to go just where we wished her to go, but insisted upon doing it stern-foremost or broadside. we ran her forward and backward and poled most vigorously; but after all had the humiliation of drifting around the island wrong end first. after that there was little trouble in going up the stream. before long an old homestead came in sight on a hill to our left, and we knew that it must be lower weyanoke. but an impassable marsh stretched along the stream, and there was no sign of a landing or of a roadway that might lead to the house. we kept on, curious now to see how far our houseboat could go. suddenly we found out. she turned a bend and, there ahead, hummocks and stumps occupied about all there was left of kittewan creek. the head of navigation had been reached for even our presumptuous craft. an anchor was cast; whereupon gadabout swung to one side, bumped against a tree, and then settled herself comfortably in the marshes to await our pleasure. it would not do to let the falling tide catch us in that place. fortunately, there was a marshy cove on one side of us, and by backing into that we got turned around and headed down stream again. we found a deep place that would do for an anchorage nearly opposite lower weyanoke, and close beside a little company of trees that showered gadabout with red and yellow leaves. when the tide fell, it disclosed many roots and stumps in the channel; and the sight of each one added to our sense of importance in having successfully navigated the stream. later, some of the men from the kittewan farm came along in a rowboat. "well, you did make it after all," they said. "we've been looking for you all along the creek, expecting to find you hung up on a cypress stump." chapter xvi in which we get to weyanoke as gadabout lay moored in kittewan creek, the houses of weyanoke were not very far from us, and one of them was in plain sight; but the question was how to get to them. wide stretches of marsh bordered the stream and a wire fence ran along the reedy edge. we began to be impressed with the advantage of approaching such a plantation in the customary way, by the river front. but we had not lost zeal for the unconventional, and fortune favoured us. a man passing in a skiff told us that a road leading to the weyanoke houses could be reached by rowing up a tiny bayou that joined the creek a short distance above us. this bayou, he explained, was not one of those ordinary waterways that you can travel on just any time. in fact, for a good deal of the time it was not a waterway at all. but usually, when a half tide or more was in, a rowboat could be taken up to the landing near the road. so, one afternoon an untenanted houseboat was left lying in the sunshine and the marshes, all aboard having taken to the shore-boats and gone in search of the more solid portions of weyanoke. weyanoke is an indian name and means "land of sassafras." in 1617 the indian chief, opechancanough, gave this land of sassafras to sir george yeardley, afterward governor-general of the colony; and his ownership gave early prominence to the place, though he did not live upon the plantation that he had here. after several transfers of title, weyanoke came into the possession of joseph harwood in 1665. through many generations both the upper plantation and the lower one remained in the harwood family; and upper weyanoke is still owned by descendants of joseph harwood, the family of the late mr. fielding lewis douthat. [illustration: lower weyanoke.] in our search for this land of sassafras, a short row up the creek took us to the opening into the bayou. here, there was a break in the wire fence along the creek guarded by a queer water-gate that hung across the entrance to the side stream. holding the water-gate open and pushing our boats through, with what skill might be expected from persons who had never seen a water-gate before, we started up the tiny, winding channel. on either hand the reeds were so tall that we were quite shut in by them; but reeds are never so beautiful as when outlined against the sky. here and there, a stump or a cypress tree stood out in the water almost barring the way. ducks were swimming about or absurdly standing on their heads in the shallows, and at our coming went paddling off into the sedges quacking their disapproval. before the water quite gave out, we reached the little landing. now our way led up from the lowland between hazy autumn fields where crows were busily gleaning and insects shrilled in shock and stubble. the road ended in front of the house at lower weyanoke. the building is a large frame one and very old. it has had its full share of distinction, being for so many generations the home of the colonial family of harwoods and of their descendants, the lewises and the douthats. some years ago the plantation passed to strangers. from the riverward portico, we saw traces of an old garden whose memory is kept green by the straggling box that long ago bordered the fragrant flower-beds. on beyond was a glint of the sun-lit river. a group of towering cottonwood trees, standing in the dooryard, is so conspicuous a feature of the landscape that it serves as a guide for the pilots on the river boats. leaving the sailor here to do some foraging in the neighbourhood, we went on to upper weyanoke. we followed a road that skirted corn fields and pasture lands, busy plantation life on every hand. one could but think of the very different scene that was here in the days of the civil war. few places suffered at that time more than did weyanoke. here, part of grant's army crossed the james in the march upon petersburg. while bridges were building, the federal forces were scattered over the plantation; and when at last they crossed the river, they left devastation behind. as we came upon the outbuildings of the upper plantation, we heard singing and laughter. corn-husking was going on in the big barn. the doors were open, and from the distant roadway we could see the negroes at work, bits of their parti-coloured garb showing bright against the dark interior. and at last, truly enough, our pathway led among the chickens and the geese. indeed, one blustering gander "quite thought to bar our way." but, taking courage from the stirring old couplet, "we routed him: we scouted him, nor lost a single man." there were other fowl in sight too; fowl that had a special significance just then. for, despite the bright, warm days, the last thursday in november was near at hand; and we wondered whether our thanksgiving dinner could be found in this flock of plump, bronze birds. the early plantation house at upper wey-anoke was long ago destroyed by fire, and a modern house of brick now stands upon the old site. a broad, shaded lawn slopes to the river. here one gets an impressive view of the james as it broadens into a curving bay below windmill point. when we entered the home, our interest centred in its mistress, the little lady of old-time grace and courtesy sitting by the open fire. it was later that we noticed the two portraits hanging near her--one of chief-justice marshall and one of a beautiful dark-eyed young woman. the relationship of these three--mrs. douthat, the chief-justice, and the beautiful young woman--added to the charm of our talk. for the great john marshall had a son john who married elizabeth alexander, a descendant of the colonial house of thomas; and that elizabeth alexander was the girl in the picture. john and elizabeth had a daughter, and that daughter was the sweet little lady sitting there beneath the portraits. her grandfather, the chief-justice, named her mary willis in memory of his cherished, invalid wife. this mary willis marshall married fielding lewis douthat, of the harwood family, and went as a bride to lower weyanoke when the home there yet spoke bravely of colonial dignity, and the garden was still fragrant with trim bordered beds of bloom. some years later, they moved to upper weyanoke where mr. douthat died. in the family circle as we found it were mrs. douthat, three daughters, and two sons. [illustration: an ancestress of weyanoke.] [illustration: chief-justice john marshall.] while the conversation ranged wide, from seventeenth century plantation grants to twentieth century houseboats, we found our attention drawn most to the reminiscences of mrs. douthat, told in the charming speech of a day that had time for the art of conversation. she had childhood recollections of the great chief-justice, and had treasured the family traditions concerning him. we got all too little both of the personal recollections and of the traditions; but they made it seem a very real john marshall that this granddaughter of his was talking about. mrs. douthat could not add much to the little that we already knew about a small brick building on the plantation that has long been pointed out from the steamers' decks as one of the oldest buildings in the country. it stands on the river bluff near the present home. if as old as is usually supposed, it is doubtless one of the early garrison houses, and must have seen desperate days on this indian-harassed peninsula. in this house, up to the time of her death a few years ago, lived the old mammy of the family. she was one of the last of a type developed through generations of plantation life, and now disappearing with it. her place was at the end of a long line of dusky nurses, the first of whom landed nearly three centuries ago at james towne, and crooned to the children of the royal governors the weird minor lullabies of jungle-land. at present, elias, a gray-haired negro, lives in the little old house. every morning he goes to see mrs. douthat; and he seldom varies the greeting: "how is you dis mawnin', miss mary? i sut'n'y is glad to see you able to be up an' 'roun'. you know you an' me is chil'en of de same day." weyanoke, like most of the large plantations on the james, has a postoffice in the house. our visit over, we gathered up quite a promising lot of mail and started homeward with the commodore looking like a peripatetic branch of the rural free delivery. evening was gathering in as we walked back along the field roads. the air was warm, a gentle breeze went rustling through the corn, and the autumn haze just veiled field and marsh and distant woods. upon reaching our shore-boat, we pushed out upon the marsh waterway. in our absence the tide had been slowly creeping up on reeds and rushes, had reached its height, and (leaving a brown, bubbly line upon each slender stalk to show that the law had been fulfilled) had started slowly down again. but the ebb had only begun. the marsh was yet almost tide-full, and all its channels were water-lanes. each little way was like every other, and one could well wander amiss down between those winding walls of sedges. we paddled very slowly, often stopping to let the boat drift on the ebb tide. why might we not find out the secret of the marshes if we went very softly through the heart of them?--that secret of which the slender reeds are always whispering; that mystery that keeps them always a-shiver. is it something they have hidden from the searching tide? is it known to the little marsh-hen that cunningly builds her nest at the foot of the sedges? is it guessed by the restless finny folk that slip and search beneath the brown waters? holding our boat quiet in the ebbing bayou, we looked and listened. there were sounds of sibilant dripping in the dim sedges; of alewives jumping by the side of our boat; of a sudden rush of blackbird wings; and of the evening breeze as it freshened in the bending blades. we could see the many rivulets, wine-red now in the sunset light; and the graceful swaying of great grasses, pale green and silver and tan; and the red and golden sky above: ebbing rivulets, rippling reeds, drifting clouds, and sunset shades. and that was all. nor had we guessed the secret of the marshes. yet, we should have been content still to look and to listen, down in the hidden tiny ways of the marshland, but for the fading light that warned us homeward. what would night be among the sedges with the wandering rivulets full of twinkling stars, with the soft calling of wakeful birds, and with the skurrying of little creatures in their shadowy forest of reeds? slowly we paddled on in the twilight; on through the little water-gate and out upon the kittewan, where images of the bordering trees lay sharp and black on the strangely purple water. from down-stream where gadabout waited, came such a fervent burst of song that we knew that the entire crew was urging its soul to be on guard- "te-en thou-san' foes ah-rise." chapter xvii across river to fleur de hundred the next day we determined to run around to the river front of weyanoke. we were yet charmed with the idea of being back-door neighbours of the old plantation; but not at quite such long range. when the tide served, gadabout dropped down the twisting kittewan. though she paused involuntarily in trying to round the island where the sweet gum flamed against the pines, and caught her propeller on a cypress stump as she sighted the dormer windows of the old house on the hill, yet she came in good time to the clear channel and, passing the tangled underwood that hid the forsaken tomb, she reached the mouth of the creek before the tide turned and started up the james on the last of the flood. weyanoke plantation is a peninsula lying in a sharp elbow of the river, so that it was a run of a few miles from the mouth of kittewan creek, on one side of the peninsula, around to the weyanoke pier on the other side. upon reaching the sharp bend in the river at the point of the peninsula, we could see one reason anyway why grant should have chosen this as a place for crossing the james. here, the banks of the river suddenly draw close so that the stream is less than half a mile wide. however, it makes up in depth what it has lost in width, the channel at this point being from eighty to ninety feet deep. even at the last of the tide the water here flowed swiftly and with ugly swirls and oily whirlpools that made the river seem vicious. now, we ran toward the southern shore to look at the ruins of a fort built in the war of 1812. the sun was setting beyond the high bluff that backed the fort, and the place lay blurred in the shadow; but apparently time, and perhaps the hard knocks of war, had not left much of fort powhatan. two creeks that enter the james near the old fort received our close scrutiny, for every side stream tempted us. we would wonder how far gadabout could follow each winding way, and what she might find up there. [illustration: upper weyanoke.] a short run farther up the river took us abreast the pier at upper weyanoke; and, passing around it, we cast anchor within a stone's throw of the plantation home. [illustration: at anchor off weyanoke.] we sat out in the cockpit a long time that night enjoying the strangely quiet mood of the powhatan. the old river flowed so peacefully that it mirrored all the sky above; and we looked down into a maze of stars with the sea-tide running through. then a blinding light put out all our stars as the night boat from richmond came down the river and trained her searchlight so that it picked gadabout out of the darkness. our whistle saluted with three good blasts. the searchlight responded by making three profound bows--so profound that they reached from the high heavens down to the water at our feet. then, it suddenly whipped to the front to pick out the steamer's course again through the darkness of the night. while lying at anchor in front of upper weyanoke, we made further visits at the plantation home. despite the ravages of war and of two destructive fires, relics of old-time life are at this plantation too. it was pitiful, but amusing as well, to hear how some of these escaped the war-time vandalism. the soldiers who had stripped the home--even of carpets--when they left the plantation to cross the james, would have been chagrined could they have looked back over the river and have seen old family treasures coming out from secret nooks and old family silver from a hollow tree. mrs. douthat told us how nature favoured grant in the crossing of the james. though comparatively the river is so narrow at the point of the weyanoke peninsula, yet to get to the stream at that point it was necessary for the federal forces to traverse an extensive swamp. apparently the swamp was impassable; but the officers found, running through it, a most peculiar formation--a natural ridge of solid earth. it was a ready-made military roadway upon which the troops could pass through the swamp and reach the river. mr. douthat always declared that "the almighty had built it for them." across the james from weyanoke lies fleur de hundred. one day, with a daughter and a son of the weyanoke household aboard, we sailed over to visit the old plantation. we knew that we should find nothing in the way of plantation life there, as the estate has long lain idle; and we knew also that no mark was left on the broad acres to tell of the life of colonial days. but the broad acres themselves were there, and they would remember the old times no doubt; and perhaps, lying in the sunshine and with nothing in the world to do, they might tell us things. we knew somewhat about fleur de hundred ourselves. in 1618 sir george yeardley, governor of the colony (the same who owned weyanoke), patented these lands and gave them the name that has scarcely been spelled twice alike since. sir george sold the plantation to captain abraham piersey. we sought to trace the successive owners on beyond abraham; but they married and died at such a rate that we got lost in the confusion somewhere between the altar and the tomb, and gave the matter up. two well established customs among the early colonists seem to have been to die early and to marry often. perhaps they usually reversed the order; but, at any rate, dying in middle age after having married "thirdly" or "fifthly"--yes, even "sixthly"--makes top-heavy family trees and puzzling lines of descent. in this instance, we were quite content to skip to the opening of the nineteenth century when fleur de hundred became the property of john v. willcox, in whose descendants it has ever since remained. landing upon a pebbly beach beside the ruins of a pier, we took a long walk inland to the present-day home. while historic fleur de hundred is now allowed to lie idle, its plantation life all gone, yet its home life continues and the old-time hospitality remains, as we found in that afternoon visit. and when we set our faces toward gadabout again, nautica had roses and lavender and violets from an old garden that refused to stop blooming with the rest of the plantation, and the commodore treasured a rare pamphlet upon early virginia that only virginia courtesy would have entrusted to a stranger. through the quiet of the sleeping plantation, we took our way toward the river. some bees had found late sweetness along the overgrown roadway. the air was still and sweet with the scent of sun-drying herbs. a lagging sail was on old powhatan. about us on every hand lay the historic soil of fleur de hundred. we wondered where the manor-house had stood in those early colonial days when sir george yeardley, the governor, made his home here, with many indented servants and half the negroes in the colony to serve him; and where had been the several dwellings and store-houses, stoutly palisaded, that had formed quite a village for his day. [illustration: present-day fleur de hundred.] it is not recorded that the governor was a great smoker, but he was an enthusiastic grower of tobacco and may almost be said to have been the father of the industry. doubtless, in his time, most of these fertile acres were covered with the strange weed that the englishmen had got from the village gardens of the red man. but here were grown maize and wheat also; and to grind these sir george built--over there on the point of the plantation--the first windmill in america. in the eyes of the savages, he must have waxed to the stature of a great medicine man, when he made of wood the long arms that beckoned to the winds and made them come to grind his grain. through all time, had not their fathers (or rather their mothers) had to steep grain for twelve hours; then laboriously pound it in stone mortars; and then sift it through baskets woven of river reeds? less matter for wonderment was that long-armed creature on the point of land to hans houten and heinrich elkens, sailing up the james in the white dove with good holland sack for barter. these sturdy mariners from the dyke-and-windmill country would regard the contrivance with more critical eyes than could the red man from the bow-and-arrow wilderness. but we saw nothing of windmill or of palisaded village or of royal governor; and field and meadow and woodland all seemed too sleepy to tell us much about them. they only served to recall the tantalizing, broken bits that the records give of the picturesque life that was here--of colonial pomp and savage dignity, of london trade and indian barter, of english games and merriment, of colonial trials and tragedies: all this of which we know, yet know so little. and so we left the old plantation dreaming in the autumn sunshine--left it to the poets and to the story-tellers, who seem to have adopted it. they know how to weave the spells that bring back old manor-houses and gallants and ladies and tall london ships and the vanished scenes of love and of war. the place belongs to them; old fleur de hundred--half real and half ideal--an old-time bit of story-land. chapter xviii gadabout goes to church it was the day before thanksgiving when the houseboat gadabout, with her good-byes all said, fished up her anchor from the river bottom in front of weyanoke, and started off to find another place to drop it farther up the stream. she was ready for the holiday. the material for her thanksgiving dinner was all aboard: part of it canned and boxed as the steamer had just brought it from norfolk; and the rest of it, and the best of it, plump and gobbling on the stern. but gadabout's preparations for the day had not stopped here. not only had she provided the season's feast, but she had diligently inquired of her chart and of her neighbours where she might take her family to church. the chart had told her of a little stream, called herring creek, a few miles farther up the james, and had shown her a mark upon the bank of the creek that it called westover church. the neighbours had said that the chart was right; and had added that the church was a colonial one still in use, and doubtless thanksgiving services would be held there. fortunately, herring creek was a stream that gadabout had intended running into anyway, as it would be the anchorage most convenient to the next colonial estate that she should visit--the plantation of westover from which the church had taken its name. from weyanoke to the old church was not very far; but, as gadabout had one or two things to stop for on the way and as she might be delayed by the tide, this bright wednesday morning found her bustling up the river almost afraid that she would be late for service. doubtless, in her haste, she was quite put out when we threw the wheel to starboard as she was passing court house creek, and carried her somewhat out of her way. all that we did it for was to run in close to look at some "stobs" just showing above the water. at the mouths of most of the creeks along the james are such "stobs" or broken pilings. they are the ruins of old-time piers, the last vestige of a vanished, picturesque river trade. ancient pilings have lasted well in the james; and these evidently once belonged to the piers of up-creek colonial planters. they tell of the day when ships from england, holland, and the indies sailed up the river for barter with the colonists. while the planters whose estates fronted directly on the james received their importations upon wharves before their doors and delivered their tobacco in the same convenient manner, the planters up the creeks were at more trouble in the matter. the bars at the mouths of the streams kept the ships from entering; and they had to wait outside while the planters brought their produce down upon rafts and in shallow-draft barges, pirogues, and shallops. some of the most picturesque of the colonial river trade was at these little creek-mouth piers. here came not only the tall ships from england bearing everything used upon the plantations from match-locks and armour to satin bodice and perfumed periwig, from plow and spit to turkey-worked chairs and silver plate, from oatmeal, cheese, and wine to nutmegs and shakespeare's plays; but here came also tramp craft--broad, deep-laden bottoms from the netherlands, and english and dutch boats from the west indies. these picturesque vagrant sails sought their customers from landing to landing, and sold their cargoes at comparatively low prices. such a ship was assort of bargain boat for these scattered settlers up the creeks of the james; a queer, transient department store at the little cross-roads of tidewater. there would be exchange of news as well as of commodities, and a friendly rivalry in the matter of tales of adventure--the planter's story of indian attacks being pitted against the captain's yarn of the "pyrats" that gave him chase off the "isle of devils." then up the masts of the trading ship the sails would go clacking, and the prow that had touched the warm wharves of the indies would point up the river again, bound for the next landing. and the shallops of the planter--after loading from the little pier with casks and bales still strong of the ship's hold, of the tar of the ropes, of the salt of the sea--would disappear up the forest stream. a short distance above court house creek, gadabout stopped at a landing to get some oil. she was rather hurried and flustered about the matter, as the steamer from petersburg was coming around the point above and would soon be making this same landing, and a schooner that was loading was right in the way, and the first line that was thrown out broke, and the engine stopped at the wrong time, and--all those people looking on! besides, this was supposed to be an interesting fishing point; but how was a little houseboat to get a look at it, lying there alongside a big schooner that she couldn't see over? altogether, gadabout fumed and fussed so much here, pitching about in the choppy water, jerking her ropes, and battering her big neighbour, that it was a relief to all concerned when she got her oil aboard, cast off her ropes, and, giving the schooner a last vindictive dig in the ribs, set off up the river. even after getting away from the schooner there was not much to be seen at the landing. yet, in season, the little place would be quite quaint and bustling; for it was one of the many fishing hamlets along the river. the james has always been a favourite spawning-ground for sturgeon. those first colonists, writing enthusiastically of the newfound river, declared "as for sturgeon, all the world cannot be compared to it." they told of a unique and spirited way the indians had of catching these huge, lubberly fish. in a narrow bend of the river where the sturgeon crowded, an adroit fisherman would clap a noose over the tail of a great fish (a fish perhaps much larger than himself) and go plunging about with his powerful captive. and he was accounted "cockarouse," brave fellow, who kept his hold, diving and swimming, and finally towed his catch ashore. the colonists early turned their attention to sturgeon fishing. the roe they prepared and shipped abroad for the russians' piquant table delicacy. the grim irony of it--half famished colonists shipping caviar! to-day the coming of the sturgeon puts life into the little hamlets like the one we had just passed, and dots their sandy beaches with the bateaux and the drying nets of the fishermen. [illustration: a fishing hamlet.] we passed the down-bound steamer near buckler's point and her heavy swell came rolling across toward us. almost instinctively we turned our craft crosswise to the river to face the coming waves; for to take them broadside meant a weary picking up of fragments from the cabin floors, and a premature commingling of the contents of the refrigerator. just beyond buckler's point we came to the opening into herring creek and, passing readily over the bar, went on up the little stream. as we sailed along we caught glimpses to port of the warm, red walls of a stately building that we knew to be westover. [illustration: a river landing.] we found herring creek a good, lazy houseboating waterway; a brown ribbon of marsh stream wandering aimlessly among the rushes. turn after turn, and the marshes still kept us company--the quiet, lone marshes that had come to have such a charm for us. evidently, they were beginning to feel that the year was growing old. greens were sobering into browns, and near the water's edge were tips of silvery white. the frowsy-looking grassy bunches, here and there, were ducking blinds, where hunters soon would be in hiding with their wooden decoys floating near. like some great marsh creature herself, gadabout followed the winding way, puffing along contentedly. sometimes, when the turns were too sharp for her liking, she swung to them lazily, with a long purr of water at bow and stern, and seemed about to wallow off through the rushes. now something of a bank developed along our starboard side. it grew into a bluff covered with pines and thick-coated cedars and white-trunked sycamores and gray beeches. this woodland too had the year writ old. the surviving green of cedar and pine could not hide the telltale leafless trees that stood between. but more significant than leafless trees was the luxuriant holly with its ripe, red berries, gayly ready for christmas decorations and to grace the birth of a new year. and yet, these were among the most glorious days for houseboating: tonic days with a hint of winter in the chill, crisp air, and dreamy days with a lingering of summer in the sun's warm glow. the enervating heat was over, and the worrisome insects were gone. in peace we could sail in the marsh stream or climb the banks for ferns and holly. gadabout moved with masses of pale reeds, spicy boughs of cedar, bay branches, and glowing holly nodding on her bow. the air was no longer filled with the song of birds; but it was alive and cheerily a-twitter with their fat flittings from seeds to berries, from marsh to woodland. heartily we declared that it was better to go an-autumning than a-maying. after a while there were signs of people about. little boats were nosing into the bank here and there, and occasionally a white farmhouse would peep over the bluff above our water-trail. [illustration: "little boats were nosing into the bank here and there."] it was along toward dinner time when, according to our count, the houseboat had rounded as many bends as the chart seemed to require, and ought to be near westover church. so, upon catching sight through the trees of a brick building up on the bluff, we concluded that gadabout had reached her journey's end, and an anchor was dropped. toward evening nautica and the commodore went ashore. at the top of the hill was a little graveyard, and standing in it was the old church that we had come to see. it was a small building and plain, but of historic interest. as originally built, about the middle of the seventeenth century, it stood not here but down on the shore of the james at westover. one of the earliest churches in the country, and then standing on one of the greatest estates in virginia, it was a typical centre of colonial life; and gathered about it, in the little graveyard by the river, were the tombs of noted colonial dead. about the middle of the eighteenth century the church was moved to its present site. enclosed within a brick wall and with the tombs of generations of worshippers again clustering about it, westover church had settled down once more to revered old age when the ravages of war swept over the land. in that sad war of brothers over a union that this church had seen formed, over soil that it had seen won from great britain, the humble old house of god was left dismantled, its graveyard walls thrown down, and its tombs broken. after the war, the church was repaired, and it is still the place of worship for the countryside. the rectory stood on a bluff near by, overlooking the wide stretch of marsh and the far windings of the stream. we found that the latest of the long line of rectors and equally important rectors' wives that westover church has known were the reverend and mrs. cornick, who told us of the hopes of the little community that the government would yet pay indemnity for the injury done by federal soldiers to the old church. the next morning brought so fine a thanksgiving day that our gratitude rose up with the sun--though the rest of us awaited a more convenient hour. the air was crisp; the sky was unclouded. when, in good time for morning service, we went up the hill to the old brick church, we saw horses and carriages lined along the fence. inside the building some of the people who had come early were having neighbourly confidences over the backs of the pews. naturally our thoughts went wandering between service and sermon and church. sometimes (and through no fault of the good rector either), we would find ourselves far back in the story of that colonial house of worship, and full two hundred years away from the text. we would see this old church as it stood at first on the wild bank of the james, and the families of those early planters gathering in. they would come from up and down the river; some in pirogues and pinnaces and sloops, and some on horseback with the fair dames on pillions behind. or, somewhat later, lordly coaches would roll to the door bearing colonial grandees. the plain little church had seen brave attire in those days, when the parish worshipped in flowered silks and embroidered waistcoats and laced head-dresses and powdered periwigs. then, after the services, would come the social hour, when dinner invitations went round, parties were planned, and there was a general changing about of the guests that were always filling virginia homes. doubtless, the lavish hospitality of the master of westover, who attended this church, caused quite a sunday pilgrimage to that mansion of his that we had glimpsed through the trees as gadabout entered herring creek. we went out past chatting groups (stopping for the greeting of the rector and his wife); past horses that were being unhitched and vehicles that were cramping and creaking; on down to the stream where geese were paddling in the marshes, and overhead the rectory doves were wheeling in the sunny air. rowing down the creek toward the houseboat, we stopped here and there to gather reeds and holly. "this is the first time that we have ever gone to church by boat," said the commodore. "yes," answered nautica, "and it was just the way to do it. we have attended a colonial church in a quite colonial way." when we sat down to our thanksgiving dinner, we felt almost like landlubbers again; for while our home acre was a watery one and gadabout, boat-like, swung and swayed, yet we had real neighbours up on the bluff and there was even a church next door. later, we saw coming down the stream some good after-dinner cheer--our rowboat with mail that had been accumulating for days at westover. letters and papers and packages and magazines were welcomed aboard. comfortably we settled down for an evening of catching up with the world. next morning gadabout made an uneventful run down the stream, anchored just within the mouth of the creek, and sent henry off into the country foraging. of course certain provisioning arrangements followed gadabout from harbour to harbour. boxes of groceries came up from norfolk or down from richmond by steamer; and also every few days a big cake of ice arrived in a travelling suit of burlap lined with sawdust. but that still left many things to be obtained along the way. as most of the country stores were back from the river, the sailor, on horseback or in a cart, made many a long provisioning trip. toward evening when there came a gentle bump upon gadabout's guard and the rattle of a chain upon her cleat, we went out to see what the supply boat had brought. as soon as we heard the troubled sputtering, "an' i mos' give up gittin' anything," we knew that the little shore-boat was a nautical horn of plenty. and so she proved as her cargo came aboard to an accompaniment of running comment. "i don' know _where_ i been, an' if i had to go back, i couldn' do it. that's butter there--that'll do till the nex' box comes. the store didn' have much of anything; an' i struck out into the country, i did, an' mos' los' myse'f. but the horse he knowed the way. i got another turkey, anyhow. i'm cert'nly glad we jes' begun to eat 'em if we got to eat 'em steady. the man had done sold him; but i used my silver tongue, i did, an' he let me have him. there's some apples an' turnips an' sweet potatoes. i got them at the store. an' where i got them eggs at, i could get a couple of chickens nex' week if i could jes' fin' the place." so the fruits of the foraging came tumbling aboard--a promising, goodly array. and gadabout had no troubled dreams that night of a wolf swimming up to her door. chapter xix westover, the home of a colonial belle on the following day, gadabout scrambled across the flats out into the james again, intent upon a visit to westover. unlike brandon, westover stands within sight from the river; and we had a good view of the old homestead as we passed by to make our landing at the steamer pier which is a little above the house. there was a break in the tree-fringe on the north bank of the james. a sea-wall extended along the water's edge, and from either end of it a brick wall ran far inland. within the spacious enclosure, the grounds swept back and up from the river, with noble trees and close-cut lawn; and crowning the slope stood the beautiful old mansion. a stately central building of red brick, with dormer windows in its steep-pitched roof, rose between low flanking corridors and wings like some overlord with his faithful vassals in attendance. in neutral brown the quiet river, in shadowy green the sloping lawn, in dull red and gleaming white the lofty, many-windowed front of westover--a picture that drew gadabout in close to the shoals that day. the bit of history that goes with the picture gives us many glimpses of old-time elegance and romance, and helps us to a good idea of some of the pretentious phases of colonial life. it runs in this way. back in the beginnings of things american, when the dissatisfied planters at james towne were starting out to establish their estates along the river, these lands by herring creek attracted attention. under the name of westover they soon became the property of the byrd family, and rose to prominence among colonial estates in connection with the fortunes of that distinguished house. the golden age of westover was in the days of the second william byrd, who was one of the most striking figures of colonial times. handsome, learned, witty, and capable; with exquisite taste and elegant culture fashioned in the friendship of english noblemen; with almost endless acres and boundless wealth--a cavalier of cavaliers was this london-bred virginian. [illustration: riverward front of westover.] it is surprising that this _beau-ideal_ should have remained spouseless for two years after coming into his estate. he must have been considered the most fascinating matrimonial possibility in the colony. one can imagine how in a gathering of virginia maidens intent upon their tambour embroidery, when the name of westover's young master came up, a circle of eyelashes went down and a circle of tender hearts went both up and down. the prize was finally won by lucy parke, daughter of colonel daniel parke whose portrait hangs at brandon. some years later, family litigation called colonel byrd to england, where his wife and little daughter, evelyn, joined him, and where his wife soon died. the residence in london continued for a number of years; and resulted in giving the colonel a new wife in the person of a rich young widow, and in giving social finish and a broken heart to evelyn byrd. under the guidance of her father, she was educated after the manner of the fashionable life of that day. it must have been a time quite to the elegant colonel's liking when london turned in admiration to his daughter; when, but sixteen and already crowned with social successes, the cultured beauty from the plantation on the james was presented at the english court. the stories of evelyn byrd's london experiences bring many noted names into the train of those who did her honour: the lords chesterfield and oxford, and pope at the height of his glory, and the cynical lord hervey, and beau nash, the autocrat of bath. there should be mentioned too that old courtier (whoever he was) whose admiration was expressed in the rather mild witticism, "i no longer wonder that young men are anxious to go to virginia to study ornithology, since such beautiful _birds_ are to be found there." it was in the midst of this london gayety that evelyn byrd so literally met her fate in meeting the grandson of lord peterborough, charles mordaunt. the story of that unhappy love affair--the devoted pair, the opposition of the maiden's father, and the separation of the lovers--has become an oft-told but ever attractive romance. about 1726, colonel byrd returned with his family to virginia; and it was then, it seems, that he built the present mansion at westover, and entered upon the almost sumptuous life there that was to make the plantation famous. and westover was a worthy setting for the worthy colonel. without the home, were lawns and gardens beautiful with native and imported trees, shrubs, and vines; and within the home, spacious rooms with rich furnishings and art treasures gathered in england and on the continent. here too was one of the largest and most valuable collections of books in the colonies. as a matter of course, this home was a distinguished social centre, drawing to itself the most brilliant colonial society. colonel byrd died in 1744, and was buried in the old garden when it was in all its summer glory. in the next generation, westover passed to strangers, having been for a century and a quarter the home of the byrds, who for three successive generations had held proud position in colonial america. since then, the plantation has suffered from many changes of ownership, and from the civil war. the mansion was held several times by the federal forces, being used as headquarters and as an army storehouse. among the war injuries it sustained was the destruction of one wing. the destroyed portion has been rebuilt recently by the present owner of the estate, mrs. c. sears ramsay. under her ownership, westover has had added interest, especially for lovers of the colonial, on account of such extensive restoration as has made the old home one of the finest examples of eighteenth century architecture and furnishing in america. surely while we have been telling the story of westover, gadabout has had time to reach the steamboat pier above the house; and we may take it that she is safely tied to the pilings. once ashore, nautica and the commodore found that a short walk along the river bluff brought them to an entrance to the westover grounds. gates of wrought iron, with perhaps a martlet from the byrd coat of arms above them, swung between tall pillars in the wall. from this entrance, a pathway approached the homestead diagonally, and afforded charming views of the house and its surroundings. to our right as we walked, the lawn, thick set with trees, sloped gently to the river wall. to our left, the views came in broken, picturesque bits; a stretch of shrubbery, a reach of garden wall, some quaint outbuildings in warm, dull red, a glimpse of courtyard beyond a corner of box, and then the old home itself. [illustration: the hall, with its carved mahogany staircase.] the riverward portal of westover stands tall, white, and finely typical of its day. above squared stone steps, the double doors with the fanlight above them are framed by two engaged columns supporting an elaborate pediment that has the symbolic pineapple in the centre. we stood before the fine entrance, fancy painting the old-time scene within; that scene of eighteenth century elegance which is the traditional picture of colonial westover. the door opened, and we entered upon perhaps quite as charming an eighteenth century scene, which is the westover of to-day. a panelled hall extended through the house, the double doors at the farther end opening upon a glass-enclosed vestibule. about midway, and from beneath a heavy crystal chandelier, the stairway of carved mahogany rose to a landing, where an ancient clock stood tall and dark, then turned and wound to the rooms above. to the right of the hall was the drawing-room. passing over its threshold, we thought of those old colonial days, the days of colonel byrd. as in his time, the light came subdued through the deep-casemented windows. it fell upon the walls that he had so handsomely panelled, upon the ceiling that he had ornamented in the delicate putty-work of his day, and upon furniture in carved mahogany that was of the period of his ownership of westover. at the farther end of the room was the noted mantelpiece imported from italy by colonel byrd. it is an elaborate creation of italian marble with relief design in white upon a black background. in front of it, on either hand, stood handsome brass torcheres, with their suggestion of the mellow candle-light that was wont to fall in this same room upon the courtly colonel, the lovely evelyn, and those brilliant assemblages of colonial times. opening also from the hall are the dining-room with its high colonial mantel and typical virginia buffet, the french morning-room with its gray green tints and its touches of gilt, and the library with its old chimney-piece, high black fire-dogs, and quaint fire-tending irons. all the rooms have their colonial panelling, deep window-seats, and open fireplaces. [illustration: the hepplewhite sideboard with butler's desk.] in the dining-room our interest was quickened upon our being told that the handsome sideboard had belonged to the byrd family. it is believed to be a hepplewhite, though similar in lines to a rare design of sheraton's. above the sideboard a circular, concave mirror of elaborate eighteenth century type accentuates the period furnishing of the room. [illustration: "four-posters and the things of four-poster days."] up-stairs even more than below, we felt the atmosphere of the olden time. perhaps passing the ancient clock on the landing helped to set us back a century or two. we were quite prepared for the quiet, old-fashioned upper hall, with its richness half lost in the shadows and with its sleepy night-stand holding a brass house lantern and a prim array of candles in brass candlesticks. in the bedrooms were four-posters and the things of four-poster days. wing-cheek chairs of cozy depths told of old-time fireside dreams; a work-table with attenuated legs called to mind the wearisome needlework of our foremothers; and a brass warming-pan carried us back to the times when only such devices could make tolerable the frigid winter beds of our ancestors. one of the riverward bedrooms is the romantic centre of westover. it now belongs to the little daughter of the house; but nearly two centuries ago it was the room of evelyn byrd. doubtless, in a sense, it will always be hers. the soft toned panelled walls, the old fireplace opposite the door, and the cozy little dressing-room looking gardenward, all seem to speak of her; and the imaginative visitor can quite discern a graceful figure in colonial gown there in one of the deep window seats that look out upon the pleasance and the river. here the unfortunate colonial beauty lived and died with the grief that she brought from over the sea. here she laid away the rich brocade, the old court gown of brilliant, bitter memories that was shown to us at brandon. through these windows she looked with ever more wistful eyes out upon the river, her thoughts hurrying with its waters toward the ocean and the lover beyond. and one day, it is said, a great ship from london came, and it touched at the pier before her windows, and charles mordaunt plead his cause with the stern father once more. but he plead in vain, and the ship and the lover sailed away. for a while longer, the colonial girl waited and looked out upon the river, then she too went away and the romance was over. [illustration: the romantic centre of westover; evelyn byrd's old room.] in the family circle at westover to-day are mrs. ramsay, two sons, and the little daughter, elizabeth. among well-known families appearing in mrs. ramsay's ancestry are the sears and the gardiners of massachusetts, she being a descendant of lyon gardiner of gardiner's island. she also claims kinship with the randolphs and the reeveses of virginia, and a collateral and remote connection with the byrds. when we returned to the steamer pier after our visit at westover, we found quite a wind on the river and the houseboat fretfully bumping the pilings. we hastened aboard, ran down stream before a stiff wind, and skurried back into our harbour in herring creek, where gadabout settled to her moorings as contented as a duck in the marshes. chapter xx an old courtyard and a sun-dial for some time that little anchorage was our watery home acre. we came to call it our sunrise harbour. the opening where creek and river met faced to the east; and it was well worth while, if the morning was not too chill, to have an eye on that opening when the sun came up. breaking through the mist veil that hung over the james, he cast a golden pontoon across the river, and then came over in all his splendour. he made straight for the mouth of our little creek, flooding wood and marsh with misty glow, and fairly crowding his glory into the narrow channel. one morning, quite in keeping with the splendid burst of dawn, a loud report rang out over the marshes like the sound of a sunrise gun. but it was no salute to the orb of day. somebody was poaching. more shots followed; and ducks, quacking loudly, fluttered up out of the marshes. later, when we were at breakfast, a long rowboat, containing a man and a pile of brush and doubtless some ducks with the fine flavour of the forbidden, came out from a break in the marshes and went hurriedly up the stream. as we lay in our harbour, we found ourselves almost unconsciously listening for a sound that seemed to belong to those chill, gray days. at last, from somewhere high up in the air, it came ringing down to us--the stirring "honk, honk" of the wild goose. though our eyes searched the heavens, we could see nothing of the living wedge of flight up there that was cleaving its way southward with the speed of the wind. but we felt the thrill of that wild, stirring cry and were satisfied. whether the geese brought it or not, bad weather came with them. half a gale came driving the rain before it down the river. gadabout lay with her bulkheads closed tight about her forward cockpit, and must have looked most dismal. but inside, dry and warm, she was a very cheery little craft. we listened quite contentedly to the uproar, looking out from our windows upon windswept marsh and scudding clouds and the fussy little wavelets of our harbour. it added to our sense of coziness to look through a stern window out upon the river where the waters piled and broke white, in their midst an anchored schooner with swaying masts, tipsy between wind and tide. one day when the heavens had gone blue again, though tattered clouds were still racing across, we hoisted anchor for another visit to westover. when gadabout poked her head out of the creek, she saw a queer looking craft busy on the james. it was a government buoy-tender, an awkward side-wheeler with a derrick forward, and big red sticks and black ones lying on deck. as we passed the tender, it was moving the red buoy at the mouth of our creek farther out into the river. evidently the shoals were encroaching upon the channel. gadabout showed little interest in the strange boat and its doings; and, unconcernedly turning her back, headed up the river. of course buoys were all very well and she found them quite a help in getting about; but all this fussy shifting of them by a few feet mattered little to her, for she was on the wrong side of them most of the time anyway. however, we thought of how differently the watchful buoy-tender would be regarded by the heavy laden freighters that would pass that way, their rusty hulls plowing deep. to them how important that each buoy, each inanimate flagman of the river route, should stand true where danger lies and truly point the fairway. reaching the little cove below the steamboat pier, gadabout ran close in and cast anchor. she may well have been proud of the quite perceptible waves that she sent rolling to the shore and of the quite audible swish that they made on the beach. that morning we saw the landward front of westover, and straightway forgot all about the more pretentious river front. you step from the house down into an old-time courtyard. at first you do not see much of the courtyard itself, for you have heard of its noted entrance gates, perhaps the first example of ornamental iron-work in the colonies, and they stand quite conspicuously in front of you. these gates were imported from england by colonel william byrd, whose initials, w.e.b., appear inwrought in monogram. two great birds standing on stone balls top the gate-posts. with a fine disregard of both ornithology and heraldry these birds have often been spoken of as martlets--the martlet appearing in the byrd coat of arms. they are evidently eagles, and pretty well developed specimens. american eagles, we might call them, if they had not lighted upon these gate-posts before the american nation adopted its emblem--indeed before the american nation was born. when, in the days of the civil war, the federal troops came along, the soldiers seem to have stood strictly upon chronology, and to have determined that these fine prerevolutionary birds were not entitled to any immunity as national emblems nor even as kinsfolk of "old abe." and so their tough feathers flattened many a bullet, and one eagle had to be sent to richmond to get some toes and a new tail. turning from the gates, your eyes follow down the courtyard toward the garden. walls, outbuildings, the quaint cellar-hut, even the diamond-shaped stepping-stones along the way, all help to make up a characteristic colonial scene. and for what striking bits of colonial life has this old courtyard been the setting! now the exquisite colonel and his ladies would visit the little capital of williamsburg; so, at his door, stands ready his "lordly coach and six with liveried outriders in waiting." again, the great gates are thrown open to guests arriving on horseback and in chariots and chairs. pompous, beruffled dignitaries vie with gay gallants in obeisances and compliments to the ladies, and in assisting them to alight without harm to brocades and laces and rich cloaks and wide-hooped petticoats. and, yet again, all is a-bustle here with scarlet-coated horsemen and baying hounds and hurrying black boys and all that goes to "proclaim a hunting-morning." when the ancient courtyard is left empty again--the colonial coaches rolled off through the gates; the colonial huntsmen up and away and now but distant points of red, fading to the music of hounds and horns--we fall to wondering about those early virginians. such, largely, was their life--abundant leisure, elegant display, exuberant merrymaking. just such a life, by all the rules, as would produce a useless race devoid of any solidity of mind or of character. just such a life as in fact produced a race of high-minded, intelligent, and capable men; a race that gave us washington, jefferson, henry, madison, marshall, monroe, and the scarcely lesser names on down the long list of those wonderful sons of the old dominion. it would do no good to ask even that colonial courtyard for an explanation of all this. it simply recalled what it had seen and heard. nor could we of to-day understand the explanation were we to get it. unable to reconcile industry and leisure, we underrate the real work that went with the idling of those early virginians; and as to the gayety, we long ago lost sight of the fact that merrymaking is man-making. turning from the gateway, we went down the old courtyard. we followed a walk that led past the kitchen and the dairy, skirted a wall, and then turned through a box-shaded gateway into the garden. those december days were not the season of gardens, even in virginia. the paths led us not where bloom was, but where bloom had been. yet, truly all times are garden times where warm red walls shut you in with shadowing trees and shrubs, and where ancient box and ivy hedge the prim old ways. how much our colonial forefathers thought of their gardens! and how much their english forefathers thought of theirs! it was in the blood to have a garden, and to have it walled, and to sit and to walk and to talk in it. [illustration: the colonial courtyard gates.] walking and talking that day with westover's mistress in westover's garden, we soon came upon the tomb of the noted william byrd. representative as was this master of westover of all that was most elegant in the colonial life of his day, he was much more than merely a man of the fashionable world. ability of a high order went with the beauty and the ruffles and the powder. he was statesman, scholar, and author; and in england he had been made, for his proficiency in science, a fellow of the royal society. [illustration: tomb of colonel william byrd.] we owe a great deal to this old-time grandee for the glimpses his writings give us of colonial life in the south during the generation just preceding that of washington. unlike the northern colonists, the southern ones left little record of themselves. so much the more valuable, then, the accounts given by this remarkable man of the times. we seemed turning from an impressive text as we left the tomb; left the old grand seignior in his little six feet of earth--six feet out of 175,000 acres! but, after all, it was a rueful text; not one for morning sunshine and blue sky, for hearts that yet beat strong, that yet gloried in a boundless estate--all the bright world ours. and the birds were holding carnival over by the stone basin under the ram's head on the wall; and the river was dancing in the sunlight; and besides, we had caught sight of a sun-dial there in that old colonial garden by the banks of the "king's river"! to he sure we were told that this was not an ancient timepiece of the sun. we were much too late to see the original sun-dial of this garden. that old colonial worthy had found time too long for its marking. worn with the years that it had told, it had leaned and dozed, and lost count, and was gone. but it is not so much that a garden should have an _old_ sun-dial, as that it should have a sun-dial. for the matter of that, they are all old. venerableness is their birthright. whoever thinks of youth in a sun-dial? were you unboxing one just from the maker would you not expect to find it moss-grown? indeed, are these timepieces of sun and shadow made at all, or do they just occur here and there like hoary rocks and mossy springs? and what a charming provision of nature it is that they so often occur in gardens! sun-dials and gardens! sunshine-and-shadow time for plants to grow by; sunshine-and-shadow time for flowers to bloom by. surely this is the only time by which a morning-glory should waken, by which a four-o'clock should know its hour, by which an evening primrose should time its fragrant bloom. sun-dials and gardens! sunshine-and-shadow time for birds to sing by; sunshine-and-shadow time for mortals to laze and dream by. beautiful, silent, peaceful time; where no clocks strike the passing hours, no whistles scream the round of toil. what time like that of the noiseless, scarce-moving shadow upon the dial for a sleepy old garden and a day-dreamer in the sunshine? and if, perchance, the garden-lover is not building castles in spain, but has crept into the garden only for brief rest from the fray, or to give a weary clock-driven soul an hour with its maker, then truly again--sun-dials and gardens! sun-dial time to rest the fainting heart by; sun-dial time for the troubled soul to reach up to god by. sun-dials and gardens! be the garden-lover what he may--day-dreamer, fainting heart, troubled soul--how gently the shadow-finger on the dial points the time for him! how softly, almost lingeringly, it lets the moments slip from gold to gray, seeking to give him, to the full and unfretted, his little hour in the sunshine! and yet, the gentlest marker of time must mark. it may mark very softly those passing moments of life's lessening span; but when we come to look again, the shadow has moved on. nor can childish interference avail. spread your rebellious hands upon the dial; you shall only see the shadow come stealing through your fingers. stand defiantly in the path of the sunlight, and blot out the telltale dial shadow with your own; it but waits until you step aside, then leaps across the moments you have wasted. not for you shall the boon to the sick and penitent king of judah be repeated; not for you shall the shadow turn backward on the sun-dial of ahaz. chapter xxi an underground mystery and a ducking-stool for a day or two gadabout lay out in the james in front of westover. one evening it turned cold and a strong wind set in, coming straight at us across the river. as usual, when gadabout was anchored on a stormy night near a lee shore, we cast a lead out ahead, so as to be able to tell (after it should become too dark to see the land) whether or not we were dragging anchor. that is, we called it casting a lead, though in reality the process consisted in throwing out into the river (as far ahead of us as we could) a piece of old iron with a string tied to it. then, at any time, by gathering up the loose end of the string that lay in the cockpit, one could detect by the outgo of the line any tendency on the part of gadabout to run away with her anchor. it was a very simple device and not exactly original, having doubtless been used a little earlier by christopher columbus and noah and those people. but we never permitted any question of priority to dampen our interest in the thing. as the evening wore on the storm held steadily; steadily and rapidly the barometer kept counting backward; and we took the river's width in wind and sea for half the night. we could not sleep, and sat bolstered up in our chairs. the commodore quite likely did breathe audibly now and then; but nautica was wide awake, as shown by her announcing with feeling and frequency that "she knew we were dragging anchor and were just about to be horribly wrecked upon rocks or 'stobs' or something or other." the commodore arose and busied himself about cockpit and cabin mysteriously. when he finished his labours, the string from the piece of iron out in the river came into the cabin through a hole in the wall made for an engine bell cord. it ran along the ceiling to the after end of the cabin, where a weight kept it taut. a handkerchief that could be plainly seen even in the dim light, was fastened to the string just where it passed above nautica's head. by this time, the commodore's mystery was a mystery no longer; and nautica was laughing. "so that is to put an end to all my anxieties, is it?" "just so," said the commodore. "when that anxious feeling comes, watch the handkerchief. if it is moving toward the door, you may know that your fears are better grounded than the anchors; but if it is not, try to get a wink of sleep." and the wind howled and the boat pitched; but nautica gazed in such relief at the immovable handkerchief that she fell asleep in her chair. when she wakened with a start and looked anxiously at the handkerchief, it was too late--the storm was over. in the morning there was nothing to show for all that night's commotion. smooth, peaceful, and lazy, old powhatan was loitering in the sunlight to the sea. but gadabout was not to be soothed into forgetfulness of those night hours. as soon as she had her morning work done up, she hoisted anchor and headed again for her quiet harbour in herring creek. after that, when we had a mind to go to westover, we usually had no mind to take gadabout with us. instead, we were more likely to row up the river or to walk up the beach at low tide. on the occasion of our last visit to the manor-house, we determined to go "beachway." we ran our rowboat on a sandy point jutting into the mouth of the creek, and took our way along the narrow strip of solid land that lay between river and marsh. white-limbed sycamores and tangled undergrowth went along with us, and sometimes inclined to take up more than their share of the narrow way. brilliant berries gleamed on some bare, brown bushes, and the green leaves of the smilax pretended that they grew there too. along the beach, tall bunches of reeds stood out against the brown of the river and the blue of the sky in their waving slenderness. looking backward across the marshes, we could see the white railing on gadabout's upper deck and could catch the flutter of her flags through the openings in the trees. as we neared westover, a slope led to higher land and to a riverward, side entrance to the grounds. passing through this, a tangle of vines swinging with the great iron gate, we followed the walk toward the house. just before reaching the ballroom wing, we paused in front of a small brick outbuilding to have a few appropriate shivers over what was under it. from reading and from our talks at westover, we knew about the mysterious subterranean chambers down there. to be sure, we had not seen them yet (one thing and another having got in the way of our making a visit to them); but surely one need not always wait to see; one can shiver a little anyway upon hearsay. and the hearsay was like this. somewhere underneath that brick outbuilding was an opening down into the earth, like a dry well, some fifteen or twenty feet deep. at the bottom, arched doorways on opposite sides of the shaft opened into two small square rooms. the walls of the well and of the rooms were cement; and the floors were paved with brick. a round stone table used to stand in one of the rooms. from this well once ran two passages or tunnels, large enough for people to go through; one connecting with the house by a curious stairway in the old wing that was destroyed in the war, and the other leading to the river. we stood looking blankly at the closed outbuilding trying to imagine the hidden rooms and passages beneath it. tradition told us that they were for refuge from the indians. that explanation seemed well enough at first. but before we could get into the spirit of it enough to catch even the faintest bit of a warwhoop and to scuttle for the subterranean chambers, we made up our minds that that was not what the things were for anyway. there had ceased to be much danger from indians along that part of the james by the time even this old home at westover was built. so, casting about for a better explanation, we hit upon the idea that william byrd had constructed the underground rooms in imitation of pope's famous grotto, which the colonel and his daughter evelyn must have seen when entertained by the poet in his villa at twickenham. but even after we had pictured the mysterious chambers all hung round with mirrors, just like pope's, and candles everywhere, we could see that so tame a thing as the grotto theory would never do. there were so many nice, awful things that such a place would be good for. spurring our jaded fancy with bits from ali baba and the forty thieves, we got on famously for a while with a pirates' den. we had a long, low, rakish ship lying in the river just off the tunnel's mouth; black-bearded ruffians, with knives between their teeth, stealing ashore and disappearing within the dark underground passage; the great stone table down there heaped with spanish gold; good jamaica rum pouring down wicked throats; the dark tunnels ever echoing the rollicking chorus, "six men sat on the dead man's chest"--when suddenly it occurred to us that we were somewhat compromising the old colonial grandee, colonel byrd. with that we gave the matter up. we quit staring at a closed brick outbuilding with unseeable things down under it, and went on our way. and, as it turned out that we never visited the underground rooms after all, this was as near as we ever came to solving the colonial mystery. that day, sitting about the fireplace in colonel byrd's library, we listened to a pleasant chapter in the story of an old manor-house--the account of the recent restoration of westover. as in most cases where extensive rehabilitation of colonial homes has been attempted, an interesting part of the work was the opening up of goodly old-time fireplaces that the changing fashions of changing generations had filled in with brick and mortar. sometimes they had shrunk to the dimensions of a modern grate; sometimes even to that of a stovepipe hole. indeed, what chronological mile-stones are the various forms of our american fireplaces! as the historic dates grow larger, the fireplaces grow smaller. of course westover never had the hugest of fireplaces. even when this old home was built, the shrinkage in chimney-pieces had been going on for some time. no longer was most of the side of a room in a blaze. no longer was the flame fed by a backlog so huge that "a chain was attached to it, and it was dragged in by a horse." how far removed westover was from the day of such things, is shown by the noted mantelpiece in the drawing-room. only with the coming of smaller fireplaces came those elaborate mantelpieces. but the great fireplaces of our ancestors yielded slowly, inch by inch, as it were; and something of the goodly proportions they yet had in colonel byrd's day, the hammer and chisel have shown at westover. if the exquisite colonel's doubtless exquisite ghost haunts this home, we can imagine his pleasure when, one wintry night, he found reopened this fine old library fireplace, and sat him down to toast his shapely calves (even ghostly, they must yet be shapely) in the genial old-time glow. some of the most interesting features of the work of putting an old homestead back into a period from which it has strayed, grow out of the very limitations. at westover, while conformity to colonial times is carried far, even to the exclusion of rocking-chairs, yet there has been no shrinking from anachronisms that comfort or convenience demand. eighteenth century fireplaces may blaze and crackle, and quite imagine themselves to be still heating the old house; but somewhere down below is a twentieth century furnace that is quietly doing most of the work. [illustration: the drawing-room mantelpiece at westover.] and what a shock it must be to the colonial ghosts when they stumble in the dark over great claw feet, cold even as their own; the feet of monstrous hollow things, white and awesome as themselves--the things that moderns call bathtubs! over in the kitchen, unfortunately for the picturesque, all has to be modern. there the eighteenth century furnishing breaks down altogether. not from the glowing heart of the old chimney-place, but from a huge, homely range comes the gastronomic hospitality of present-day westover. no devotion to the eighteenth century can bring the colonial kitchen back again; send the roaring blaze up the wide chimney; swing the crane with the great kettle into the glow; and rebuild the quaint row of skillet and gridiron and broiler, perched on their little legs over the hot embers of the old hearthstone. westover has an interesting reminder of the colonial in a copy of an old survey of the plantation that we saw that day. our eyes quickly caught the suggestive name given on the map to the low, sandy point at the mouth of herring creek, where we had left our shore-boat to wait for us. we had not known that it was a place of such associations as the words "ducking-stool point" indicated. upon first landing there, we had been impressed with the unusual depth of water just off that point; but we had not suspected how, in colonial tunes, many a too-talkative woman had also been impressed with it. it was the law, made and provided, that a ducking-stool should be set up "neere the court-house in every county." so, doubtless, in accordance with that law, a long pole used to reach out from our sandy point, having a seat on the end of it, right over the deep water. and, also in accordance with law, the end of the pole sometimes went down into the water, and a shivering woman went with it. but what would you, when "brabbling women slander and scandalize their neighbours, for which their poore husbands are often brought into chargeable and vexatious suits and cast in great damages"? the survey showed, also, where westover church stood in colonial days. near the river a little way above the house, stood not only the church but a court-house and a brewing-house, all in sociable and suggestive proximity. we walked up the river bank to visit the spot. [illustration: tombs in the old westover churchyard. (in the foreground is the tomb of evelyn byrd.)] it is still marked by a few gravestones that remain in the deserted churchyard. among these is the altar-tomb of evelyn byrd. it stands with an iron band about it, holding the aged stones in place. the time-dimmed inscription tells us to "be reminded by this awful tomb" of many dismal things with which we refuse to associate our thoughts of this lovely colonial girl. rather, we recall the story of her intimacy with mrs. anne harrison of berkeley, and of the compact the two friends made, that whichever should die first should appear at some time to the other. the tale goes on to tell that mrs. harrison, after the death of her friend, was walking over to westover one evening, and as she passed the churchyard she saw the ethereal figure of evelyn byrd there by the altar-tomb, smiling in happy fulfilment of the strange tryst. it was late afternoon when we were ready to take our way for the last time down the strip of sandy beach that led from william byrd's old home to ours. the sun slanted low over the powhatan; in its glow the old manor-house stood out in all its stateliness. we reflected that just as westover looked then, it had looked when colonel byrd himself used to step out from the marble portal to saunter among his trees and flowers, or to take his faultless self out upon the pier perhaps to watch the unloading of the ship from london towne. just so the old house had looked through all those days when it was the scene of a luxurious colonial life not excelled by that of the patroons of the hudson. looking from the home out upon the river we saw a low-laden vessel, all sail spread to the soft, faltering breeze, coming slowly up stream on the last of the tide. how she fitted into the old-time setting! she was one of colonel byrd's freighting ships just in from overseas. after a tempestuous voyage, and a narrow escape from the spanish too, she had safely entered chesapeake bay and now, the wind serving but ill, she was slowly drifting up the river. soon she would touch at the old colonial pier swarming with plantation negroes. to the rhythm of african melodies the cargo would come out of the hold--mahogany furniture, a new statue for the garden, cases of wine, casks of muscovado sugar, puncheons of rum, plantation machinery, sweetmeats and spices, and some bewildered irish cows. quite likely, picking their way daintily in the midst of the exciting scene, would come the lady of the manor and mistress evelyn to make anxious inquiry for boxes of london finery. and then--but, no! that vessel out on the james, without stopping at all, had sailed on past the old plantation front. just a common fishing schooner of to-day bound for richmond! we turned and closed behind us the ancient iron gate of westover. chapter xxii a bad start and a view of berkeley on the next morning, we exercised one of the most enjoyable prerogatives of the houseboater, one that belongs to him as to but few other travellers--that of changing his mind and his destination. we sat down to breakfast with the intention of moving on up the james to eppes creek; we rose from the table with the determination to make a run up powell's creek, which was a little above us on the other side of the river. we always enjoyed these changes of mind. they added so much the more to our sense of freedom and independence. there were no bits of cardboard with the names of stations printed on them to predestine our way; no baggage checks to consign our belongings to fixed destinations. even at the last moment a change of mind, a change of rudder, and a new way and a new destination would lie before us. now, our thoughts headed toward powell's creek, because up that stream was another colonial church, called merchants' hope church; and the next day would be sunday. necessarily, such houseboat voyagers as we, that the sundays usually found up forgotten bits of tidewater, were a trifle irregular in the matter of church-going. our houseboat would have had to have a church-boat for a consort to make it otherwise. yet, as sunday after sunday gadabout lay in her quiet creek harbours, the spirit of the day seemed to find her there without the call of church chimes. though it was morning when we changed our minds and determined to seek a high-backed pew in old merchants' hope church, it was evening by the time we got under way. and in this case, changing our minds did not work well. we should have come just as near getting to a church and should have saved ourselves trouble, if we had clung to our first intention and had spent that saturday in moving on up the james. as we crossed the river on the way to powell's creek, a closer study of the sounding-marks on the chart showed a depth of but one half foot at several places on the flats at the mouth of the stream. evidently, getting into that creek was bound to be a problem in fractions; and gadabout was not good at fractions and the day was waning and the tide was setting out. it seemed that the way to get the best depth of water would be to go to the lower side of the wide, shallow creek-mouth, and then to enter the stream in that affectionate style of navigation called "hugging the shore." and that is the way we did it. but with all the affection that could be put into the matter, we could not find along that shore any such water as the chart indicated; and gadabout was beginning to need it sorely. so, we sent the sailor out to see where it had gone to. he found it over on the other side of the creek. our confidence in the chart had been betrayed. depending upon it, we had been hugging the wrong shore. at first, we thought little of the matter; for, our side of the stream having played us false, we felt no hesitancy in transferring our affections to the other side. but we found that poor gadabout took things much more seriously. she could not so lightly "off with the old love and on with the new." for her the affair had already gone too far; already, for the side she was now on, she had formed a serious, a hopeless, a lasting attachment. our craft aground, our prospects of attending church next day vanished. slowly the tide went down; slowly the moon came up; and nautica made some candy. by the time it was ready to be put out on the guard to cool, even what little we had found of powell's creek had disappeared--all about us was just moonlight and mud. and ahead of us and behind us (sticking down a little way in the mud, but sticking up more in the moonlight) were the two anchors that we had put out to hold us in position when the tide should rise in the night. they looked like great crabs sitting there and watching us. of course, sometime in the darkness, gadabout rose on the flood tide, and perhaps was even ready to cross to the other side of the creek and proceed to church. but nobody else was ready then; and so, finding all asleep, she slowly settled down once more, and we found her in the morning again hard aground. the good minister of merchants' hope church must surely have reached "seventhly, my brethren," before our houseboat was afloat. now, we moved her out in deeper water (for it would not do that she should be aground next day when we ought to be starting for eppes creek); and it was gratifying this time when we cast our anchors, to see them go plumping out of sight as anchors should, instead of looking so distressingly unnautical with flukes sticking up in the air. but mooring a boat (securing her between two anchors, one ahead and one astern) is rather unsatisfactory at the best. often it is necessary so to hobble your floating home where there is danger of her swinging upon hidden obstructions; but it is hard on the poetry of houseboating. to be held in one position, with unvarying scenes in your windows, is too much like living in a prosaic land home set immovable in sameness. your gypsy craft should ride to a single anchor; free to swing to wind and tide in the rhythm of the river. it is of the essence of home life afloat to sit down to dinner heading up-stream, and to rise from table heading down-stream; to open a favourite book with a bit of shore-view in the casement beside you, and to close the chapter with the open river stretching from under your window, your half-drawn shade perhaps cutting the topsail from a distant schooner. monday morning dawned bright and fair (as we afterward learned from the sailor); and bright and fair it certainly was when we made its acquaintance. the day was yet young when everything was ready for the trip up the river, and the shores of the little creek were echoing the harsh clicks of our labouring windlass. "she's hove short, and all ready to start whenever you are, sir," announced the sailor at the bow door. nautica snipped a thread and laid down her sewing; the commodore tossed his magazine aside. a moment more and we were off. when well out in the river, we headed toward the left bank, for we were to make a landing at the pier above westover to take on two boxes of provisions that had been left there for us by the pocahontas. the steamer had gone; everybody about the wharf had gone; but we had arranged to have the boxes left out for us, and there they stood on the end of the pier. aboard gadabout was the stir and bustle usually incident to the making of a landing. clear and sharp rose the voice of the commodore; now issuing his orders, now taking them back again. when he could think of nothing more to say, he went below and relieved nautica at the wheel as our good ship swung beautifully in toward the wharf. it must be remembered that a houseboat does not come up to piers like a steamboat, always finding men waiting to catch lines and to help in making landings. often, as was the way of it that morning, the wandering houseboat comes along to find only an empty pier; and if she wishes to establish any closer relations with it, she must make all the advances herself. the wind may be blowing strong; the tide running strong--everything strong but the qualifications of the commanding officer; in which case, it is well that preparations for the landing begin early. there should be a coil of rope made ready at either end of the boat, and also a light line with a grapnel attached to it. what is a grapnel? how strange that question sounds to us now, mighty mariners that we have become! but of course we should remember that there was a time when we did not know ourselves. well, a grapnel is much like one of those fish-hooks that have five points all curving out in different directions, only it usually weighs several pounds. [illustration: "often ... the wandering houseboat comes along to find only an empty pier."] the value of the grapnel was shown that day at the pier above westover. though gadabout swung to the landing finely, a strong off-shore wind caught her; our ropes fell short; and we should have made but sorry work of it if a grapnel had not shot out into the air and saved the day. as it fell upon the wharf, the line attached to it was hauled in hand over hand; and though the grapnel started to come along with it, sliding and hopping over the pier, soon one of its points found a crack or a nail or a knot-hole to get hold of; and the houseboat was readily drawn up and made fast to the pilings. the boxes aboard, our lines were cast off and gadabout moved on up the james. [illustration: a trapper's home by the riverbank.] soon we were approaching one of the most historic points on the river. we could tell that by a deserted old manor-house occupying a fine, neglected site on the left bank of the stream. while the main structure still stood firm, and would for generations to come as it had for generations gone, yet the verandas about it had been partially burned and had collapsed, and the place looked dilapidated and forlorn. in front, the spacious grounds, once terraced gardens, stretched wild and overgrown down to the river, where the straggling ruins of a pier completed the picture of desolation. but, even neglected and abandoned, this sturdy colonial home, nearly two centuries old, still wore a noble air of family pride; still looked bravely out upon the river. and why should it not? what house but old berkeley is the ancestral home of a signer of the declaration of independence and of two presidents of the united states? this plantation became the colonial seat of the elder branch of the harrison family about the beginning of the eighteenth century. it passed to strangers less than half a century ago. from its founding, berkeley was the home of distinguished men. here lived benjamin harrison, attorney general and treasurer of the colony; and his son, major benjamin harrison, member of the house of burgesses; and his son, benjamin harrison, member of the continental congress and signer of the declaration of independence; and his son, william henry harrison, famous general and the ninth president of our country; whose grandson, benjamin harrison, became our twenty-third president--a striking showing of family distinction, and including the only instance, except that of the adamses, of two members of the same family occupying the presidential chair. [illustration: berkeley. (the ancestral home of a signer of the declaration of independence and of two presidents of the united states.)] very different from the berkeley that we saw, was that fine old plantation of colonial times. imagine it, perhaps upon a summer's day in that memorable year of 1776. there are the great fields of tobacco and grain, the terraced gardens gay with flowers, the boats at the landing, and the manor-house standing proudly, "an elegant seat of hospitality." the master of berkeley, that tall, dignified colonial, colonel benjamin harrison, is not at home. he is at philadelphia attending the continental congress. perhaps even now he is affixing his signature, with its queer final flourish, to the declaration of independence. in the meantime, in front of the old home, a pretty woman in quaint taffeta "watteau" and hooped petticoat and dainty high-heeled slippers is playing with a little boy, among the sweet old shrubs and the english roses upon the terraces. that little boy is to bring added honour to old berkeley; and one day, as general william henry harrison, president-elect of the united states, his love for this mother shall bring him back to this home of his boyhood to write, amidst the tender associations of "her old room," his inaugural address. after passing berkeley, we left the buoyed course and ran the rest of the way to eppes creek in a narrow side channel that threads among the shallows close along shore. it is what the river-men call a "slue channel"; and we had to take frequent soundings to follow it. looking back at dejected old berkeley, we were glad to know that a new owner of the place was about to restore it. gadabout soon approached an opening in the river bank that we knew was the wide mouth of eppes creek. we were going to turn into this stream, not merely for the stream itself, but for a convenient anchorage from which to reach the last of the noted river homes that we should visit--shirley, the colonial seat of the carters. our chart showed the mansion as standing just around the next bend of the james. but we were not going around that bend, because the chart showed also this little creek cutting across the point of land lying in the elbow of the river and apparently affording an inside route to shirley. we should soon learn whether or not gadabout could navigate it and how near it would take her to the old home. as we moved slowly into the creek it was between banks in strange and attractive contrast. the starboard side (that from which we hoped to find a way to shirley) was high and covered with trees of many kinds. the bank to port was low and covered with a marsh forest of cypresses. it was a dark and gloomy forest, but the spell of its sombre depths drew our eyes quite as often as the cheerfuller charm of the woodland on the other side; and so was equally responsible for the zigzag course that gadabout was taking. but it was the high bank that, after a while, was responsible for gadabout's ceasing to take any course at all. we came about a bend and saw, just ahead, a little cove. there were trees crowding close, rich pines and cedars and bright-beaded holly. one tree leaned far out over the water, and beneath it two row-boats were drawn up to the bank. we thought it must surely be the landing-place for shirley. gadabout sidled to starboard, and grapnels were thrown up into the trees to hold her alongshore. stepping out on the bank we went up the hill through the woods. on the way we turned and glanced down upon the houseboat. she looked pretty enough, little white and yellow cottage, snuggling close to the bank with a holly tree at her bow and her flags stirring gently in the warm sunny air. at the top of the hill, we came out upon the edge of a cornfield. everything was cornfield as far as we could see. no house, no road in sight. back aboard gadabout, we got under way again. but the creek soon lost even its one solid bank and, finding ourselves running between two lines of marsh woods, we turned about and headed back for the place where we had stopped, "leaning tree landing," as we called it. we had gone but a little way when our rudder-cable snapped, the steering-wheel turned useless, and gadabout headed for the marsh woods. she minded none of our makeshift devices to shape her course; and we were forced to stop the engine and resort to a more primitive motive power. the sailor dropped an end of a long pole into the water at the bow of the houseboat and, bending heavily upon the other end, slowly pushed her forward as he walked aft along the guard. steadily back and forth he paced the rail; steadily, silently, we floated down the stream. and the silence of our going took hold of us, as we sat lazily in the bow. how in keeping it all seemed with the quiet of the day, the calm of the stream, and the stillness of the woods! and how out of keeping now seemed gadabout's noisy entrance into that tranquil scene! "i feel quite apologetic," said nautica. "look at these great solemn trees, just like an assemblage of forest philosophers in the hush of silent deliberation." "we must have stirred them up a bit," replied the commodore, "with our puffing and ringing. but i don't think they are deliberating. i believe they are asleep. it seems more like the hush of poppy-land in here to me." "yes, that is just it." and the answer really came quite dreamily. "this is the hush of poppy-land, and we are drifting on the quiet brown waterway that leads through the sleepy, endless afternoon." and the notion pleased, and so did the languor and the heavy content. slowly and steadily the sailor and the long pole went up and down the guard; slowly and steadily the houseboat moved down the stream. now we were skirting the bolder bank where the pines bent heavy heads over the water, the holly crowded close to the shore, and pale tinted reeds made border at the water's edge. now in rounding a curve, we passed close to the cypress wood fringed with bush and sedge. delicate brown festoons of vines hung from the branches; and, high out of reach, mats of mistletoe clung. it seemed one with our mood and our fancy when two round yellow eyes stared out of the shadows, two wide lazy wings were spread, and the bird of daylight slumber took soft, noiseless flight. we were just getting fully in the humour of our new way of travel, drifting on in the world of laze-and-dream, when the whole thing came to an end. a familiar voice from the world of up-and-do was in our ears, and there was leaning tree landing just ahead. we anchored out in the channel until low tide; then, after sounding about the landing and finding a good depth of water and no obstructions, we drew gadabout in, bow to the bank, and made fast. we felt almost as though she were a real, true cottage, with that solid land at her door and her roof among the branches. when we looked from gadabout's windows next morning, a dense fog had blotted out all of our creek country except that which was close in about us. but what was left was so beautiful as to more than make up for the loss. nature, like most other women, looks particularly well through a filmy veil. we feared that the mist would soon clear away, but it did not and we sat down to breakfast with our houseboat floating in one of the smallest and fairest worlds that had ever harboured her. a beautiful white-walled world with some shadowy bits of land here and there, a piece of a misty stream that began and ended in the clouds, and everything most charmingly out of perspective and unreal. some ghostly trees were near us, delicate veils of mist clinging about their trunks and floating up among the bare branches. nearer yet, a blur of reeds marked the shore-line. from somewhere out along the river, probably from the lighthouse at jordan's point, came the tolling of a fog-bell. as we watched the scene, a faint glow filtered in through the whiteness, and made it all seem a fairy-land. indeed, was it not? and were not the little swaying mist-wreaths that wavered in at our windows some dainty elves timidly come to give us greeting? all day the fog held, and the sad tolling of the bell went on. now and then, the calls of the river craft would come to our ears. toward evening the fog thinned and let the moonlight in. then we were quite sure that gadabout had indeed come to fairy-land. now, if only there were a way leading from fairy-land to shirley! and it turned out that there was. chapter xxiii the right way to go to shirley everybody goes to shirley the wrong way. we found that out by ourselves happening to go the right way. when you are sailing up the james in your houseboat (you haven't one? well, a make-believe one will do just as well, and in some ways better), do not pass eppes creek, as everybody does, and go to the shirley pier; but, instead, enter the creek and tie up at leaning tree landing as we did. [illustration: the field road and the quarters.] then, instead of taking that trail up the hill that leads only into a cornfield, look for a path leading to the left through the woods. it is not much of a path; and unless you love nature in even her capricious moods, when she now and then trips the foot of the unwary and mayhap even scratches, it is too bad after all that you came this way. to love of nature should be added a certain measure of agility, so that you will be all right when you come to the fence. fortunately, you can let down the upper rails--being careful to put them back again when you are safe on the other side. beyond the fence, a great pasture-field stretches away endlessly. but then everything is on a large scale at shirley. ampleness is the keynote; it pervades everything. before you have half crossed the field, you will come upon a road that will lead you to a little eminence near the quarters. no, it is not a village that you now see peeping out through the grove over there by the river; it is the group of buildings constituting the homestead of shirley. in the bright sunlight, you can pick out bits of the mansion through the trees, of the dairy, of the kitchen, and of the smaller buildings; while farther out stand the roomy barns and the quaint turreted dove-cote. all the buildings are of brick and show a warm, dull red. time has left few such scenes as this--the completely equipped home-acre of a great; seventeenth century american plantation. the scene is not exactly a typical one; for few of such early colonial estates, and indeed not many of the later ones, had homesteads as complete, as substantially built, and on as large a scale as this of shirley. now, as you can need no further guidance, we are going off some two or three hundred years into the past, to see if we can get hold of the other end of the story of this plantation. perhaps the start was "about christmas time" in the year 1611, when sir thomas dale, high marshal of the colony of virginia, sailed up the river from james towne; killed or drove away all the indians hereabout; and then, thinking it ill that so much goodly land should be lying unoccupied, took possession of a large tract of it for the colony. but the part that came to be called shirley is soon lost sight of in the fogs of tradition. later, we catch a glimpse of it in the possession of lord delaware. but it is not until the middle of the seventeenth century that we get a firm hold of this elusive colonial seat and of its colonial owners. at that time, in the colony of virginia, two of the proud families on two of the proud rivers were the hills, who had recently acquired the plantation of shirley on the james, and the carters, who were establishing their seat at corotoman on the rappahannock. in the story of these two houses is most of the story of shirley. the hills became one of the leading families in the colony. it was edward hill, second of the name, who built the present mansion. he was a member of the king's council; and his position is indicated, and his fortune as well, by the building in those early times of such a home. antedating almost all of the great colonial homes, it must long have stood a unique mark of family distinction. the exact date of the building of the manor-house is not known, but doubtless it was not far from the middle of the seventeenth century. in the meantime, the carters had become notable. this family reached its greatest prominence in the days of robert carter, who was one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the colony. in person he was handsome and imposing; in worldly possessions he stood almost unequalled; and in offices and honours he had about everything that the colony could give. his estate included more than three hundred thousand acres of land and about one thousand slaves. either because of his imposing person or of his power or of his wealth, or perhaps because of all three, he was called "king" carter. he does seem to have been quite a sovereign, and to have known considerable of the pompous ceremony that "doth hedge a king." it was in the fourth generation of the houses of shirley and of corotoman, and in the year 1723, that the families were united by the marriage of john, son of "king" carter, and elizabeth, daughter of the third edward hill. john carter was a prominent man and the secretary of the colony; elizabeth hill was a beauty and the heiress of shirley. in the descendants of this union the old plantation has remained to this day. the first time that we went from our creek harbour up to shirley was a strange time perhaps for people to be abroad in woods and field-roads. the day was one of struggle between fog and sun, neither being able to get his own way, but together making a wonderful world of it. we walked in a luminous mist; the road very plain beneath our feet, but leading always into nothingness, and reaching behind us such a little way as to barely include the tall, following, hazy figure that was henry. there was little for us to see, but that little was well worth seeing; only a tree or a clump of bushes or a hedge-row here and there, but all dimmed into new forms and graces for that day and for us. as we neared a ridge of meadowland, a pastoral for a schenck took shape in the fog cloud before us. scattered groups of sheep appeared close at hand, and, faintly visible beyond them, a denser mass of moving white. no tree nor landmark was to be seen; just set into the soft whiteness, showing mistily, was the snowy flock itself. sheep grazed in groups, the tan shaded slope in faint colouring beneath them. here and there a mother turned her head to call back anxiously for the bleating lambkin lost behind the white curtain; and, dim and grotesque, the awkward strayling would come gamboling into sight. near by on a little hillock, a single sheep stood with its head thrown up, a ghostly lookout. the hidden sun made the haze faintly luminous about this wandering flock of cloudland. we were not the first to move and to break the picture. as we gained higher ground, a breeze was stirring and the fog was beginning to lift. when we reached the edge of the shirley homestead and passed the turreted dove-cote, the near-by objects had grown quite distinct. but out on the river the fog yet lay dense; and two boats somewhere in the impenetrable whiteness were calling warningly to each other. now we went on toward the manor-house that loomed against a soft background of river fog. the mansion is wholly unlike either brandon or westover, being a massive square building without wings. it is two and a half stories high, with a roof of modified mansard style pierced with many dormer windows. it has both a landward and a riverward front, and both alike. each front has a large porch of two stories in georgian design with doric columns. the walls of the house are laid in flemish bond, black glazed bricks alternating with the dull red ones. while both the roof and the porches are departures from the original lines of the house, yet they are departures that have themselves attained a dignified age of about a century and a quarter. always, in the consideration of colonial homes, shirley is regarded as one of the finest examples. this means much more than at first appears. for the mansions with which shirley is usually compared, were built from half a century to a century later. continuing along the road as we studied the home, we were led around to the landward front and into the midst of the ancient messuage. [illustration: riverward front of shirley.] we stood in a great open quadrangle, having the house at one end, the distant barns at the other; on one side the kitchen, a large two-story building, and on the other side a similar building used for storage and for indoor plantation work. a high box hedge ran across from one of these side buildings to the other, dividing the long quadrangle into halves, one part adjacent to the house and the other to the barns. the village effect produced by the grouped buildings must have been even more striking in colonial times; for then the manor-house was flanked by two more large brick buildings, forming what might be called detached wings. one of these was still standing up to the time of the civil war. the visitor is conscious of two dominant impressions, as he stands thus in the midst of this seventeenth century homestead. the massive solidity of the place takes hold of one first; but, strangely enough, the strongest impression is that of an all-pervading air of youthfulness. doubtless the oldest homestead on the river, and one of the oldest in the country, it utterly refuses to look its age. perhaps the solid, square compactness of the buildings has much to do with this. they appear as though built to defy time. even the shadow of the venerable trees and the ancient ivy's telltale embrace seem powerless to break the spell of perennial youth. in the home, we met mrs. bransford, widow of mr. h.w. bransford, commander and mrs. james h. oliver, u.s.n., and miss susy carter. mrs. bransford and mrs. oliver are the daughters of the late mr. and mrs. robert randolph carter, and are the present owners of the plantation, mrs. bransford making her home there. commander oliver represents the third consecutive generation of naval officers in the shirley family. upon entering the house in the usual way, from the landward side, the visitor finds himself in a large square hall occupying one corner of the building. this room discloses at a glance the type and the genius of shirley. it begins at once to tell you all about itself; and when you know this old hall, you have the key to the mansion and to its story. it is truly a colonial "great hall." it tells you that by its goodly old-time ampleness, its high panelled walls with their dimming portraits, its great chimneypiece flanked by tall cupboards, and its massive overshadowing stairway. [illustration: the old "great hall."] the chief architectural feature of the room is this stairway. starting in one corner, it rises along the panelled wall until half way to the ceiling, then turns sharply out into the room for the remainder of its ascent to the second floor, thus exposing overhead a handsome soffit. the effect, in connection with the great panelled well of the staircase, is one of rich and goodly ancientness. indeed, though you may enter shirley feeling that the house, like some long-lingering colonial belle, is perhaps not quite frank with you about its age, you will not find the hall taking part in any such misrepresentation. despite some modern marks and even the fact that the fireplace has been closed, this room says in every line that it is very old. it stands true to the memory of its seventeenth-century builder who had known and loved the "great halls" of "merrie england." it tells of the time when the life of a household centred in the spacious hall; when there the great fire burned and the family gathered round--of the time when halls were the hearts, not the mere portals, of homes. and so in this room, as in few others in our country, does the visitor find the setting and the atmosphere of manor-house life in early colonial days. he can well fancy this "great hall" of shirley in the ruddy light of flaming logs that burned in the wide fireplace two centuries and a half ago. dusky in far corners or sharply drawn near the firelight, stood, in those days, chests and tables and forms and doubtless a bed too with its valance and curtains. in a medley typical of the times in even the great homes, were saddles, bridles, and embroidery frames, swords, guns, flute, and hand-lyre. here, in a picturesque and almost mediaeval confusion, the family mostly gathered, while favourite hounds stretched and blinked in the chimney-place beside the black boy who drowsily tended the fire. here, the long, narrow "tabull-bord" was spread with its snowy cloth, taken from the heavy chest of linen in the corner, of which my lady of the manor was prodigiously proud. upon the cloth were placed soft-lustred pewter and, probably almost from the first, some pieces of silver too. the salt was "sett in the myddys of the tabull," likely in a fine silver dish worthy its important function in determining the seating about the "bord." as family and guests gathered round, the host and hostess took places side by side at one end; near them the more important guests were given seats "above the salt," while lesser folk and children sat "below the salt." then, from the distant kitchen in the quadrangle, came slaves or indentured servant bearing the steaming food in great chargers and chafing-dishes. doubtless, in those earliest days, the food was eaten from wooden trenchers, not plates; while from lip to lip the communal bowl went round. knives and spoons were plentiful, but even in such a home as shirley forks were still a rarity; and the profusion of napkins was well when helpful fingers gave service to healthy appetites. but that was the hall life of very early days. gradually, in the colonies as in england, the evolution of refinement specialized the home; developed drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, libraries; and so took away from the "great halls" almost all of this intimate life of the household. there is something pathetic in this desertion of the ancient, central hearthstone. we thought of shirley's old hall growing sadly quiet and chill as it lost the merry chatter about the "tabull-bord"; as saddles and bridles jingled there for the last time on their way to some far outbuilding; as the gentlewomen carried their needlework away, and the little maids followed with their samplers. at last, all the old life was gone. even the master himself came no longer to mull his wine by the andirons; and the very dogs stretched themselves less often and with less content at the chimney-side. all the rooms at shirley are richly panelled to the ceiling, and have heavy, ornate cornices and fine, carved mantelpieces and doorways. the examples of interior woodwork especially regarded by connoisseurs are the panelling in the morning-room, the elaborately carved mantel in the drawing-room, and the handsome doorway between that room and the dining-room. upstairs, a central hallway runs through the house, double doors opening at both riverward and landward ends upon broad porticoes. the bedrooms on either hand are panelled to the ceiling. they have deep-set windows, open fireplaces, and quaint old-time furnishings. and people slept here back in the seventeenth century; dreamed here in those faraway times when james towne, now long buried and almost forgotten, was the capital of the little colony. here, in succeeding generations, have slept many notable guests of shirley. tradition includes among these the duke of argyle, lafayette, our own george washington, and the prince of wales. [illustration: the drawing--room.] here, too, are some of the oldest ghosts in america. most of these are quiet, well-behaved members of the household; but one ancient shade, aunt pratt by name, seems to presume upon her age as old people sometimes will, and is really quite hard to get along with. listen to an instance of her downright unreasonableness. her portrait used to hang in the drawing-room among those of the hills (she is or was, or however you say it, a sister of the colonel hill who built the mansion); but having become injured it was taken down and put away face to the wall. immediately, this ghostly aunt pratt showed deep resentment. womanlike, she threw herself into a chair in one of these bedrooms and rocked and rocked violently. of course she disturbed the whole household; but no matter how noiselessly people stole in to catch her at her tantrums, she was always too quick for them--the room was empty, the chairs all still. at last the picture was got out, repaired, and rehung. at once all was peace and quiet; aunt pratt had had her way. chapter xxiv from creek harbour to colonial reception eppes creek was the most remote and isolated of all our james river harbours. gadabout was like a bit of civilization that had got broken off and had drifted away into the wild. the stream was such a mere ribbon with such tall trees along its banks, that we looked upward to but a narrow lane of open sky. sometimes the lane was blue, sometimes gray, and sometimes dark and set with twinkling stars. the wood across the creek from us was a dismal looking place. the trees were swamp cypresses that had lost their summer green, and stood drooping and forlorn in the low, marshy soil. nautica wasted a good deal of sympathy upon them as she compared them with the richly clothed pines and the luxuriant holly upon our side of the stream. there doubtless was game in that desolate wood; although about the only living things that we saw in it, even when we rowed close along its ragged shore, were owls. at night, strange, uncanny cries came out of the wood, and probably out of the owls also; but such sad and querulous cries as may well have been the plaints of the mournful marsh forest itself. upon our shirley shore too, there lived an owl, evidently of a different kind. we never saw him; but at night he worked untiringly upon a voluminous woodland edition of "who's who." in this harbour, we heard often the stirring cry out of the high heavens that our ears had caught once in our anchorage at westover. and now we saw the wild geese themselves. each time, at the first faint "honk," we got quickly to the windows or out on deck, and stood waiting for the beautiful v-shaped flight to come swinging into our sky-lane. and with what a glorious sweep the birds came on! and to what gloriously discordant music! sometimes they went over in v's that were quite regular; but often the diverging lines would grow wavy, the beautiful flying letter still holding but swinging in and out as though blown about on the face of the sky. perhaps we had something to do with those variants of the wild goose's favourite letter. quite likely the sight of gadabout, fluttering her flags down there in eppes creek, made those wise old gander leaders veer in a way somewhat disconcerting to their faithful followers. but on they came, and on they went in their wonderful flight through sunshine and through storm, by day and by night; leaving a strangely roused and quickened world behind them. just a fleet passing of wings, a clamour of cries--why should one's heart leap, and his nerves go restless, and joy and sadness get mixed up inside him? a few birds flying over--yet stirring as a military pageant! a jangle of senseless "honks"--yet in it the irresistible urge of bugle and drum! one cannot explain. one can only stand and look and listen, till the living, flying letter is lost in the sky; till his ear can no longer catch the glorious, wild clangour of "the going of the geese." isolated as our anchorage was, we had a connecting link between gadabout and civilization. it was about three feet long, of a sombre hue, and its name was bob. bob brought us milk and eggs and our mail, and ran errands generally. he was usually attended by such a retinue that only the smallest picaninnies could have been left back at the quarters. sometimes, bob lightened his labours by having a member of his following carry a pail or the mail-bag. this worked badly; for it was only by such badges of office that we were able to tell which was bob. but after several small coins had gone into the wrong ragged hats, bob grasped the situation; and, in a masterly way, solved the question of identity without losing the services of his satellites. henceforth, when we heard the chattering boys coming through the woods, if we looked out promptly enough, we would see bob relieving some one of his doubles of pail or mail-bag; and by the time he reached the houseboat, he would be in full possession of all means of identification. "would you like to go to meet the ladies and gentlemen on the walls?" mrs. bransford asked one day at shirley. the invitation was accepted with as much alacrity as if we had feared that the reception hours were almost over. but there was really no need of haste; for the lines of notables on shirley's walls stand there from generation to generation, yet receiving always with such dignity and courtesy as permit not the slightest sign of weariness or expression of being bored. in meeting those old-time owners and lovers of shirley, the visitor is passed from one hand-clasp to another, as it were, down through the generations of colonial times. giving precedence to age, we made our first fancied obeisance before two distinguished looking people who, however, did not seem entitled to any consideration whatever on the ground of age, being both in the prime of life. and yet, these were colonel and mrs. edward hill, second of the name at shirley, and the first master and mistress of the present manor-house. we were a little surprised at the colonel's appearance; for he was clean shaven and wore a wig. now, we had been hobnobbing long enough with those beginners of our country--captain john smith, sir edwin sandys, lord delaware, and the rest--to know that they were a bearded set and hadn't a wig amongst them. fortunately, we remembered in time that this portrait-gentleman, old as he was, did not quite reach back to the days of those first settlers; and that he had lived to see the great change of fashion (in the reign of charles ii) that made englishmen for generations whiskerless and bewigged. though our land was settled by bearded men, with just the hair on their heads that nature gave them (and sometimes, when the indians were active, not all of that), yet the country was developed and made independent and set up as a nation by smooth-faced men, most fuzzily bewigged. that reign of the razor that began in the days of colonel hill, was a long one, and, later, determined the appearance of the father of our country. imagine george washington with a van dyck beard! of course it was bad form for us to stand there staring at the colonel while we reasoned out all this matter of the beards and the wigs. now the commodore, at a suggestion from nautica's elbow, shifted to the other foot and cleared his throat to say something. but what was there to say? it is a little trying, this meeting people who cannot converse intelligently upon anything that has happened since the seventeenth century. at last, we murmured something about charles ii; and, to make sure, let the murmuring run over a little into the reigns of james ii and of william and mary, and then passed on; though the commodore felt there should have been at least some slight allusion to the pyramids and the cave-dwellers. we must have taken very slowly the few steps that carried us to the next member of the receiving party; for in that time the world moved on a generation, and we found ourselves paying respects to no less a personage than "king" carter himself. too modest to suppose that he had come over from corotoman on our account, we strongly suspected that the matter of alliance between the families of hill and of carter was in the air; which would account for the presence of the potentate of the rappahannock. he looked very imposing in his velvets and his elaborate, powdered periwig, standing ceremoniously, one hand thrust within his rich, half-open waistcoat. now was the time for all that we knew about queen anne and king george the first, and about the recent removal of the colonial capital from james towne to williamsburg. the next dignitaries were very near; but again it took a generation to get to them, the names being john carter (usually called secretary carter from his important colonial office) and elizabeth hill carter, his wife. these were the young people who united the houses of shirley and corotoman. so, even yet, we had got down only to the days of george the second. secretary and mrs. carter were a handsome pair; she, fair and girlish, with an armful of roses; he, dark and courtly and one of the most attractive looking figures we had met in our travels in colonial-land. these people could not tell us much about the old manor-house; for, while possessing two of the finest plantations in the colonies, shirley and corotoman, they made their home chiefly at williamsburg. however, they were especially interesting people to meet because of their familiarity with the first half of the eighteenth century, that brightest and most prosperous period of colonial life. they could tell us at first hand of those happy, easy-going times that lay between the long struggle to establish the colonies and the fierce struggle to make them free. though neither mr. nor mrs. carter exactly said so, yet we gathered the idea that those were days of much dress and frivolity. it seems that ships came from everywhere with handsome fabrics and costly trifles; and that rich colonials strove so manfully and so womanfully to follow the capricious foreign fashions (by means of dressed dolls received from paris and london) that usually they were not more than a year or two behind the styles. we could not help feeling that the matter of wigs must have been an especially troublesome one. as styles changed in england, these important articles of dress (often costing in tobacco the equivalent of one hundred dollars) had to be sent to london to be made over. between the slowness of ships and the slowness of wig-makers, it must often have happened that even such careful dressers as the fastidious secretary himself would be wearing wigs that would scarcely pass muster at the court of st. james or at bath. indeed, secretary carter did not deny there being some truth in this; but he appeared so at ease that day at shirley that we knew, on that occasion at least, he was sure of his wig. one more progression along the receiving line, one more generation passed by the way, and we came upon charles carter, with his strong, kindly face, a gentleman of the days of george iii and of the last days of colonial times. and what days those were! the days of stamp acts and "tea parties" and minute men; of state conventions and continental congresses; of lexington and valley forge and the surrender of cornwallis; of the articles of confederation and the formation of the union. this charles carter saw our nation made and, in the councils of his colony, helped to make it. here, in old shirley, he put down the cup from which he had right loyally drunk the colonial toast, "the king! god bless him!" and he took it up again to loyally and proudly drink to "george washington and the united states of america." we met still other old-time people at the manor-house that day; but it would not do to try to tell about them all. the omitted ones do not count much, being chiefly wives. everybody knows that in meeting colonial people it is scarcely worth while considering a man's wife, for so soon she is gone and he has another. truly, shirley's colonial reception was very enjoyable, we thought, as we took a last glance at the serene, old-time faces and caught a last whiff of ambergris from the queer, old-time wigs. chapter xxv an incongruous bit of houseboating by this time, we were becoming anxious about the lateness of the season. of course it was only through some mistake that we were getting all those fine warm days in december. perhaps nature had not had her weather eye open when father time wet his thumb and turned over to the last page of the calendar. but now, there was something in the look of the sky and in the feel of the air to make us fearful that the mix-up of the seasons had been discovered, and that winter was being prodded to the front. still we lingered in eppes creek, and soon we could not do otherwise than linger; for we wakened one morning to find the stream frozen over, and gadabout presenting the incongruous spectacle of a houseboat fast in the ice. all that day and the next the coldness held; and the ice and the tide battled along the creek with crackings and roarings and, now and then, reports like pistol shots. this surely was strange houseboating. it was a serious matter too. we knew that we might be held in the grip of the ice indefinitely. we did not care to spend the winter in eppes creek; nor could we abandon our boat there. throwing on our heavy wraps and trying to throw off our heavy spirits, we went above and paced the deck. in mockery our flags rippled under the northwest wind; from our flower-boxes, leafless, shrivelled little arms were held up to us; while our bright striped awning, with all its associations of sunshine and summer-time, was close furled and frozen stiff and hung with icicles. we were surprised enough when the weather suddenly changed again, and the bright, warm sun set up such a thawing as soon sent the ice out of the creek and our anxieties with it. but no time was to be lost in getting away from that beautiful, treacherous stream. we should make one more visit to shirley and then head again up river. but that last visit should be a quite conventional one; we should run the houseboat around to the regular steamboat pier in front of the old manor-house. it was a warm, hazy afternoon down in eppes creek when we untied our ropes from the trees (cast them off, we ought to say), and gadabout pulled her nose from the reedy bank and slowly backed out into the stream. she was obeying every turn of the steering-wheel perfectly (as indeed she always did except when the mischievous wind put notions into her head); and it was not her fault at all when her bow swung round under the tree that leaned out over the water and almost knocked her little chimney off. we dropped down the stream and passed out into the river where everything was softened and beautified by the light fog. skirting the low northern shore, we looked across the river at the high southern one where, through the mist, we could see the town of city point and the bold promontory that marked where the appomattox was flowing into the james. upon the tip of the promontory was the home of the eppes family, "appomattox." while the present house is not a colonial one, the estate is one of the oldest in the country. now, just ahead of us was the shirley pier on one side of the river and the village of bermuda hundred on the other. we headed first for the village, our intention being to get some supplies there. we could not see much of bermuda hundred, perhaps because there was not much to see. it consists principally of age, having been founded only four years after the settlement of james towne. still, we let the sailor go ashore for butter and eggs, trusting that both would be as modern as possible. our supplies aboard, gadabout quickly carried us across the river and landed us at shirley. [illustration: the kitchen building, fifty yards from the manor-house.] in that last visit to the old home, we went across the quadrangle and into the kitchen building, with its cook-room on one side of the hall and its bake-room on the other. of course most of the colonial kitchen appointments had long since disappeared; but we were glad to see, in the stone-paved bake-room, the old-time brick ovens. with their cavernous depths, they were quite an object lesson in early virginia hospitality. and can any modern ranges bake quite as perfectly as did those colonial brick ovens? after a fire of oven-wood had flamed for hours in one of those brick chambers, and at last the iron door had been opened and the ashes swept out, the heated interior was ready to receive the meats and breads and pastry, and to bake them "to a turn." when, in the restoration of mount vernon, the kitchen was reached, recourse was had to shirley's kitchen. drawings were made of an unusual colonial table, of a pair of andirons with hooks for spits to rest on, and of several other old-time cookery appointments; and, from these drawings, were constructed the duplicates that are now in the mount vernon kitchen. it was on our way from the kitchen to the mansion that we came upon another visitor to shirley. she was short and round and black and smiling and "feelin' tol'ble, thank you, ma'am." this, we learned, was aunt patsy. she had "jes heard dat miss marion done come home"; and so, arrayed in her best clothes including a spotless checked apron, she had come to "de gre't house" to pay her respects to mrs. oliver. drawn out somewhat for our benefit, she gave her views upon the subject of matrimony. "i been married five times," she said. we were not particularly surprised at that; but were scarcely prepared for the added statement, "an' i done had two husban's." however, no one could fail to understand aunt patsy's position, and to heartily agree with her, when she came to explain her marital paradox. "de way 'tis is dis way," she said. "what i calls a _husban_' is one dat goes out, he do, an' gethahs up" (here, a sweeping gesture with the apron, suggestive of lavish ingathering), "gethahs up things an' brings 'em in to me. but what i calls _havin' a man aroun'_ is whar he sets by de fiah and smokes he pipe, while i goes out an' wuks an' brings things home, an' he eats what i gives him. an' dat's how come i been married five times, an' i done had two husban's." [illustration: brick oven in the bake-room.] before the old oak chest was opened for us, that day at shirley, we knew that this colonial home was rich in antique silver. yet, the family speak of the many pieces as "remnants," because of the still greater number lost at the time of the war. the plate was sent for safe-keeping to a man in richmond who was afterward able to account for but a small part of it. evidently, the hills and the carters went far in following the old colonial custom of investing in household silver. and as an investment the purchase of this ware was largely regarded in those days; family plate being deemed one of the best forms in which to hold surplus wealth. different periods are represented in the old pieces yet remaining at shirley. there are the graceful, classic types of the days of the georges; the earlier ornate, rococo forms; and the yet earlier massive styles of the time of queen anne and long before. among the most ancient pieces, are heavy tankards that remind one of the long ago, when such great communal cups went round from merry lip to merry lip--microbes all unknown. the numerous spoons too speak of the time when there were no forks to share their labours. most of the silver remaining to-day is engraved with the coat of arms of the carters. suggestive of the days when colonial belles were toasted about shirley's table, are the old punch bowl and the punch strainer and the wine coasters; though a more noteworthy object, having the same associations, is an antique mahogany wine chest with many of the original cut glass bottles still in its compartments. [illustration: some noteworthy pieces of old shirley plate.] and looking at shirley's old silver in shirley's old dining-room, we thought of the lavish colonial entertainments in which both had played their part. what hospitable places were those early planters' homes! as courts, assemblies, races, funerals, weddings, and festivals took the people up and down the country, they found few inns; but, instead, at every great plantation, wide-spreading roofs and ever-open doors. the spirit of welcome even stood at the gates and laid hands upon the passing traveller, drawing him up the shady avenues and into the hospitable homes. in the days of the colonial carters (who, through a complicated network of intermarriages, were cousins to all the rest of virginia), shirley must often have been full to overflowing. and, along with our thoughts of shirley's hospitality, came the recollection of a pretty story that had been told to us one day at brandon by miss mary lee, daughter of general robert e. lee. it was a story of one of the merry, old-time gatherings about charles carter's long table in the shirley dining-room. among the guests was a dashing young cavalry officer who had won fame and the rank of general in the revolutionary war; and who, in his unsatisfied military ardour, was contemplating joining the revolutionary army of france. but just now, he was contemplating only his host and his dinner. suddenly, he became aware of a flushed and charming maiden in distress. she had lifted a great cut glass dish filled with strawberries, and it was more than her little hands could hold. she strove to avert a crash; and, just in time, the gallant young general caught the appealing look from the dark eyes and the toppling dish from the trembling hands. but in saving the bowl and the berries, he lost his heart. and the maiden was anne hill carter, daughter of the genial host; and the young general was "light horse harry" lee. the dreams of further glory on french battlefields were abandoned; and there was another feast at shirley when bridal roses of june were in bloom. the young people went to live at stratford, the ancestral home of the lees; and there was born their famous son, robert e. lee. as shirley's old dining-room thus brought to our minds that greatest virginian of our day, so it brought to mind the greatest virginian of all days; for, even as we looked at silver and thought of love stories, a life-size portrait of george washington, by charles wilson peale, stood looking down upon us from the panelled wall. [illustration: peale's portrait of george washington.] it is a noted and invaluable canvas that hangs there at shirley, and it is doubtless a good likeness of the father of our country; but it is not just the george washington that most of us have in our mind's eye. when the average american thinks of hatchets and cherry trees and abnormal truthfulness, the face that rises before him is that benign and fatherly one that he has seen a thousand times in the popular reproductions of the portrait by gilbert stuart. just as for generations only the good has been told of george washington, so has this handsomest picture (doubtless a trifle flattering) always been the popular one. however, in this day, when the ideal george washington of story is being ruthlessly brushed aside in the search for the real flesh-and-blood man, any canvas also that has idealized him is somewhat in jeopardy. it is well that the washington of sparks and of irving and of stuart should be superseded by the truer washington of mitchell and of ford and of peale; but the result will be that, for a while, the country will scarcely recognize its own father. always at shirley our interest came back to the old colonial hall. of course, to get the good of it, one had to set one's eyes so as to throw out of focus many marks of modernism; but that adjustment would almost come of itself with a little study of quaint transoms, or of ancient hatchments, or, above all, of the time-worn stairway. why is it that the spirit of the long-ago so clings about an old stairway? why should the empty stair seem to remember so much, to suggest so much, of a life that came to it only in fitful passings and that left nothing of itself behind? there were no signs of that long by-gone life upon shirley's stairway, save for a dimming of the old rail where countless hands--strong, feeble, fair--had lightly rested or, more helpless, clung; and save for that worn trail of the generations that followed up the dull, dark treads. but even these had much to tell of the passings for nearly two centuries and a half up and down this household highway: of the masterful tread of spur-shod boots, the dancing of the belle's slim-slippered feet, the pompous double steps of bumpy baby shoes, the gouty stump of old grandsire, and the faithful shamble of the black boy at his heels. that day (regretfully our last in this colonial home) not only the stairway but all of the old house seemed inclined to become reminiscent. nautica noticed this in the quiet drawing-room that would keep bringing up by-gone times, and, she insisted, by-gone people too. in the great hall, even the commodore felt the mood of old shirley and the presence of a life that all seemed natural enough, but that must have come a good ways out of the past. on the staircase, despite the dim light over there (or because of it), one could even catch sight of a shadowy old-time company. there were stately figures passing up and down: the old lords of the wilderness in velvet coats and huge wigs, and ladies of the wilderness too in rich brocades and laced stomachers. there were many slender and youthful figures. charmingly odd and quaint were the merry groups of girls, catching and swaying upon the shadowy stair; dainty ruffles peeping through the balusters; laughing faces bending above the dark, old rail. and fine indeed were the gallants that did them homage; those young colonials of bright velvets and flowered waistcoats and lace ruffles and powdered periwigs. now, from the stairway the old-time life spread throughout the old-time home. shirley was living over again some merry-making of colonial days. that was the governor that just passed with the glint of gold lace and the glint of gold snuff-box; and that, a councillor's lady that rustled by in stiff silks, her feet in gold-heeled slippers and her powdered head dressed "dutch." and quite as fine and quite as quaint were the ladies that followed in their gay flowered "sacques" looped back from bright petticoats and point lace aprons. it was all as london-like as might be: rich velvets and brocades, wide-hooped skirts and stiff stomachers, laced coats and embroidered waistcoats, broad tuckers and mechlin ruffles, high-heeled shoes and handsome buckles, powdered wigs and powdered puffs, and crescent beauty patches. evidently, by colonial time, twilight was coming on; for now the fragrant bayberry candles were lighted. there was the faint tinkle of a harpsichord. dim figures moved in the stately minuet; their curtsies, punctiliously in keeping with the last word from london, were "slow and low." little groups gathered about the card tables, where fresh candles and ivory counters were waiting. lovers found their way to deep window-seats; and lovers of yet another sort to brimming glasses and colonial toasts, and perhaps to wigs awry. it was the old-time shirley, the strange, incongruous shirley that was a bright bit of english manor life within; and, without, wilderness and savages and tobacco-fields and africans. in from the life of the old messuage, came a touch of the barbaric; weird minor songs that belonged with the hot throb of the african tom-tom floated in through the deep windows, and strangely mingled with the thin tinkle of the harpsichord and the tender strains of an old english ballad. the green bayberry candles grew dim, and in their fragrant smoke the old colonials faded away. our visit at shirley was over. out in the quadrangle, we turned for a last look at the homestead, and were almost forced to doubt that old colonial scene that we had just left within. there stood the fine buildings in perfect preservation, insisting at last as they had insisted at first that this matter of old age was but a huge mistake--that they had been built but yesterday. chapter xxvi the end of the voyage before daylight on the following morning gadabout was awake and astir. she had resolved to catch the early tide and finish her james river cruise that day by a final run to the head of navigation at richmond. for the last time the clacking windlass was calling the sleeping anchor from its bed in the river; the commodore was hanging out the sailing-lights; and nautica (who could not find the dividers) was stepping off the distance to richmond on the chart with a hairpin. how dreary a start before dawn sounds to a landsman! the hated early call; the hasty breakfast with coffee-cup in one hand and time-table in the other; the dismal drive through dull, sleeping streets; the cheerless station; the gloomy train-shed with its lines of coaches wrapped in acrid engine smoke. but the houseboater knows another way. for him, the early call is the call of the tide that finds ready response from a lover of the sea. does the tide serve before dawn, man of the ship? then before dawn its stir is in your blood; your anchor is heaved home; your sailing-lights, white and green and red, are bravely twinkling; your propellers are tossing the waters astern; and you are off. you are off with the flood just in from the sea, or with the ebb that is seeking the sea; and with it you go along a way where no one has passed before--an evanescent way that is made of night shades and river mists. and after a while you come upon a wonderful thing--almost the solemn wonder of creation, as, from those thinning, shimmering veils, the world comes slowly forth and takes shape again. when the real world took shape for gadabout that morning on the james, she was some distance above shirley and the river was a smaller river than we had seen at any time before. by the chart, we observed that it was a comparatively narrow stream all the rest of the way to richmond. we had now entered upon a portion of the old waterway that nautica insisted had been done up in curl-papers. here, the voyager must sail around twenty miles of frivolous loops to make five miles of progress. upon coming to a group of buildings indicated on the chart and standing close to the right bank, we knew that gadabout had navigated the first of the fussy curls. around it, we had travelled six miles since leaving shirley, and now had the satisfaction of knowing that the old manor-house itself stood just across from these buildings, less than a mile away. on a little farther, we passed a fine plantation home called curle's neck. a long while after that, another large plantation, meadowville, came alongside. but the curious thing was that, at the same time, alongside came curle's neck again. we had travelled something over four miles since leaving it, yet there it stood directly opposite and less than three quarters of a mile from us. [illustration: varina.] perhaps the river observed that we were getting a little out of patience; for, almost immediately, it sought to beguile us by bringing into view one of its show points, a landing on the left bank with a large brick house near by. the chart told us that this was varina; and the guide-books told us a pretty story about how here, in their honeymoon days, lived john rolfe and pocahontas. although that honeymoon was almost three centuries gone, and there was nothing left at varina to tell of it, yet somehow our thoughts quickened and gadabout's engines slowed as we sailed along the romantic site. to be sure, to keep up the spirit of romance one has to overlook a good deal. the fact that john rolfe had been married before and the report that pocahontas had been too, somewhat discouraged sentiment. and then, was it love, after all, that built the rude little home of that strange pair somewhere up there on the shore? or, had cupid no more to do with that first international marriage in our history than he has had to do with many a later one? can it be that politics and religion drew john rolfe to the altar? and that a broken heart led pocahontas there? poor little bride in any event! a forest child--wrapped in her doe-skin robe, the down of the wild pigeon at her throat, her feet in moccasins, and her hair crested with an eagle's feather; bravely struggling with civilization, with a new home, a new language, new customs, and a new religion. how many times, when it all bore heavy on her wildwood soul, did she steal down to this ragged shore, push out in her slender canoe, and find comfort in the fellowship of this turbulent, untamable river! and how often did she turn from her home to the wilderness, slipping in noiseless moccasins back into the narrow, mysterious trails of the red man, where bended twig and braided rush and scar of bark held messages for her! then came the time when the river and the forest were lost to her. the princess of the wilderness had become the wonder of a day at the court of king james. almost mockingly comes up the old portrait of her, painted in london when she had "become very formall and civill after our english manner." the rigid figure caparisoned in the white woman's furbelows; the stiff, heavy hat upon the black hair; the set face, and the sad dark eyes--a dusky woodland creature choked in the ruff of queen bess. when varina was left behind, we fell to berating the tortuous river again. of course we did not think for a moment that the troublesome curlicues we were finding had always been there. when the river was the old, savage powhatan, we may be sure it never stooped in its dignity of flow to such frivolity. these kinks were silly artificialities that came when the noble old barbarian was civilized and named in honour of a vain and frivolous foreign king. now, just ahead of us, was the most foolish frizzle of all. it was a loop five miles around, and yet with the ends so close together that a boy could throw a stone across the strip of land between. at a very early day, sensible folk lost patience and sought, by digging a canal across the narrow neck, to cut this offensive curl off altogether. some dutchmen among the colonists were the first to try this (and dutchmen understand waterway barbering better than anybody else); but they were unsuccessful. their efforts seem to have resulted only in giving the place the name of dutch gap. many years ago, the united states government took up the work and, in 1872, the five-mile curl was effectually cut off by the dutch gap canal. a good deal of interesting history is associated with this loop of the james. here, but four years after the coming of those first colonists, the town of henrico or henricopolis was founded. the place made a somewhat pretentious beginning and was doubtless intended to supersede james towne as the capital of the colony. steps were taken to establish a college here. if they had been successful, harvard college could not lay claim to one of its present honours, that of being the earliest college in america. but the indian massacre of 1622 caused the abandonment of the college project and of henricopolis too. we passed into the canal, which was so short that we were scarcely into it before we were out again and headed on up the river. the banks of the stream grew higher and bolder, and we were soon running much of the time between bluffs with trees hanging over. on some of the bald cliffs buzzards gathered to sun themselves; and they lay motionless even as we passed, their wings spread to the full in the fine sunshine. it was almost the sunshine of summer-time. in its glow we could scarcely credit our own recollections of some wintry bits of houseboating; and as to that story in our note-books about our being ice-bound in eppes creek, it was too much to ask ourselves to believe a word of it. [illustration: dutch gap canal.] in colonial times there were a number of fine homes along this part of the james, but most of them have long since disappeared. just after passing falling creek we came upon one colonial mansion yet standing. it belonged in those old times to the randolphs, and is best known perhaps as the home of the colonial belle, mistress anne randolph. among the beaux of the stirring days just before the revolution, she was a reigning toast under the popular name of "nancy wilton." the second benjamin harrison of brandon was among her wooers; and it is to his courtship that thomas jefferson refers when expressing, in one of his letters, the hope that his old college roommate may have luck at wilton. he did have. and we remembered the sweet-faced portrait at brandon of "nancy wilton" harrison. [illustration: falling creek.] soon, our course was along a narrow channel saw-toothed with jetties on either hand. the signs of life upon the river told that we were nearing richmond. we passed some work-boats, tugs, dredges, and such craft, and everybody whistled. over the top of a rise of land that marked the next bend of the river, we saw an ugly dark cloud. it had been long since we had seen a cloud like that; but there is no mistaking the black hat of a city. so, there was richmond seated beside the falls in the james--those water-bars that the river would not let down for any ship to pass; there was where our journey would end. to be sure, long years ago, the pale-faces outwitted the old tawny powhatan by building a canal around its barriers. their ships climbed great steps that they called locks; and, passing around the falls and rapids, went up and on their way far toward the mountains. but the river knew the ways of the white man, and kept its water-bars up and waited. after a while the pale-faces took to a new way of getting themselves and their belongings over the country; they went rolling about on rails instead of floating on the water; and before long, they almost forgot the old waterways. nature waited a while and then took their abandoned canals to grow rushes and water-lilies; and she covered the tow-paths with green and put tangles of undergrowth along; and then she gave it all to the birds and the frogs and the turtles. so, it came to pass that river barriers counted once more--that the barrier across our river counted once more. we did not know whether the canal ahead of us was wholly abandoned; but we did know that it was so obstructed as to no longer furnish a way of getting a vessel above the falls. the powhatan was master again; and a little way beyond that next bend it would bar the progress of gadabout just as, three centuries earlier, it had barred the progress of the exploring boats that the first settlers sent up from james towne. well, it was high time anyway for our journey to end. we had been several months upon the river--several months in travelling one hundred miles! one can not always go lazing on, even in a houseboat; even upon an ancient waterway leading through colonial-land. the old river may carry you to the beginning-place of your country; it may bear you on to the doors of famous colonial homes, full of old-time charm and traditional courtesy. but if so, then all the more need for falls and rapids to put a reasonable end to your houseboat voyage. we came about the bend in the stream and, at sight of the city before us, were reminded of the keen prevision of its colonial founder. when colonel william byrd, that sagacious exquisite of westover, came up the river one day in 1733 to this part of his almost boundless estate, and laid the foundations of richmond here in the wilderness beside the falls of the james, he foresaw that he was founding a great city. a "city in the air" he called it, and his dream came true. its realization in steeples and spires and chimneys and roof-lines opened before us now upon the slopes and the summits of the river hills. soon we were skirting the city's water front. we passed piers and factories and many boats. we went from the pure air of the open river into the tainted breath of the town. among many odours there came to be chiefly one--that of tobacco from the great factories. and that brought to mind a strange fact. in all our journey up the river, we had not seen a leaf of tobacco nor had we seen a place where it was grown. tobacco, upon which civilization along the james had been built; that had once covered with its broad leaves almost every cultivated acre along the stream; that had made the greatness of every plantation home we had visited--and now unknown among the products of the fertile river banks! at last gadabout was at the foot of the falls and rapids. like those first exploring colonists we found that here "the water falleth so rudely, and with such a violence, as not any boat can possibly passe." [illustration: the voyage ended. gadabout in winter quarters.] of course there was a temptation to do with our boat as the colonists once proposed to do with theirs--take her to pieces and then put her together again above the falls, and so sail on up the old waterway to the south sea and to the indies. but the exploring spirit of the race is not what it used to be, and we simply ran gadabout into a slip beside the disused canal and stopped. an anchor went plump into the water, making a wave-circle that spread and spread till it filled the whole basin--a great round water-period to end our river story. the end. index adams alexander, elizabeth appomattox river, the association for the preservation of virginia antiquities, the back river, the bacon, nathaniel barney, mrs. edward e., owner of jamestown island berkeley, lady frances berkeley, sir william berkeley (the estate) home of elder branch of harrison family ancestral home of a signer of the declaration of independence, and of two presidents of the united states plantation in 1776 bermuda hundred, village founded four years after settlement of james towne brandon history of riverward entrance to grounds the "woods-way" to the mansion "the quarters" the landward entrance type of architecture characteristic hospitality interior of mansion colonial portraits the old garden present day family at brandon the bedrooms colonial silver ancient records an old court gown the family burying-ground the garrison house bransford, mrs. h.w., of the carter family of shirley, and one of the present owners of the plantation, living in the manor-house buck, reverend richard byrd, evelyn, portrait and romance of her room at westover tomb of byrd, lucy parke, wife of william byrd of westover byrd, william, the second, of westover portrait at brandon about 1726 built present mansion at westover death tomb of ability of this colonial grandee founded the city of richmond carter, anne hill, of shirley, wife of "light horse harry" lee and mother of general robert e. lee carter, charles, portrait at shirley carter, elizabeth hill, of shirley, daughter of the third edward hill, and wife of john carter of corotoman portrait at shirley carter family acquire corotoman reach greatest prominence in days of "king" carter cousins to all the rest of virginia carter, john, son of "king" carter of corotoman, was secretary of the colony married elizabeth hill of shirley in 1723 portrait at shirley carter, robert, of corotoman on the rappahannock, one of the wealthiest and most influential colonials his possessions called "king" carter portrait at shirley carter, robert randolph, of shirley carter, mrs. robert randolph, of shirley carter, miss susy chickahominy river, the chippoak creek chuckatuck creek city point claremont colonial river trade constant, sarah cornick, reverend john, rector of westover church corotoman, carter family acquire cotton, mrs. an. court house creek curie's neck cuyler, randolph cuyler, mrs. randolph, of brandon dale, sir thomas dancing point delaware, lord ownership of shirley discovery, ship douthat family of weyanoke douthat, fielding lewis douthat, mrs. mary willis marshall, granddaughter of chief-justice marshall, and present mistress of weyanoke dutch gap canal eppes creek eppes family, home at city point faffing creek fleur de hundred ford, paul leicester fort powhatan "friggett landing" goodspeed, ship gordon family of aberdeenshire gordon, william washington grant, u.s., grant's army crossed the james hampton roads harrison, mrs. anne, of berkeley harrison, miss belle, of brandon in court gown of her colonial aunt, evelyn byrd harrison, benjamin, the emigrant harrison, benjamin, of berkeley, treasurer of the colony harrison, major benjamin, of berkeley, member of the house of burgesses harrison, benjamin, of berkeley, member of the continental congress and signer of the declaration of independence harrison, benjamin, of brandon, member of the council harrison, colonel benjamin, of brandon, portrait by peale harrison, mrs. benjamin. see mistress anne randolph of wilton harrison, benjamin, grandson of william henry harrison of berkeley, and twenty-third president of the united states harrison, george evelyn, of brandon harrison, mrs. george evelyn, present mistress of brandon harrison, nathaniel, of brandon harrison, william henry, of berkeley, ninth president of our country harvard college harwood, joseph henrico or henricopolis, founded four years after james towne site of proposed college which would have been oldest in america henry, patrick herring creek hill family acquire shirley hill, edward, the second, built present mansion at shirley about the middle of the seventeenth century his portrait at shirley hill, mrs. edward, portrait of, at shirley hollingshorst, elizabeth gordon hollingshorst, thomas indian massacre of 1622 caused abandonment of henrico irving, washington james river, the width depth historical importance colonial life upon colonial water life grant's army crossed colonial river trade sturgeon in buoy-tender on narrow and crooked from shirley to richmond site of richmond on the falls of the. james towne settlement of development, decline, and abandonment of captain edward ross the typical village streets buildings "alehouses" abandonment of re-settlement final abandonment ancient site not lost unearthing the buried ruins jamestown island settlement of appearance the way across isthmus width of battle upon church churchyard mysterious tomb confederate fort historic sites where pocahontas and john rolfe were married coining of "the maids" beginnings of american self-government the colonists' first landing-place the colonists' first fort the colonists' first village the story of the "starving time" the "lone cypress" jefferson, thomas kittewan creek kittewan house kneller, sir godfrey lee, general robert e. lee, miss mary lee, "light horse harry," married at shirley lee, mrs. henry. see anne hill carter of shirley lewis family madison, james marshall, chief-justice john marshall, john, son of chief-justice marshall marshall, mary willis, wife of chief-justice marshall martin, captain john meadowville merchants' hope church mitchell, dr. s. weir mordaunt, charles monroe, james newport news oliver, commander james h., u.s.n. oliver, mrs. james h., of the carter family, and one of the present owners of shirley opachisco opechancanough, indian chief parke, colonel daniel peale, charles wilson his portrait of washington at shirley peterborough, lord petersburg, march upon piersey, captain abraham, ownership of fleur de hundred pocahontas marriage to john rolfe after marriage lived at varina pope, alexander powell's creek powhatan, indian chief, not at wedding of pocahontas "pyping point" ramsay, mrs. c. sears, present owner of westover ramsay, elizabeth ramsay family at westover randolph, mistress anne, of wilton pre-revolutionary belle, married the second benjamin harrison of brandon her portrait at brandon richmond, at the falls of the james founded by william byrd of westover in 1733 rolfe, john marriage to pocahontas after marriage lived at varina shirley, colonial seat of the hills and of the carters right way to go to great seventeenth-century american plantation early owners of the exterior of the mansion and the ancient messuage the oldest homestead on the river and one of the oldest in the country the present owners the colonial "great hall" interior of mansion ghosts colonial portraits kitchen and cook-room colonial furnishings copied in restoration of the mt. vernon kitchen colonial silverware romance of "light horse harry" lee and anne hill carter peale's portrait of washington old-time shirley silverware, colonial, family silver at brandon communion service of martin's brandon church at brandon at shirley smith, captain john stratford, the ancestral home of the lees stuart, gilbert thomas, colonial house of varina, site of early home of john rolfe and pocahontas virginia society, type of war of 1812, fort built in washington, george portrait of, by peale, at shirley water supply of james towne colonists westover became property of the byrds present mansion built its colonial importance, and its successive owners riverward front interior of mansion romantic centre of present owner and family landward front, courtyard, and noted entrance gates garden and sun-dial, and tomb of william byrd mysterious subterranean chambers recent restoration of old survey of plantation graveyard westover church one of earliest churches in the country weyanoke two plantations houses of an indian name upper lower present day family at oldest building at postoffice at williamsburg whittaker, reverend alexander willcox, john v., ownership of fleur de hundred wilton, home of mistress anne randolph windmill point first windmill in america wowinchopunk yeardley, sir george, tomb of ownership of weyanoke ownership of fleur de hundred built first windmill in america yonge, samuel h. "see america first" series each in one volume, decorative cover, profusely illustrated california, romantic and beautiful by george wharton james $6.00 new mexico: the land of the delight makers by george wharton james $6.00 three wonderlands of the american west by thomas d. murphy $6.00 a wonderland of the east: the mountain and lake region of new england and eastern new york by william copeman kitchin, ph.d. $6.00 on sunset highways (california) by thomas d. murphy $6.00 texas, the marvellous by nevin o. winter $6.00 arizona, the wonderland by george wharton james $6.00 colorado: the queen jewel of the rockies by mae lacy baggs $6.00 oregon, the picturesque by thomas d. murphy $6.00 florida, the land of enchantment by nevin o. winter $6.00 sunset canada (british columbia and beyond) by archie bell $6.00 alaska, our beautiful northland of opportunity by agnes rush burr $6.00 virginia: the old dominion. as seen from its colonial waterway, the historic river james by frank and cortelle hutchins $5.00 a number of additional volumes are in preparation, including maine, utah, georgia, the great lakes, louisiana, etc., and the "see america first" series will eventually include the whole of the north american continent. dorothy on a house-boat _by_ evelyn raymond illustrated new york the platte & peck co. the dorothy books by evelyn raymond these stories of an american girl by an american author have made "dorothy" a household synonym for all that is fascinating. truth and realism are stamped on every page. the interest never flags, and is ofttimes intense. no more happy choice can be made for gift books, so sure are they to win approval and please not only the young in years, but also "grown-ups" who are young in heart and spirit. dorothy dorothy at skyrie dorothy's schooling dorothy's travels dorothy's house party dorothy in california dorothy on a ranch dorothy's house boat dorothy at oak knowe dorothy's triumph dorothy's tour _illustrated, 12mo, cloth price per volume, 50 cents_ copyright, 1909, by the platt & peck co. [illustration: "ephraim, did you ever live in a house-boat?"--p 15 _dorothy's house-boat_] foreword. those who have followed the story of dorothy calvert's life thus far will remember that it has been full of interest and many adventures--pleasant and otherwise. beginning as a foundling left upon the steps of a little house in brown street, baltimore, she was adopted by its childless owners, a letter-carrier and his wife. when his health failed she removed with them to the highlands of the hudson. there followed her "schooling" at a fashionable academy; her vacation "travels" in beautiful nova scotia; her "house party" at the home of her newly discovered great aunt, mrs. betty calvert; their winter together "in california"; a wonderful summer "on a ranch" in colorado; and now the early autumn has found the old lady and the girl once more in the ancestral home of the calverts. enjoying their morning's mail in the pleasant library of old bellvieu, they are both astonished by the contents of one letter which offers for dorothy's acceptance the magnificent gift of a "house-boat." what follows the receipt of this letter is now to be told. contents chapter page foreword 9 i. a big gift for a small maid 11 ii. invitations to a cruise of loving kindness 25 iii. the difficulties of getting under way 44 iv. matters are settled 62 v. the storm and what followed 76 vi. a mule and melon transaction 92 vii. visitors 105 viii. the colonel's revelation 121 ix. fish and monkeys 138 x. a mere anne arundel gust 154 xi. a morning call of monkeys 165 xii. under the persimmon tree 180 xiii. what lay under the walking fern 195 xiv. the redemption of a promise 213 xv. in the heart of an ancient wood 229 xvi. when the monkeys' cage was cleaned 243 xvii. conclusion 254 chapter i a big gift for a small maid. "well, of all things!" exclaimed mrs. betty calvert, shaking her white head and tossing her hands in a gesture of amazement. then, as the letter she had held fell to the floor, her dark eyes twinkled with amusement and she smilingly demanded: "dorothy, do you want an elephant?" the girl had been reading her own letters, just come in the morning's mail, but she paused to stare at her great-aunt and to ask in turn: "aunt betty, what do you mean?" "because if you do here's the chance of your life to get one!" answered the old lady, motioning toward the fallen letter. dolly understood that she was to pick it up and read it, and, having done so, remarked: "auntie dear, this doesn't say anything about an elephant, as i can see." "amounts to the same thing. the idea of a house-boat as a gift to a girl like you! my cousin seth winters must be getting into his dotage! of course, girlie, i don't mean that fully, but isn't it a queer notion? what in the world can you, could you, do with a house-boat?" "live in it, sail in it, have the jolliest time in it! why not, auntie, darling?" dorothy's face was shining with eagerness and she ran to clasp mrs. calvert with coaxing arms. "why not, indeed, aunt betty? you've been shut up in this hot city all summer long; you haven't had a bit of an outing, anywhere; it would do you lots of good to go sailing about on the river or bay; and--and--do say 'yes,' please, to dear mr. seth's offer! oh! do!" the old lady kissed the uplifted face, merrily exclaiming: "don't pretend it's for my benefit, little wheedler! the idea of such a thing is preposterous--simply preposterous! run away and write the silly man that we've no use for house-boats, but if he does happen to have an elephant on hand, a white elephant, we might consider accepting it as a gift! we could have it kept at the park zoo, maybe, and some city youngsters might like that." dorothy's face clouded. she had become accustomed to receiving rich gifts, during her summer on a ranch, as the guest of the wealthy fords, and now to have a house-boat offered her was only one more of the wonderful things life brought to her. going back to her seat beside the open window she pushed her own letters aside, for the moment, to re-read that of her old teacher and guardian, during her life on the mountain by the hudson. she had always believed mr. winters to be the wisest of men, justly entitled to his nickname of the "learned blacksmith." he wasn't one to do anything without a good reason and, of course, aunt betty's remarks about him had been only in jest. that both of them understood; and dorothy now searched for the reason of this surprising gift. this was the letter: "dear cousin betty: "mr. blank has failed in business, just as you warned me he would, and all i can recover of the money i loaned him is what is tied up in a house-boat, one of his many extravagances--though, in this case, not a great one. "of course, i have no use for such a floating structure on top of a mountain and i want to give it to our little dorothy. as she has now become a shareholder in a mine with a small income of her own, she can afford to accept the boat and i know she will enjoy it. i have forwarded the deed of gift to my lawyers in your town and trust your own tangled business affairs are coming out right in the end. all well at deerhurst. jim barlow came down to say that dr. sterling is going abroad for a few months and that the manse will be closed. i wish the boy were ready for college, but he isn't. also, that he wasn't too proud to accept any help from mr. ford--but he is. he says the discovery of that mine on that gentleman's property was an 'accident' on his own part, and he 'won't yet awhile.' he wants 'to earn his own way through the world' and, from present appearances, i think he'll have a chance to try. he's on the lookout now for another job." there followed a few more sentences about affairs in the highland village where the writer lived, but not a doubt was expressed as to the fitness of his extraordinary gift to a little girl, nor of its acceptance by her. indeed, it was a puzzled, disappointed face which was now raised from the letter and an appealing glance that was cast upon the old lady in the chair by the desk. meanwhile aunt betty had been doing some thinking of her own. she loved novelty with all the zest of a girl and she was fond of the water. mr. winters's offer began to seem less absurd. finally, she remarked: "well, dear, you may leave the writing of that note for a time. i'm obliged to go down town on business, this morning, and after my errands are done we will drive to that out-of-the-way place where this house-boat is moored and take a look at it. are all those letters from your summer-friends? for a small person you have established a big correspondence, but, of course, it won't last long. now run and tell ephraim to get up the carriage. i'll be ready in twenty minutes." dorothy hastily piled her notes on the wide window-ledge and skipped from the room, clapping her hands and singing as she went. to her mind mrs. calvert's consent to visit the house-boat was almost proof that it would be accepted. if it were--ah! glorious! "ephraim, did you ever live in a house-boat?" she demanded, bursting in upon the old colored coachman, engaged in his daily task of "shinin' up de harness." he glanced at her over his "specs," then as hastily removed them and stuffed them into his pocket. it was his boast that he could see as "well as evah" and needed no such aids to his sight. he hated to grow old and those whom he served so faithfully rarely referred to the fact. so dorothy ignored the "specs," though she couldn't help smiling to see one end of their steel frame sticking out from the pocket, while she repeated to his astonished ears her question. "evah lib in a house-boat? evah kiss a cat's lef' hind foot? nebah heered o' no such contraption. wheah's it at--dat t'ing?" "away down at some one of the wharves and we're going to see it right away. oh! i forget. aunt betty wants the carriage at the door in twenty minutes. in fifteen, now, i guess because 'time flies' fairly away from me. but, ephy, dear, try to put your mind to the fact that likely, i guess, maybe, you and i and everybody will go and live on the loveliest boat, night and day, and every day go sailing--sailing--sailing--on pretty rivers, between green banks and heaps of flowers, and----" ephraim rose from his stool and waved her away. "gwan erlong wid yo' foolishness honey gell! yo' dreamin', an' my miss betty ain' gwine done erlow no such notionses. my miss betty done got sense, she hab, bress her! she ain' gwine hab not'in' so scan'lous in yo' raisin' as dat yeah boat talk. gwan an' hunt yo' bunnit, if you-all 'spects to ride in ouah bawoosh." dorothy always exploded in a gale of laughter to hear ephraim's efforts to pronounce "barouche," as he liked to call the old carriage; and she now swept a mocking curtsey to his pompous dismissal, as she hurried away to put on her "bunnit" and coat. to ephraim, any sort of feminine headgear was simply a "bunnit" and every wrap was a "shawl." soon the fat horses drew the glistening carriage through the gateway of bellvieu, the fine old residence of the calverts, and down through the narrow, crowded streets of the business part of old baltimore. to loyal mrs. betty, who had passed the greater part of her long life in the southern city, it was very dear and even beautiful; but to dorothy's young eyes it seemed, on that early autumn day, very "smelly" and almost squalid. her mind still dwelt upon visions of sunny rivers and green fields, and she was too anxious for her aunt's acceptance of mr. winters's gift to keep still. fidgetting from side to side of the carriage seat, where she had been left to wait, the impatient girl felt that aunt betty's errands were endless. even the fat horses, used to standing quietly on the street, grew restless during a long delay at the law offices of kidder and kidder, mrs. calvert's men of business. this, the lady had said, would be the last stop by the way; and when she at length emerged from the building, she moved as if but half conscious of what she was doing. her face was troubled and looked far older than when she had left the carriage; and, with sudden sympathy and pity, dorothy's mood changed. "aunt betty, aren't you well? let's go straight home, then, and not bother about that boat." mrs. calvert smiled and bravely put her own worries behind her. "thank you, dear, for your consideration, but 'the last's the best of all the game,' as you children say. i've begun to believe that this boat errand of ours may prove so. ephraim, drive to halcyon point." if his mistress had bidden him drive straight into the chesapeake, the old coachman would have attempted to obey; but he could not refrain from one glance of dismay as he received this order. he wouldn't have risked his own respectability by a visit to such a "low down, ornery" resort, alone; but if miss betty chose to go there it was all right. her wish was "sutney cur'us" but being hers not to be denied. and now, indeed, did dorothy find the city with its heat a "smelly" place, but a most interesting one as well. the route lay through the narrowest of streets, where tumble-down old houses swarmed with strange looking people. to her it all seemed like some foreign country, with its hebrew signs on the walls, its bearded men of many nations, and its untidy women leaning from the narrow windows, scolding the dirty children in the gutters beneath. but after a time, the lane-like streets gave place to wider ones, the air grew purer, and soon a breath from the salt water beyond refreshed them all. almost at once, it seemed, they had arrived; and dorothy eagerly sought to tell which of the various craft clustered about the point was her coveted house-boat. the carriage drew up beside a little office on the pier and a man came out. he courteously assisted aunt betty to descend, while he promptly pointed out a rather squat, but pretty, boat which he informed her was the "water lily," lately the property of mr. blank, but now consigned to one mr. seth winters, of new york, to be held at the commands of miss dorothy calvert. "a friend of yours, madam?" he inquired, concluding that this stately old lady could not be the "miss" in question and wholly forgetting that the little maid beside her might possibly be such. aunt betty laid her hand on dolly's shoulder and answered: "this is miss dorothy calvert and the 'water lily' is a gift from mr. winters to her. can we go on board and inspect?" the gentleman pursed his lips to whistle, he was so surprised, but instead exclaimed: "what a lucky girl! the 'water lily' is the most complete craft of its kind i ever saw. mr. blank spared no trouble nor expense in fitting her up for a summer home for his family. she is yacht-shaped and smooth-motioned; and even her tender is better than most house-boats in this country. blank must be a fanciful man, for he named the tender 'the pad,' meaning leaf, i suppose, and the row-boat belonging is 'the stem.' odd, isn't it, madam?" "rather; but will just suit this romantic girl, here," she replied; almost as keen pleasure now lighting her face as was shining from dorothy's. at her aunt's words she caught the lady's hand and kissed it rapturously, exclaiming: "then you do mean to let me accept it, you precious, darling dear! you do, you do!" they all laughed, even ephraim, who was close at his lady's heels, acting the stout body-guard who would permit nothing to harm her in this strange place. the water lily lay lower in the water than the dock and mrs. calvert was carefully helped down the gang plank to its deck. another plank rested upon the top of the cabin, or main room of the house-boat, and dorothy sped across this and hurried down the steep little winding stair, leading from it to the lower deck, to join in her aunt's inspection of the novel "ship." delighted astonishment hushed for the time her nimble tongue. then her exclamations burst forth: "it's so big!" "about one hundred feet long, all told, and eighteen wide;" the wharf master explained. "it's all furnished, just like a really, truly house!" "indeed, yes; with every needful comfort but not one superfluous article. see this, please. the way the 'bedrooms' are shut off;" continued the gentleman, showing how the three feet wide window-seats were converted into sleeping quarters. heavy sail cloth had been shaped into partitions, and these fastened to ceiling and side wall separated the cots into cosy little staterooms. extra seats, pulled from under the first ones, furnished additional cots, if needed. the walls of the saloon had been sunk below the deck line, giving ample head room, and the forward part was of solid glass, while numerous side-windows afforded fine views in every direction. the roof of this large room could be covered by awnings and became a charming promenade deck. even aunt betty became speechless with pleasure as she wandered over the beautiful boat, examining every detail, from the steam-heating arrangements to the tiny "kitchen," which was upon the "tender" behind. "i thought the tug, or towing boat was always in front," she remarked at length. "mr. blank found this the best arrangement. the 'pad' has a steam engine and its prow fastened to the stern of the lily propels it ahead. none of the smoke comes into the lily and that, too, was why the galley, or kitchen, was built on the smaller boat. a little bridge is slung between the two for foot passage and--well, madam, i can't stop admiring the whole affair. it shows what a man's brain can do in the way of invention, when his heart is in it, too. i fancy that parting with his water lily was about the hardest trial poor old blank had to bear." silence fell on them all and dorothy's face grew very sober. it was a wonderful thing that this great gift should come to her but it grieved her to know it had so come by means of another's misfortune. aunt betty, too, grew more serious and she asked the practical question: "is it a very expensive thing to run? say for about three months?" the official shrugged his shoulders, replying: "that depends on what one considers expensive. it would smash my pocket-book to flinders. the greatest cost would be the engineer's salary. one might take the job for three dollars a day and keep. he might--i don't know. then the coal, the power for the electric lights--the lots of little things that crop up to eat up cash as if it were good bread and butter. ah! yes. it's a lovely toy--for those who can afford it. i only wish i could!" the man's remarks ended in a sigh and he looked at dorothy as if he envied her. his expression hurt her, somehow, and she turned away her eyes, asking a practical question of her own: "would three hundred dollars do it?" "yes--for a time, at least. but----" he broke off abruptly and helped aunt betty to ascend the plank to the wharf, while dorothy followed, soberly, and ephraim with all the pomposity he could assume. there methuselah bonaparte washington, the small colored boy who had always lived at bellvieu and now served as mrs. betty's page as well as footman, descended from his perch and untied the horses from the place where careful ephraim had fastened them. his air was a perfect imitation of the old man's and sat so funnily upon his small person that the wharf master chuckled and dorothy laughed outright. "metty," as he was commonly called, disdained to see the mirth he caused but climbed to his seat behind, folded his arms as well as he could for his too big livery, and became as rigid as a statue--or as all well-conducted footmen should be. then good-byes were exchanged, after the good old maryland fashion and the carriage rolled away. as it vanished from view the man left behind sighed again and clenched his fists, muttering: "this horrible, uneven world! why should one child have so much and my elsa--nothing! elsa, my poor, unhappy child!" then he went about his duties and tried to forget dorothy's beauty, perfect health, and apparent wealth. for some time neither mrs. calvert nor dorothy spoke; then the girl said: "aunt betty, jim barlow could tend that engine. and he's out of a place. maybe----" "yes, dear, i've been thinking of him, too. somehow none of our plans seem quite perfect without good, faithful james sharing them." "and that poor mr. blank----" "a very dishonest scoundrel, my child, according to all accounts. don't waste pity on him." "but his folks mayn't be scoundrels. he loved them, too, same as we love or he wouldn't have built such a lovely water lily. auntie, that boat would hold a lot of people, wouldn't it?" "i suppose so," answered the lady, absently. "when we go house-boating may i invite anybody i choose to go with us?" "i haven't said yet that we would go!" "but you've looked it and that's better." just then an automobile whizzed by and the horses pretended to be afraid. mrs. calvert was frightened and leaned forward anxiously till ephraim had brought them down to quietness again. then she settled back against her cushions and became once more absorbed in her own sombre thoughts. she scarcely heard and wholly failed to understand dorothy's repeated question: "may i, dear aunt betty?" she answered carelessly: "why, yes, child. you may do what you like with your own." but that consent, so rashly given, was to bring some strange adventures in its train. chapter ii invitations to a cruise of loving kindness. "huh! dolly's caught the ford fashion of sending telegrams where a letter would do!" exclaimed jim barlow, after he had opened the yellow envelope which griselda roemer gave him when he came in from work. he was back at deerhurst, living with old hans and griselda, the caretakers, and feeling more at home in his little room above the lodge doorway than anywhere else. he had come to do any sort of labor by which he might earn his keep, and to go on with his studies whenever he had leisure. mr. seth winters, the "learned blacksmith," and his faithful friend, would give him such help as was needed; and the lad had settled down in the prospect of a fine winter at his beloved books. after his long summer on the colorado mountains he felt rested and keener for knowledge than ever. now as he held the telegram in his hand his face clouded, so that griselda, watching, anxiously inquired: "is something wrong? is our good lady sick?" "it doesn't say so. it's from dorothy. she wants me to come to baltimore and help her fool away lots more time on a house-boat! i wish she'd mind her business!" the friendly german woman stared. she had grown to look upon her lodger, jim, very much as if he were her own son. he wasn't often so cross as this and never had been so against dorothy. "well, well! ah so! well!" with this brief comment she made haste to set the dinner on the table and to call hans from his own task of hoeing the driveway. presently he had washed his face and hands at the little sink in the kitchen, rubbed them into a fine glow with the spotless roller-towel, and was ready for the great meal of the day--his generous "dutch dinner." usually jim was as ready as hans to enjoy it; but, to-day, he left his food untasted on his plate while he stared gloomily out of the window, and for so long that griselda grew curious and went to see what might be happening without. "what seest thou, lad? is aught wrong beyond already?" "no. oh! come back to table, mrs. roemer. i'll tell you. i'd just got fixed, you know, to do a lot of hard work--both kinds. now comes this silly thing! i suppose mrs. calvert must have let dolly ask me else she wouldn't have done it. it seems some simpleton or other, likely as not that mr. ford----" "call no names, son!" warned hans, disposing of a great mouthful, to promptly reprimand the angry youth. hans was a man of peace. he hated nothing so much as ill temper. jim said no more, but his wrath cooling began to eat his dinner with a zeal that made up for lost time. having finished he went out saying: "i'll finish my job when i come back. i'm off now for the shop." he always spoke of the smithy under the great balm of gilead tree as if it began with a capital letter. the old man who called himself a "blacksmith"--and was, in fact, a good one--and dwelt in the place stood to eager james barlow as the type of everything good and great. he was sure, as he hurried along the road, that mr. seth would agree with him in regard to dorothy's telegram. "hello, jim! what's up? you look excited," was the blacksmith's greeting as the lad's shadow darkened the smithy entrance. "read that, will you, mr. winters?" the gentleman put on his "reading specs," adjusted the yellow slip of paper conveniently, and exclaimed: "good enough! mistress betty has allowed the darling to accept it then! first rate. well?" then he looked up inquiringly, surprised by the impatience of the boy's expression. "well--of course i sha'n't go. the idea of loafing for another two, three months is--ridiculous! and what fool would give such a thing as a house-boat to a chit of a girl like our dorothy?" mr. seth laughed and pointed to the settee. "sit down, chap, and cool off. the world is as full of fools as it is of wise men. which is which depends upon the point of view. i'm sorry to have you number me amongst the first; because i happen to be the stupid man who gave the 'water lily' and its belongings to little dorothy. i knew she'd make good use of it, if her aunt would let her accept the gift, and she flatters you, i think, by inviting you to come and engineer the craft. you'll go, of course." jim did sit down then, rather suddenly, while his face reddened with shame, remembering what he had just called the wise man before him. finally, he faltered: "i know next to nothing about a steam engine." "i thought you had a good idea of the matter. not as a trained expert, of course, but enough to manage a simple affair like the one in question. dr. sterling told me that you were often pottering about the machine shops in newburgh and had picked up some good notions about steam and its force. he thought you might, eventually, turn your attention to such a line of work. from the beginning i had you in mind as helping dolly to carry out her pleasant autumn plans." "i'd likely enough blow up the whole concern--through dumb ignorance. and--and--i was going to study double hard. i do want to get to college next year!" "this trip will help you. i wish i could take it myself, though i couldn't manage even a tiny engine. besides, lad, as i understand, the 'water lily' doesn't wholly depend upon steam for her 'power.' she--but you'll find out in two minutes of inspection more than i can suggest in an hour. if you take the seven-thirty train to new york, to-morrow morning, you can reach baltimore by three in the afternoon, easily enough. 'james barlow. been given house-boat. you're engineer. be union station, three, wednesday.' signed: 'dorothy.'" this was the short dispatch which mr. winters now re-read, aloud, with the comment: "the child is learning to condense. she's got this message down to the regulation ten-words-for-a-quarter." then he crossed to the bookcase and began to select certain volumes from its shelves, while jim watched eagerly, almost hungrily. one after another, these were the beloved books whose contents he had hoped to master during the weeks to come. to see them now from the outside only was fresh disappointment and he rose to leave, saying: "well, if i must i must an' no bones about it. i wouldn't stir hand nor foot, 'cept it's mrs. calvert and----" "don't leave out dolly doodles, boy! she was your first friend among us all, and your first little teacher in the art of spelling. oh! i know. of course, such a boy as you would have learned, anyway, but 'praise the bridge that carries you safe over.' dorothy was the first 'bridge' between you and these volumes, in those far-back days when you both picked strawberries on miranda stott's truck-farm. there. i think these will be all you can do justice to before you come back. there's an old 'telescope' satchel of mine in the inner closet that will hold them nicely. fetch it and be off with you." "those--why, those are your own best beloved books! would you trust them with me away from home? will they be of any use on a house-boat?" "yes, yes, you 'doubting thomas.' now--how much money have you on hand?" "ten dollars. i'd saved it for a lexicon and some--some other things." "this bulky fellow is a lexicon i used in my youth; and since latin is a 'dead language' it's as much alive and as helpful now as ever. that book is my parting gift to you; and ten dollars is sufficient for your fare and a day's needs. good-bye." all the time he had been talking mr. winters had been deftly packing the calf-bound volumes in the shabby "telescope," and now strapped it securely. then he held out his hand with a cheerful smile lighting his fine face, and remarking: "when you see my dear ones just say everything good to them and say i said it. good-bye." jim hurried away lest his friend should see the moisture that suddenly filled his eyes. he "hated good-byes" and could never get used to partings. so he fairly ran over the road to the gates of deerhurst and worked off his troublesome emotion by hoeing every vestige of a weed from the broad driveways on its grounds. he toiled so swiftly and so well that old hans felt himself relieved of the task and quietly went to sleep in his chair by the lodge door. gradually, too, the house-boat idea began to interest him. he had but a vague notion of what such a craft was like and found himself thinking about it with considerable pleasure. so that when, at three o'clock the next afternoon, he stepped down from the train at union station he was his old, eager, good-natured self. "hello, doll!" "o jim! the three weeks since i saw you seems an age! isn't it just glorious? i'm so glad!" with that the impulsive girl threw her arms around the lad's neck and tip-toed upwards to reach his brown cheek with her lips. only to find her arms unclasped and herself set down with considerable energy. "quit that, girlie. makes me look like a fool!" "i should think it did. your face is as red--as red! aren't you glad to see me, again?" demanded miss dorothy, folding her arms and standing firmly before him. she looked so pretty, so bewitching, that some passers-by smiled, at which poor jim's face turned even a deeper crimson and he picked up his luggage to go forward with the crowd. "but aren't you glad, jim?" she again mischievously asked, playfully obstructing his progress. "oh! bother! course. but boys can be glad without such silly kissin'. i don't know what ails girls, anyway, likin' so to make a feller look ridic'lous." dorothy laughed and now marched along beside him, contenting herself by a clasp of his burdened arms. "jim, you're a dear. but you're cross. i can always tell when you're that by your 'relapsing into the vernacular,' as i read in aunt betty's book. never mind, jim, i'm in trouble!" "shucks! i'd never dream it!" they had climbed the iron stairway leading to the street above and were now waiting for a street-car to carry them to bellvieu. so jim set down his heavy telescope and light bag of clothing to rest his arms, while old ephraim approached from the rear. he had gone with his "li'l miss" to meet the newcomer but had kept out of sight until now. "howdy, marse jim. howdy." then he picked up the bag of books and shrugged his shoulders at its weight. setting it back on the sidewalk he raised his hand and beckoned small methuselah, half-hiding behind a pillar of the building. that youngster came tremblingly forward. he was attired in his livery, that he had been forbidden to wear when "off duty," or save when in attendance upon "miss betty." but having been so recently promoted to the glory of a uniform he appeared in it whenever possible. on this trip to the station he had lingered till his grandfather had already boarded the street-car and too late for him to be sent home to change. now he cowered before ephraim's frown and fear of what would happen when they two were alone together in the "harness room" of the old stable. on its walls reposed other whips than those used for mrs. calvert's horses. "yeah, chile. tote dem valeeshes home. doan' yo let no grass grow, nudder, whiles yo' doin' it. i'll tend to yo' case bimeby. i ain' gwine fo'get." then he put the little fellow aboard the first car that came by, hoisted the luggage after him, and had to join in the mirth the child's appearance afforded--with his scrawny body half-buried beneath the livery "made to grow in." jim was laughing, too, yet anxious over the disappearance of his books, and explained to dorothy: "that gray telescope's full of mr. seth's books. we better get the next car an' follow, else maybe he'll lose 'em." "he'll not dare. and we're not going home yet. we're going down to the water lily. oh! she's a beauty! and think that we can do just what we like with her! no, not that one! this is our car. it runs away down to the jumping-off place of the city and out to the wharves beyond. yes, of course, ephraim will go with us. that's why metty was brought along. to take your things home and to let aunt betty know you had come. o jim, i'm so worried!" he looked and laughed his surprise, but she shook her head, and when they were well on their way disclosed her perplexities, that were, indeed, real and serious enough. "jim barlow, aunt betty's got to give up bellvieu--and it's just killing her!" "dolly doodles--what you sayin'?" it sounded very pleasant to hear that old pet name again and proved that this was the same loving, faithful jim, even if he did hate kissing. but then he'd always done that. "i mean just what i say and i'm so glad to have you to talk it over with. i daren't say a word to her about it, of course, and i can't talk to the servants. they get just frantic. once i said something to dinah and she went into a fit, nearly. said she'd tear the house down stone by stone 'scusin' she'd let her 'li'l miss betty what was borned yeah be tu'ned outen it.' you see that dear auntie, in the goodness of her heart, has taken care of a lot of old women and old men, in a big house the family used to own down in the country. something or somebody has 'failed' whatever that means and most of aunt betty's money has failed too. if she sells bellvieu, as the 'city' has been urging her to do for ever so long, she'll have enough money left to still take care of her 'old folks' and keep up their home. if she doesn't--well there isn't enough to do everything. and, though she doesn't say a word of complaint, it's heart-breaking to see the way she goes around the house and grounds, laying her old white hand on this thing or that in such a loving way--as if she were saying good-bye to it! then, too, jim, did you know that poor mabel bruce has lost her father? he died very suddenly and her mother has been left real poor. mabel grieves dreadfully; so, of course, she must be one of our guests on the water lily. she won't cheer up aunt betty very well, but you must do that. she's very fond of _you_, jim, aunt betty is, and it's just splendid that you're free from dr. sterling now and can come to manage our boat. why, boy, what's the matter? why do you look so 'sollumcolic?' didn't you want to come? aren't you glad that 'uncle seth' gave me the 'water lily'?" "no. i didn't want to come. and if mrs. betty's so poor, what you doing with a house-boat, anyway?" promptly, they fell into such a heated argument that ephraim felt obliged to interfere and remind his "li'l miss" that she was in a public conveyance and must be more "succumspec' in yo' behavesomeness." but she gaily returned that they were now the only passengers left in the car and she must make stupid jim understand--everything. finally, she succeeded so far that he knew the facts: how and why the house-boat had become dorothy's property; that she had three hundred dollars in money, all her own; and that, instead of putting it in the bank as she had expected, she was going to use it to sail the water lily and give some unhappy people a real good time; that jim was expected to work without wages and must manage the craft for pure love of the folks who sailed in it; that aunt betty had said dorothy might invite whom she chose to be her guests; and that, first and foremost, mrs. calvert herself must be made perfectly happy and comfortable. "here we are! there she is! that pretty thing all white and gold, with the white flag flying her own sweet name--water lily! doesn't she look exactly like one? wasn't it a pretty notion to paint the tender green like a real lily 'pad?' and that cute little row-boat a reddish brown, like an actual 'stem?' aren't you glad you came? aren't we going to be gloriously happy? does it seem it can be true that it's really, truly ours?" demanded dorothy, skipping along the pier beside the soberer jim. but his face brightened as he drew nearer the beautiful boat and a great pride thrilled him that he was to be in practical charge of her. "skipper jim, the water lily. water lily, let me introduce you to your commodore!" cried dorothy, as they reached the gang-plank and were about to go aboard. then her expression changed to one of astonishment. somebody--several somebodies, indeed--had presumed to take possession of the house-boat and were evidently having "afternoon tea" in the main saloon. the wharf master came out of his office and hastily joined the newcomers. he was evidently annoyed and hastened to explain: "son and daughter of mr. blank with some of their friends. come down here while i was off duty and told my helper they had a right to do that. he didn't look for you to come, to-day, and anyway, he'd hardly have stopped them. sorry. ah! elsa! afraid to stay alone back there?" a girl, about dorothy's age, had followed the master and now slipped her hand about his arm. she was very thin and sallow, with eyes that seemed too large for her face, and walked with a painful limp. there was an expression of great timidity on her countenance, so that she shrank half behind her father, though he patted her hand to reassure her and explained to dorothy: "this is my own motherless little girl. she's not very strong and rather nervous. i brought her down here this afternoon to show her your boat, but we haven't been aboard. those people--they had no right--i regret--" dolly, vexatious with the "interlopers," as she considered the party aboard the water lily, gave place to a sudden, keen liking for the fragile elsa. she looked as if she had never had a good time in her life and the more fortunate girl instantly resolved to give her one. taking elsa's other hand in both of hers, she exclaimed: "come along with jim and me and pick out the little stateroom you'll have for your own when we start on our cruise--next monday morning! you'll be my guest, won't you? the first one invited." elsa's large eyes were lifted in amazed delight; then as quickly dropped, while a fit of violent trembling shook her slight frame. she was so agitated that her equally astonished father put his arm about her to support her, and the look he gave dorothy was very keen as he said: "elsa has always lived alone. she isn't used to the jests of other girls, miss calvert." "isn't she? but i wasn't jesting. my aunt has given me permission to choose my own guests and i choose elsa, first, if she will come. will you, dear?" and again dolly gave the hand she held an affectionate squeeze. "come and help us make our little cruise a perfectly delightful one." once more the great, dark eyes looked into dorothy's brown ones and elsa answered softly: "ye-es, i'll come. if--if you begin like this--with a poor girl like me--it should be called 'the cruise of loving kindness.' i guess--i know--god sent you." neither dorothy nor jim could find anything to say. it was evident that this stranger was different from any of their old companions, and it scarcely needed the father's explanation to convince them that "elsa is a deeply religious dreamer." jim hoped that she wouldn't prove a "wet blanket" and was provoked with dorothy's impulsive invitation; deciding to warn her against any more such as soon as he could get her alone. already the lad was feeling as if he, too, were proprietor of this wonderful water lily, and carried himself with a masterful air which made dolly smile, as he now stepped across the little deck into the main cabin. it was funny, too, to see the "how-dare-you" sort of expression with which he regarded the "impudent" company of youngsters that filled the place, and he was again annoyed by the graciousness with which "doll" advanced to meet them. in her place--hello! what was that she was saying? "very happy to meet you, miss blank--if i am right in the name." a tall girl, somewhat resembling helena montaigne, though with less refinement of appearance, had risen as dorothy moved forward and stood defiantly awaiting what might happen. her face turned as pink as her rose-trimmed hat but she still retained her haughty pose, as she stiffly returned: "quite right. i'm aurora blank. these are my friends. that's my brother. my father owns--i mean--he ought--we came down for a farewell lark. we'd all expected to cruise in her all autumn till--. have a cup of tea, miss--calvert, is it?" "yes, i'm dorothy. this is elsa carruthers and this--james barlow. you seem to be having a lovely time and we won't disturb you. we're going to inspect the tender. ephraim, please help elsa across when we come to the plank." the silence which followed proved that the company of merrymakers was duly impressed by dolly's treatment of their intrusion. also, the dignity with which the old colored man followed and obeyed his small mistress convinced these other southerners that his "family" was "quality." dorothy's simple suit, worn with her own unconscious "style," seemed to make the gayer costumes of the blank party look tawdry and loud; while the eager spirituality of elsa's face became a silent reproof to their boisterous fun, which ceased before it. only one member of the tea-party joined the later visitors. this was the foppish youth whom aurora had designated as "my brother." though ill at ease he forced himself to follow and accost dorothy with the excuse: "beg pardon, miss calvert, but we owe you an apology. we had no business down here, you know, and i say--it's beastly. i told rora so, but--i mean, i'm as much to blame as she. and i say, you know, i hope you'll have as good times in the lily as we expected to have--and--i'll bid you good day. we'll clear out, at once." but dorothy laid her hand on his arm to detain him a moment. "please don't. finish your stay--i should be so sorry if you didn't, and you've saved me a lot of trouble." gerald blank stared and asked: "in what way, please? i'm glad to think it." "why, i was going to hunt up your address, or that of your family. i'd like to have you and your sister go with us next week on our cruise. we mayn't take the same route you'd have chosen, but--will you come? it's fair you should and i'd be real glad. talk it over with your sister and let me know, to-morrow, please, at this address. good-bye." she had slipped a visiting-card into his hand and while he stood still, surprised by her unexpected invitation, she hurried after her own friends--and to meet the disgusted look on jim barlow's face. "i say, dolly calvert, have you lost your senses?" "i hope not. why?" "askin' that fellow to go with us! the idea! well, i'll tell you right here and now, there won't be room enough on this boat for that popinjay an' me at the same time. i don't like his cut. mrs. calvert won't, either, and you'd ought to consult your elders before you launch out promiscuous, this way. all told, it's nothing but a boat. where you going to stow them all, child?" "oh, there'll be room enough, and you should be studying your engine instead of scolding me. you're all right, though, jimmy-boy, so i don't mind telling you that whatever invitations i've given so far, were planned from the very day i was allowed to accept the lily. now get pleasant right away and find out how much or little you know about that engine." jim laughed. nobody could be offended with happy dorothy that day, and he was soon deep in exploration of his new charge; his pride in his ability to handle such a perfect bit of machinery increasing every moment. when they returned from the tender to the main saloon they found it empty and in order. everything was as shipshape as possible, the young blanks having proudly demonstrated their father's skill in arrangement, and then quietly departing. gerald's whispered announcement to his sister had secured her prompt help in breaking up their tea-party, and she now felt as ashamed of the affair as he had been. at last, even jim was willing to leave the water lily, reminded by hunger that he'd eaten nothing since his early breakfast; and returning the grateful elsa to her father's care, he and dorothy walked swiftly down the pier to the car line beyond, to take the first car which came. it was full of workmen returning from the factories beyond and for a time dorothy found no seat, while jim went far forward and ephraim remained on the rear platform, whence, by peering through the back window, he could still keep a watchful eye over his beloved "li'l miss." somebody left the car and he saw the girl pushed into a vacant place beside a rough, seafaring man with crutches, and poorly clad. he resented the "old codger's" nearness to his dainty darling and his talking to her. next he saw that the talk was mostly on dorothy's side and that when the cripple presently left the car it was with a cordial handshake of his little lady, and a smiling good-bye from her. then the "codger" limped to the street and ephraim looked after him curiously. little did he guess how much he would yet owe that vagrant. chapter iii the difficulties of getting under way. how that week flew! how busy was everybody concerned in the cruise of the wonderful water lily! early on the morning after his arrival, jim barlow repaired to halcyon point, taking an expert engineer with him, as aunt betty had insisted, and from that time till the water lily sailed he spent every moment of his waking hours in studying his engine and its management. at the end he felt fully competent to handle it safely and was as impatient as dorothy herself to be off; and, at last, here they all were waiting on the little pier for the word of command or, as it appeared, for one tardy arrival. from her own comfortable steamer-chair, aunt betty watched the gathering of the company and wondered if anybody except dolly could have collected such a peculiar lot of contrasts. but the girl was already "calling the roll" and she listened for the responses as they came. "mrs. elisabeth cecil somerset calvert?" "present!" "mrs. charlotte bruce?" "here." "mabel bruce?" "present!" "elsa carruthers?" "oh! i--don't know--i guess--." but a firm voice, her father's, answered for the hesitating girl, whose timidity made her shrink from all these strangers. "aurora blank? gerald blank?" "oh, we're both right on hand, don't you know? pop's pride rather stood in the way, but--present!" "mr. ephraim brown-calvert?" the old man bowed profoundly and answered: "yeah 'm i, li'l miss!" "that ends the passengers. now for the crew. captain jack hurry?" nobody responded. whoever owned the rapid name was slow to claim it. but dorothy smiled and proceeded. "cap'n jack" was a surprise of her own. he would keep for a time. "engineer james barlow?" "at his post!" "master engineer, john stinson?" "present!" called that person, laughing. he was jim's instructor and would see them down the bay and into the quiet river where they would make their first stop. "mrs. chloe brown, assistant chef and dishwasher?" "yeah 'm i?" returned the only one of aunt betty's household-women who dared to trust herself on board a boat "to lib." she was methuselah's mother and as his imposing name was read, answered for him; while the "cabin boy and general utility man" ducked his woolly head beneath her skirts, for once embarrassed by the attention he received. "miss calvert, did you know that you make the thirteenth person?" asked aurora blank, who had kept tally on her white-gloved fingers. "i hope i do--there's 'luck in odd numbers' one hears. but i'm not--i'm not! auntie, jim, look yonder--quick! it's melvin! it surely is!" with a cry of delight dorothy now rushed down the pier to where a street-car had just stopped and a lad alighted. she clasped his hands and fairly pumped them up and down in her eagerness, but she didn't offer to kiss him though she wanted to do so. she remembered in time that the young nova scotian was even shyer than james barlow and mustn't be embarrassed. but her questions came swiftly enough, though his answers were disappointing. however, she led him straight to mrs. calvert, his one-time hostess at deerhurst, and there was now no awkward shyness in his respectful greeting of her, and the acknowledgment he made to the general introductions which followed. seating himself on a rail close to mrs. betty's chair he explained his presence. "the judge sent me to baltimore on some errands of his own, and after they were done i was to call upon you, madam, and say why her father couldn't spare miss molly so soon again. he missed her so much, i fancy, while she was at san leon ranch, don't you know, and she is to go away to school after a time--that's why. but----" the lad paused, colored, and was seized by a fit of his old bashfulness. he had improved wonderfully during the year since he had been a member of "dorothy's house party" and had almost conquered that fault. no boy could be associated for so long a time with such a man as judge breckenridge and fail to learn much; but it wasn't easy to offer himself as a substitute for merry molly, which he had really arrived to do. however, dolly was quick to understand and caught his hands again, exclaiming: "you're to have your vacation on our water lily! i see, i see! goody! aunt betty, isn't that fine? next to molly darling i'd rather have you." everybody laughed at this frank statement, even dolly herself; yet promptly adding the name of melvin cook to her list of passengers. then as he walked forward over the plank to where jim barlow smilingly awaited him, carrying his small suit-case--his only luggage, she called after him: "i hope you brought your bugle! then we can have 'bells' for time, as on the steamer!" he nodded over his shoulder and dorothy strained her eyes toward the next car approaching over the street line, while mrs. calvert asked: "for whom are we still waiting, child? why don't we go aboard and start?" "for dear old cap'n jack! he's coming now, this minute." all eyes followed hers and beheld an old man approaching. even at that distance his wrinkled face was so shining with happiness and good nature that they smiled too. he wore a very faded blue uniform made dazzlingly bright by scores of very new brass buttons. his white hair and beard had been closely trimmed, and the discarded cap of a street-car conductor crowned his proudly held head. the cap was adorned in rather shaky letters of gilt: "water lily. skipper." though he limped upon crutches he gave these supports an airy flourish between steps, as if he scarcely needed them but carried them for ornaments. nobody knew him, except dorothy; not even ephraim recognizing in this almost dapper stranger the ragged vagrant he had once seen on a street car. but dorothy knew and ran to meet him--"last but not least of all our company, good cap'n jack, skipper of the water lily." then she brought him to aunt betty and formally presented him, expressing by nods and smiles that she would "explain him" later on. afterward, each and all were introduced to "our captain," at whom some stared rather rudely, aurora even declining to acknowledge the presentation. "captain hurry, we're ready to embark. is that the truly nautical way to speak? because, you know, we long to be real sailors on this cruise and talk real sailor-talk. we cease to be 'land lubbers' from this instant. kind captain, lead ahead!" cried dorothy, in a very gale of high spirits and running to help aunt betty on the way. but there was no hurry about this skipper, except his name. with an air of vast importance and dignity he stalked to the end of the pier and scanned the face of the water, sluggishly moving to and fro. then he pulled out a spy glass, somewhat damaged in appearance, and tried to adjust it to his eye. this was more difficult because the lens was broken; but the use of it, the old man reckoned, would be imposing on his untrained crew, and he had expended his last dollar--presented him by some old cronies--in the purchase of the thing at a junk shop by the waterside. indeed, the captain's motions were so deliberate, and apparently, senseless, that aunt betty lost patience and indignantly demanded: "dorothy, who is this old humbug you've picked up? you quite forgot--or didn't forget--to mention him when you named your guests." "no, auntie, i didn't forget. i kept him as a delightful surprise. i knew you'd feel so much safer with a real captain in charge." "humph! who told you he was a captain, or had ever been afloat?" "why--he did;" answered the girl, under her breath. "i--i met him on a car. he used to own a boat. he brought oysters to the city. i think it was a--a bugeye, some such name. auntie, don't you like him? i'm so sorry! because you said, you remember, that i might choose all to go and to have a real captain who'll work for nothing but his 'grub'--that's food, he says----" "that will do. for the present i won't turn him off, but i think his management of the water lily will be brief. on a quiet craft--don't look so disappointed. i shall not hurt your skipper's feelings though i'll put up with no nonsense." at that moment the old man had decided to go aboard and leading the way with a gallant flourish of crutches, guided them into the cabin, or saloon, and made his little speech. "ladies and gents, mostly ladies, welcome to my new ship--the water lily. bein' old an' seasoned in the knowledge of navigation i'll do my duty to the death. anybody wishin' to consult me will find me on the bridge." with a wave of his cap the queer old fellow stumped away to the crooked stairway, which he climbed by means of the baluster instead of the steps, his crutches thump-thumping along behind him. by "bridge" he meant the forward point of the upper deck, or roof of the cabin, and there he proceeded to rig up a sort of "house" with pieces of the awning in which there had been inserted panes of glass. but the effect of his address was to put all these strangers at ease, for none could help laughing at his happy pomposity, and after people laugh together once stiffness disappears. gerald blank promptly followed melvin cook to jim's little engine-room on the tender, and the colored folks as promptly followed him. their own bunks were to be on the small boat and chloe was anxious to see what they were like. then mrs. bruce roused from her silence and asked aunt betty about the provisions that had been brought on board and where she might find them. she had been asked to join the party as housekeeper, really for mabel's sake, from whom she couldn't be separated now, and because dorothy had argued: "that dear woman loves to cook better than anything else. she always did. now she hasn't anybody left to cook for, 'cept mabel, and she'll forget to cry when she has to get a dinner for lots of hungry sailors." the first sight of mrs. bruce's sad face, that morning, had been most depressing; and she was relieved to find a change in its aspect as the woman roused to action. there hadn't been much breakfast eaten by anybody and dorothy had begged her old friend to: "just give us lots of goodies, this first meal, mrs. bruce, no matter if we have to do with less afterwards. you see--three hundred dollars isn't so very much----" "it seems a lot to me, now," sighed the widow. but dorothy went on quickly: "and it's every bit there is. when the last penny goes we'll have to stop, even if the lily is right out in the middle of the ocean." "pshaw, dolly! i thought you weren't going out of sight of land!" "course, we're not. that is--we shall never go anywhere if my skipper doesn't start. i'll run up to his bridge and see what's the matter. you see i don't like to offend him at the beginning of things and though jim barlow is really to manage the boat, i thought it would please the old gentleman to be put in charge, too." "foolish girl, don't you know that there can't be two heads to any management?" returned the matron, now really smiling. "it's an odd lot, a job lot, seems to me, of widows and orphans and cripples and rich folks all jumbled together in one little house-boat. more 'n likely you'll find yourself in trouble real often amongst us all. that old chap above is mighty pleasant to look at now, but he's got too square a jaw to be very biddable, especially by a little girl like you." "but, mrs. bruce, he's so poor. why, just for a smell of salt water--or fresh either--he's willing to sail this lily; just for the sake of being afloat and--his board, course. he'll have to eat, but he told me that a piece of sailor's biscuit and a cup of warmed over tea would be all he'd ever 'ax' me. i told him right off then i couldn't pay him wages and he said he wouldn't touch them if i could. think of that for generosity!" "yes, i'm thinking of it. your plans are all right--i hope they'll turn out well. a captain for nothing, an engineer the same, a housekeeper who's glad to cook for the sake of her daughter's pleasure, and the rest of the crew belonging--so no more wages to earn than always. sounds--fine. by the way, dorothy, who deals out the provisions on this trip?" "why, you do, of course, mrs. bruce, if you'll be so kind. aunt betty can't be bothered and i don't know enough. here's a key to the 'lockers,' i guess they call the pantries; and now i _must_ make that old man give the word to start! why, aunt betty thought we'd get as far as annapolis by bed-time. she wants to cruise first on the severn river. and we haven't moved an inch yet!" "well, i'll go talk with chloe about dinner. she'll know best what'll suit your aunt." dorothy was glad to see her old friend's face brighten with a sense of her own importance, as "stewardess" for so big a company of "shipmates," and slipping her arm about the lady's waist went with her to the "galley," or tiny cook-room on the tender. there she left her, with strict injunctions to chloe not to let her "new mistress" overtire herself. it was aunt betty's forethought which had advised this, saying: "let chloe understand, in the beginning, that she is the helper--not the chief." leaving them to examine and delight in the compact arrangements of the galley she sped up the crooked stair to old captain jack. to her surprise she found him anything but the sunny old fellow who had strutted aboard, and he greeted her with a sharp demand: "where's them papers at?" "papers? what papers?" "ship's papers, child alive? where's your gumption at?" dorothy laughed and seated herself on a camp-stool beside him. "reckon it must be 'at' the same place as the 'papers.' i certainly don't understand you." "land a sissy! 'spect we'd be let to sail out o' port 'ithout showin' our licenses? not likely; and the fust thing a ship's owner ought to 'tend to is gettin' a clean send off. for my part, i don't want to hug this dock no longer. i want to take her out with the tide, i do." dorothy was distressed. how much or how little this old captain of an oyster boat knew about this matter, he was evidently in earnest and angry with somebody--herself, apparently. "if we had any papers, and we haven't--who'd we show them to, anyway?" captain hurry looked at her as if her ignorance were beyond belief. then his good nature made him explain: "what's a wharf-master for, d'ye s'pose? when you hand 'em over i'll see him an' up anchor." but, at that moment, mr. carruthers himself appeared on the roof of the cabin, demanding: "what's up, cap'n jack? why don't you start--if it's you who's to manage this craft, as you claim? if you don't cut loose pretty quick, my elsa will get homesick and desert." the skipper rose to his feet, or his crutches, and retorted: "can't clear port without my dockyments, an' you know it! where they at?" "safe in the locker meant for them, course. young barlow has all that are necessary and a safe keeper of them, too. better give up this nonsense and let him go ahead. easier for you, too, cap'n, and everything's all right. good-bye, miss dorothy. i'll slip off again without seeing elsa, and you understand? if she gets too homesick for me, or is ill, or--anything happens, telegraph me from wherever you are and i'll come fetch her. good-bye." he was off the boat in an instant and very soon the water lily had begun her trip. the engineer, mr. stinson, was a busy man and made short work of captain hurry's fussiness. he managed the start admirably, jim and the other lads watching him closely, and each feeling perfectly capable of doing as much--or as little--as he. for it seemed so very simple; the turning of a crank here, another there, and the thing was done. however, they didn't reach annapolis that night, as mrs. calvert had hoped. only a short distance down the coast they saw signs of a storm and the lady grew anxious at once. "o dolly! it's going to blow, and this is no kind of a boat to face a gale. tell somebody, anybody, who is real captain of this lily, to get to shore and anchor her fast. she must be tied to something strong. i never sailed on such a craft before nor taken the risk of caring for so many lives. make haste." this was a new spirit for fearless aunt betty to show and, although she herself saw no suggestions of a gale in the clouding sky, dorothy's one desire was to make that dear lady happy. so, to the surprise of the engineers, she gave her message, that was practically a command, and a convenient beach being near it was promptly obeyed. "o, mr. captain, stop the ship--i want to get out and walk!" chanted gerald blank, in irony; "is anybody seasick? has the wild raging of the patapsco scared the lady passengers? i brought a lemon in my pocket----" but dorothy frowned at him and he stopped. "it is mrs. calvert's wish," said the girl, with emphasis. "but pop would laugh at minding a few black clouds. he built the water lily to stand all sorts of weather. why, he had her out in one of the worst hurricanes ever blew on the chesapeake and she rode it out as quiet as a lamb. fact. i wasn't with him, course, but i heard him tell. i say, miss dolly, stinson's got to leave us, to-night, anyway, or early to-morrow morning. i wish you'd put me in command. i do so, don't you know. i understand everything about a boat. pop has belonged to the best clubs all his life and i'm an 'ariel' myself--on probation; that is, i've been proposed, only not voted on yet, and i could sail this lily to beat the band. aw, come! won't you?" he finished coaxingly. john stinson was laughing, yet at the same time, deftly swinging both boats toward the shore; while jim barlow's face was dark with anger, cap'n jack was nervously thumping his crutches up and down, and even gentle melvin had retreated as far from the spot as the little tender allowed. his shoulders were hunched in the fashion which showed him, also, to be provoked and, for an instant dorothy was distressed. then the absurdity of the whole matter made her laugh. "seems if everybody wants to be captain, on this bit of a ship that isn't big enough for one real one! captain hurry, captain barlow, captain blank, captain cook----" "what do barlow and cook know about the water? one said he was a 'farmer,' and the other a 'lawyer's clerk'----" "but a lawyer's clerk that's sailed the ocean, mind you, gerald. melvin's a sailor-lad in reality, and the son of a sailor. you needn't gibe at melvin. as for jim, he's the smartest boy in the world. he understands everything about engines and machinery, and--why, he can take a sewing-machine to pieces, all to pieces, and put it together as good as new. he did that for mother martha and mrs. smith back home on the mountain, and at san leon, last summer, he helped mr. ford decide on the way the new mine should be worked, just by the books he'd studied. think of that! and mr. ford's a railroad man himself and is as clever as he can be. he knows mighty well what's what and he trusts our jim----" "dorothy, shut up!" this from jim, that paragon she had so praised! the effect was a sudden silence and a flush of anger on her own face. if the lad had struck her she couldn't have been more surprised, nor when melvin faced about and remarked: "better stow this row. if captain murray, that i sailed under on the 'prince,' heard it he'd say there'd be serious trouble before we saw land again. if we weren't too far out he'd put back to port and set every wrangler ashore and ship new hands. it's awful bad luck to fight at sea, don't you know?" sailors are said to be superstitious and melvin had caught some of their notions and recalled them now. he had made a longer speech than common and colored a little as he now checked himself. fortunately he just then caught mrs. bruce's eye and understood from her gestures that dinner was ready to serve. then from the little locker he had appropriated to his personal use, he produced his bugle and hastily blew "assembly." the unexpected sound restored peace on the instant. dorothy clapped her hands and ran to inform aunt betty: "first call for dinner; and seats not chosen yet!" all unknown to her two tables had been pulled out from somewhere in the boat's walls and one end of the long saloon had been made a dining-room. the tables were as neatly spread as if in a stationary house and chairs had been placed beside them on one side, while the cushioned benches which ran along the wall would seat part of the diners. with his musical signals, melvin walked the length of the water lily and climbed the stairs to cross the "promenade deck," as the awning-covered roof was always called. as he descended, aunt betty called him to the little room off one end the cabin, which was her own private apartment, and questioned him about his bugle. "yes, madam, it's the one you gave me at deerhurst, at the end of dorothy's house-party. my old one i gave miss molly, don't you know? because she happened to fancy--on account of her hearing it in the nova scotia woods, that time she was lost. it wasn't worth anything, but she liked it. yours, madam, is fine. i often go off for a walk and have a try at it, just to keep my hand in and to remind me of old yarmouth. miss molly begged me to fetch it. she said miss dolly would be pleased and i fancy she is." then again conquering his shyness, he offered his arm to the lady and conducted her to dinner. there was no difficulty in seeing what place was meant for her, because of the fine chair that was set before it and the big bunch of late roses at her plate. these were from the bellvieu garden, and were another of dolly's "surprises." as melvin led her to her chair and bowed in leaving her, old ephraim placed himself behind it and stood ready to serve her as he had always done, wherever she might happen to be. then followed a strange thing. though mrs. bruce and chloe had prepared a fine meal, and the faces of all in the place showed eagerness to enjoy it, not one person moved; but each stood as rigid as possible and as if he or she would so remain for the rest of the day. only dorothy. she had paused between the two tables and was half-crying, half-laughing over the absurd dilemma which had presented itself. "why, good people, what's the matter?" asked mrs. calvert, glancing from one to another. but nobody answered; and at this mark of disrespect she colored and stiffened herself majestically in her chair. chapter iv matters are settled "aunt betty, it's captain hurry, again!" explained dorothy, close to her aunt's ear. "he claims that the captain of any boat always has head table. he's acted so queer even the boys hate to sit near him, and the dinner's spoiling and--and i wish i'd never seen him!" "very likely. having seen him it would have been better for you to ask advice before you invited him. he was the picture of happiness when he appeared but--we must get rid of him right away. he must be put ashore at once." "but, aunt betty, i invited him. _invited_ him, don't you see? how can a calvert tell a guest to go home again after that?" mrs. calvert laughed. this was quoting her own precepts against herself, indeed. but she was really disturbed at the way their trip was beginning and felt it was time "to take the helm" herself. so she stood up and quietly announced: "this is my table. i invite mrs. bruce to take the end chair, opposite me. aurora and mabel, the wall seats on one side; dorothy and elsa, the other side, with elsa next to me, so that she may be well looked after. "captain hurry, the other table is yours. arrange it as you choose." she reseated herself amid a profound silence; but one glance into her face convinced the old captain that here was an authority higher than his own. the truth was that he had been unduly elated by dorothy's invitation and her sincere admiration for the cleverness he boasted. he fancied that nobody aboard the water lily knew anything about "navigation" except himself and flattered himself that he was very wise in the art. he believed that he ought to assert himself on all occasions and had tried to do so. now, he suddenly resumed his ordinary, sunshiny manner, and with a grand gesture of welcome motioned the three lads to take seats at the second table. engineer stinson was on the tender and would remain there till the others had finished; and the colored folks would take their meals in the galley after the white folks had been served. "well, that ghost is laid!" cried dorothy, when dinner was over and she had helped aunt betty to lie down in her own little cabin. "but cap'n jack is so different, afloat and ashore!" "dolly, dear, i allowed you to invite whom you wished, but i'm rather surprised by your selections. why, for instance, the two blanks?" "because i was sorry for them." "they're not objects of pity. they're quite the reverse and the girl's manners are rude and disagreeable. her treatment of elsa is heartless. why didn't you choose your own familiar friends?" "elsa! yes, indeed, auntie, dear, without her dreaming of it, elsa changed all my first plans for this house-boat party. i fell in love with her gentle, sad little face the first instant i saw it and i just wanted to see it brighten. she looked as if she'd never had a good time in her life and i wanted that she should have. then she said it would be 'a cruise of loving kindness' and i thought that was beautiful. i just longed to give every poor, unhappy body in the world some pleasure. the blanks aren't really poor, i suppose, for their clothes are nice and aurora has brought so many i don't see where she'll keep them. but she seemed poor in one way--like this: if you'd built the water lily for me and had had to give it up for debt i shouldn't have felt nice to some other girl who was going to get it. i thought the least i could do was ask them to come with us and that would be almost the same thing as if they still owned the house-boat themselves. they were glad enough to come, too; and i know--i mean, i hope--they'll be real nice after we get used to each other. you know we asked jim because we were sort of sorry for him, too, and because he wouldn't charge any wages for taking care the engine! mrs. bruce and mabel--well, sorry for them was their reason just the same. you don't mind, really, do you, auntie, darling? 'cause----" dorothy paused and looked anxiously into the beloved face upon the pillow. aunt betty laughed and drew the girl's own face down to kiss it fondly. dorothy made just as many mistakes as any other impulsive girl would make, but her impulses were always on the side of generosity and so were readily forgiven. "how about me, dear? were you sorry for me, along with the rest?" dorothy flushed, then answered frankly: "yes, aunt betty, i was. you worried so about that horrid 'business,' of the old folks' home and bellvieu, that i just wanted to take you away from everything you'd ever known and let you have everything new around you. they are all new, aren't they? the blanks and elsa, and the bruces; yes and captain jack, too. melvin's always a dear and he seems sort of new now, he's grown so nice and friendly. i'd rather have had dear molly, course, but, since i couldn't, melvin will do. he'll be company for jim--he and gerald act like two pussy cats jealous of one another. but isn't it going to be just lovely, living on the water lily? i mean, course, after everybody gets used to each other and we get smoothed off on our corners. i guess it's like the engine in the pad. mr. stinson says it'll run a great deal better after it's 'settled' and each part gets fitted to its place. "there! i've talked you nearly to sleep, so i'll go on deck with the girls. it isn't raining yet, and doesn't look as if it were going to. sleep well, dear aunt betty, and don't you dare to worry a single worry while you're aboard the lily. think of it, auntie! you are my guest now, my really, truly guest of honor! doesn't that seem queer? but you're mistress, too, just the same." well, it did seem as if even this brief stay on the house-boat were doing mrs. calvert good, for dorothy had scarcely slipped away before the lady was asleep. no sound came to her ears but the gentle lapping of the water against the boat's keel and a low murmur of voices from the narrow deck which ran all around the sides. when she awoke the craft was in motion and the sun shining far in the west. she was rather surprised at this, having expected the lily to remain anchored in that safe spot which had been chosen close to shore. however, everything was so calm and beautiful when she stepped out, the smooth gliding along the wooded banks was so beautiful, that she readily forgave anybody who had disobeyed her orders. indeed, she smilingly assured herself that she was now: "nothing and nobody but a guest and must remember the fact and not interfere. indeed, it will be delightful just to rest and idle for a time." dorothy came to meet her, somewhat afraid to explain: "i couldn't help it this time, aunt betty. mr. stinson says he must leave at midnight and he wants to 'make' a little town a few miles further down the shore, where he can catch a train back to city. that will give him time to go on with his work in the morning. old cap'n jack, too, says we'd better get along. the storm passed over, to-day, but he says we're bound to get it soon or late." mrs. calvert's nap had certainly done her good, for she was able now to laugh at her own nervousness and gaily returned: "it would be strange, indeed, if we didn't get a storm sometime or other. but how is the man conducting himself now?" "why, aunt betty, he's just lovely. lovely!" "doesn't seem as if that adjective fitted very well, but--ah! yes. thank you, my child, i will enjoy sitting in that cosy corner and watching the water. how low down upon it the water lily rides." most of this was said to elsa, who had timidly drawn near and silently motioned to a sheltered spot on the deck and an empty chair that waited there. she had never seen such a wonderful old lady as this; a person who made old age seem even lovelier than youth. aunt betty's simple gown of lavender suited her fairness well, and she had pinned one of dorothy's roses upon her waist. her still abundant hair of snowy whiteness and the dark eyes, that were yet bright as a girl's, had a beauty which appealed to the sensitive elsa's spirit. a fine color rose in the frail girl's face as her little attention was so graciously accepted, and from that moment she became aunt betty's devoted slave. her shyness lessened so that she dared to flash a look of scorn upon aurora, who shrugged her shoulder with annoyance at the lady's appearance on deck and audibly whispered to mabel bruce that: "she didn't see why an old woman like that had to join a house-boat party. when _we_ had the water lily we planned to have nobody but the jolliest ones we knew. we wouldn't have had _my_ grandmother along, no matter what." mabel looked at the girl with shocked eyes. she had been fascinated by aurora's dashing appearance and the stated fact that she had only worn her "commonest things," which to mabel's finery-loving soul seemed really grand. but to hear that aristocratic dame yonder spoken of as an "old woman," like any ordinary person, was startling. "why aurora--you said i might call you that----" "yes, you may. while we happen to be boatmates and out of the city, you know. at home, i don't know as mommer would--would--you see she's very particular about the girls i know. i shall be in 'society' sometime, when popper makes money again. but, what were you going to say?" "i was going to say that maybe you don't know who that lady is. she is mrs. elisabeth cecil-somerset-calvert!" "well, what of it? anybody can tie a lot of names on a string and wear 'em that way. even mommer calls herself mrs. edward newcomer-blank of r." "why 'of r?' what does it mean?" asked mabel, again impressed. "doesn't mean anything, really, as far as i know. but don't you know a lot of baltimoreans, or marylanders, write their names that way? haven't you seen it in the papers?" "no. i never read a paper." "you ought. to improve your mind and keep you posted on--on current events. i'm in the current event class at school--i go to the western high. i was going to the girls' latin, this year, only--only--hmm. so i have to keep up with the times." aurora settled her silken skirts with a little swagger and again mabel felt it a privilege to know so exalted a young person, even if their acquaintance was limited to a few weeks of boat life. then she listened quite humbly while aurora related some of her social experiences and discussed with a grown-up air her various flirtations. but after a time she tired of all this, and looked longingly across to the tender, on whose rail dorothy was now perched, with the three lads clustered about her, and all intently listening to the "yarns" with which cap'n jack was entertaining them. all that worthy's animation had returned to him. he had eaten the best of dinners in place of the "ship's biscuit" he had suggested to his small hostess: he was relieved of care--which he had pretended to covet; and the group of youngsters before him listened to his marvellous tales of the sea with perfect faith in his truthfulness. some of the tales had a slight foundation in fact; but even these were so embellished by fiction as to be almost incredible. in any case, the shouts of laughter or the cries of horror that rose from his audience so attracted mabel that, at last, she broke away from aurora's tamer recitals, saying: "i'm getting stiff, sitting in one place so long. i'll go over to dolly. she and me have been friends ever since time was. good-bye. or, will you come, too?" in her heart, aurora wished to do so. but hoping to impress her new acquaintance by her magnificence, she had put on a fanciful white silk frock, wholly unfitted for her present trip and, indeed, slyly packed in her trunk without her mother's knowledge. the deck of the pad wasn't as spotless as this of the lily. even at that moment small methuselah was swashing it with a great mop, which dripped more water than it wiped up. his big eyes were fairly bulging from his round black face and, having drawn as near the story-teller as he could, he mopped one spot until dolly called out: "that'll do, metty, boy! tackle another board. mustn't wear out the deck with your neatness!" whereupon old captain hurry swung his crutch around and caught the youngster with such suddenness that he pitched head-first into his own big bucket. freeing himself with a howl, he raised his mop as high as his strength would allow and brought it down upon the captain's glittering cap. it was the seaman's turn to howl and an ill-matched fight would have followed if jim hadn't caught the pickaninny away and dorothy seized the cripple's headgear before it suffered any great harm. gently brushing it with her handkerchief she restored it to its owner's head, with the remark: "don't mind metty, cap'n jack. he means well, every time, only he has a little too hasty a temper. he never heard such wonderful stories before--nor i, either, for that matter. did you, boys?" she had believed them wholly, but jim had begun to doubt; and melvin was bold enough to say: "i've sailed a good many times between new york and yarmouth, nova scotia, but i never saw--i mean, i haven't happened, don't you know? i wouldn't fancy being out alone in a cat-boat and having a devil-fish rise up alongside that way. i----" "young man, do you doubt my word, sir?" demanded the captain, rising with all the dignity his lameness and the dropping of his crutch would allow. "oh! no, sir. i doubt nothing--nothing, sir. the judge says the world is full of marvels and i fancy, your encounter with that giant squid is one of them. you should have that story published, captain. you should, don't you know?" melvin's blue eyes twinkled but the otherwise gravity of his face harmlessly deceived the old seaman and brought back his good temper. "reckon i'll go aloft and make out my log," he remarked, with an air of importance, and stumped forward to his "bridge" above stairs. these he ascended, as before, by a hand-over-hand climb of the baluster, his crutches dragging behind; and it was this nimbleness of arm which convinced the watchers, far more than his impossible yarns had done, that he had indeed once been a sailor and could ascend the rigging of a ship. then soon came supper and again such hearty appetites were brought to it that mrs. bruce wondered how so much good food could disappear at one meal. also, she remembered that the sum of three hundred dollars had a limit, large as it seemed; and while she sat silent in her place she was inwardly computing whether it would possibly furnish board for all these people for six long weeks. then she proceeded to "count noses," and suddenly perceived that after mr. stinson's departure there would be left the "unlucky number" of thirteen souls aboard the water lily. this time the engineer was at table and jim had taken his place on the tender; but after this, he had assured everybody that the engine did not need such constant attention and could be left to itself during meal-time at least. however, nobody tarried long at table that night. there was to follow the first arrangement of the "staterooms," as the canvas-partitioned spaces for each one of the party were called. "cute little cubby-holes," mabel named them, and promptly selected her own between her mother's and aurora's. dorothy was next to aurora and elsa between her and mrs. calvert's bigger room. politely giving elsa her choice, dorothy couldn't help a keen disappointment that it separated herself from aunt betty. then she reflected that she had offered this choice as far back as on the day of their first meeting; and that she would herself serve as shield between aurora's haughtiness and elsa's timidity. those two guests didn't hit it off at all well. elsa shivered and shrank before aurora's boisterous high spirits and the look of contempt the elder girl bestowed upon her plain attire. poor little elsa had done her best to honor the occasion. she had forced herself to go with her loving father to a department store and had suffered real distress in being fitted at the hands of a kindly, but too outspoken, saleswoman. the suit selected had been of an ugly blue which brought out all the sallowness of the poor child's complexion. it had been padded on one shoulder, "'cause she's crooked in them shoulders," and had been shortened on one side, "to suit the way she limps." a hat of the same vicious blue had been purchased, and this trimmed with red roses, "to sort of set her up like." thus attired, mr. carruthers had looked with pride upon his motherless darling, and felt himself amply justified in the expense he had incurred. the girl's own better taste had rebelled and she would rather have worn the old gray frock that was at least modest and unobtrusive; but she saw the pride and tenderness in her father's eyes and said nothing save fervent thanks. however, all the varied emotions of the travellers were soon forgotten in the healthy slumber which came to them. the water lily glided quietly along, forced onward by the tender where the trio of lads sat long, exchanging experiences and, under cover of the friendly darkness, growing natural and familiar. but after a time even they grew drowsy and "turned in," finding their new "bunks" as snug as comfortable. the chug-chug of the small engine chimed in with the snores of the colored folks, in their own quarters beyond the galley and formed a soothing lullaby. so deeply they slept that none knew how a storm was gathering thick and fast, except the alert engineer, who made all speed possible to reach the shelter of the little cove and wharf where he hoped to tie up; and from whence he could cross the swampy fields to the station and the midnight train for home. it proved a race of steam and storm, with the latter victor; for at almost boat's length from the pier there came a blinding flash of lightning and a peal of thunder most terrific. at the same moment a whirlwind shook the water lily like a feather, it seemed, and the shrieks of the awaking negroes startled every soul awake. "'tis de yend o' de worl'! 'tis de jedgmen' day! rise up, sinnahs, rise to yo' jedgmen'!" chapter v the storm and what followed in an instant a crowd of terrified people had gathered in the cabin, clasping one another's hands, sobbing and shivering as gust after gust shook the water lily so that it seemed its timbers must part. "we mought ha' knowed! thirteen po' creatures shet up in dis yeah boat! oh! my----" the greatest outcry was from poor chloe, now kneeling, or crouching, at the feet of her miss betty, and clutching the lady's gown so that she could not move. but if her feet were hindered her tongue was not. in her most peremptory manner she bade: "chloe, get up and be still! this is no time for nonsense. close those windows. stop the rain pouring in. call back your common sense. do----" "o, ole miss! i'se done dyin'! i'se gwine----" "no, you're not. you couldn't screech like that if you were anywhere's near death. shut--those--windows--or--let--me!" habit was stronger than fear. the idea of her mistress doing chloe's own task roused the frightened creature to obey, scarce knowing that she did so. seeing her at work restored the calmness of the others, in a measure, and dorothy and mabel rushed each to the sliding panels of glass, which had been left open for the night and pushed them into place. this lessened the roar of the tempest and courage returned as they found themselves still unhurt, though the constant flashes of light revealed a group of very white faces, and bodies still shaking with terror of nature's rage. mrs. bruce had always been a coward during thunderstorms, but even she rallied enough to run for a wrap and fold it about mrs. calvert, who was also shaking; but from cold rather than fear. then between claps, they could hear the scurrying of feet on the roof overhead, the stumping of captain jack's crutches, and the issuing of sharp orders in tones that were positively cheerful! "hark! what are they doing? can anybody see the tender?" asked dorothy, excitedly. strangely enough, it was frail, timid elsa who answered: "i've been listening. they're taking off the canvas. the boys are up there. the other boat is away out--yonder. see? oh! it's grand! grand! doesn't it make us all seem puny! if it would only last till everyone was humble and--adoring!" even while she answered, the slender girl turned again to the window and gazed through it as if she could not have enough of the scene so frightful to her mates. these watched her, astonished, yet certainly calmed by her own fearless behavior; so that, presently, all were hastily dressing. mabel had set the example in this, saying quaintly: "if i've got to be drowned i might as well look decent when i'm picked up." "mabel and her clothes! the 'ruling passion strong in death'!" cried dorothy, in a tone meant to be natural but was still rather shaky. somebody laughed and that lessened the excitement, so that even chloe remembered she had appeared without her white turban and hastily put her hands smoothing her wool, as if afraid now only of her mistress's reprimand. but that lady had joined elsa at the glass; and standing with her arm about the girl, drew the slight figure within the folds of her own roomy wrapper, with a comforting warmth and pressure. for it had turned icy cold and the unusual heat of the evening before seemed like a dream. "dear little girl, i am glad you came. brave soul and frail body, you're stronger than even my healthy dorothy. and it is magnificent--magnificent. only, i dread what the morning will reveal. if we are damaged much it will mean the end of our trip--at its very beginning." "dear lady; it won't mean that. even if it had to do it would be all right--for me, at least. i should have some beautiful things to remember always." then the cheerfulest of whistling was heard; cap'n jack's warning that he was coming down the stairs and that any feminines in night attire might take warning and flee. but nobody fled, and dorothy tried to turn on the electric light which had been one of the fine features of this palatial house-boat. no radiance followed, and, watching from the doorway, cap'n jack triumphantly exclaimed: "didn't i know it? what's them new-fangled notions wuth in a case o' need? taller's the stuff, or good, reli'ble whale-ile. well, ship's comp'ny, how'd ye like it? warn't that the purtiest leetle blow 't ever you see? didn't i warn ye 'twas comin'? yet ye went an' allowed i warn't no real captain and couldn't run a boat like this easy as george washin'ton! now you're wiser. that there leetle gale has larnt ye all somethin'. and 'nough said. give old jack a couple o' sail or so an' a man to climb the riggin' an' he'll beat all the steam engines ever was hatched. oh! i'm just feelin' prime. that bit o' wind has blowed all the land-fog out o' my head an' left it clear as glass. "'a life on the ocean wave, a home on the rolling de-e-ep.'" the old man's rich voice trailed off toward the tender--or where the tender should have been--while a clear and boyish one took up the ditty from the roof above, with: "'where the scattered waters rave and the wi-i-inds their vigils ke-e-ep!'" "melvin! jim! gerald! are you all up there? come down, come down!" "yes, captain dolly! coming! here!" shouted melvin, rattling down the crooked stair, while jim's voice responded: "present!" and gerald finished with a merry: "accounted for!" then aurora ran to meet her brother and to kiss him with an unexpected affection. to his credit it was that he gently returned her caress, but laughed at her statement that she had feared he was drowned. "not a bit of it! but this doesn't look much like mourning, if you did!" he jested, pointing at the white silk frock she had again put on. "well, it was the first one i got hold of. that's why. but, tell--tell--how came you up there?" "yes, everything, tell everything!" begged dorothy, fairly dancing about them in her eagerness. "melvin--melvin did it!" said jim. "we might all be at the bottom of the sea----" "hush!" almost screamed aurora, beginning to tremble. "it was so horrible--i----" with more of sympathy than had been between them before, dolly slipped her arm around aurora's shoulders and playfully ordered: "if you boys don't tell how you came on our promenade deck, when you belonged on the tender, you sha'n't have any breakfast!" "melvin. i tell you it was melvin. he's the only one of us didn't sleep like a log. he felt the hurricane coming, right through his dreams, and waked the lot of us, as soon as the first clap came. so he rushed us over the plank to take off the awnings----" "with such a wind sucking under them might have made the boat turn turtle, mrs. calvert, don't you know? at sea--that's why i presumed to give orders without----" "oh, my dear lad, i now 'order' you to 'give orders' whenever you think best. we can trust you, and do thank you. but how dark it seems now the lightning has stopped. isn't there any sort of light we can get?" said aunt betty, sitting down with elsa and folding a steamer rug around them both. cap'n jack came stumping back from the rear of the boat in a high state of excitement and actual glee. "clean gone! plank a-swingin' loose--caught it a-board just in time--t'other boat flip-floppin' around like she was all-possessed. reckon she is. the idee! a reg'lar steam engine on a craft not much bigger 'n itself! what this house-boat needs isn't steam engines but a set of stout sails an' a few fust-class poles. come, lads, let's anchor her--if the fool that built her didn't put them on the tender, too, alongside his other silly contraptions." mrs. calvert wondered if the old fellow knew what he was talking about, but found the resolute tones of his voice a comfort. whoever else was frightened he was not and she liked him better at that moment than she would have thought possible. all his whining discontent was gone and he was honestly happy. what the others felt to be a terrible misfortune was his opportunity to prove himself the fine "skipper" he had boasted of being. but now that the roar of the storm had subsided, there came across the little space of water between the lily and its pad the outcries of ephraim and methuselah, mingled with halloes of the engineer, john stinson. "they want to come alongside! they're signallin'!" cried cap'n jack, promptly putting his hands before his mouth, trumpet-fashion, and returning such a lusty answer that those near him clapped hands over ears. then came melvin, more sea-wise than the other lads, saying: "i've been fumbling around and there are some poles lashed outside the rail. let's unsheath 'em, but it'll take us all to keep them from tumbling over." "that's so! you're right! when pop had this boat built he was told to provide for all sorts of things. the engine going broke was the last notion he had, but he had the poles made to please mommer. i know--i mean--i guess i do--how they use 'em, but they're mighty heavy." it was captain hurry who again came to the front. in a twinkling he had inspected the stout poles and explained, that by putting one end of each down through the water till it reached the bottom, the house-boat could not only be held steady but could be propelled. "it's slow but it's safe an' easy, ma'am," he informed mrs. calvert. "then it's the very thing, the only thing, we want," she answered, promptly. "i never did believe in that engine in the hands of an amateur." jim didn't fancy this reflection on his skill, believing that he already knew as much about machinery as an expert did and that he had mastered all that john stinson could teach him. however, he was beyond reach of the beloved little engine now and the first thing to do was to bring the two boats together again. under cap'n jack's direction this was promptly done; and great was old ephraim's rejoicing when, at last, the familiar gang-plank was once more in place and he had crossed over it to his beloved mistress's presence. "t'ank de lord, miss betty, you didn't get sca'ed to death! i sutney beliebed we was all gwine to de bottom of de ribbah! an' i was plumb scan'lized ter t'ink o' yo' po' li'l white body all kivvered wid mud, stidder lyin' in a nice, clean tomb lak yo' oughter. i----" "that'll do, ephraim. i'll take all the rest you were going to say for granted. here, metty, sit down in that corner and keep still. you're safe now and--are you hungry?" the morning light was rapidly increasing and seen by it the little black face looked piteous indeed. but there were few troubles of methuselah's which "eatings" couldn't cure; so his mistress promptly dispatched dorothy to her stateroom for a big box of candy, brought along "in case of need." never would need be more urgent than now, and not only did the little page's countenance brighten, when the box appeared, but everybody else dipped into it as eagerly--it seemed such a relief to do such an ordinary thing once more. the sun rose and shone as if to make them forget the night of storm; and after a breakfast, hastily prepared on the little oil stove in the tender, a feeling of great content spread through the little company. engineer stinson had missed his train, but was now glad of it; for he had gained time to examine the engine, though disappointed at the report he had to make. "useless, for the present, madam, i regret to say. owing to the sudden jar against the end of the wharf, or the wind's dashing the tender about, some parts are broken. to get it repaired will take some time. shall i send down a tug to tow you back to the city? and have a man from the shop attend to it? my own job will keep me from doing it myself, though i'd like to." "thank you," said aunt betty, and, for a moment, said nothing more. but she looked from one to another of the eager young faces about her and read but one desire on all. this was so evident that she smiled as she asked: "who thinks best to give up this trip? or, rather, to go back and start over again--if we dare?" nobody spoke but a sort of groan ran around the little company. "all in favor of going on, with some other sort of 'power,' or of anchoring the water lily at some pleasant point near shore and staying there, say 'aye'." so lusty a chorus of "ayes" answered that aunt betty playfully covered her ears, till the clamor had subsided. then a council of ways and means was held, in which everyone took part, and out of which the decision came: that cap'n jack should rig up the sails which was another one of mr. blank's provisions against just such a dilemma, and instruct the three lads how to use them; that when they didn't want to sail they should use the poles; or using neither, should remain quietly at rest in the most delightful spot they could find; that the lily and its pad should be fastened together in the strongest way, so that no more separation by wind or storm could be possible. "the tender adds a great weight to your 'power' in such a case," suggested mr. stinson. "without it you could move much faster." "and without it, where could ephy sleep and chloe cook? the boys, too, will need their warm bunks if it happens to be cold," said dolly. "besides--the kitchen is out there. oh! we can't possibly spare the tender." "most house-boats get along without one," explained the engineer. "what about a horse, or a mule? i've seen such a thing somewhere, on some of our little trips with mr. bruce," suggested the widow, then touched by her own reference to the dead relapsed into silence. "many of the little rivers of the western shore have banks as level as those of a canal," said mrs. calvert. the idea had approved itself to her. "i'm afraid you lads would get very tired of the poling, even if the water was shallow enough. without wind, sails wouldn't help us; so mrs. bruce's notion is the best one yet." "a mule would be nice and safe!" commented mabel. "first catch your mule," cried gerald. "and who'd ride it?" asked jim. "you would," promptly answered melvin, laughing. "not all the time, sir!" retorted jim, yet with an expression which showed he was really considering the subject. "turn and turn about's fair play." "all right. i'll stand my turn and call it my 'watch.' i could fancy i was still on shipboard, don't you know?" "i'd do my third--if we didn't keep it up all the time. a fellow wants a little chance to fish and have some fun," added gerald. now that they had all been in danger together he was acting like the really fine lad he was and had dropped the silly affectations of his first manner. aurora, too, seemed more sensible, and, breakfast over, had shut herself in her tiny stateroom to put on the plainest frock she had. an approving smile from mrs. calvert greeted her reappearance and the girl began to think it wasn't so bad after all have an old lady aboard. "really, mabel, there doesn't seem anything old about her except a few of her looks. i mean her white hair and some wrinkles. i guess it was all right she came, anyway." "it surely was all right. why, what would any of us have done if she hadn't been here? mamma was scared worse than i was, even. you know she saw a person killed by lightning once and has never got over it. you'll find, if you watch out, that mrs. calvert will help us have a good time, rather than spoil it; if--if--we don't go back. i guess mamma wishes we'd have to do that." aurora did not answer, for just then the others were eagerly discussing the situation. they were to "up anchor," run up the sails to catch the stiff breeze that was rising with the sun, and proceed down the coast as far as they could while the engineer remained, as he had agreed to do for a few hours longer, because of mrs. calvert's earnest request. "get us safe into some snug harbor, please mr. stinson, and i will see that you lose nothing by the delay." "that is all right, madam. i only wish i could join your cruise for all its length. i'm sure you're bound to have a grand trip, despite the bad beginning--which should bring the proverbial good ending." "i wish you could. oh! i do wish you could," said aunt betty. she was somewhat surprised to find the engineer a man of culture, but was delighted by the fact. she felt that the presence of such a man would keep her three boys straight, for she was a little afraid of "pranks" should they indulge in any. she had hoped, too, to make the most of their trip up and down the severn, with which lovely river her earliest memories lingered. however, they were not to reach it yet. the friendly wind forsook them and both cap'n jack and mr. stinson felt that it would be wise to enter a little bay further north; and making their slow way between some islands come to anchor on the shores of the magothy. "the maggotty! that's where the best cantaloupes come from!" cried mabel. "who'll buy my fine wattymillyouns, growed on de maggotty, down in an'erunnel! wattymillyouns! cant-e-lopes! oh! i want one this minute!" "what a dreadful name for a river! who'd eat melons full of maggots!" demanded aurora, with a little shiver. evidently, though she must often have heard them, she had paid scant attention to the cries of the negro hucksters through her own city's streets. "it isn't 'maggotty' but 'magothy'," explained dorothy. "i used to think just as you do until i learned better. i'm bad as mabel. i just can't wait. i must have a 'cantaloupe' for supper, i must! scooped out and filled with ice--sweet and juicy----" "hold on! hold on! wait till i fetch it!" returned gerald, with a smack of his own lips. then leaving the others to follow as they chose he ran to the stern of the tender which the men had brought close to a grassy bank, and leaped ashore. "wheah's he gwine at?" demanded ephraim, who had been in the way and unceremoniously pushed aside. "wattymillyouns!" yelled jim, following the other boy's lead. "wattymillyouns? wat-ty-mill-youns? my hea't o' grace! i'se done gwine get some fo' my miss betty!" "for yo'se'f you-all means, yo' po' triflin' ornery ole niggah! ain't it de trufe?" laughed chloe, coming to the old man's side, and laying a restraining hand upon his shoulder, while all her white teeth showed in a wide grin. safely anchored, the engineer gone, the old captain bustling about on the roof of the boat, making all snug and shipshape for the coming night, every heart was light. none more so than those of the colored folks, always in the habit of leaving care to "their white" friends and like children in their readiness to forget the past. ephraim didn't leap the plank, his "roomaticals" prevented; but he displayed a marvelous agility in getting ashore and speed in following the vanishing lads. "what's up?" demanded melvin, running to where chloe stood, holding her sides and shaking with laughter, "where have they gone?" "maggotty millyouns! spyed a millyoun patch ovah yondah an'--lan' ob goshen! if he ain' done gwine, too! well, my sake! mebbe chloe doan' lub millyouns same's anuddah, mebbe!" as melvin disappeared over the side, his own mouth watering for the southern delicacies so rare to his own northern home, mistress chloe gathered up her petticoats and sprang ashore. little methuselah called after her but she did not pause. she meant to get her own share from that distant melon-patch, and her maternal ears were deaf to his outcries. sharing the common feeling of repose and safety which had fallen upon all the company when the water lily had been tied up for the night, metty had felt it a fine time to don his livery and show off his finery before the white folks. clad in its loose misfit, but proud as ever, he clung to the stern-rail of the pad and gazed after his departing parent. what had happened? why were all those people running away so fast? was another frightful tempest coming? "mammy! mam-my! lemme! lemme come! mammy, mammy, wait--i'se com----" a point on the water side of the pad commanded a better view of the fleeing figures, climbing the gentle rise of ground beyond. thither the little fellow rushed; gave one glance downward into the water and another upon his gorgeous attire; then upward and onward where a fold of scarlet calico fluttered like a signal; shut his great eyes, and leaped. alas! the fat little legs couldn't compass that space! and methuselah bonaparte washington brown sank beneath the waves his own impact had created. chapter vi. a mule and melon transaction. the five melon-hungry deserters from the water lily came breathlessly to the "snake" rail-fence which bordered the "patch" and paused with what gerald called "neatness and dispatch." suddenly there rose from behind the fence a curious figure to confront them. two figures, in fact, a man's and a mule's. both were of a dusty brown color, both were solemn in expression, and so like one another in length of countenance that melvin giggled and nudged jim, declaring under his breath: "look like brothers, don't you know?" ephraim was the first to recover composure as, removing his hat, he explained: "we-all's trabellers an' jes' natchally stopped to enquiah has yo' wattymillyouns fo' sale." chloe sniggered at the old man's deft turn of the matter, for she knew perfectly well that the idea of buying the melons hadn't entered his mind until that moment. he was an honest creature in general, but no southern negro considers it a crime to steal a water-melon--until he is caught at it! the air with which ephy bowed and scraped sent the boys into roars of laughter but didn't in the least lessen the gloom of the farmer's face. at last he opened his lips, closed them, reopened them and answered: "ye-es. i have. but--i cayn't sell 'em. they ain't never no sale for _my_ truck. is they, billy?" the mournfulness of his voice was absurd. as absurd as to call the solemn-visaged mule by the frivolous name of "billy." evidently the animal understood human speech, for in response to his owner's appeal the creature opened his own great jaws in a prodigious bray. whereupon the farmer nodded, gravely, as if to say: "you see. billy knows." "how much yo' tax 'em at?" asked chloe, gazing over the fence with longing eyes and mentally selecting the ripest and juiciest of the fruit. "i ain't taxin' 'em. i leave it to you." then he immediately sat down upon the rock beside the fence where he had been "resting" for most of that afternoon, or "evenin'" as he called it. billy doubled himself up and sprawled on the ground near his master, to the injury of the vines and one especially big melon. "o, suh! _doan'_ let him squush it!" begged chloe; while ephraim turned upon her with a reproving: "you-all min' yo' place! _ah_ 'm 'tendin' to dis yeah business." "va'y well. jes' gimme mah millyoun ter tote home to miss betty. ah mus' ha' left mah pocket-book behin' me!" she jeered. then, before they knew what she was about, she had sprung over the fence and picked up the melon she had all along selected as her own. nobody interfered, not even the somber owner of the patch; and with amazing lightness chloe scrambled back again, the great melon held in the skirt of her red gown, and was off down the slope at the top of her speed. ephraim put on his "specs" and gravely stared after her; then shook his head, saying: "dat yeah gell's de flightiest evah! ain't it de trufe?" but now a new idea had come to jim, and laying a hand on the collars of the other lads, he brought their heads into whispering nearness of his own: "say, fellows, _let's buy billy_! a mule that understands english is the mule to draw the water lily!" a pause, while the notion was considered, then melvin exclaimed: "good enough! if he doesn't ask too much. try him!" "yes, ask him. i'll contribute a fiver, myself," added gerald. ephraim had now struggled over the fence and was pottering about among the melons, with the eye of a connoisseur selecting and laying aside a dozen of the choicest. those which were not already black of stem he passed by as worthless, as he did those which did not yield a peculiar softness to the pressure of his thumb. his face fairly glittered and his "roomaticals" were wholly forgotten; till his attention was suddenly arrested by the word "money," spoken by one of the boys beyond the fence. at that he stood up, put his hands on his hips, and groaned; then keenly listened to what was being said. "ye-es. i _might_ want to sell billy, but i cayn't. i cayn't never sell anything." "well, we're looking for a mule, a likely mule. one strong enough to haul a house-boat. billy's pretty big; looks as if he could." "billy can do anything he's asked to. cayn't you, billy?" it was funny to see the clever beast rise slowly to his feet, shake the dust from his great frame, turn his sorrowful gaze upon his master's face, and utter his assenting bray. melvin flung himself on the grass and laughed till his sides ached; then sprang up again wild with eagerness to possess such a comical creature: "oh! buy him--buy him--no matter the price! he'd be the life of the whole trip! i'll give something, too, as much as i can spare!" jim tried to keep his face straight as he inquired: "what is the price of billy, sir?" the farmer sighed, so long and deeply, that the mule lay down again as if pondering the matter. "young man, that there billy-mule is beyond price. there ain't another like him, neither along the magothy nor on the eastern sho'. i cayn't sell billy." during his life upon the mountains james barlow had seen something of "horse-traders" and he surmised that he had such an one to deal with now. he expected that the man would name a price, after a time, much higher than he really would accept, and the boy was ready for a "dicker." he meant to show the other lads how clever and astute he could be. so he now returned: "oh, yes. i think you can if you get your price. everything has its price, i've read somewhere--even mules!" "young man, life ain't no merry jest. i've found that out and so'll you. _i cayn't sell billy._" "ten dollars?" no reply, but the man sat down again beside his priceless mule and reopened the old book he had been reading when interrupted by these visitors. "fifteen?" "twenty?" volunteered gerald. "twenty-five?" asked melvin. then in an aside to the other boys: "i wonder if dorothy will help pay for him!" "sure. this is her racket, isn't it? it was mrs. calvert, or somebody, said we could be towed along shore, as if the lily were a canal-boat. sure! we'll be doing her a kindness if we buy it for her and save her all the trouble of looking for one;" argued gerald, who had but a small stock of money and wasn't eager to spend it. jim cast one look of scorn upon him, then returned to his "dickering." he had so little cash of his own that he couldn't assume payment, but he reasoned that, after he had written an account of their predicament to mr. winters, the generous donor of the lily would see that she was equipped with the necessary "power," even if that power lay in the muscles of a gigantic mule. "oh! sir, please think it over. hark, i'll tell you the whole story, then i'm sure you'll want to help a lady--several ladies--out of a scrape," argued jim, with such a persuasive manner that melvin was astonished. this didn't seem at all like the rather close-tongued student he had known before. but the truth was that jim had become infatuated with the idea of owning at least a share in billy. he was used to mules. he had handled and lived among them during his days upon mrs. stott's truck-farm. he was sure that the animal could be made useful in many ways and--in short, he wanted, he must have billy! in a very few moments he had told the whole tale of the house-boat and its misfortunes, laying great stress upon the "quality" of its owners, and thus shrewdly appealing to the chivalry of this southern gentleman who was playing at farming. for a time his only apparent listener was old ephraim, who had picked up a hoe somewhere and now leaned upon it, resting from his selection of the melons. but, though he didn't interfere with the glib narrative, he confirmed it by nods of his gray head, and an occasional "dat's so, cunnel." evidently, the farmer was impressed. he stopped pretending to read and folding his arms, leaned back against the rails, his eyes closed, an expression of patient, sad endurance upon his long face. his manner said as plainly as words: "if this young gabbler _will_ talk i suppose i must listen." but gradually this manner changed. his eyes opened. the book slid to the ground. in spite of his own unwillingness he was interested. a house-boat! he'd never heard of such a thing; but, if the tale were true, it would be something new to see. besides, ladies in distress? that was an appeal no gentleman could deny, even though that gentleman were as poor as himself. he might well have added "as shiftless;" for another man in his position would have been stirring himself to get that fine crop of melons into market. jim finished his recital with the eager inquiry: "now, sir, don't you think you can sell billy and put a reasonable price on him?" the lad rose to his feet as he asked this and the man slowly followed his example. then laying his hand on heart he bowed, saying: "i cayn't sell billy. i give you my word. but, a southern planter is never beyond the power, sir, to bestow a gift. kindly convey said billy to miss calvert with the compliments of colonel judah dillingham of t. yonder are the bars. they are down. they are always down. so are my fortunes. billy, old friend, farewell." this strange gentleman then solemnly reseated himself and again picked up his book. a deeper gloom than ever had settled upon him and a sigh that was almost a sob shook him from head to foot. billy, also, slowly and stiffly rose, regarded the reader with what seemed like grieved amazement and dismally brayed. there was an old harness upon him, half-leather, half-rope, with a few wisps of corn-husk, and without delay jim laid his hand on the bit-ring and started away. "of course, sir, we will pay for the mule. my folks wouldn't, i mean couldn't, accept such a gift from a stranger. our house-boat is tied up at the little wharf down yonder and we'll likely be there for awhile. i'll come back soon and tell what they say." colonel dillingham made no motion as if he heard and james was too afraid he would repent of the bargain to tarry. but billy wasn't easy to lead. he followed peaceably enough as far as the designated bars, even stepped over the fallen rails into the grassy fields beyond. but there he firmly planted his fore-feet and refused to go further. left behind and scarcely believing his own eyes, ephraim now respectfully inquired, with pride at having guessed the man's title: "how much dese yeah millyouns wuth, cunnel?" the question was ignored although the gentleman seemed listening to something. it was the dispute now waging in the field beyond, where jim was trying to induce billy to move and the other lads were offering suggestions in the case. at last something akin to a smile stole over the farmer's grim features and he roughly ordered: "shut up, you nigger! huh! just as i thought. i couldn't sell billy and billy won't be given. eh? what? price of melons? you black idiot, do you reckon a gentleman who can afford to give away a mule's goin' to take money for a few trumpery water-melons? go on away. go to the packin'-house yonder and find a sack. fill it. take the whole field full. eat enough to kill yourself. i wish you would!" far from being offended by this outbreak, ephraim murmured: "yes, suh, t'ank yo', suh," and hobbled over the uneven ground toward the whitewashed building in the middle of the patch. some more thrifty predecessor had built this for the storing and packing of produce, but under the present owner's management it was fast tumbling to ruin. but neither did this fact surprise ephy, nor hinder him from choosing the largest sack from a pile on the floor. with this in hand he hurried back to the goodly heap of melons he had made ready and hastily loaded them into the sack. not till then did he consider how he was to get that heavy load to the water lily. standing up, he took off his hat, scratched his wool, hefted the melons, and finally chuckled in delight. "'mo' ways 'an one to skin a cat'! down-hill's easier 'an up!" with that he began to drag the sack toward the fence and, having reached it, took out its contents and tossed them over the fence. when the bag was empty he rolled and tucked it into the back of his coat, then climbed back to the field outside. the controversy with billy was still going lustily on, but ephy had more serious work on hand than that. such a heap of luscious melons meant many a day's feast, if they could be stored in some safe, cool place. "hello! look at old eph!" suddenly cried gerald, happening to turn about. "huh! now ain't that clever? wonder i never thought o' that myself!" cried the colonel, with some animation. "clever enough for a white man. billy, you'd ought have conjured that yourself. but that's always the way. i cayn't think a thought but somebody else has thought it before me. i cayn't never get ahead of the tail end of things. oh! hum!" the colonel might be sighing but the three lads were laughing heartily enough to drown the sighs, for there was the old negro starting one after another of the great melons a-roll down the gentle slope, to bring up on the grassy bank at the very side of the water lily. if a few fell over into the water they could easily be fished out, reasoned ephraim, proud of his own ingenuity. but the group beside the bars didn't watch to see the outcome of that matter, nor ephraim's reception. they were too busy expostulating with billy, and lavishing endearments upon him. "'stubborn as a mule'," quoted melvin, losing patience. "or fate," responded the colonel, drearily. "please, sir, won't you try to make him go?" pleaded gerald. "i think if you just started him on the right way he'd keep at it." "billy is--billy!" said the farmer. he was really greatly interested. nothing so agreeable as this had happened in his monotonous life since he could remember. here were three lads, as full of life as he had been once, jolly, hearty, with a will to do and conquer everything; and--here was billy. a great, awkward, inert mass of bone and muscle, merely, calmly holding these clever youngsters at bay. "can he be ridden?" demanded jim, at length. "he might. try;" said the man, in heart-broken accents. jim tried. melvin tried. gerald tried. with every attempt to cross his back the animal threw up his heels and calmly shook the intruder off. the colonel folded his arms and sorrowfully regarded these various attempts and failures; then dolefully remarked: "it seems i cayn't even _give_ billy away. ah! hum." jim lost his temper. "well, sir, we'll call it off and bid you good night. somebody will come back to pay you for the melons." as he turned away in a huff his mates started to follow him; but melvin was surprised by a touch on his shoulder and looked up to see the colonel beside him. "young man, you look as if you came of gentle stock. billy was brought up by a gentlewoman, my daughter. she forsook him and me for another man. i mean she got married. that's why billy and i live alone now, except for the niggers. they's a right and a wrong way to everything. _this_--is the right way with billy. billy, lie down." for an instant the animal hesitated as if suspecting some treachery in this familiar command; then he doubled himself together like a jack-knife, or till he was but a mound of mule-flesh upon the grass. "she taught him. she rode this way. billy, get up." this strange man had seated himself sidewise upon the mule's back, leisurely freeing his feet from the loose-hanging harness and balancing himself easily as the animal got up. then still sitting sidewise he ordered: "billy, proceed." at once billy "proceeded" at an even and decorous pace, while the lads walked alongside, vastly entertained by this unusual rider and his mount. he seemed to think a further explanation necessary, for as they neared the bottom of the slope he remarked: "learned that in egypt. camel riding. she came home and taught him." then they came to the edge of the bank and paused in surprise. instead of the gay welcome they had expected, there was chloe walking frantically up and down, hugging a still dripping little figure to her breast and refusing to yield it to the outstretched arms of poor old ephraim, who stood in the midst of his melons, a woe-begone, miserable creature, wholly unlike his jubilant self of a brief while before. "what's--happened?" asked jim, running to chloe's side. "'tis a jedgmen'! a jedgmen'! oh! de misery--de misery!" she wailed, breaking away from him and wildly running to and fro again, in the fierce excitement of her race. yet there upon the roof of the cabin, cheerily looking out from his "bridge" was cap'n jack. he was waving his crutches in jovial welcome and trying to cover chloe's wailing by his exultant: "i fished him out with a boat-hook! with--a--boat-hook, d'ye hear?" chapter vii. visitors. attracted by the wild flowers growing in the fields around the cove where the water lily was moored, the four girls had left the boat a little while before the melon seekers had done so. mabel and aurora cared little for flowers in themselves but dorothy's eagerness was infectious, and elsa's pale face had lighted with pleasure. but even then her timidity moved her to say: "suppose something happens? suppose we should get lost? it's a strange, new place--i guess--i'm afraid--i'll stay with mrs. calvert, please." "you'll do nothing of the kind, my dear," said that lady, smiling. "you've done altogether too much 'staying' in your short life. time now to get outdoor air and girlish fun. go with dorothy and get some color into your cheeks. you want to go back to that father of yours looking a very different elsa from the one he trusted to us. run along! don't bother about a hat and jacket. exercise will keep you from taking cold. dolly, dear, see that the child has a good time." elsa's mother had died of consumption and her father had feared that his child might inherit that disease. in his excessive love and care for her he had kept her closely housed in the poor apartment of a crowded tenement, the only home he could afford. the result had been to render her more frail than she would otherwise have been. her shyness, her lameness, and her love of books with only her father for teacher, made her contented enough in such a life, but was far from good for her. the best thing that had ever happened to her was this temporary breaking up of this unwholesome routine and her having companions of her own age. so that even now she had looked wistfully upon the small bookshelf in the cabin, with the few volumes placed there; but mrs. calvert shook her head and elsa had to obey. "but, dorothy, aren't you afraid? there might be snakes. it might rain. it looks wet and swampy--i daren't get my feet wet--father's so particular----" "if it rains i'll run back and get you an umbrella, aunt betty's own--the only one aboard, i fancy. and as for fear--child alive! did you never get into the woods and smell the ferns and things? there's nothing so sweet in the world as the delicious woodsy smell! ah! um! let's hurry!" cried dolly, linking her arm in the lame girl's and helping her over the grassy hummocks. even then elsa would have retreated, startled by the idea of "woods" where the worst she had anticipated was a leisurely stroll over a green meadow. but there was no resisting her friend's enthusiasm; besides, looking backward she was as much afraid to return and try clambering aboard the lily, unaided, as she was to go forward. so within a few minutes all four had entered the bit of woodland and, following dorothy's example, were eagerly searching for belated blossoms. learning, too, from that nature-loving girl, things they hadn't known before. "a cardinal flower--more of them--a whole lot! yes, of course, it's wet there. cardinals always grow in damp places, along little streams like this i've slipped my foot into! oh! aren't they beauties! won't dear aunt betty go just wild over them! if father john, the darling man who 'raised' me, were only here! he's a deal lamer than you, elsa carruthers, but nobody's feet would get over the ground faster than his crutches if he could just have one glimpse of this wonderland! "did you ever notice? almost all the autumn flowers are either purple or yellow or white? there are no real blues, no rose-colors; with just this lovely, lovely cardinal for an exception." dorothy sped back to where elsa stood nervously balancing herself upon a fallen tree-trunk and laid the brilliant flowers in her hands. elsa looked at them in wonder and then exclaimed: "my! how pretty! they look just as if they were made out of velvet in the milliner's window! and how did you know all that about the colors?" "oh! father john, and mr. winters--uncle seth, he likes me to call him--the dear man that gave us the water lily--they told me. though i guessed some things myself. you can't help that, you know, when you love anything. i think, i just do think, that the little bits of things which grow right under a body's feet are enough to make one glad forever. sometime, when i grow up, if aunt betty's willing, and i don't have to work for my living, i shall build us a little house right in the woods and live there." "pshaw, dolly doodles! you couldn't build a house if you tried. and you'd get mighty sick of staying in the woods all the time, with nobody coming to visit you----" remarked mabel coming up behind them. "i should have the birds and the squirrels, and all the lovely creatures that live in the forest!" "and wild-cats, and rattlesnakes, and horrid buggy things! who'd see any of your new clothes?" "i shouldn't want any. i'd wear one frock till it fell to pieces----" "you wouldn't be let! mrs. calvert's awful particular about your things." "that's so," commented aurora. "they're terrible plain but they look just right, somehow. righter 'n mine do, gerry says, though i don't believe they cost near as much." "well, we didn't come into these lovely woods to talk about clothes. anybody can make clothes but only the dear god can make a cardinal flower!" cried dorothy, springing up, with a sudden sweet reverence on her mobile face. elsa as suddenly bent and kissed her, and even the other matter-of-fact girls grew thoughtful. "it's like a church, isn't it? only more beautiful," whispered the lame girl. "yes, isn't it? makes all the petty hatefulness of things seem not worth while. what matter if the storm did break the engine--that stranded us right here and gave us _this_. if we'd kept on down the bay we'd have missed it. that's like dear uncle seth says--that things are _meant_. so i believe that it was 'meant' you should come here to-day and have your first taste of the woods. you'll never be afraid of them again, i reckon." "never--never! i'm glad you made me come. i didn't want to. i wanted to read, but this is better than any book could be, because like you said--god made it." aurora and mabel had already turned back toward the lily and now called that it was time to go. though the little outing had meant less to them than it had to elsa and dorothy, it had still given them a pleasure that was simple and did them good. aurora had gathered a big bunch of purple asters for the table, thinking how well they would harmonize with the dainty lavender of her hostess's gown; and mabel had plucked a lot of "boneset" for her mother, remembering how much that lady valued it as a preventive of "malary"--the disease she had been sure she would contract, cruising in shallow streams. "come on, girls! something's happened! the boys are waving to us like all possessed!" shouted mabel, when they had neared the wharf and the boat which already seemed like home to them. indeed, gerald and melvin were dancing about on the little pier beckoning and calling: "hurry up, hurry up!" and the girls did hurry, even elsa moving faster than she had ever done before. already she felt stronger for her one visit to that wonderful forest and she was hoping that the water lily might remain just where it was, so that she might go again and again. then gerald came to meet them, balancing a water-melon on his head, trying to imitate the ease with which the colored folks did that same trick. but he had to use his hands to keep it in place and even so it slipped from his grasp and fell, broken to pieces at elsa's feet. "oh! what a pity!" she cried, then dropped her eyes because she had been surprised into speaking to this boy who had never noticed her before. "not a bit! here, my lady, taste!" she drew back her head from the great piece he held at her lips but was forced to take one mouthful in self-defence. but dorothy, in similar fix was eating as if she were afraid of losing the dainty, while gerald merrily pretended to snatch it away. "ha! that shows the difference--greed and daintiness!" then in a changed tone he exclaimed: "pretty close shave for the pickaninny!" dorothy held her dripping bit of melon at arm's length and quickly asked: "what do you mean? why do you look so sober all of a sudden?" "metty came near drowning. tried to follow his mother over the field to the melon-patch and fell into the water. mrs. calvert was walking around the deck and heard the splash. nobody else was near. she ran around to that side and saw him. then she screamed. old cap'n says by the time he got there the little chap was going under for the last time. don't know how he knew that--doubt if he did--but if he did--but he wouldn't spoil a story for a little thing like a lie. queer old boy, that skipper, with his pretended log and his broken spy-glass. he----" "never mind that, go on--go on! he was saved, wasn't he? oh! say that he was!" begged dolly, wringing her hands. "course. and you're dripping pink juice all over your skirt!" "if you're going to be so tantalizing----" she returned and forgetful of lame elsa, sped away to find out the state of things for herself. left alone elsa began to tremble, so that her teeth chattered when gerald again held the fruit to her lips. "please don't! i--i can't bear it! it seems so dreadful! nothing's so dreadful as--death! poor, poor, little boy!" the girl's face turned paler than ordinary and she shook so that gerald could do no less than put his arm around her to steady her. "don't feel that way, elsa! metty isn't dead. i tell you he's all right. he's the most alive youngster this minute there is in the country. old cap'n is lame; of course he couldn't swim, even if he'd tried. but he didn't. he just used his wits, and they're pretty nimble, let me tell you! there was a boat-hook hanging on the rail--that's a long thing with a spike, or hook, at one end, to pull a boat to shore, don't you know? he caught that up and hitched it into the seat of metty's trousers and fished him out all right. fact." elsa's nervousness now took the form of tears, mingled with hysterical laughter, and it was gerald's turn to grow pale. what curious sort of a girl was this who laughed and cried all in one breath, and just because a little chap wasn't drowned, though he might have been? "i say, girlie, elsa, whatever your name is, quit it! you're behaving horrid! _metty isn't dead._ he's very much happier than--than i am, at this minute. he's eating water-melon and you'd show some sense if you'd do that, too. when his mother got back, after stealing her melon, she found things in a fine mess. old cap'n had fished the youngster out but he wasn't going to have him drip muddy water all over his nice clean 'ship.' not by a long shot! so he carries him by the boat-hook, just as he'd got him, over to the grass and hung him up in a little tree that was there, to dry. yes, sir! gave him a good spanking, too, mrs. bruce said, just to keep him from taking cold! funny old snoozer, ain't he?" in spite of herself elsa stopped sobbing and smiled; while relieved by this change gerald hurriedly finished his tale. "he was hanging there, the cap'n holding him from falling, when his mother came tearing down the hill and stopped so short her melon fell out her skirt--ker-smash! 'what you-all doin' ter mah li'l lamb?' says she. 'just waterin' the grass,' says he. 'why-fo'?' says she. ''cause the ornery little fool fell into the river and tried to spile his nice new livery. why else?' says he. then--did you ever hear a colored woman holler? made no difference to her that the trouble was all over and methuselah washington bonaparte was considerable cleaner than he had been before his plunge; she kept on yelling till everybody was half-crazy and we happened along with--billy! say, elsa----" "gerald, i mean mr. blank, is all that true?" "what's the use eyeing a fellow like that? i guess it's true. that's about the way it must have been and, anyway, that part that our good skipper fished the boy out of the water is a fact. old ephraim grand-daddy hated cap'n jack like poison before; now he'd kiss the ground he walks on, if he wasn't ashamed to be caught at it. funny! that folks should make such an everlasting fuss over one little black boy!" "i suppose they love him," answered elsa. she was amazed to find herself walking along so quietly beside this boy whom she had thought so rough, and from whom she shrank more than from any of the others. he had certainly been kind. he was the one who had stayed to help her home when even dorothy forsook her. she had hated his rude boisterous ways and the sound of his voice, with its sudden changes from a deep bass to a squeaking falsetto. now she felt ashamed and punished, that she had so misjudged the beautiful world into which she had come, and, lifting her large eyes to gerald's face, said so very prettily. but the lad had little sentiment in his nature and hated it in others. if she was going to act silly and "sissy" he'd leave her to get home the best way she could. the ground was pretty even now and, with her hand resting on his arm, she was walking steadily enough. of course, her lame foot did drag but---a prolonged bray broke into his uncomfortable mood and turning to the startled elsa, he merrily explained: "that's billy! hurry up and be introduced to billy! i tell you he's a character----" "billy? _billy!_ don't tell me there's another boy come to stay on the lily!" "fact. the smartest one of the lot! hurry up!" elsa had to hurry, though she shrank from meeting any more strangers, because gerald forgot that he still grasped her arm and forced her along beside him, whether or no. but she released herself as they came to the wharf and the people gathered there. this company included not only the house-boat party but a number of other people. so novel a craft as a house-boat couldn't be moored within walking distance of four-corners' post-office, and the waterside village of jimpson's landing, without arousing great curiosity. also, the other boats passing up and down stream, scows and freighters mostly these were, plying between the fertile lands of anne arundel and the baltimore markets, had spread the tale. now, at evening, when work was over, crowds flocked from the little towns to inspect the water lily and its occupants. also, many of them to offer supplies for its convenience. the better to do this last, they unceremoniously climbed aboard, roamed at will over both boat and tender, inspected and commented upon everything and, finally, demanded to see the "boss." outside on the grass beside the wharf sat colonel dillingham of t, side-saddle-wise upon great billy, who had gone to sleep. he was waiting to be presented to mrs. calvert and would not presume to disturb her till she sent for him. meanwhile he was very comfortable, and with folded arms, his habitual attitude, he sadly observed the movements of his neighbors. most of these nodded to him as they passed, with an indifferent "howdy, cunnel?" paying no further attention to him. yet there was something about the man on mule-back that showed him to be of better breeding than the rustics who disdained him. despite his soiled and most unhappy appearance he spoke with the accents of a gentleman, and when his name was repeated to mrs. calvert she mused over it with a smile. "dillingham? dillingham of t? why, of course, dolly dear, he's of good family. one of the best in maryland. i reckon i'll have to go into the cabin and receive him. is it still full of those ill-bred men, who swarmed over this boat as if they owned it?" "yes, aunt betty, pretty full. some, a few, have gone. those who haven't want to see the 'boss.'" mrs. calvert peered from her stateroom whither she had fled at the first invasion of visitors, and smiled. then she remarked: "just go ashore and be interviewed there, dear." "auntie! what do you mean?" "i fancy you're the real 'boss,' or head of this company, when it comes to fact. it's _your_ water lily, _you_ are bearing the expenses, i'm your guest, and 'where the honey is the bees will gather.' if these good people once understand that it's you who carry the purse----" "but i don't! you know that. i gave it to mrs. bruce. i asked her to take care of the money because--well, because i'm careless, sometimes, you know, and might lose it." "it's the same thing. ask her to go with you and advise you, if there is anything you need. but, remember, money goes fast if one doesn't take care." it sounded rather strange to dorothy to hear aunt betty say this for it wasn't the lady's habit to discuss money matters. however, she hadn't time to think about that for here was mrs. bruce, urging: "dorothy, do come and do something with these men. there's one fairly badgering me to buy cantaloupes--and they do look nice--but with all the water-melons--yes, sir; this is the 'boss;' this is miss calvert, the owner of the water lily." a man with a basket of freshly dug potatoes had followed mrs. bruce to the door of mrs. calvert's stateroom which, with a hasty "beg pardon" from within, had been closed in their faces. another man, carrying smaller baskets of tempting plums, was trying to out-talk his neighbor; while a third, dangling a pair of chickens above the heads of the other two, was urging the sale of these, "raised myself, right here on annyrunnell sile! nicest, fattest, little br'ilers ever you see, ma'am!" "huh! that pair of chickens wouldn't make a mouthful for our family!" cried the matron, desperately anxious to clear the cabin of these hucksters. she had made it her business to keep the water lily in spotless order and this invasion of muddy boots and dirt-scattering baskets fretted her. besides, like all the rest of that "ship's company," her one desire was to make mrs. calvert perfectly comfortable and happy. she knew that this intrusion of strangers would greatly annoy her hostess and felt she must put an end to it at once. but how? dorothy rose to the occasion. assuming all the dignity her little body could summon she clapped her hands for silence and unexpectedly obtained it. people climbing the crooked stairs to the roof and the "skipper's bridge" craned their necks to look at her; those testing the arrangement of the canvas partitions between the cots on one side stopped with the partitions half-adjusted and stared; while the chattering peddlers listened, astonished. "excuse me, good people, but this boat is private property. none should come aboard it without an invitation. please all go away at once. i'll step ashore with this lady and there we'll buy whatever she thinks best." probably because her words made some of the intruders ashamed a few turned to leave; more lingered, among these the hucksters, and dorothy got angry. folding her arms and firmly standing in her place she glared upon them till one by one they slipped away over the gang-plank and contented themselves with viewing the water lily and its pad from that point. as the last smock-clad farmer disappeared dorothy dropped upon the floor and laughed. "o mrs. bruce! wasn't that funny? those great big men and i--a little girl! they mustn't do it again. they shall not!" "the best way to stop them is to do as you promised--step to the shore and see them there. those potatoes were real nice. we might get some of them, but the chickens--it would take so many. might get one for mrs. calvert's breakfast--oatmeal will do for the rest of us." dorothy sprang up and hurried with her friend off from the lily. but she made a wry face at the mention of oatmeal-breakfasts and explained: "aunt betty wouldn't eat chicken if none of the others had it. and just oatmeal--i hate oatmeal! it hasn't a bit of expression and i'm as hungry after it as before. just do get enough of those 'br'ilers' for all. please, mrs. bruce! there's nobody in the world can broil a chicken as you do! i remember! i've eaten them at your house before i ever left baltimore!" naturally, the matron was flattered. she wasn't herself averse to fine, tasty poultry, and resolved to gratify the teasing girl that once. but she qualified her consent with the remark: "it mustn't be such luxury very often, child, if you're to come out even with this trip and the money. my! what a great mule! what a curious man on it! why does he sit sidewise and gloom at everybody, that way?" dorothy hadn't yet spoken with colonel dillingham though the boys had given her a brief description of him and their attempted purchase. but she was unprepared to have him descend from his perch and approach her, saying: "your servant, miss calvert. you resemble your great-grandfather. _he_ was a man. he--_was_ a man! ah! yes! he was a--_man_! i cayn't be too thankful that you are you, and that it's to a descendant of a true southern nobleman i now present--billy. billy, miss calvert. miss calvert, billy!" with a sigh that seemed to come from his very boots the gallant colonel placed one of the mule's reins in dorothy's astonished hand and bowed again; and as if fully appreciating the introduction old billy bobbed his head up and down in the mournfulest manner and gravely brayed, while the observant bystanders burst into a loud guffaw. chapter viii. the colonel's revelation. "aunt betty, what does that 'of t' mean after that queer colonel's name?" "there is no sense in it, dear, of course. the family explained it this way. the gentleman's real name is trowbridge. his wife's family was dillingham. it was of much older origin than his and she was very proud of it. when she consented to marry him it was upon the condition that he would take her name, not she take his. a slight legal proceeding made it right enough but he added the 'of t.' it was a tribute to his honesty, i fancy, though it's quite a custom of marylanders to do as the dillinghams did. here he comes now. i must ask him about his daughter. he had one, a very nice girl i've heard." "coming! why, aunt betty, we haven't had breakfast yet!" mrs. betty laughed. "another familiar custom, dear, among country neighbors in this old state. why, my own dear mother thought nothing of having a party of uninvited guests arrive with the sunrise, expecting just the same cordial welcome she would have accorded later and invited ones. it never made any difference in the good old days. there was always plenty of food in the storehouse and plenty of help to prepare it. the colonel isn't so very old but he seems to cling to the traditions of his ancestors. i wonder, will he expect us to feed billy also! and i do hope mrs. bruce will have something nice for breakfast. the poor gentleman looks half-starved." "oh! yes, she has. we bought a half-dozen pairs of 'broilers' last night; but she meant them to last for supper, too." "run. bid her cook the lot. there'll be none too many." "but, auntie, dear! they cost fifty cents a-piece. six whole dollars for one single breakfast? besides the potatoes and bread and other stuff! six dollars a meal, eighteen dollars a day, how long will what is left of three hundred dollars last, after we pay for billy, as you said we must?" this was on the morning after the colonel's first call at the water lily. this had been a prolonged one because of--billy. that wise animal saw no stable anywhere about and, having been petted beyond reason by his loving, sad-hearted master, decided that he dared not--at his time of life--sleep out of doors. at least that was the way james barlow understood it, and no persuasion on the part of his new friends could induce the mule to remain after the colonel started for home. "tie him to the end of the wharf," suggested gerald. "that would be cruel. he might fall into the water in his sleep. we don't want two to do that in one day," protested dorothy. at that point billy began to bray; so mournfully and continuously that mrs. calvert sent word: "stop that beast! we shan't be able to sleep a wink if he keeps that noise up!" the colonel paused once more. his departure had been a succession of pauses, occasioned by two things: one that the lazy man never walked when he could ride; the other, that he could not bring himself to part from his "only faithful friend." the result was that he had again mounted the stubborn beast and disappeared in the darkness of his melon-patch. now he was back again, making his mount double himself up on the ground and so spare his rider the trouble of getting off in the usual way. "my hearties! will you see that, lads?" demanded melvin, coming down the bank with his towels over his arm. he had promptly discovered a sheltered spot, up stream, where he could take his morning dip, without which his english training made him uncomfortable. "pooh! he's given the mule and himself with it! he's fun for a day, but we can't stand him long. i hope mrs. calvert will give him his 'discharge papers' right away." "if she doesn't i will!" answered gerald, stoutly. "a very little of the 'cunnel' goes a long way with yours truly." jim looked up sharply. his own face showed annoyance at the reappearance of the farmer but he hadn't forgotten some things the others had. "look here, fellows! this isn't our picnic, you know!" melvin flushed and ducked his head, as if from a blow, but gerald retorted: "i don't care if it isn't. i'd rather quit than have that old snoozer for my daily!" "i don't suppose anybody will object to your quitting when you want to. the water lily ain't yours, though you 'pear to think so. and let me tell you right now; if you don't do the civil to anybody my mistress has around i'll teach you better manners--that's all!" with that jim returned to the polishing of his useless engine, making no further response to gerald's taunts. "mistress! _mistress?_ well, i'll have you to know, you young hireling, that i'm my own master. _i_ don't work for any mistress, without wages or with 'em, and in my set we don't hobnob with workmen--ever. hear that? and mind you keep your own place, after this!" an ugly look came over jim's face and his hands clenched. with utmost difficulty he kept from rising to knock the insolent gerald down, and a few words more might have brought on a regular battle of fists, had not melvin interposed in his mild voice yet with indignation in his eyes: "you don't mean that, gerald. 'a man's a man for a' that.' i'm a 'hireling,' too, d'ye mind? a gentleman, that you boast you are, doesn't bully his inferiors nor behave like a ruffian in a lady's house--or boat--which is the same thing. gentlemen don't do that--not in our province." then, fortunately, chloe appeared, asking if one of them would go to the nearest farmhouse and fetch a pail of cream for breakfast. "they's quality come, so li'l miss says, an' ole miss boun' ter hev t'ings right down scrumptious, lak wese do to home in baltimo'." with great willingness each and every lad offered to do the errand; and in a general tussle to grab her outstretched "bucket" their anger vanished in a laugh. the "good side" of gerald came uppermost and he awkwardly apologized: "just forget i was a cad, will you, boys? i didn't mean it. i'd just as lief go for that cream as not." "i'd liefer!" said melvin. jim said nothing but the ugly look vanished from his face and it was he who secured the pail and started with it on a run over the plank and the field beyond. "i'll beat you there!" shouted melvin; and "you can't do it!" yelled gerald; while chloe clasped her hands in dismay, murmuring: "looks lak dere won't be much cweam lef' in de bucket if it comes same's it goes!" that visit to the farmhouse, short though it was, gave a turn to affairs on the water lily. the farmer told the lads of a little branch a few miles further on, which would be an ideal place for such a craft to anchor, for "a day, a week, or a lifetime." "it's too fur off for them village loafers to bother any. you won't have to anchor in midstream to get shet of 'em, as would be your only chance where you be now. i was down with the crowd, myself, last night an' i was plumb scandalized the way some folks acted. no, sir, i wasn't aboard the water lily nor set foot to be. i come home and told my wife: 'lizzie,' says i, 'them water-travellers'll have a lot o' trouble with the corner-ites and jimpson-ites. it's one thing to be civil an' another to be imperdent.' i 'lowed to lizzie, i says: 'i ain't volunteerin' my opinion till it's asked, but when it is i'll just mention deer-copse on the ottawotta run. ain't a purtier spot on the whole map o' maryland 'an that is. good boatin', good fishin', good springs in the woods, good current to the run and no malary. better 'n that--good neighbors on the high ground above.' that's what i says to lizzie." jim's attention was caught by the name deer-copse. he thought mrs. calvert would like that, it was so much like her own deerhurst on the hudson. also, he had overheard her saying to mrs. bruce: "i do wish we could find some quiet stream, right through the heart of green woods, where there'd be no danger and no intruders." from this friendly farmer's description it seemed as if that bit of forest on the ottawotta would be an ideal camping-ground. there followed questions and answers. yes, the water lily might be hauled there by a mule walking on the bank, as far as the turn into the branch. after that, poling and hauling, according to the depth of the water and what the lily's keel "drawed," or required. they could obtain fresh vegetables real near. "i'm runnin' a farm that-a-way, myself; leastwise me an' my brother together. he's got no kind of a wife like lizzie. a poor, shiftless creatur' with more babies under foot 'an she can count, herself. one them easy-goin' meek-as-moses sort. good? oh! yes, real good. too good. thinks more o' meetin' than of gettin' her man a decent meal o' victuals. do i know what sort of mule cunnel dillingham has? well, i guess! that ain't no ornery mule, billy dillingham ain't. you see, him and the cunnel has lived so long together 't they've growed alike. after the cunnel's daughter quit home an' married jabb, cunnel up an' sold the old place. thought he'd go into truck-farmin'--him the laziest man in the state. farmin' pays, course, 'specially here in annyrunnell. why, my crop o' melons keeps my family all the year round an' my yuther earnin's is put in the bank. cunnel's got as big a patch as mine an' you cayn't just stop melons from growin' down here in annyrunnell! no, sir, cayn't stop 'em! not if you 'tend 'em right. they's an old sayin', maybe you've heard. 'he that by the plough would thrive, himself must either hold or drive.' the cunnel won't do ary one. he leaves the whole thing to his crew o' niggers an', course, they're some shiftlesser 'n he is. they're so plumb lazy, the whole crowd, 't they won't even haul their truck as fur as jimpson's, to have it loaded on a boat for market, an' that ain't further 'n you could swing a cat! losin' his old home an' losin' his gal, an' failin' to make truck pay, has made him downhearteder'an he was by natur'--and that's sayin' consid'able. must ye go, boys? got any melons? give ye as many as ye can carry if ye want 'em. call again. yes, the cream's wuth five cents. not this time, though. lizzie'd be plumb scandalized if i took pay for a mite o' cream for breakfast--such a late one, too. we had ours couple hours ago. eh? about billy? well, if he war mine, which he ain't, an' if i war asked to set a price on him, which i couldn't, i should say how 't he war a fust-class mule, but not wuth a continental without the cunnel--nor with him, nuther. if you take one you'll have to take t'other. call again. my respects to the lady owns the house-boat an'--good-by!" as the lads thanked their talkative neighbor and hurried down the fields, jim exclaimed: "was afraid this cream'd all turn to butter before he'd quit and let us go! but, we've learned a lot about some things. i'm thinking that ottawotta run is the business for us: and i fear--billy isn't. there must be other mules in anne arundel county will suit us better. mrs. calvert won't want him as a gift--with the colonel thrown in!" mrs. bruce met them impatiently. "seems as if boys never could do an errand without loitering. there's all those chickens drying to flinders in that oil-stove-oven, and that horrid old man talking mrs. calvert into a headache. least, he isn't talking so much as she is. thinks she must entertain him, i suppose. the idea! anybody going visiting to _breakfast_ without being asked!" but by this time the good woman had talked her annoyance off, and while she dished up the breakfast--a task she wouldn't leave to chloe on this state occasion--jim hastily condensed the information he had received and was glad that she promptly decided, as he had, that a sojourn on the quiet, inland run would best please aunt betty. "it would certainly suit me," assented the matron. "oh! hang it all! what's the use? hiding in a silly little creek when there's the whole chesapeake to cruise in!" cried the disgusted gerald, leaning upon the little table and hungrily eyeing the platter of chicken. "how can we dare, how could we if we dared, try the bay? we haven't any engine to use now," said jim. "well, get one, then! if that girl can afford to run a house-boat and ask folks to stay on it, she ought to provide something decent for their entertainment. when _we_ owned the water lily we did things up to the queen's taste. i'm not going to bury myself in any backwoods. i'll quit first." "boy, are you always so cross before breakfast?" asked a girl's voice over his shoulder, and he turned to see dorothy smiling upon him. "no. except when i'm sent for cream and hear fool talk from a measly old farmer in a blue smock," he answered, laughing rather foolishly. "was it the color of his smock made him measly? and what was that i heard about quitting?" "oh! nothing. i was just fooling. but, i say, dorothy, don't you let any old woman coax you into a dead-and-alive hole in the woods. mark what i say. they'll be trying it, but the water lily's your boat now, isn't it?" "so i understood. but from the amount of advice i receive as to managing it, i think, maybe, it isn't. well, i've heard you--now listen to me. 'the one who eats the most bread-and-butter can have the most cake'--or chicken. they look terrible little, don't they, now they're cooked? and i warn you, i never saw anybody look so hungry in all my life--no, not even you three boys!--as that poor, unhappy colonel of t, in there with aunt betty. yes, mrs. bruce, we're ready for breakfast at last. but mind what i say--_all we youngsters like oatmeal_! we _must_ like it this time for politeness sake. fourteen eaters and twelve halves of broiled chicken--problem, who goes without?" but nobody really did that. mrs. bruce was mistress of the art of carving and managed that each should have at least a small portion of the delicacies provided, though she had to tax her ingenuity to accomplish this. at the head of her table mrs. calvert motioned chloe to serve her guest again and again; and each time that ephraim jealously snatched a dainty portion for her own plate she as promptly and quietly restored it to the platter. also, the "skipper" at his own board played such a lively knife and fork that dishes were emptied almost before filled and gerald viciously remarked: "aren't as fond of ship's biscuit as you were, are you, cap'n jack?" the captain helped himself afresh and answered with good nature: "oh! yes. jes' as fond. but i likes a change. yes, i c'n make out to relish 'most anything. i ain't a mite partic'lar." this was too much for the lads and a laugh arose; but the old man merely peered over his specs at them and mildly asked: "what you-all laughin' at? tell me an' lemme laugh, too. laughin' does old folks good. eh, cunnel? don't you think so?" he asked, wheeling around to address the guest of honor. but that gentleman was too engaged at that moment to reply, even if he would have condescended so to do. just now, in the presence of mrs. calvert, whose mere name was a certificate of "quality," he felt himself an aristocrat, quite too exalted in life to notice a poor captain of a house-boat. breakfast over, aunt betty excused herself and withdrew to the shelter of her little stateroom. shelter it really was, now, against her uninvited guest. she had done her best to make his early call agreeable and to satisfy him with more substantial things than old memories. they had discussed all the prominent maryland families, from the first proprietor down to that present day; had discovered a possible relationship, exceedingly distant, he being the discoverer; and had talked of their beloved state in its past and present glories till she was utterly worn out. he had again "given" her his most cherished possession, billy the mule; and she had again declined to receive it. buy him, of course, dorothy would and should, if it proved that a mule was really needed. but not without fair payment for the animal would she permit "him" to become a member of her family. the colonel so persistently spoke of the creature as a human being that she began to think of billy as a monstrosity. the morning passed. aunt betty had deserted, and dorothy had to take her place as hostess. all her heart was longing for the green shore beyond that little wharf, where now all the other young folks were having a lively frolic. it was such a pity to waste that glorious sunshine just sitting in that little cabin talking to a dull old man. he did little talking himself. indeed, warmed by the sunshine on the deck where he sat, and comfortably satisfied with a more generous meal than he had enjoyed for many months, the colonel settled back on the steamer chair which was aunt betty's own favorite and went to sleep. he slept so long and quietly that she was upon the point of leaving him, reflecting: "even a calvert ought not to have to stay here now, and watch an old man--snore. it's dreadful, sometimes, to have a 'family name.' living up to it is such a tax. i wish--i almost wish--i was just a smith, jones, brown, or anybody! i will run away, just for a minute, sure! and see what happens!" but, despite the snores, the visitor was a light sleeper. at her first movement from her own chair, he awoke and actually smiled upon her. "beg pardon, little lady. i forgot where i was and just lost myself. before i dropped off i was goin' to tell you--pshaw! i cayn't talk. i enjoy quiet. d'ye happen to see billy, anywhere?" "certainly. he's right over on that bank yonder and the boys are trying to fix a rope to his harness, so he can begin to draw the boats up stream. they want to try and see if it will work. funny! to turn this lovely water lily into a mere canal-boat. but i suppose we can still have some good times even that way." the colonel shook his head. "no, you cayn't. nobody can. they ain't any good times for anybody any more." "what a lot of 'anys'! seems as if out of so many there might be one good time for somebody. i was in hopes you were having such just now. what can i do to make it pleasanter for you?" "sit right down and let me speak. your name's calvert, ain't it?" "why, of course. i thought you knew;" answered the girl, reluctantly resuming her seat. "never take anything for granted. i cayn't do it, you cayn't do it. something'll always go wrong. it did with your great-grandfather's brother that time when he hid--ah! hum! it ought to be yours, but it won't be. there couldn't be any such luck in this world. is billy lookin' comf'table?" billy answered for himself by a most doleful bray. indeed, he was resenting the lads' endeavors to remove his harness. jim fancied he could fix it better for the purpose of hauling the water lily, but the animal objected, because that harness had never been taken from his back since it was put on early in the spring. then the more ambitious of the negroes who managed the colonel's truck-farm had equipped billy for ploughing the melon-patch. after each day's work the beast had seemed tired and the gentleman-farmer had suggested: "don't fret him takin' it off. you'll only have to put it on again, to-morrow." this saved labor and suited all around; and billy was trying to explain to these tormenting lads how ill-at-ease and undressed he would feel, if he were stripped of his regalia. "sounds like he was in trouble, poor billy. but, of course, he is. everybody is. you are. if you had that buried--pshaw! what's the use! you ain't, you cayn't, nobody could find it, else things wouldn't have happened the way they did; and your great-grandfather wouldn't have forgot where he buried it; and it wouldn't have gone out the family; and since your great-grandfather's brother married my great-grandmother's sister we'd all have shared and shared alike. it's sad to think any man would be so careless for his descendants as to go and do what your great-grandfather's brother did and then forget it. but--it's the way things always go in this lop-sided world. ah! um." the colonel's breakfast had made him more talkative than had seemed possible and because she could do no better for her own amusement, dorothy inquired: "tell me the story of our great-grand-folks and what they buried. please. it would be interesting, i think." "very well, child, i'll try. but just keep an eye on billy. is he comf'table? i don't ask if he's happy. he isn't. nobody is." "beg pardon, but you are mistaken about that mule. no matter what the boys and captain hurry try to do with him, he manages to get his nose back to the ground again and eat--why, he hasn't really stopped eating one full minute since he came. that makes me think. will the man who owns that grass like to have him graze it that way? isn't grass really hay? don't they sell hay up home at baltimore? won't it cost a great deal to let billy do that, if hay is worth much?" "you ask as many questions as--as i've heard your folks always do. but it's no use worryin' over a little hay. it ain't wuth much. nothing's wuth anything in annyrunnell. the only thing in the whole county wuth a continental is what your great-grandfather's brother buried in the woods on ottawotta run. deer-copse was the spot. buried it in a brass-bound chest, kept the key, and then forgot. ah! hum." "ottawotta run? deer-copse! why, that's the very place the boys said the man said that you say--oh! aunt betty! aunt betty! there's a buried fortune belonging to our family out in the woods! we'll find it, we _must_ find it, and that will save all your old folks their home and you won't have to sell bellvieu!" almost shrieked dolly, running to her aunt's stateroom and flinging wide the little door, regardless of knocking for admittance. but disappointment awaited her--the stateroom was empty. chapter ix. fish and monkeys. farmer wickliffe stillwell proved a friend in need. about the middle of that eventful morning he appeared with a big basket on either arm, his blue-checked smock swaying in the breeze that had arisen, his iron-gray, luxuriant whiskers doing the same, and his head bare. he had started with his sunday hat perched on his "bald-spot," which was oddly in contrast with the hirsute growth below. lizzie, his wife, had affirmed such headgear was "more politer" than the old straw hat he commonly wore and that had the virtue of staying where it was put, as the stiff derby did not. having arrived at the wharf where the water lily was fastened he paused and awaited the invitation without which he wouldn't have crossed the gang-plank. he had plenty of time to rest before the invitation came. none of the lads who had visited his place for cream was in sight. mrs. calvert and mrs. bruce glanced toward him and looked away. they supposed him to be another of those "peddlers" who had swarmed over the boat the evening of its arrival, and didn't wish "to be annoyed." the colonel saw him but gave no sign of recognition. he waited to see what his hostess would do and would then follow her example. she looked away--so did this too chivalrous guest. the girls had gone to the woods, searching for wild grapes; and cap'n jack, with the lads, had taken the row-boat down stream on a fishing trip. fish, of many varieties, had been brought to the lily for sale, but fish that one caught for one's self would be finer and cost less; so they reasoned with a fine access of economy. ephraim and chloe were "tidying up;" and only little methuselah and billy-mule gave the visitor a word of welcome. these two were fast becoming friends, and both were prone on the ground; one suffering from a surfeit of grass--the other of water-melon. metty looked up and sat up--with a groan: "say, mister, 'd you evah hab de tummy-ache?" while billy's sad bray seemed to be asking the same question. "heaps of times. when i'd eaten too much green stuff. got it?" "yep. dey's a orful misery all eroun' me yeah! i'd lak some peppymin' but mammy she ain' done got none. oh! my!" "get a _rollin'_. nothing cures a colic quicker than that. and, look-a-here? how's this for medicine?" metty considered this the "mos' splendides' gemplemum" he had ever met. a gentleman made to order, indeed, with a paper bag in his pocket, chock full of beautiful red and white "peppymin's" which he lavishly dealt out to the small sufferer--a half one at a time! but many halves make several wholes, and metty's now happy tones, in place of complaints, brought chloe to the spot, and to the knowledge of the stranger's real errand. "come right erway in, suh. i sure gwine tell miss betty you-all ain' none dem peddlah gemplemums, but a genuwine calleh. dis yeah way, suh. metty, yo' triflin' little niggah! why ain' yo' tote one dese yeah bastics?" a familiar, not-too-heavy, cuff on the boy's ear set him briskly "toting" one basket while his mother carried the other. mr. stillwell followed his guide to where mrs. calvert sat and explained himself and his visit so simply and pleasantly that she was charmed and exclaimed: "this is delightful, to find neighbors where we looked for strangers only. how kind and how generous of your wife! i wish i could see and thank her in person." chloe had uncovered the daintily packed baskets and mrs. bruce fairly glowed in housewifely pleasure over the contents. "looks as if an artist had packed them," said aunt betty; and it did. tomatoes resting in nests of green lettuce; half-husked green corn flanked by purple eggplant and creamy squashes; crimson beets and brown skinned potatoes; these filled one basket. the other was packed with grapes of varying colors, with fine peaches, pears, rosy apples and purple plums. together they did make a bright spot of color on the sunny deck and brought a warm glow to mrs. calvert's heart. the cheerful face of the farmer and his open-hearted neighborliness were an agreeable contrast to the dolefulness of the more aristocratic colonel--called such by courtesy and custom but not from any right to the title. "if the girls would only come!" said mrs. bruce. "i'd like to have them see the things before we move one out of its pretty place." "well, they will. i'm sure mr. stillwell will wait and take our mid-day dinner with us. besides being glad to make his acquaintance, i want to ask advice. what we are to do with the water lily; how to safely get the most pleasure out of it. would you like to go over the boats, mr. stillwell?" this was exactly what he did wish; and presently aunt betty was guiding him about, displaying and explaining every detail of the little craft, as eager and animated as if she had designed it. the colonel stalked solemnly in the rear, sighing now and then over such wasted effort and enthusiasm, and silently wondering how a calvert could meet on such equal terms a mere farmer, one of those "common stillwells." however, neither of the others paid him any attention, being too absorbed in their own talk; and the stranger in maturing a plan to help his hostess and her household. when everything had been examined and tested by his common sense he explained: "if this here water lily war mine, which she isn't; and i wanted to get the most good and most fun out of her, which i don't, i'd light right out from this region. i'd get shet of all them gapin' corner-ites and jimpson-ites, and boats passin' by an' takin' notes of things. i'd get a sensible tug to haul me, tender an' all, a mite further up stream till i met the branch. i'd be hauled clean into that fur as war practical, then i'd 'paddle my own canoe.' meanin' that then i'd hitch a rope to my mule, or use my poles, till i fetched up alongside deer-copse on the ottawotta run. there ain't no purtier spot on the face of god's good earth nor that. i war born there, or nigh-hand to it. if a set of idle folks can't be happy on the ottawotta, then they sure deserve to be unhappy." aunt betty was enchanted. from his further description she felt that this wonderful run was the very stream for them to seek; and with her old decision of manner she asked mr. stillwell to arrange everything for her and not to stint in the matter of expense. then she laughed: "i have really no right to say that, either, for i'm only a guest on this boat-party. the water lily belongs to my little niece and it is she who will pay the bills. i wonder how soon it could be arranged with such a tug! do you know one?" "sure. right away, this evenin', if you like. i happen to have a loose foot, to-day, and can tend to it. to-morrow's market and i'll have to be up soon, and busy late. is 't a bargain? if 'tis, i'll get right about it." by "evening" meant with these marylanders all the hours after mid-day; and, declining any refreshment, mr. stillwell departed about this business. his alertness and cheerfulness put new life into aunt betty and the widow, who hustled about putting into fresh order the already immaculate lily. "if we're going to move i want everything spick-and-span. and the girls'll come in right tired after their wood tramp. wonderful, ain't it? how 't that peeked, puny elsa is a gainin' right along. never see the beat. she'll make a right smart lot of good, wholesome flesh, if she keeps on enjoyin' her victuals as she does now. looks as if she lived on slops most of her short life. see anything more wants doing, mrs. calvert?" "no, mrs. bruce, i do not. i wish you'd let chloe bear her share of the work, not do so much yourself. i want you to rest--as i'm doing," answered the other. "it plumb wears me out to have folks fussin' so, ma'am. they ain't no use. a day's only a day, when all's said and done. why not take it easy? take it as easy as you can and it don't amount to much, life don't. ah! hum." but the colonel's protest was lost on energetic mrs. bruce. she tossed her comely head and retorted: "some folks find their rest in doin' their duty, not in loafin' round on other people's time and things. not meaning any disrespect, i'm sure, but i never did have time to do nothin' in. i'm going right now and set to work on that dinner. i do wish the girls could see those baskets, first, though!" "leave them untouched, then, mrs. bruce. surely, we had enough provided before we had this present." "yes, mrs. calvert, we did have--for our own folks; and counting a little on the fish the men-folks was to bring in. seems if they's gone a dreadful spell, don't it? and i heard that old cap'n jack say something about the bay. if he's enticed 'em to row out onto that big water--oh! dear! i wish they'd come!" the colonel roused himself to remark: "squalls is right frequent on the chesapeake. and that old man is no captain at all. used to work on an oyster boat and don't know--shucks. likely they've had an upset. boys got to foolin' and--ah! hum! wasn't none of 'em your sons, were they, ma'am?" from the moment of their first meeting there had been a silent battle between the capable housekeeper and the incapable "southern gentleman." she had had several talks with dorothy and jim over the finances of this trip and she knew that it would have to be a short one if "ends were to meet." she felt that this man, aristocrat though he might be, had no right to impose himself and his prodigious appetite upon them just because the lads had tried to buy his old mule and he had, instead, so generously presented it. "i don't see what good that yapping billy does, anyway! he doesn't work at all and he's living on somebody else's grass. there'll be a bill coming in for his fodder, next we know;" she had grumbled. it may be said, to her credit, that she was infinitely more careful of dorothy's interests than she would have been of her own. but all her grumbling and hints failed to effect what she had hoped they would--the colonel's permanent departure for home along with the useless billy. now all that was to be changed. almost before he had gone, it seemed, farmer stillwell came steaming down stream on a small tugboat, which puffed and fussed as if it were some mighty steamship, and passing the water lily manoeuvred to turn around and face upstream again. presently, a rope was made fast to the prow of the house-boat and securely tied, and mr. stillwell stepped aboard to announce: "all ready to move, ma'am. your company all back?" "not all. the girls have just come but the captain and the boys are still away. we'll have to wait for them." mrs. calvert's answer fell on unheeding ears. "guess not, ma'am. this here tug's got another job right soon and if we lose this chance may not be another in a dog's age. i knowed she was around and could help us out, was the reason i spoke to you about her. i guess it's now or never with the 'nancy jane.' once she goes up to baltimo' she'll have more jobs an' she can tackle. wouldn't be here now, only she had one down, fetching some truck-scows back. well, what you say?" a brief consultation was held in the cabin of the water lily in which the voices of four eager girls prevailed: "why, let's take the chance, of course, auntie dear. we can leave a note pinned to the wharf telling the boys and cap'n jack that we've gone on to the ottawotta. they can follow in their row-boat. and, colonel dillingham, can't you ride billy alongside, on the shores we pass? we can't possibly take him on board, and he won't go without you." but now, at last, was the doughty colonel energetic. "no, sir. i mean, no, madam! i go to ottawotta? i allow my faithful billy to set foot on that soil? no, ma'am. i will not. i will simply bid you good day. and young miss, let me tell you, what your relative here seems to have forgot; that no old marylander, of first quality, would ha' turned a guest loose to shift for himself in such a way as this. but--what can you expect? times ain't what they were and you cayn't count on anybody any more. i bid you all good day, and a pleasant v'yage. as for billy an' me, we'll bestow ourselves where we are better appreciated." poor mrs. calvert was distressed. not often in her long life had the charge of inhospitality been laid at her door, and she hastened to explain that she wished him still to remain with them, only---with a magnificent wave of his not too clean hand and bowing in the courtliest fashion, the disappointed visitor stepped grandly over the gang-plank, and a moment later was ordering, in his saddest tones: "billy, lie down!" billy obediently shook his harness, disordered by the efforts of the lads to straighten it, and crumpled himself up on the sward. the colonel majestically placed himself upon the back of "his only friend;" commanded: "billy, get up!" and slowly rode away up-slope to his own deserted melon-patch. "now, isn't that a pity!" cried dorothy, with tears in her eyes. "i didn't care for him while he was here, though billy was just charming--for a mule! but i do hate quarreling and he's gone off mad." "good riddance to bad rubbish!" said mrs. bruce, fervently. then shaded her eyes with her hands to stare out toward the broader water in search of the missing fishermen, while the pretty water lily began to move away from the little wharf which had become so familiar. meanwhile, out beyond the mouth of the river, within the shelter of a tree-shaded cove, the would-be fishermen were having adventures of their own. it was a spot which cap'n jack knew well and was that he had intended to reach when the little red "stem" of the water lily was lowed away from her. here was a collection of small houses, mere huts in fact, occupied by fishermen during the mild seasons. here would always be found some old cronies of his, shipmates of the oyster-boats that plied their trade during the cold months of the year. the truth was that the "skipper" was not only lonely, so far from his accustomed haunts, but he wanted a chance to show these old mates of his how his fortunes had risen, to hear the news and give it. "are there any fish here?" demanded jim, when they rested on their oars just off shore. "more fish 'an you could catch in a lifetime! look a yonder!" so saying, the captain raised his broken spy-glass to his good eye--he had the sight of but one--and surveyed the cove. around and around he turned it, standing firmly on the bottom of the "stem," his multitude of brass buttons glittering in the sun, and his squat figure a notable one, seen just then and there. at last, came a cry from shore. "ship ahoy!" "aye, aye! port about!" roared the captain, and dropped to his seat again. he had succeeded in his effort to attract attention, and now picked up the oars and began to pull in. until now he had generously allowed the lads to do the rowing, despite considerable grumbling from gerald, who was newer to that sort of work than he had pretended. but cap'n jack did not care for this; and he did succeed in impressing a small company of men who were industriously fishing in the cove. most of these were in small boats, like the "stem," but a larger craft was moored at the little wharf and about it were gathered real sailors fresh from the sea. at sight of them, the three lads forgot fishing in eagerness to meet these sailors, who had come from--nobody could guess how far! at all events, they must have seen strange things and have many "yarns to spin," which it would be fine to hear. events proved that the sailors had never heard of "cap'n jack," and were duly impressed by the importance he assumed. on his tongue, the water lily became a magnificent yacht and he its famous commodore, and though there were those among the fishermen who did know him well, they humored his harmless pretensions and added to his stories such marvelous details that even he was astonished into believing himself a much greater man than he had pretended. that was a gala day for the three lads. somebody proposed lunch and some fishermen prepared it; of the freshly caught fish, cooked over a beach-wood fire, and flanked by the best things the hosts could offer. over the food and the fire tongues were loosened, and the sailors did "yarn it" to their guests' content. at last the talk turned upon animals and one sailor, who was no older than these young landsmen, remarked: "speakin' of monkeys, i've got a dandy pair right down in the hold now. want to see 'em?" of course they did! they were in a mood to wish to see anything and everything which came from afar. for, during the "yarns," in imagination they had followed these men of the sea into wonderful lands, through tropical forests, and among strange people, till even jim's fancy was kindled. as for melvin and gerald, their eyes fairly shone with eagerness, and when the sailor returned to the little camp-fire, bringing a wooden cage containing the monkeys, each was possessed of a desire to own them. "for sale?" asked gerald. "course. i always bring home a few. last trip i did a hundred and fifty for a baltimore department store. fact! head of the firm ordered 'em. he sold 'em for two-fifty a-piece, and they went like hot cakes. women went crazy over 'em, i heard, and, course, it was good business for him. a woman would go in the store, out of curiosity to see the monks. see something else she'd buy, and finally be talked into buying one o' them. reckon i'll lay alongside that same store and try for another consignment." "how much?" asked melvin. he was thinking that if so many "women went crazy" over such animals as pets, it would be a nice thing to buy this pair and present them to dorothy. she did love animals so! "oh! i don't know, exactly. this is the last pair i've got--they are extra clever--could be taught to speak just as well as children, i believe, only, course, a sailor don't have time to fool with 'em." he might have added that not only was this his "last pair" but his only one; and that though the transaction he described was a fact, he was not the dealer who had supplied the monkey market. besides--but there was no need to tell all he knew about monkeys to these two possible purchasers. "jim, don't you want to take a chance? go thirds with us in 'em?" "no, gerald. i don't. i mean i can't. i've only a little bit left in my purse on the boat, and i've got to get back to new york state sometime. back to the water lily mighty sudden, too, seems if. must ha' been here a terrible time. shucks! i clean forgot our folks were waiting for their fish-dinner while we were eatin' our own. come on! we must go! and not a single fish to show for our whole morning!" "wait a minute. it's so late now it can't matter. they'd have had their dinner, anyway. you won't join?" again asked gerald. "can't." "i will, if he doesn't ask too much. what's the price, sailor? we'll take them if it isn't too high," said melvin. the man named a sum that was greater than the combined capital of gerald and melvin. then, although he wasn't a purchaser himself, jim tried his usual "dickering" and succeeded in lowering the price of the simians, "clever enough to talk english," to ten dollars for the pair. "all right! here's my fiver!" cried gerald, reluctantly pulling out a last, dilapidated bill from a very flat pocket-book. "and mine," added melvin, tendering his own part. "now, we must go, right away!" declared jim, hastily rising. he thought the sailor who had promptly pocketed the ten dollars of his friends was suspiciously kind, insisting upon carrying the cage of monkeys down to the "stem," and himself placing it securely in the bottom of the boat. the little animals kept up a chattering and showed their teeth, after a manner that might be as clever as their late owner claimed but certainly showed anger. indeed, they tore about their cage in such a fury of speed that it nearly fell overboard and in the haste of embarking everyone forgot the original object of this trip, till jim exclaimed: "went a-fishin' and caught monkeys! won't they laugh at us?" an hour later they brought up alongside the wharf which they had begun to think was their own, so familiar and homelike it had become. but there was nothing familiar about it now. the water lapped gently against the deserted pier and a forgotten painter dangled limply from the post at its end. "gone!" cried one and another of the lads, looking with frightened eyes over the scene. "gone! somebody's stole--my--ship!" groaned cap'n jack, for once in actual terror. for that the water lily could "navigate" without his aid under any circumstances was a thing beyond belief. chapter x. a mere anne arundel gust. then they found dorothy's note. "dear boys and captain: "we've gone on to ottawotta run. farmer stillwell's tug, that he owns half of, is towing us to the branch. there some more men will be hired to pole us to deer-copse. aunt betty says you're to hire a wagon, or horses, or somebody to bring you and the stem after us. she will pay for it, or i will, that's just the same. and, oh! i can't wait to tell you! there's a _buried treasure_ up there that we must find! a regular 'captain kidd' sort, you know, so just hurry up--i mean take it easy, as auntie advises; but come, and do it quick! don't forget to bring the fish. mrs. bruce says put them in a basket and trail them after you, if you come by boat; or, anyway, try to keep them fresh for breakfast. dolly." "i reckon they'll keep, seeing they aren't caught yet. what fools we were to go off just then! how do you suppose, in this mortal world, those women and girls had gumption enough to run away with that house-boat? i'll bet they did it just to get ahead of _me_, 'cause i'd said plain enough i wouldn't go to any old hole-in-the-woods. i simply wouldn't. and i shan't. i'll get passage on one these fruit-scows going back to baltimore and quit the whole thing. i will so;" declared gerald, fuming about the wharf in a fine rage. "got money left for your 'passage?'" asked jim. he was pondering how best and soonest to "follow" the water lily, as he had been bid. they were all too tired with their rowing to do any more of it that day, and his pride shrank from hiring a wagon, for his own convenience, that he wasn't able to pay for. "what about your monkey, gerry?" queried melvin. "oh! i'll--i mean--you take it off my hands till--later." "no, thank you. i've invested all i can afford in monkeys just now, don't you know? but i'd sell out, only i do want to give them to her. she's such a darling of a girl, to entertain us like this. she might have been born in our province, i fancy, she's so like a canadian in kindness and generosity." it was a long speech for modest melvin and an enthusiastic one. he blushed a little as he felt his comrades' eyes turned teasingly upon him, but he did not retract his words. he added to them: "dorothy calvert makes me think of my mother, don't you know? and a girl that does that is an all right sort i fancy. anyway, i've thought lots of times, since i found out it was she and not the rich aunt who was paying the expenses of our jaunt, that it was mighty unselfish of her to do it. jim's let that 'cat out the bag.' he was too top-lofty to take a cent of profit from that mine he discovered last summer for mr. ford, but all the girls were made small shareholders and got three hundred dollars a-piece for a send-off. miss molly, whose father i work for, put hers right into gew-gaws or nonsense, but i think dolly's done better. the least i can do to show her my appreciation is to give her the monkeys." "speak for yourself, sir, please. half that monkey transaction is mine, and i don't intend to impoverish myself for any girl. i mean to train them till they're worth a lot of money, then sell them." "oh! no you won't. you're not half bad, don't you know? you like to talk something fierce but it's _talk_. if it isn't, pick out your own monk and be off with it. you'll have to leave me the cage for dorothy because she'll have to keep _my_ monk, _her_ monk, _the_ monk in it sometimes." "most of the times i guess. i don't like the looks of the creatures anyway. they're ugly. i wish you fellows had left them on that sailor's hands. he just befooled us with his big talk. why, sir, i got so interested myself i'd have hired out to any ship would have me if it had come along just then. queer, ain't it? the way just _talk_ can change a fellow's mind," said jim. "hello, cap'n! what you found now?" the old man had been limping about on the bank where billy had enjoyed himself, and which his teeth had shorn smooth as a mowing machine might have done. it was a field rarely used, which explains why billy and methuselah had been left to do as they pleased there. so metty had carried thither all the trifling toys and playthings he had picked up during his trip. shells, curious stones, old nails, a battered jew's-harp, and a string of buttons, had been stored in an old basket which the pickaninny called his playhouse. the playhouse caught the old man's eye and the end of his crutch as well, and he glared angrily upon the "trash" which had come in his way. also, he lifted the crutch and flung metty's treasures broadcast. among them was an old wallet, still securely strapped with a bit of leather. captain jack had a notion he'd seen that wallet before, but couldn't recall where. opening it he drew out a yellowed bit of old-fashioned letter-paper on which a rude picture was sketched. there were a few written words at the bottom of the sketch, but "readin' handwrite" was one of the accomplishments the good captain disdained. but his curiosity was aroused and he whistled to the lads to join him, holding up the paper as an inducement. they did so, promptly, and jim took the extended paper, thinking it was another note from the absent "lilies," as the house-boat company had named itself. then he, too, whistled, and cried: "hello! here's a find! has something to do with that fool talk o' dolly's about 'buried treasure.' somebody's been bamboozlin' her and this is part of it." the four heads bent together above the odd little document, which had been folded and unfolded so often it was quite frayed in places with even some of the writing gone. the drawing represented a bit of woodland, with a stream flowing past, and a ford indicated at one point, with animals drinking. it was marked by the initials of direction, n, s, e, w; and toward the latter point a zig-zag line suggested a path. the path ended at the root of a tree whose branches grew into something like the semblance of a cross. unfortunately, the writing was in french, a language not one understood. but, found as it was, evidently lost by somebody who had valued it, and taken in conjunction with dorothy's words--"buried treasure"--it was enough to set all those young heads afire with excitement. even the captain took the paper and again critically studied it; remarking as he replaced it in the wallet: "dretful sorry i didn't fetch my readin'-specs when i come away from town. likely, if i had i could ha' explained its hull meanin'." "dreadful sorry it wasn't greek, or even latin! i could have ciphered the meaning then, if it has a meaning. but every-day french, shucks!" "how do you know it's french if you don't know french?" demanded gerry. "oh! i've seen it in dr. sterling's library. i know a word or two an' i plan to know more. don't it beat all? that just a little bit of ignorance can hide important things from a fellow, that way? i tell you there never was a truer word spoke than that 'knowledge is power'." melvin cried: "come off! that'll do. once you get talking about learning and you're no good. cap'n, you best stow that in your pocket and help us settle how to 'follow our leaders'. for my part, i've no notion of sleeping out doors, now that it looks so likely to storm. what'll we do?" "hoof it to the landin' and hire a conveyance. one that'll carry us an' the boat, too. that's what she says, and if there's a girl in the hull state o' maryland, or annyrunnell, either, that's got more sense in her little head nor my 'fust mate', dorothy, you show me the man 'at says so, an' i'll call him a liar to his face." "that's all right, cap'n, only don't get so excited about it. nobody's trying to take the wind out of dorothy's sails. so let's get on. i reckon i can punt along as far as that landing, even with a cargo of monkeys. then gerry can take his and skip, and we'll take the other to our folks." melvin was laughing as he talked. gerald's angry, disgusted face had changed its expression entirely, since that finding of the curious map which made the possibility of the "buried treasure" seem so real. "oh! i won't bother now. i reckon i'd ought to go on and ask aurora if she wants to go home with me, or not. popper and mommer'd be sure to ask me why i didn't bring her. we can settle about the monkeys later." "huh! i tell you what i believe! 'wild horses couldn't drag' you back to town till you've found out all about what that frenchy letter means and have had a dig for the 'treasure'. i know it couldn't _me_. there isn't a word of sense in the whole business, course. likely these whole states have been dug over, foot by foot, same's our province has, don't you know? but my mother says there always have been just such foolish bodies and there always will be. silly, i fancy; all the same, if dorothy or anybody else starts on this business of digging, i'll ply the liveliest shovel of the lot." melvin but expressed the sentiments of all three lads. even the old captain was recalling wonder-tales, such as this might be, and feeling thrills of excitement in his old veins. suddenly, he burst out: "well, i'd be some hendered by my crutches but when you get to diggin' just lemme know an' i'll be thar!" they waited no longer then, but stepped back into the "stem," the caged monkeys viciously scolding and sometimes yelling, till the captain fairly choked with fear and indignation. however, nothing serious happened. they reached jimpson's in a little while, and were fortunate in finding a teamster about to start home along the river road. his wagon was empty, the row-boat could be slung across it, there would be abundant room for passengers--including monkeys--a new sort of "fare" to him. but they had scarcely got started on this part of their journey before the threatening storm was upon them. this "gust" was a fearful one, and they were exposed to its full fury. the driver shielded himself as best he could under his blankets but offered none to his passengers. the sky grew dark as night, relieved only by the lightning, and rivalled, in fact, that tempest which had visited them on the first day of their trip. fortunately, horses know the homeward way--though to be literal these horses were mules--and they travelled doggedly along, unguided save by their own instinct. also, when they had ridden so far that it seemed to the drenched travellers that they had always been so riding and always should be, there came a sudden slackening in the storm and an outburst of moonlight from behind the scattering clouds that was fairly startling. after a moment of surprise melvin broke the silence, asking: "do you have this kind of thing often in maryland?" "sure. down in annyrunnell we do. 's nothin' but a 'gust'. most gen'ally has 'em if the day opens up hot, like this one did. but it's purty when it's over, and yender's the turn to the copse. my road lies t'other way. it's a quarter a-piece for you white folks an' fifty a-head fer the monks. i 'low 'twas them hoodooed the trip. hey? what? can't pay? what in reason 'd ye hire me for, then? i ain't workin' for fun, i'd let you know. we're honest folks in annyrunnell an' we don't run up no expenses 't we can't meet. no, siree. you asked me to bring you an' i've brung. now you don't leave this here wagon till i've got my money for my job." "look here, farmer! what sort of a man are you, anyway? we went off fishing not expecting our house-boat would go on without us. we had no mon----" began jim, about as angry as he had ever been in his self-controlled life. "you had money enough to buy fool monkeys, didn't you?" gerald answered promptly: "that's none of your business! suppose we did. we paid it and it's gone. so put that in your pipe and smoke it." came the sullen answer: "don't smoke. don't waste _my_ money. pay up now, and get on. i want my supper, and it's past milkin' time a'ready." melvin was shaking with chill, sitting there in his wet clothes, but the absurdity of the situation appealed to him, and he asked: "since we've spent all our money for monkeys, will you take a monk for pay?" "no, siree. i've no use fer such vermin an' you'll get sick enough of 'em, 'fore you're through." with that the teamster drew his driest blanket about him, settled himself comfortably, and pretended to go to sleep. "wake me up when you get ready to pay." then began a fresh search in every pocket for the needed two dollars which would release them from this imprisonment. "i haven't got a penny!" declared old cap'n jack with tearful earnestness. "i spent every last one a-fixin' up to look like a skipper'd ought to." "i _did_ have a little, but i left it in my bunk. i was afraid i'd spend it if i didn't almost hide it from myself," wailed honest jim. "all i had, except what i paid the sailor, is in my other clothes; that bill i gave the sailor was one i always carried with me because my mother gave----" melvin didn't finish his sentence. he couldn't. he was shivering too much and that sudden memory of his idolized mother almost unmanned him. suppose he were to contract pneumonia? her constant dread was that he should be ill and die. but it was gerald who now suffered most. because the morning had been so warm he had put on a white duck suit. he fancied himself in it and it was becoming; but it was also thin, and under present circumstances a costume of torment. if melvin were shivering, gerald was worse. he was shaking so that the ricketty wagon rattled and he felt as if he were dying. "oh! man alive! don't act the tyrant this way! tell us where you live and i give you my word of honor i'll go to your place the first thing to-morrow and settle. i'll even pay double," begged jim; and when the farmer remained obstinately silent, leaped from the wagon and dragged gerald after him. "run, run! you'll get warm that way! run, i tell you, for your life!" but the poor lad couldn't. he sank down upon the wet earth and was fast lapsing into unconsciousness when the lash of the teamster's whip fell smartly about him. "i'll warm you, ye young scamp! cheat an honest man of his earnin's, will you?" but the whip went no further. with a yell as of some enraged animal, jim flew at the man and gathered all the strength of his labor-trained muscles for one fierce onslaught. chapter xi. a morning call of monkeys. then a mighty din arose. with an answering yell the half-drunken teamster flew at his assailant, using his whip continually, but not wisely, for both wrath and liquor blinded him. else would the result have been worse for jim. the startled cap'n jack tossed his crutches out of the wagon and recklessly tumbled after them; then picked them up to lay about him in an aimless effort to subdue the fighters. but he managed to hit nobody for, as he afterward stated, "they didn't stan' still long enough." shrieking for peace melvin jumped to the ground, upsetting the cage of monkeys, whose frantic yells and jabberings added a strange note to the racket, until their own wild antics forced their cage out of the wagon. then, terrified by their fall, they became quiet enough till the captain caught the bars of their little prison-house on his crutches and tossed it out of the way of the feet of the mules, which were also becoming excited. still pleading uselessly for peace, melvin managed to drag poor gerald out of the road to a safer place, then warmed himself by seeking to warm his poor friend. so engaged did he become in trying to reanimate the motionless form that he scarcely heard what was going on about him or knew when the frightened mules set out on a lively trot for home, leaving their owner behind them but carrying away the row-boat, well strapped to the wagon-box. then suddenly, upon the uproar of angry voices, jabbering monkeys, the rumble of the disappearing wagon, and the screeching of an owl in the tree-top, broke another sound. a man came merrily whistling out of the woods, his gun over his shoulder, his dog at his heels. "shut up, towse! what in bedlam's here!" cried the newcomer, running up. a moment later, when he had recognized the befused and battered teamster, demanding: "who you fightin' with now, by smith? never really at peace 'cept when ye're rowin', are ye?" this salutation surprised the contestants into quiet, and the man addressed as "by" laughed sheepishly, and picked his hat out of the mud. then he turned and discovered the loss of his wagon. at this his fury burst forth again and he slouched upon poor cap'n jack with uplifted fists and the demand: "whe's my team at, you thief? you stole my wagon! what you done with my wagon you----" but a hand laid across his lips prevented his saying more. "there, there, byny, that'll do. lost your wagon, have you? well, it serves you right. a fellow that takes the pledge 's often as you do an' breaks it as often. now, sober up, or down, and tell what all this rumpus means and who these folks are." there was something very winning about this newcomer, with his frank manner and happy face, which smiled even while he reproved, but no words can well describe the utter carelessness of his attire and his general air of a ne'er-do-well. the lads, melvin and jim, began to explain, but a lofty wave of the cripple's crutch bade them yield that point to him. "i'm cap'n jack hurry, of the water lily; a yacht cruisin' these here waters an'--an'----" the excited old man paused. the man with the gun was laughing! as for that he, cap'n jack, saw nothing laughable in the present situation. "cruising in the woods, you mean, eh? good enough! haven't tumbled out of a balloon, have ye? look 's if ye'd got soused, anyhow, and 'd ought to get under cover." then jim took up the tale and in a moment had explained all. he finished by asking: "is there any house near where we can take this boy? he's been overcome with the wet and has done a lot of rowin', to-day, that he ain't used to. is it far to deer-copse?" "yes, a good mile or more. but my house ain't so far. we'll take him right there. fetch some them saplings piled yonder. get that blanket's tumbled out by's wagon. fix a stretcher, no time." laziness seemed stamped all over this man's appearance but he wasn't lazy now. it seemed he might have often made such stretchers as this he so promptly manufactured by tying the four corners of the blanket upon the crossed saplings. the blanket was wet, of course, but so was poor gerald; and in a jiffy they had laid him upon it and started off through the woods. the hunter carried the head of the stretcher by hands held behind him and jim the foot. melvin courageously shouldered the cage of monkeys which he would gladly have left behind save for gerald's partnership in them. the cap'n wearily stumped along behind, sodden and forlorn, more homesick than ever for his old city haunts. "byny" was left behind, his fare still uncollected, to trudge home on foot to his belated milking. even the lads who had been so furious against him had now utterly forgotten him in this prospect of shelter and help for gerald. his condition frightened his mates. neither knew much about illness and nothing of gerry's really frail constitution, nor that it had been mostly on his account the water lily had been built. "my name's cornwallis stillwell. corny i'm called. that was my brother wicky--wickliffe, i mean--that tugged you up the branch. he--he's as smart as i ain't. ha, ha! but what's the odds? he likes workin', i like loafin' an' 'invitin' my soul', as the poets say. all be the same, a hundred years from now. won't make a mite of odds to the world whether i hunt 'possums or he ploughs 'taters. i live on his farm an' lucetty runs it, along with the kids. wicky calls it mine, 'cause it was my share of father's property. but it ain't. it's only his good brotherliness make him say it. we et it up ages ago. bit at it by way of mortgages, you know, till now there ain't a mouthful lef'. i mean, they can't another cent be raised on it. it's wicky's yet, but i'm afraid it'll sometime be dr. jabb's. wicky holds a mortgage on me, body and soul, and doc holds one on wicky, and so it's a kind of peter-and-paul job. be all right in a hundred years and there ain't a man in old maryland nor anne arundel can hold a taller candle to my brother wickliffe stillwell, nor a wax one, either. i can talk, can't i? so can he--when he can catch anybody an' make 'em listen. here we be--most. that's my castle yonder. hope lucetty ain't asleep. if she is, she'll wake up lively when she hears my yodel. nicest woman in the world, lucetty. a pleasin' contrast to lizzie, wicky's wife. that woman'd drive _me_ crazy but she suits him." all this information had not been given at once, but at intervals along the way through the forest where the travelling was smooth. but rough or smooth, the path had been a direct one, swiftly yet gently followed by this good samaritan of the wilderness; and now, as he gave that warning cry he boasted, a light appeared in the windows of the whitewashed cabin they approached and, roused by the musical, piercing signal, gerald stirred faintly on his litter. "comin' to! good enough! i knew he would, soon's he came within hailing distance of lucetty!" seen by moonlight the humble dwelling looked rather pretty, so gleaming was its whitewash and so green the vines that clambered about its door. in reality it had once been negro quarters, a low ceiled cabin of three rooms--and a pig-pen! the latter a most important feature of this home. following the candle-light a woman appeared. she was slender to emaciation and her face almost colorless; but a beautiful smile habitually hovered about the thin lips and the blue eyes were gentle and serene. evidently, she was among the poorest of the poor of this earth, but, also, the happiest. "why, corny, dear! back so soon? and you've brought me company i see. they are welcome, sure, but--what's wrong here?" stepping outside the woman bent above gerald and earnestly studied his face. then she swiftly turned, ordering: "fetch him right in. lay him there. somebody light the kindlings in the stove. one of you fetch a pail of water from the well. pour it into that tea-kettle, get it hot soon's possible. corny, fetch your good shirt. haul that 'comfort' off the children's bed--it's warm from their little bodies, bless 'em! now help me get these wet things off and dry ones on. soon's the water boils make a cup of ginger tea. thank goodness there's enough ginger left in the can. don't know how? corny, you darling, you grow stupider every day! hear me! one teaspoonful of ginger to the blue bowl of water. hot as he can drink it. look in the crock and see if there's a single lump of sugar left. no? then those blessed children have been into it again and the poor fellow'll have to drink his dose without." swift as the directions were given they were obeyed, yet there was not the slightest confusion or excitement. jim and melvin watched from the wooden bench against the wall while cap'n jack hovered over the broken stove, deriving what comfort he could from the blaze of kindlings within. he would have added a stick of wood from a near-by pile, but the master of the house laughed and shook his head. "can't waste anything while lucetty's around. why, that woman can make a kettle boil with just one blazing newspaper under it. fact!" "that's all right, corny, dear, but you'd best add 't it was a big paper and a mighty little kettle. now, that's real nice. your good shirt fits him to a t! and the 'comfort's' a comfort indeed to his chilled body. aye, my boy, you're all right now. you're visitin' in corny stillwell's house and you'll be taken care of. lie right still, i mean hold your head up if you can and swallow some this nice ginger tea. set your circulation going quick. you've had a right smart duckin' but you're young and 'twon't harm you. what? don't like it? foolish boy! come here, one you others, or both. they's enough in this bowl for all of you, that old officer into the bargain. have a swallow, commodore?" how this wise little woman chanced to hit upon the very title dearest to this old vagrant's heart is a puzzle; but he beamed upon her as she said it and drained the last contents of the bowl without a shudder, even though most of the ginger had settled there and stung his throat to choking. the bed upon which his hosts had placed gerald was their own, and stood in one corner of the front room which was, also, kitchen, dining-room and parlor. it was of good size, with a rag carpet on its earthen floor and well ventilated by cracks between the clap-boarded sides. there were holes in the carpet and the captain's crutch caught in one, and lifted it, revealing the earth beneath. seeing him look at it prompted the hostess to explain: "we're going to put down boards, sometime, when corny dear can get them and the time to fix them. the little rough spots and rents are from the children's feet. they are such active little things, especially saint augustine." then she looked at her husband inquiringly and he nodded his head in approval. after which he disappeared into the third room, or lean-to, and was gone some time. when he returned he had a well-worn pewter tray in hand upon which he had arranged with careful exactness four chunks of cold suppawn and four tin cups of buttermilk. these he passed to his guests with a fine air of hospitality, and they accepted the offering in the same courteous spirit. all except gerald, who had fallen asleep and whose portion was set aside till he should wake. melvin choked over the tasteless cold pudding and the very sour buttermilk, but he would have choked still more and from a different cause had he suspected that he was helping to eat the family breakfast, for want of which six healthy youngsters would go hungry on the coming day. presently, mrs. lucetta rose and blew out the candle. jim's early training in poverty told him that its burning longer was an "extravagance" when there was such brilliant moonlight to take its place, and that his hostess felt it such. also, reminded him that they should be leaving this hospitable house if they were to reach the water lily that night. only, what about gerald? rising, he asked: "mr. stillwell, can you show us the way to deer-copse, or tell us i mean? our house-boat must be there and our folks'll be anxious. and don't you s'pose we could carry gerry there, just the same as we brought him here? i'm sure we're more obliged to you and mrs. stillwell than i can very well say. you treated us prime--and----" from the foot of the bed where she sat mrs. lucetta answered for her husband. evidently she did most of his thinking for him. "i've fixed all that. this sick boy must stay just where he is till he can walk to the copse on his own feet. that won't be to-morrow nor next day. so one of you other boys had best stay, too. he might be afraid of me----" "hear! hear! afraid of lucetty! he'd be the first livin' creatur' 't ever was, then!" interrupted corny, with his hearty laugh. "you can lead them the way better than tell it. on your way back you'd better call on dr. jabb and ask him to ride round." "lucetty? a doctor? just because a healthy boy got caught in a 'gust'? wh----" "yes, corny, dear, but you see he isn't _our_ boy. it would be better, and of course, if these people can afford a boat of their own, they can pay for a doctor. i'd have to have that understood," she finished with some hesitation and a flush of color rising in her pale cheek. "sure. it will be, but i hope, it can't be, 't gerry's really sick. if he is i'll be the one to stay take care of him. melvin, you go along with this gentleman an' cap'n jack, and take care you don't worry any of them about gerry. can't be he's really sick." "yes, let's set sail! it's real comf'table here, ma'am, but i'm anxious to get back to my bridge; an' my clo'es--sea-farin' men is apt to be rheumatic--they're jest a speck damp----" "of course. sorry we couldn't offer you each a change. as it is you'd better go, soon as you can, too. what is in that box you brought along? something alive, i know, for it keeps up such a queer noise." "they're terribly alive, indeed, don't you know? and i fancy they're as hungry as i was. but," as his hostess hastily rose, doubtless to seek further refreshments, melvin added: "i shouldn't know what in the world to give them. they're just a pair of monkeys, mrs. stillwell, and i haven't an idea, don't you know, what they would or would not eat." "monkeys! how lovely! oh! please do leave them overnight, so that the children can see them. why, corny dear, it would be almost like going to a circus, as we did once before we were married. down to annapolis, you know. do you remember?" "shall i ever forget? with you the prettiest show----" "corny, dear, there are strangers present. family speeches don't belong. now be off." yet like a happy girl she submitted to her husband's parting kiss as if it were an ordinary, every-day matter, and as the trio passed out of sight she turned to jim, explaining: "i'm very glad _you_ stayed and not the other. gerald's fever is rising fast. he may get restless and corny--did he take his gun?" "i believe so, ma'am. i think he picked it up as he went out the door." lucetta sighed. "then like as not he'll forget all about the doctor. he wouldn't mean to, not for a minute; only the dear fellow cannot resist the woods. he loves them so. i've known him to get up in the night and wander off, to be gone two or three days. but he always comes home so happy and rested. i'm glad to have him go." "do you stay here alone those times, ma'am? it seems a pretty lonesome sort of place. i didn't see any other houses nigh." "yes, i stay alone, that is with six of the sweetest children ever lived. so, of course, though there are no houses near, i'm never lonely. i'm busy, too, and to be busy is to be happy." jim wondered at the refined and cultured language of this isolated countrywoman, until she explained, after a moment: "i was a school teacher before we were married and we brought several books with us here. i teach the children now, instead of a larger school, and they're so bright! i'll have them recite to you in the morning." "what does mr. stillwell do, your husband, to tire him, so't he needs the woods to rest him? does he farm it?" he had no sooner spoken the words than he was sorry; remembering the description of himself that corny had given on their way out. and he was the more disturbed because his hostess left the question unanswered. in the silence of the room he began to grow very drowsy. his still wet clothing was uncomfortable and he would have been glad to replenish the scanty fire. but delicacy prevented this, so he settled back against the bench and was soon asleep. he was a sound sleeper always, but that night his slumber lasted unbroken for many hours. he awoke at last in affright, throwing off a breadth of rag carpet which, in want of something better, mrs. stillwell had folded about him. dazed by his sudden rousing from such a profound sleep he fancied he was again mixed in a wild battle with somebody. shrieks and cries, of laughter and of pain, shrill voices of terrified children, the groans of men, the anxious tones of a woman, all these mingled in one hubbub of sound that was horrible indeed. then something leaped to his shoulders and he felt his hair pulled viciously, while an ugly little face, absurdly human, leered into his and sharp little teeth seized upon his ear. with a yell of distress he put up his hand to choke the creature, and saw on the other side of the room a bald-headed gentleman wrestling with a duplicate of his own enemy. "oh! oh! oh!" cried poor lucetta, and could find nothing else to say; while a laughing face peered in from the field outside, enjoying the pandemonium within. "nothing but monkeys, dear! do 'let's keep them over night just to show the blessed children'!" mocked the incorrigible corny; while the indignant gentleman struggling in the kitchen with his long-tailed assailant, glared at him and yelled: "laugh, will you, you idle good-for-naught! i'll have you in the lock-up for this! rousing me out of bed with your tale of a sick boy and luring me into this! let me tell you, cornwallis stillwell, you've played your last practical joke, and into jail you go, soon as i can get a warrant for you! i mean it, this time, you miserable, worthless skunk!" corny's mirth died under the harsh words hurled at him and a grim closing of his square jaws showed that submission wasn't in his mind. but it was a voice from the bed in the corner which silenced both men, as gerald awoke and regarded the scene. "the monkeys are mine. i mean they are melvin's. no, dorothy's. somebody take 'em to dorothy, quick, quick! oh! my head, my head!" jim's fear of the simians vanished. with a signal to the man beyond the window he clutched the creature from his back and hurled it outward. then he rushed to the irate doctor, grabbed his tormentor and hurried with it out of doors. a moment later the door of the cage, which the curious children had unfastened, was closed and locked and peace was again restored. then said corny stillwell: "i'll lug those monkeys to the lily. that was hot talk doc gave me! it's one thing to call myself a vagabond and another to have him say so. i'm for the woods, where i belong, with the rest of the brainless creatures!" "pshaw! he didn't mean that. you won't be locked up. the monkeys are ours, the blame is ours, don't be afraid!" counselled jim, with his hand upon his host's shoulder. but the other shook it off, indignantly. "afraid? _afraid!_ _i?_ why that _is_ a joke, indeed!" and with that, his gun upon his back, the cage in his hand, he marched away. chapter xii. under the persimmon tree. saint augustine cocked his pretty head on one side and looked roguishly up into jim barlow's face. "be you goin' to stay to my house all your life? 'cause if you be i know somethin'." "i hope you do. but, i say, let that celery alone. what's the fun of pulling things up that way?" "i was just helpin'. i helps mamma, lots of times." saint augustine was the second son of lucetta stillwell and certainly misnamed. there was nothing saintly about him except his wonderful blue eyes and his curly, golden hair. this, blowing in the wind, formed a sort of halo about his head and emphasized the beauty of the thin little face beneath. ten days had passed since jim and his mates had come to corny stillwell's cabin and gerald still lay on his bed there. he was almost well now, dr. jabb said, and to-morrow might try his strength in a short walk about the yard. his illness had been a severe attack of measles, which he had doubtless contracted before his leaving home, and lest he should carry the contagion to the "lilies," jim hadn't been near the house-boat all this time. he had been worried about the children of his hosts but the mother had calmly assured him: "they won't take it. they've had it. they've had everything they could in the way of diseases, but they always get well. i suppose that's because they are never pampered nor overfed." "i should think they weren't!" jim had burst out, impulsively, remembering the extremely meagre diet upon which they subsisted. in his heart he wished they might have the chance of "pampering" for a time, till their gaunt little faces filled out and grew rosy. he had thought he knew what poverty was but he hadn't, really; until he became an inmate of this cabin in the fields. to him it seemed pitiful, when at meal time the scant portions of food were distributed among the little brood, to see the eagerness of their eyes and the almost ravenous clutch of the little tin plates as they were given out. even yet he had never seen his hostess eat. that she did so was of course a fact, else she would have died; but the more generous portions of the meal-pudding which were placed before him made him feel that he was, indeed, "taking bread from the children's mouths," and from the mother's, as well. dr. jabb had gone to the water lily, now peacefully moored in "the loveliest spot on the earth," as farmer "wicky" had described it, and reported gerald's condition. he had also added: "he won't need much nourishment till his fever goes down; then, madam, if you can manage it you'd best send food across to the cabin for him. let a messenger carry it to the entrance of the field and leave it there, where the lad, jim, can get it. may not be need for such extreme precaution; but 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.' lucetta stillwell is a noble woman, tied to a worthless husband whom she adores. they must be terribly poor, though she's so proud you'd never guess it from her manner. i gave it to corny hot and heavy, the other night, and at the time i felt every word i said. i don't know. he's no more capable of doing a man's part in the world than that young pickaninny yonder," pointing to metty on the ground, fascinated by the jabbering monkeys in their cage near-by. the doctor had said this to mrs. calvert very soon after gerald was stricken, and had added a parting injunction: "don't over-feed the sick boy and don't begin too soon." then he had ridden away and promptly forgot all about the case. so mrs. calvert delayed the shipment of food for several days, during which jim had ample time to grow mortally sick of hasty-pudding, on his own account, and anxious on that of lucetta. but gradually he had won her to speak more freely of her affairs. "yes, i do considerable of the work myself. you see it doesn't come natural to corny dear. he's more a child than saint augustine, even, in some things." "why, his brother said--shucks!" "what did his brother say, please?" "oh! nothin'. i didn't mean----" lucetta laughed in her gentle, patient way: "of course you didn't mean and you don't need. i know wicky stillwell and his wife, lizzie, from a to izzard. good people, the best in the world and the smartest. but they can't see a fault in corny--not that i can either, understand! only they don't see why it is our farm--it's his, really--doesn't pay better. but we can't afford to hire and a woman's not so strong as a man. yet we're happy. just as happy as the days are long and we've never starved yet. it's my faith that there's bread in the world enough for every mouth which needs it. god wouldn't be a father and not so order it. that's one compensation of this life of mine, that you fancied might be lonely. i can't go to church, i'm too far away, so i just pretend that all this--around me--is one church and that he's in it all the time. i named each of the children after some holy person and i hope each will grow like his namesake--in time." "did you plant this celery?" "yes. there was a man rode around, distributing government seeds, came from some 'farmer's institute,' i reckon, and he gave them. corny said it was hardly worth while, celery's such a trouble; but i did it on the sly. corny loves celery, just loves it; when he's been lucky with his gun and brings home some game. then! won't it be grand to have it for a surprise? makes me think, it ought to be hoed right now. i'll fetch the hoe." "you'll do nothin' of the sort while i'm loafin' around, idle. gerry doesn't need me only now and again and i'm pinin' for a job. you sit an' rest, or teach the kids. let me just work for my board. if you'll tell me where the hoe is, please?" when found jim looked at it with dismay. the handle was fairly good but the steel part was broken in half and practically worthless. "reckon wesley, my eldest son, must have been using it. he's always trying to 'make something.' i think he'll be a great inventor by and by. but really, it doesn't seem hospitable--it _isn't_, to let you or any other guest work. i can manage very well, very well, indeed. you can sit and read. we have a shakespeare--what the children haven't destroyed--a bible, and two volumes of scott. we're real proud of our library and i keep it in my wedding chest. i have to, the children are so bright and inquiring." "too inquiring i think! 'tain't healthy for 'em to be quite so smart!" jim laughed, shouldered his hoe, and marched away across the little strip of grass between the house and garden--so-called. the ground for this lucetta's feeble hands had dug with a spade that matched in condition the hoe jim had found. melon seeds had been sown there and had duly sprouted. but the "inquiring" minds of the children had daily pulled them up to see if there were any melons at the root. the potatoes had received the same treatment, the corn ditto, and the wonder was that even a few plants had survived their efforts to "make 'em grow faster." now here was saint augustine "helping" to transplant the celery which had until now escaped culture at their hands. jim worked as he had never done even in all his active young life. his heart ached with pity for the little woman who faced her hard life so bravely and so happily, and he was revolving many plans to help her, and to a greater extent than a few days of farm labor could do. "'cause i say, i know somethin'." "well, what is it, sainty?" "ain't 'sainty', but 'au--gus--tine'. say it nice, like mamma does. she cried last night." "never!" "yep, she did! she cried an' she talked to herself right outside the winder where i sleep. she kep' callin' 'corny! corny! come home!' just that way she said it and he didn't answer a word. corny's my papa, don't you know? he goes off times and stays an' wesley says my mamma gets scared he will be killed with his gun. say, i'm goin' to run away and find him. i am so. don't you tell. but i am. i'm goin' to find that monkey cage and i'm going to travel all around the world and show 'em to folks for money. that's what my papa said, that morning when we let 'em out and he went away. he said, my papa said: 'suppose younkers we start a circus of our own?' he said he'd always wanted to do it and he knows the best things they is. he's terrible smart, my papa is. my mamma says so, and she knows. my mamma and my papa know every single thing there is. my papa he knows a place where a man that lived hunderds and millions years ago dug a hole an' put something in it, i reckon money; and my papa says if he'd a mind to he could go and dig it right square up, out the ground, and buy my mamma a silk dress an' me a little cart all red an'----" "there, chatterbox! get out the way! if you want to help, take that little bucket to the spring and bring it full of water, to sprinkle these plants." "all right," cheerfully answered saint augustine, and ran swiftly away. alas! he did not run swiftly back! jim forgot all about him but toiled faithfully on till little saint anne came out to call him to dinner. she was his favorite of all the children, a tender-hearted little maid with her mother's face and her mother's serene gentleness of manner. "your dinner's ready, mister jim, and it's a mighty nice one, too. my mamma said they was more that chicken than any sick boy could eat and you was to have some. wesley said couldn't we all have some but mamma said no, 'twasn't ours. chicken's nice, ain't it, with gravy? sometimes, don't you know? we have _'possum_, or _rabbit_, or something _fine_. sometimes, too, if papa's been to uncle wicky's he fetches home a pie! think o' that! yes, sir, a _pie_! my aunt lizzie makes 'em. mamma never does. i guess--i guess, maybe, she thinks they isn't healthy. mamma's mighty partic'lar 't we shan't have 'rich food;' that's what she calls aunt lizzie's pies, and maybe your chicken, and the sick boy's cream. my mamma dassent let us use any cream, ourselves. she has to keep it for papa's butter. _she_ don't eat any butter. it doesn't agree with her stummy. i guess she thinks it don't with mine. i never have any. the sick boy has all he wants, don't he? but daisy cow don't make such a terrible lot, daisy don't. papa says she ought to have more eatings and 't our pasture's poor. mamma says daisy's a real good cow. she don't really know what we childern would do without her. daisy gives us our dinners. sometimes, on sundays, mamma gives us a little milk just fresh milked, before she churns it into papa's butter. it's nicer 'an buttermilk, ain't it? and i shall never forget what sunday's like, with the sweet, doo-licious milk, an' our other clo'es on. each of us has other clo'es--think of that! you have 'em, too, don't you? what your folks sent you from that boat where you used to live." "the boat where he used to live!" little saint anne's words spoke the thought of his own heart. the ten days since he had left it made the water lily seem far back in his life and gave him a wild desire to run off and find it again. why should he, whom gerald had openly despised, be chained to that boy's bedside? why should his own holiday be spoiled for a stranger, an interloper? there had been times, many of them, when he had almost hated gerald, who was by no means a patient invalid. but whenever this feeling arose jim had but to look at patient lucetta and remember that, but for him, she would be alone in her care for her sick guest. now he was growing homesick again for the sight of dear faces and the pretty water lily, and to put that longing aside, he asked: "saint anne, do you think you could carry a dish very carefully? if it had chicken on it could you hold it right side up and not lose a single bit? because if you could, or can, i 'low the best thing you could do would be to ask mamma to send that nice dinner out here. then we two would go down by the spring and sit under the persimmon tree and eat it. just you and i together. think of that!" saint anne's face lighted brilliantly, then instantly clouded. "none the rest? not wesley, nor saint augustine, nor dorcas, nor sheba, nor teeny-tiny david boy? just me alone? i--i couldn't. mamma says it's mean to be stingy of our things, so when i have two 'simmonses i always give one to who's nearest. not to give chicken would be meaner--'meaner 'n pussley'! i don't mind being hungry--not much i don't mind it--but when any of us is selfish all papa has to do is say 'pussley, pussley!' quick, just like that, an' we stop right away. but--but i'll bring yours, if mamma'll let me, and i'll turn my face right the other way while you eat it, so i shan't be tempted to 'covet my neighbor's--anything that is his.' that's in my kittenchasm that we childern say to mamma every sunday, after we've had our milk. i'll run right away now." quite sure that his request would be granted and hoping that the surplus of gerald's dinner would be plentiful, jim went to the spring and filled the rusty bucket always waiting there. then he plucked six big burdock leaves and arranged them on a boulder. the little maid of the sweet, serious eyes had taught him a lesson in unselfishness; and whether the portion coming to him were much or little, each child should have its share. then he looked up and saw saint anne returning. upon her outstretched arms she balanced the pewter platter, and upon this was set--oh! glory! one whole, small chicken delicately roasted, as only chloe could have prepared it. a half dozen biscuits flanked it and a big bunch of grapes. a tin cup fairly shone in its high state of polish, but its brilliancy was nothing as compared with the shining face of saint anne. behind her trailed four brothers and sisters, each stepping very softly as if in awe of the unexpected feast before them. the fifth child was missing, saint augustine, the mischief of the household, who was oftener under foot than out of sight. "where's other brother, saint anne? shall we wait for him? did your mother save any for herself? did gerald need me?" it was a long string of questions to be answered and the little girl counted them off upon her fingers. "i don't know where saint augustine is. likely he'll be 'round real soon. i guess we won't wait--i mean the others needn't--they look so watery around the mouth. no, mamma didn't save any. she said she didn't care for it. funny, wasn't that? as if anybody, even a grown-up mamma, could help caring! and the gerald boy was asleep. i most wish he would be all the time, he--he speaks so sort of sharp like. mamma says that's cause he's gettin' well. gettin'-well-folks are gen'ally cross and it's a good sign. what you doing?" jim had pulled another burdock leaf and spread a bit of sweet fern upon it. he had an idea that dorothy would have objected to the odor of burdock as mingled with a dinner. then he carefully sliced with his pocket knife the daintiest portions of the little fowl and some of the bread. he added the finest of the grapes and turning to dorcas and sheba, said: "now, girlies, saint anne brought the dinner away out here, but it's your job to take this much back to your mother. you are to tell her that this is a picnic and nobody would enjoy it unless she picnics, too. will you tell her? will you be real careful? if you will i promise you we others won't eat a mouthful till you get back." they consented, but not too eagerly. they loved mamma, course; but they loved chicken, too. it required considerable faith on their part to go way back to the cabin and leave their dinners behind them, expecting to find them just as now. however they started. dorcas held the stem of the burdock leaf and sheba its tip. being somewhat shorter than her sister, sheba's end of the burden slanted downwards. the grass was hummocky. their steps did not keep time very well. a fragment of chloe's well-flavored "stuffin'" slipped down upon sheba's fat fingers and--right before she knew it was in her mouth, yes, sir! right before! "oh! sheba! you'd oughtn't not to have did that!" reproved dorcas, severely. then she stumbled over a brier. she had watched her sister too closely to see where her own feet fell, and one little cluster of grapes rolled to the ground. "i guess that was 'cause i was lookin' for 'the mote in your eyes' 't i got a 'beam' in mine so's i couldn't see right smart," observed this scripture-taught child, in keen self-reproach. "did you get a beam? i didn't. i can see real good. say, dorcas, 'twouldn't not do to give mamma grapes what have fell into dirty grass, would it? mamma hates dirt so much papa laughs hard about it. and--and it isn't not nice to waste things. mamma says 'waste not want not.' i ain't wantin' them grapes but i can't waste 'em, either. mamma wouldn't like that. these ain't our kind of wild ones, we get in the woods. these are real ones what grew on a vine." they paused to regard the fallen fruit. how the sunlight tinted their golden skins. they _must_ taste--oh! how doo-licious they must taste! as the elder, and therefore in authority, dorcas stooped to lift the amber fruit; and, losing hold of the burdock leaf sent the whole dinner to the ground. then did consternation seize them. this was something dreadful. if mamma hadn't been so terrible neat! if she'd only been willing to "eat her peck of dirt," like papa said everybody had to do sometime, they could pick it all up and squeeze it back, nice and tight on the big green leaf, and hurry to her with it. but---"yes, sir! there is! a yellow wiggley kittenpillar just crawled out of the way. s'posing he left one his hairs on that chicken? just suppose? why, that might make mamma sick if she ate it! you wouldn't want to make poor darling mamma sick, like the geraldy boy, would you, sheba stillwell? would you?" poor little sheba couldn't answer. she was in the throes of a great temptation. she hadn't the strength of character of saint anne. she didn't at all like that suggestion of a "kittenpillar's" hair and yet--what was one hair to such a wicked waste as it would be if they left all that fine food to spoil, or for the guinea-hen to gobble. "the guinea-hen eats a lot. she eats kittenpillars right down whole;" pensively observed sheba, when she had reached this stage of thought. "she shan't eat this, then!" declared dorcas, promptly sitting down and dividing with great care all this delectable treat. "why, little ones, what are you doing? why aren't you back yonder with the rest? i don't see saint augustine there, either. do you know where he is?" as this simple question interrupted them the conscience-stricken children began to cry. one glance into their mother's troubled face had aroused all their love for her and a sense of their own selfishness. "why, babies dear, what's the matter? have you hurt yourselves?" "yes, mamma, we have. we've hurted the very insides of us, in the place where mutton-taller can't reach an' you can't kiss it well again. your dinner was sent to you and--and--_we've et it up_!" dorcas delivered herself of this statement in a defiant attitude, her arms folded behind her, but her little breast heaving. and she could scarcely believe her own ears when the only reprimand she received was: "say 'eaten,' darling, not 'et.' i do wonder where my boy is! in some mischief, i fear, the precious little scamp!" but she was still wondering when that day's sun went down. chapter xiii. what lay under the walking fern. for once gerald was neglected, and for once he was glad of it. mrs. stillwell and jim had both come in, on the afternoon before, in a high state of excitement. they had demanded of him if he had seen saint augustine, the mischievous child with the peculiar name. he had retorted, angrily, that of course he had seen nobody, neither child nor grown-up. he might lie there and die for all anybody would bother! he'd get up, he declared he would, dress and go away at once. never before had he stayed in such a wretched place as this, and yes, he surely would get up and leave. if he could find his own clothes. did anybody know where his clothes were? even in the midst of her terrible anxiety, his faithful nurse and hostess had smiled, encouragingly, saying: "you couldn't do better. when a sick person gets to your state of mind and nerves, he's usually well enough to go out. all you brought with you is in that parcel under the bed. you can leave corny's shirt--anywhere." she caught her breath with a sob and went swiftly out of the cabin. he heard her calling her children and directing them: "wesley and saint anne, little brother has run away. he's done that before, so don't be frightened. he's always been found--he will be now. but mamma may not be back by sundown and you, wesley, must do the milking and lay the fire ready for lighting in the morning. saint anne, my precious little care-taker, see well after the others and give the sick boy his supper of cream and oatmeal which was sent. don't feel lonely because both papa and mamma are away. the dear god is right here with you, you know, in your little bedroom and close outside the window. no harm can happen where god is, you know, and now good-bye." she had kissed them all around and only saint anne noticed her lips trembled. then she had gone swiftly away in one direction which they knew well. it was toward the little whirlpool in the woods, caused by the sudden meeting of two small streams and named tony's eddy, because a man named tony had been drowned there. it was a spot all the cabin children, except saint augustine, greatly feared. he liked it because "papa does," and was never happier than when corny took him on a ramble thither. lucetta had protested against these visits to the dangerous place, but her fear had been laughed down by her light-hearted husband. "fall into the eddy? why, woman dear, he will scarcely look into it when i try to make him. just shivers in a silly way, and makes up all sorts of queer yarns about it. the eddy fascinates him but scares him, too. he believes that bad fairies live in it and if he should go too near they'd come out and drag him down with them to destruction. oh! you needn't worry about tony's eddy." alas! for her peace of mind, now that saint augustine had disappeared, "the eddy!" was her first and only thought. jim searched in an opposite direction. "i believe he's gone to find the monkeys. he was talking of them almost the last thing. horrid things! i wish they'd never been heard of. they've made more trouble than human beings could, try their best! or, maybe, child like, he's gone to dig that wonderful 'treasure' out of the ground and to buy you the silk dress he'd heard about. dear little kid! he was as earnest as a man, almost!" said jim, trying to comfort the mother-heart that suffered so. "you look. i'll look. he must be found. i can't meet corny's eyes and tell him that our boy is lost," she had answered quietly enough, but with agony in her expression. when they had gone gerald got up and dressed. he was rather shaky in the knees but felt far better than when lying on the hard bed which had been given up to his use. how his hostess had managed he had not even thought, until that moment jim had lain on the bench across the room, upon a bag of fern leaves he had gathered for himself in the woods near-by, with his rag-carpet blanket to cover him. he hadn't complained and gerald had given no thought to his comfort, his own being his first concern as it had always been. now the house seemed desolate. saint anne came timidly in with his light supper and started back in affright. he looked like a stranger to her in his own clothes, having seen him only as "the sick one" in bed. but he called her and she dared not disobey her mother's command to give him his supper. somehow, for the first time, the child's face appealed to him and he thanked her for her attention. this was more astonishing than to see him fully dressed in his white duck suit, that had been laundered by lucetta on the day after his arrival. in a flutter of excitement, saint anne retreated to the inner room and the safe presence of her family; and when, after a moment she regained courage enough to open the door between--the lad was gone. "he was here and he isn't here. he was all in white, like mamma says the angels wear, and dr. jabb's little eunice. she had on clothes all flyey-about and thin--looked like moonlight. she had a hump in her shoulders where mamma thinks maybe her wings are starting to grow. mamma knows her mamma a right smart while, and she says eunice is a perfectly angelic child. mamma wouldn't say that if she didn't know. maybe the sick boy's turned into a angel, too, or is turning! just supposing! maybe god sent him to stay with us, because papa and mamma had to go away. maybe!" there was no radiance from the moonlight now upon the eager little face, and indoors was dark; but it was delightful to think of angels being about, until wesley remarked, in his matter-of-fact way: "if he was _sent_ he ought to have _stayed_. i don't believe he was a truly angel. i guess he was just one them changelings, papa tells stories about, that the fairies over in the ireland-country carries 'round with 'em. if a baby or a boy is terrible cross--like the sick one was, yesterday, the fairy just snatches him up and whisks him off somewhere and puts a good new one in his place. peek and see, saint anne!" "peek yourself, wesley. i'm--i'd rather have an angel than a changeling. anyhow, i'm going to sleep. god's here, taking care, so it don't matter." happy in the faith that had been instilled into their minds from their earliest consciousness the deserted ones fell fast asleep, though not till dorcas had slipped into saint augustine's place in the boys' bed a little willow whistle jim had made for her and which she had refused to give her brother. as for the angelic gerald he was weakly trudging on his way toward the cross-cut lane, which he had seen from the cabin window and had been told led outward to the main road, running past deer-copse. how often he had wished to be upon it, and now he wondered why he hadn't started long before. though it grew steadily dark, he kept as steadily on, though his strength was sorely tried and he wished he dared stop and rest. he was afraid to do this. he knew if he lay down on the ground, that looked so tempting a bed, he wouldn't have the energy to go on again. after a time his steps grew automatic. his feet lifted and fell with no volition of his own, it seemed, and a curious drowsiness came over him. "i believe i'm going to sleep, walking!" he thought, and wearily closed his eyes. but he opened them again with a start. "what's that? what is it? sounds like--i must be out of my head--i don't know where i am. i can't see. ah! the lane! i'm there at last. now i can lie right down and rest and somebody'll find me--sometime." yet once more into his drowsing ear fell a peculiar sound. "ah--umph! a-ah--oomph--ph--h----h!" that prolonged bray so electrified him that he got up, to his knees, then to his swaying feet, a ghostly figure in his white suit, and with a last spurt of breath, cried: "billy! it's--_billy_!" billy it was. why then and there his mulish brain couldn't understand. he had come a tiresome way, through woods and along country roads and found it a painfully new experience. of course, he had rested often and long. he had been bidden, innumerable times: "billy, lie down!" and after an interval: "billy, get up." now, as he was wearily trudging through the night came this apparition in white, right in his path. billy had heard the stumbling of human feet long before his rider had, and had announced the fact by mild remarks about it. but, sidewise upon billy's broad back--his head pillowed on billy's neck, the colonel had known nothing of this until the mule's abrupt stop shocked him awake and to a sight of the ghostly apparition on the roadside. "hello, spook!" exclaimed the colonel, inclined to be friends with anybody or anything which would relieve the loneliness of his night ride. "hel--hello, yourself! ha, ha, ha!" returned gerald, in great delight yet half-confused by fatigue and the surprise of this meeting. they were mutual "apparitions," arisen out of the earth to confront one another. "where you come from? where you going? i'm--i'm awful tired." "so 'm i. always tired. always expect to be. i come from going to and fro upon the earth seekin' that i cayn't find. no, i cayn't. and of all the bad luck i've had this is the worst. ah! hum." "i'm sorry," murmured gerald, stumbling near enough billy to lay his head on the animal's shoulder, where he immediately went to sleep. "sho! that's odd! but everything is in this topsy-turvy world. i'll be glad to be out of it. i never had no luck, billy, an' you know it. this yeah 's a piece with all the rest. to have this boy, or his spook, rise up this-a-way, an' go to sleep, standin'. well, billy, it cayn't be helped. the trouble is i was born with a heart, and it's always gettin' us into trouble. it's that old heart o' mine makes me feel i cayn't just shove this creatur' off an' leave him to his own deserts. ah! hum." in his mournful tones the colonel thus addressed the intelligent beast, who responded with a sympathetic bray; but he stood rigidly still while his master loosened and slipped from his back the blanket strapped there and spread it on the grassy bank beside the road. then, as if gerald had been a little child, the colonel carried him to the blanket, laid and covered him in it. he even took off his own coat and made a pillow of it for gerald's head. next, he ordered: "billy, lie down!" and having been obeyed, calmly composed himself for another nap upon the back of "his only friend." the night passed. gerald slept as he had never done in all his life. the healthful fatigue of his tramp across lots and the pure outdoor air did more for him than all the medicine he'd swallowed. when he awoke the sun was shining in his eyes and billy was braying an injunction to get up, while the colonel sat on the roadside pensively reading out of his little brown book. "my! you're an early student!" cried gerald, who had lain still for a moment after waking, trying to understand the situation. "must be an interesting story, that!" "story? life's too short--or too long--to waste on stories, young man. this is marcus aurelius, the sage of all the ages. now, talk, tell, how come, et cetery. for me, i'm seekin' a lost wallet, and i don't expect to find it. i shan't. course. but i'm on the road to that pickaninny and if i cayn't squeeze the wallet out of his clo'es i'll squeeze the truth out of his insides, what he done with it. the idee! 't one measly little nigger could force me to break the vow of years an' come here, where i never meant to set foot 's long as i lived. ah! hum." "eh, what? lost wallet? why, i know something about that. jim barlow had it. he picked it up." "where is he? quick, young man! that wallet's mighty precious and it's mine--mine, i tell you! mine by the right of findin' and preservin'. where's he at, quick?" the colonel had never shown such excitement, nor such depths of depression as when gerald answered: "i don't know. i haven't the least idea." "ah! hum. course you haven't. i didn't suppose you had. they couldn't be any such good luck in this world. 'don't know'! course not. don't reckon you know anything." "ah! yes i do! i know that i'm so hungry i could almost eat this grass. where can we get a breakfast?" the colonel scanned the surrounding country. had there been even a melon-patch in sight he wouldn't have troubled himself to answer. he was hungry himself, but he often was that and food always came his way sometime and of some kind. why worry or hurry? fortunately, the rumble of approaching wheels was heard just then, and presently there came into sight around the bend in the road a mule-team, driven by a man in a blue smock. gerald recognized him at a glance--the same teamster who had brought him and his mates through the "gust" from the landing. he had a sadly confused remembrance of how that ride had ended, and this was a good thing; for he was now able to hail the man in real pleasure and no anger. "hello, there, driver! do you want a job?" a startled expression came to the teamster's face as his own mind returned to the hour when these two had last met. however, he braced himself for whatever was to come, and answered: "that depends. what job?" "to carry us two and lead the mule to wherever the water lily is now. that's my boat--i mean, it was--and they're my friends aboard. do you know her and where she lies?" the man knew perfectly well. on the morning after his ugly treatment of his four passengers, he had repaired to deer-copse on the ottawotta and collected from mrs. calvert the sum of five dollars. this was more than double the price asked of the lads but none of them happened to be in sight, and he made a great matter of delivering the row-boat uninjured. knowing no better she promptly paid him. though he was sober now, he was just as greedy as ever for money and cautiously answered: "i might guess. but i'm off for the landing and some hauling there. it would be with a couple dollars for me to turn about an' hunt her up now." "all right, i'll pay it. i mean, if i can't my sister will. she's on the water lily and would about give her head to see me back again. i've been sick. i've been--" but the teamster had no sympathy for gerald's past ailments. he was busy getting his wagon turned about and in another moment gerald was on the seat beside him, the colonel riding at the back of the wagon, feet dangling, leading billy. this last task was needless, for the mule would have followed his master anywhere and unguided. the teamster "guessed" so accurately that he drove straight and swift along the road bordering the ottawotta and to the beautiful spot where the water lily shone in all the glory of white paint and gilt, her brasses polished to the last degree by ephraim, and all her little company pressing to the front at the rumble of wheels. not many vehicles passed that way and the coming of each was an event in the quiet life of the house-boat. it was dorothy who first recognized the newcomers and her cry of delight which brought aurora around from the nook where she was busily embroidering a cushion for the lily. "gerald! oh! gerald, my brother!" the lad had never felt her so dear nor thought her so pretty as when her arms closed about him and her happy face looked into his. but the face clouded when he asked: "got any money, sis?" "huh! can't you be glad to get home without begging for money? popper gave you just as much as he did me when he started and----" the stumping of crutches interrupted them. it was the old captain who had caught sight of the teamster, waiting for his money, and was hurrying forward in anger. "step aside, younkers! lemme deal with him! _lemme!_ oh! you old villain, here again be ye? tryin' to cheat widders an' orphans outen their livin' substance! oh! i know. i've heered. i've been told. two dollars was the price agreed--a quarter a-piece for us folks an' fifty a-piece for the monks! the boat was throwed in. that was the bargain fixed an' fast, an' deny it, if ye can, with this here melvin an' me an' this poor sick gerry for witnesses. you haul in your sails an' put for shore! don't ye come around here a-tryin' to cheat no more. i've been layin' for ye ever sence that night. i've 'lowed i'd meet up with ye an' get even. pay? not this side davy jones's locker! be off with ye an don't ye dare to show your face here again till you've l'arnt common honesty, such as ary yuther marylander knows. what would these here women an' childern do if it wasn't for cap'n jack hurry a pertectin' of 'em? tell me that, you ornery land-lubber, you!" but the teamster was already gone. he had not tarried the completion of the captain's tirade. he saw that there was little prospect of receiving pay for that morning's ride except after much discussion and many hard words, and decided that if he were ever to secure further patronage from these silly people who lived on a boat he would better not quarrel with them now. with his departure peace was restored and the welcomes bestowed upon gerald made him very happy and roused a wish in his heart to become as good a fellow as they all seemed to imagine him to be. with some shame he remembered his often ungrateful treatment of mrs. lucetta and her children, and described the family so graphically that dorothy clapped her hands, exclaiming: "i'm going right away to know them! i am! what darlings they must be, those little 'saints' and sinners, and what a charming woman the mother must be. melvin has told us how she served them with that poor pudding and sour buttermilk, just as if they were the greatest luxuries." mrs. calvert nodded, smiling: "yes, dear, i shall be glad to have you know her. she is a born gentlewoman and a good one--which is better. but now, has everybody had all the breakfast wanted? if so, let's all go off to our arbor in the woods. 'the grotto,' the girls named it, gerald, and it's beautiful. but where is jim? why should he have gone away from the stillwell cottage before you, in that sudden way you mentioned?" "i reckon he went to search for a runaway kid. the one they called saint augustine. fancy such a name as that for the wildest little tacker ever trod shoe-leather--or went barefoot, i mean. that youngster looked like an angel and acted like a little imp. i should think his folks'd be glad to lose him." "no, gerry, you don't think that. you don't want anybody to be unhappy now that we're all so glad you're well and back. i hope jim will find the little saint right soon and be back, too; but don't you think they'll be frightened about you? it just came to me--what can they think, when they come back and find you gone, except that you were out of your mind and wandered off? you that had been in bed till then!" asked dorothy. "oh! they won't bother about me. jim's been as good as gold and i've been pretty hateful, sometimes, i know. it'll be a relief to him and mrs. stillwell that i'm off their hands. why, folks, do you know? that slender slip of a woman does almost all their farm work, herself? her husband--i fancied from what i had sense enough to understand--hates work, that kind, anyway, and she adores him. i know jim took a hand, soon's i was well enough, or good-natured enough, to let him off sticking inside with me. i never saw a fellow work so, i could see through the window by my bed. they hadn't any horse and he ploughed with a cow! fact. he dug potatoes, hoed corn, cleared up brush-wood--did that with his jack-knife--carried water--couldn't tell what he didn't do! oh! mrs. stillwell will be glad enough to be rid of me but she'll hate to miss jim. hello, elsa! what in the world!" mabel laughed and clapped her hands. "isn't it the queerest thing? and isn't it just jolly? "she fell in love with them that morning when they came. elsa, timid elsa, is the only one of us not afraid of the monkeys! she's captivated them, some way, and is actually training them to do whatever she wants. she's taught them to walk, arm in arm, and to bow 'thank you' for bits of chloe's cake. she punishes them when they catch the birds and--lots of things. are you taking them for their 'constitutional' now, elsa dear?" the shy girl, whose poverty and ungraceful manners had made aurora and mabel look down upon her at the beginning of the trip, had now become the very "heart of things," as dolly said. elsa was always ready to mend a rent, to hunt up lost articles, to sit quietly in the cabin when anybody had a headache and soothe the pain and loneliness, and to do the many little things needed and which none of the others noticed. it had come to be "elsa, here!" or "elsa, there!" almost continually; and the best of it was that the more she was called upon for service the happier and rosier she grew. "indeed, papa carruthers will see a fine change in his little girl, when he gets her home again!" aunt betty had said, that very morning, drawing the slender little figure to her side. "we have all learned to love you dearly, elsa. you are a daily blessing to us." "_that's_ because you love me--and let me love you. love is the most beautiful thing in all the world, isn't it? it's your love has made me grow strong and oh! so happy!" indeed, it was love, even for such humble creatures as the monkeys, that had given her power over them. she had been the first, save dorothy, to pity them for being caged; and she hadn't been afraid, as dorothy was, to let them out to freedom. they had been very wild at first, springing into the trees and leaping about so far and fast that all except elsa believed they were lost. then she would beg everyone to go away and putting the opened cage upon the ground would sit quietly beside it, with their favorite food near, for a long, long time. the first time her patience was rewarded by their return to the cage, she still sat quiet and let them settle themselves to rest. after that the training was easier, and by common consent the little animals were left to her charge till they were soon called "elsa's monks!" hardest part of their training was the punishment they daily needed. "elsa, your monks have torn mabel's hat to ribbons!" "elsa, the monkeys have ripped all the buttons off my uniform." "elsa, metty's heart is broken! they've chewed his 'libery' to bits!" "they didn't mean it for _badness_. i'll fix the hat, mrs. bruce. i'll hunt up the buttons and sew them on, cap'n jack. i'll mend metty's finery;" and the pleasure she seemed to get from doing all these things amazed the others. now, since all the others were engaged with gerald and the colonel, she slipped away into the woods which she had learned to visit alone and without fear. melvin had found some small brass chains in a locker of the tender and the captain had made some collars for the animals, so that she was able to lead them with her wherever she wished. jocko, the larger of the pair, had developed a limp so like elsa's own that it was ludicrous and dorothy declared that he had done so "on purpose." he now hobbled after her while joan, his mate ran ahead, pulled backward at her chain, and cut up so many "monkey shines" in general as kept her young mistress laughing so that she scarcely saw where she walked nor how far. but, at length, she looked up, surprised that she had taken a new direction from that she commonly followed. here the trees were larger, and the undergrowth closer. ferns which reached to her shoulder hid the ground from her sight and she stumbled over fallen limbs and unseen vines, but constantly urged onward by the discovery of some rare flower or shrub, which she might take home to dorothy. these two flower-lovers had daily studied the simple botany which aunt betty had brought on the trip, and the science opened to bookish elsa a wonder-world of delight. "ah! there's a creeping fern! i mean a walking one. we read how rare they are and dorothy will just be wild to come and see it for herself. let me see. it was yesterday we studied about ferns. be still, joan. no, jocko, i'll go no further, on account of your poor, lame foot. you may jump to my shoulder if you like. i think it was this way. listen, dears! 'order, filices, genera, asplenium. asplenium rhizophyllum--walking fern!' there i said it, but the little common name suits me best. heigho, beasties! what you jabbering about now? and what are you peering at with your bright eyes? come on. there's nothing to be afraid of in the woods, though i was once so scared of them myself. come on, do. i must get--my heart! what--_what_--_is this_?" chapter xiv. the redemption of a promise. maybe the colonel was more pleased to meet his water lily friends again than they were to see him. but aunt betty hid her disappointment under her usual courteous demeanor and was glad that the angry mood in which he had left them had not remained. upon her, she knew would fall the task of entertaining him; and after breakfast was over and billy been led to the deepest pasture available, she invited him to sit with her on the little deck that ran around the cabin, or saloon, and opened conversation with the remark: "we've been very happy here in the copse. except, of course, we were worried about our sick guest, gerald, till dr. jabb informed us he was out of danger. he seems a fine man, the doctor, and i'm thankful to have a physician so near. why--what--are you ill, colonel?" at the mention of the practitioner her visitor had risen, his eyes ablaze with anger, his gaunt frame trembling with excitement. "madam! madam! do you mention that hated name to me? don't you know--ah! hum. i suppose you don't but, if he--he--poisons this atmosphere--i will bid you good morning." he was turning away in a far more furious mood than had seemed possible to so easy-going a man, and his hostess hastily laid a detaining hand upon his arm. "my dear sir, what have i said? do you know this doctor and dislike him? i'm sorry. forget him, then, please and just enjoy this wonderful air which nobody could possibly 'poison.' it's perfect to-day, with just enough crispness in it to remind us it is really autumn and our picnicking days are numbered. the young folks have felt it dull, sometimes, lingering so long in the copse, but it's been a restful, happy time to me. one has to get away from home worries once in a while to keep things in their right proportion. and, after all, what does it matter where we live or what we have so long as there is peace and good will in one's heart? not much, do you think?" aunt betty was herself in happy mood and had talked on more to prevent the guest's departure than to "preach," as she called such little dissertations. she had gained her point. the colonel settled back again in the familiar chair he had appropriated on his first visit and gradually the lines of anger left his face. an expression of intense sadness took their place, and after a moment he sighed: "ah! hum. i hadn't a right to get huffy. i reckon you don't know--some facts. you couldn't. nobody could, without explainin' an' i cayn't explain. this much i'll say. i haven't set foot in this yeah region sence--in a right smart while. i never meant to again. but--i lost my wallet an' i came to seek it. i've cause to think, madam, 't one your folks has it. if so, they must deliver real soon. to me it's vallyble. also, it might concern miss dorothy. she an' me--an' you, of course, mrs. calvert, bein' a calvert--well, it's an old story an' i'll wait till after dinner, thank ye, ma'am. and if you don't mind, i'll just lean back an' take my 'forty winks.' i hain't rested none too well, lately. i've been _thinkin'_. ah! hum. a man's no right to think. he cayn't an' be real comf'table. beg pahdon." aunt betty watched him, smiling. he was a bore who, at times, was amusing. she knew that he had been well educated and had still a fondness for books, as was proved by his habitual use of "marcus aurelius;" but like many other cultured southern people he lapsed into the speech of the colored folks, with whom his life had been passed. his "yeah," and "cayn't," "right smart," and "soon" for early, were musical as he uttered them; and under all his laziness and carelessness he had the instincts of a gentleman. "poor old fellow! i wish i could do something for him, before we finally part company. i'm glad he didn't go away again in anger, though he doesn't 'stay mad,' as dolly says. and i wonder what that scrip of paper in that old wallet does mean! my young folks are greatly excited over it, and dolly told me some ridiculous story about her great-great-grandfather and his great-great-grandmother that seems to be the beginning of things. anyway, though they found it, or metty did, the colonel claims it and i must see that it is returned." so reflected mrs. calvert, watching her guest's peaceful slumber; then, resuming her own book, forgot him and his affairs, at least for the time being. "where did elsa take those monks? it's all well enough for her to train 'em, but they aren't hers and she needn't think so. i'd like to take a hand in that business, myself. wouldn't you, melvin? they belong to you and me, you know. and i say isn't this the beastliest slow-poke of a hole you ever saw? how on earth do you put in your time? all these days what have you done?" demanded gerald, moving restlessly from tender to shore, and already heartily sick of the quiet copse. "well, we fish, the captain and i. we search the woods for berries and grapes. we go to the farmhouses nearest for supplies; and right here, gerald blank, let me warn you. don't you go expecting fine living on the lily. you see there wasn't much capital to start on, not for so many folks; and the other day what was left was lost." "lost? lost! how could a fellow lose anything in this hole, even if he tried? what do you mean?" "exactly what i say. mrs. bruce has held the purse of the company and the other day she and dorothy were counting up their money and--that's the last anybody has seen of it. they kept it in a little empty tin box, that marsh-mallows came in; and chloe called mrs. bruce over to the galley to see about some cooking, and mrs. calvert called dorothy for something else, don't you know? well, sir, when they came back to finish their counting there wasn't a thing left but the tin box--empty as your hat." "somebody stole it, course. who do they suspect?" "look here, gerry, that's a question comes pretty near home, i know that mrs. calvert and dorothy suspect nobody. i can't say as much for mrs. bruce and the rest. the money was there--the money is gone. we're all in the same boat--literally, you know. there wasn't a peddler here that day, nobody around but just ourselves. you and jim are out of it, course, because you were away; but--it might be me, it might be mabel, it might be metty--ephraim--chloe--no not her, for she wasn't out of mrs. bruce's sight--and it might be your own sister aurora." "what's that? how dare you?" angrily demanded gerald. but melvin smiled, a little sadly, indeed, and shrugged his shoulders. "not so fast, gerry. i'm not accusing her, nobody is accusing anybody. but the money's gone, and maybe it's just as well so much of it went for you." "for me? what do you mean by that?" "cap'n jack reckoned you'd cost the exchequer about fifty dollars. dorothy had the very choicest things, poultry, cream, fruit and things, besides the doctor's bills. and the farmers down here aren't so low in their charges as nearer jimpson's. mrs. bruce got furious against them, they took advantage so. but the doctor said you were a very sick boy, for only measles, and must be built up, so good-hearted little dolly dipped into the marsh-mallow box for you. you----" "hush! don't say another word! i'm so mad i can't breathe. i wish i'd never come on this cruise. cruise? it's nothing better 'n being buried alive. thought we might get some fun out of it, hunting for that 'buried treasure' and now, up pops that old stick-in-the-mud and claims the whole business. pshaw! i'll go home if i have to walk there." "how? you couldn't. but i'll tell you what you could do. hunt up elsa and the monks. i want to see if this harness i've made out of a fur-rug they destroyed will fit either. dolly proposes to make them some clothes and get up a little 'show.' thinks she and elsa could exhibit them for pennies, when the people come to sell stuff, and that would help pay for it." gerald considered. many troubled thoughts passed through his mind, but the strongest feeling was anger. he had been so self-sufficient until this "beastly trip." now he was learning the sometimes bitter lesson that nobody in the world can be actually independent. he had begun by lording it over his mates, and even his hostesses, and now here he was dependent upon them for the very food he ate and the medicine he had taken. he ceased to feel himself an invited guest but rather a burden and a debtor. "of course, popper'll pay everything back if we ever get home. but--oh! dear! how i hate it all!" for down in his heart he realized that no amount of money could cover his obligation to these friends, and he started off in a most unhappy frame of mind. "i'll find that girl and teach her to mind her own business. the idea of her training those monkeys--my monkeys! course, she's done it all wrong, and it's harder to unlearn a thing than learn it right first off. when they're trained they ought to be worth ten times as much as we paid for them. i might sell 'em to an organ-grinder, if popper'd buy out melvin's share." but at this stage of thought it occurred to him that he couldn't picture his dandyish father dealing with organ-grinders. indeed, the idea was so absurd that it made him laugh, and in that laughter his ill-temper vanished, or nearly so. after all, it was good to be alive! even the freedom of the woods, after the stuffy cabin he had left, was delightful. he'd rather have had it the freedom of the city streets, but this was better than nothing. he began to whistle, imitating the call of a bird in the tree overhead, and with such fair success that he was proud of himself. the bird ceased, startled, then flew onward. gerald followed, still practicing that wild, sweet note, till suddenly his music was interrupted by another cry, which was neither bird nor joyous, but one of keen anxiety; then, as if it had come out of the ground, a girl begged: "oh! whoever you are, come quick!" "why, elsa! i was looking--hello! of all things!" almost hidden by the great ferns amid which she sat elsa held, lying across her lap, a little figure in faded gingham. "saint augustine! the boy i heard 'em say was lost! how did he get here? it must be a long way from his house." elsa pointed pityingly to the bare little feet and legs, cruelly scratched and with dark bruises. "i don't know. i found him just this way." "sainty! wake up! my! how sound he sleeps! and how red his face is!" "he's sick. i'm sure. i found him all curled up, his little arms under his head. he moans, sometimes, but he doesn't know anything that i say." at that moment a hoarse yell made gerald look away from the boy and a leap of something to his shoulder made him yell in response. "jocko! down! behave! oh! he'll hurt you. they've both been asleep in that spot where the sun shines through. oh! stop--stop!" the monkey was attacking gerald's face, snapping at his ears, pulling his hair, and almost frightening him into a fit. but elsa laid saint augustine gently on the ground and went to the rescue. with sharp slaps of her thin hands she soon reduced jocko to submission and, as if fearing punishment herself, joan crouched behind a bush and peered cautiously out. "pshaw! how'd you do it? i was coming after the monkeys, they're mine you know--or half mine, but--do they act that way often?" "yes, rather too often. that's what makes everybody afraid to handle them. they'll get better natured after a time, i hope. but no matter about them. they're nothing but animals while this darling little boy--i don't know as i can carry him. you've been sick and so can't either, i suppose. yet we can't leave him here. will you go back to the lily and get more help? if you brought a hammock we might put him in that. he's awfully sick. i'm afraid--he'll die--and his mother--" gerald had stood looking upon the little lad while she said this, wondering what would best be done, and annoyed that he should be put to the bother of the matter. his decision was made rather suddenly as again jocko leaped upon his back and resumed his angry chattering. "call him off! i'll carry the child. which is the way home?" "i don't--know. it all looks alike--but not like--i mean, i haven't the least idea where we are, except that it must be a good ways from the boat. don't you really know, either?" for a moment gerald looked about. then answered frankly: "no. i was pretty cross when i came out, for melvin had just told me about that lost money and about dorothy's paying for me--so horrid, that! i heard a bird whistle and whistling's my gift, some folks think. i've whistled for entertainments at school and i like to learn new notes. following that wretched bird i didn't notice." "and looking for a walking-fern i didn't either. but we can't stop here. we must go on--some way." "let's try the children's way: 'my--mother--told--me--this!'" elsa laughed. she had known so little of childish things that each new one delighted her. gerald had uttered the few words, turning from point to point with each, and now finishing with an outstretched forefinger in a direction where the trees were less thick and crowding than elsewhere. fortunately, "his--mother--had--told--him" the right one. this was almost the end of the forest behind corny stillwell's cabin; a short-cut to the long way around by which gerald had gone to deer-copse. he didn't know that when he lifted saint augustine in his arms and started forward. the child was small and thin, else gerald would have had to pause oftener than he did for rest; but even so it was a severe task he had set himself. but somehow the burden in his arms seemed to lift the burden from his heart, as is always the case when one unselfishly helps another. also, he feared that the illness of saint augustine was the result of his own; so that when elsa once limped up to where he had paused to rest and asked: "what do you suppose it is that ails him?" he had promptly answered: "measles. caught 'em from me. ain't that the limit?" but elsa who knew no slang understood him literally, and said: "no, it isn't, i had them once and the doctor scared my father dreadfully, telling him that folks could have them _four times_! think of that! he said most people had them only once and the younger the lighter. so i guess saint augustine won't be very ill. but--my heart! do you suppose the monkeys can catch it? wouldn't that be awful!" "i hope they will and die of them! nasty little brutes! they keep my nerves on the jump all the time, hearing them chatter and yell right behind me so. you keep real far back, won't you? i don't know how you can stand them; but don't--please don't let them hop on me again. i know they're too heavy for you but i'm too nervous for words. i wish i'd never heard of 'em, the little gibbering idiots!" again elsa laughed, this time so merrily that gerald got angry. "i don't see anything so very funny in this predicament! not so very amusing! my arms ache fit to break and all a girl cares about a fellow is to giggle at him." and now, indeed, was the "giggle" so prolonged that its victim had to join in it, and had mrs. calvert been there to hear she would have rejoiced to see shy elsa behaving just like any other happy girl. yet, after a moment, she sobered and begged: "don't mind my doing that, but i couldn't help it. it seems so funny for a boy to have 'nerves' or to be afraid of monkeys. papa has a song: "'the elephant now goes round and round, the band begins to play; the little boys under the monkeys' cage, had better get out of the way--the way- would better get out of the way!'" elsa had so far forgotten her self-consciousness that she sang her quotation in a sweet, clear treble which made gerald turn around and stare at her in surprise. "why, i didn't know you could sing." "i can't--much, only for papa, sometimes. he's a fine singer. he belongs to the oratorio society. he's one of its best tenors, takes solos, you know. i'm very proud of papa's voice. his being poor doesn't keep him out of _that_ society." "then he ought to get yours cultivated. you might make money that way." "maybe, but money isn't much. anyway, he hasn't the money to pay for lessons." "look here. you're so smart with those detestable monks, suppose you go on training 'em and exhibit when you get back to town? i'd let you have 'em on trust till you could pay for them. what do you say?" was this the poor, timid elsa who now faced him with flashing eyes? had this down-trodden "worm" actually "turned"? "say? what do i say? that you're the horridest boy in this whole world and i've a mind to fling your old monkeys straight at you! i--i--" then she sobbed, fatigue overcoming her and her wrath dying as swiftly as it had arisen. "i--i see a house over there. we better go to it and ask." she was trembling now and her lame foot dragged painfully. she had made no complaint of the long distance and the troublesome little animals she sometimes led and sometimes carried, though gerald had grumbled incessantly. now all the best of his nature came to the front, and he had never felt more bitterly ashamed of himself than when he realized that his thoughtless proposition had been an insult to the afflicted, shrinking girl. warmed by the love and appreciation of her water lily friends she "had come out of her shell" of reserve and been most happy. now this boy had forced her back again; to remembering that after all she was but a very poor girl, deformed, despised, and considered simply fit to make a mountebank of herself, going about the city streets with apes! oh! it was very dimly that elsa could see the outlines of a whitewashed cabin in the fields, because of the tears which filled her eyes. "hold on, elsa! forgive me if you can. i'm ashamed of myself. i don't know what makes me such a cad, i don't! you know. except i've been brought up to think i was a rich boy and that a rich boy can do no harm. i could kick myself from here to halifax. please don't mind. why, you're the cleverest girl of the lot, you are, you know. nobody else dared tackle--" he caught himself up sharply. not for his life would he again utter that hateful word "monkey" to her. but he added with real sincerity, "i'm so sorry i'll do anything in the world to prove it, that you ask me to do. i will, upon honor." elsa couldn't hold malice against anybody and in her heart had already forgiven him his hurt of her, with her habitual thought: "he didn't mean it." so she smiled again and accepted his statement as truth. "well i don't know as i shall ever want you to do anything to 'prove it', but if i do i'll tell you. sure." little did gerald dream how rash a promise he had made. the cabin in the fields was the one in which he had lain so helpless. as he recognized it he exclaimed: "good! i'll try that childish 'charm' every time! 'my--mother--told--me--right'. that's home to this little shaver and i'm mighty glad we're there." but it seemed a very different home from that which had sheltered him so well. the children were grouped about the door, only wesley and saint anne daring to enter the room where poor lucetta lay prone on the floor, looking so white and motionless that, for a moment, the newcomers believed that she was dead. saint anne lifted a quivering face toward them but could not speak, wesley hid his face in his arm and blubbered audibly. then did all the little woman in elsa's nature respond to this sudden need. "lay saint augustine on that bench, where somebody must have slept. help me to lift the lady to the bed. don't cry, little girl. she'll soon be all right. it's just a faint, i'm sure. i've fainted myself, often and often. i guess she's overdone. isn't there a man here?" "no, ma'am. papa he comed home an' mamma she tol' him how sa--saint augustine had run away and he frew down his gun an' all them games, an'--an'--just hollered out loud! 'oh! my god'! an' run off, too. mamma was gone all night, lookin' after little brother an' when she heard papa say that she fell right down there and she don't speak when we call her. where'd you find him, our little brother? was he down in tony's eddy?" well, gerald felt in that state when "anybody could knock him down with a feather." he was obeying elsa implicitly, already "proving" he had meant his promise. he felt such an access of manly strength that it was almost unaided he lifted lucetta and laid her on the bed. in reality, she was already regaining consciousness, and slightly aided him herself. then he ran to the spring and brought the "cold water--coldest you can find" which elsa ordered, and lifted mrs. stillwell's shoulders while the girl held the tin cup to her lips; and indeed did so many little things so deftly that he didn't recognize himself. even in her half-stupor lucetta was her own sweet self, for when she had swallowed the water she smiled upon her nurse and tried to speak. elsa anticipated what she knew would be the one great longing of that mother's heart, and said with an answering smile: "we've brought your little son safe home. if you can turn your head you'll see. right yonder on that bench. he's tired out and, maybe, a little sick but he's safe. do you mean you want him right beside you?" lucetta made an effort to sit up and opened her arms. "lie right still. don't you fret for one moment. here's your baby. now i'm going home and we'll get a doctor some way and quick. but you won't be alone. gerald, whom you took care of when he was ill, is here. he'll stay and take care of you in turn now. good-bye. don't worry." she was gone before gerald could even protest, calling the monkeys to follow her and limping away faster than anybody else, with two sound feet, could run. she had taken him at his word, indeed! chapter xv. in the heart of an ancient wood. deep in the heart of the september woods there was gathered one morning a little company of greatly excited people. old cap'n jack was the wildest of the lot. next him in point of eagerness was the colonel. corny stillwell was there; so was his brother wicky, who had come across country to see how now fared lucetta, the "shiftless" wife of his "energetic" brother. of late these terms had been exchanged in the minds of the wickliffe stillwells, owing to various statements made them by their new friends, the "water lilies." being honest and warm-hearted they hadn't hesitated to express their change of opinion; and it was a fact that though lucetta stillwell had never been so ill in her life she had never been so comfortable. lizzie, her sister-in-law, never allowed herself the extravagance of keeping "help;" but it was she who had hunted up a good old "mammy" and established her in the lean-to of the little cabin. she had bidden this good cook: "see to it that lucetty has nourishments continual, and do for mercy's sake, feed them skinny childern till they get flesh on their bones! they're a real disgrace to the neighborhood, the pinched way they look, and i shan't set easy in meetin' if i can't think they're fatted up right. you do the feedin' and we-all'll find you the stuff." so on this special morning lizzie had despatched her husband with a small wagonload of vegetables and poultry; and having left his load at the cabin, the sociable man had driven on to the copse, to meet and inquire for the "lilies." arrived at the boat, aunt betty had eagerly greeted him, explaining: "you're a man of sense and mighty welcome just now. our people have gone actually daft over a dirty piece of paper and a few french words scribbled on it. the precious document belongs to the colonel--oh! yes, he's here. he has been sometime. i think he means to tarry developments--that will never be. he's infected all my family with his crazy notions and they're off now on this wild-goose search for 'buried treasure.' i wish you'd go and warn them that they mustn't trespass on private property, for i believe they'll stop at nothing in their folly." "i've heered about that there 'treasure.' i 'low more time's been spent by fools lookin' for it 'an would ha', arn't 'em a livin'. sure. yes ma'am, they has so. how many's at it now, mrs. calvert?" she laughingly counted upon her fingers: "the colonel; the captain; old ephraim; james, melvin, gerald. nor could mabel, aurora, dorothy--oh! by no means least, dorothy!--resist the temptation to follow. and if i'm not greatly mistaken, i saw chloe sneaking through the underbush a little while ago, with metty in hand. i've heard nothing but 'buried treasure' ever since gerald blundered upon a fancied trail, coming home from his second stay at your brother's. elsa, here, hasn't caught the fever. she's the only one among us, i believe _hasn't_ caught the money fever, for i confess even i am curious to hear the outcome--absurd as i know it to be. mrs. bruce says nothing. she's a wise woman who knows enough to set a check upon her lips--which you'll see i don't. so, if you'll be kind enough to 'light,' as they say here, and try to keep my people out of mischief, i'll consider it another proof of your friendship." farmer wicky was flattered by the confidence which she had always reposed in him, and sided with her entirely. "if i had any rights to any hid treasures, which i haven't; and i expected to find it, which i don't; i wouldn't be the feller to go publish it broadcast this way. i'd keep it to myself an' do my own diggin'; onless, course, i'd tell lizzie. why, ma'am, mrs. calvert, i 'low 't the hull state o' maryland's been dug over, ten foot deep, from pennsylvania to old virginny, with the hull eastern sho' flung in, a-lookin' for what hain't never been put there--'ceptin' them same shovels. maybe that's what makes our sile so rich an' gives us our wonderful crops! ha, ha, ha!" aunt betty was "ha, ha, ha-ing," too, inwardly; for despite himself, a great eagerness had lighted the farmer's face at mention of this last digging-excursion. as soon as he could do so he rose and hastily struck off into the woods. she made her mirth audible as the branches closed behind him, exclaiming to mrs. bruce: "there's another one! i'm afraid i'm responsible for this last crack-brain; and--and--the disease is catching. i declare i'd like to pin up my skirts and travel the road the rest have taken! but i'll read a little in don quixote, instead. i wonder when they'll be back!" meanwhile, the trail was growing "hot" in the depth of that old forest, or grove. it was, indeed, part of a great private park known as "cecilia's manor," and it was the pride of its owners to keep it intact as it had come down to them. captain jack held the floor, so to speak, with the less talkative but more deeply interested--if not excited--colonel, occasionally interrupting and correcting. "yes, siree! we've struck the gulf-stream 'at leads _di_-rect and straight, to the spot! woods, says you? here they be. stream o' water? there she flows! ford an' deers feedin'? course, they's the very identical! tracks an' all----" "them's cow tracks," corrected farmer wicky, while corny laughed and nudged his brother to let the farce proceed. "well, now, mate, how d'ye _know_ them's cows' tracks? you don't _see_ cows around, do ye? no, i don't see cows, nuther; so, 'cordin' to ship's law what you don't know you can't prove. ahem. path? if this here we've come ain't a crooked-zig-zag i never stumped one. here's a tree, been struck by lightin', 'pears like; a-holdin' out its arms to keep the hangin' vines on 'em, exactly like a cross. or nigh exactly." "hold on, cap'n jack! in the map the zig-zag line stops at the tree. this one goes ever so much beyond." the captain glared round upon the audacious cornwallis, who dared gibe at his assertions. then standing as upright as he could, he shouted: "now face that way--north, ain't it? right about--south! yonder's east, an' t'other side's west. i allows i knows the p'ints of the compass if i don't know nothin' else. i tell you, _this is the spot_. right below our feet lies--lies--" "the treasures of golconda!" suggested the irreverent corny. in the past he had held faith in this same "buried treasure," but now to see so many other people so earnestly interested in it, changed the whole aspect for him. but the doughty captain, self-constituted master of ceremonies disdained to notice the "ne'er-do-well" of the countryside and in stentorian tones, with his hands trumpet-wise before his mouth, he bellowed: "now, my hearties, dig! dig!" each was armed with something to use, jim had brought some of the engineering tools from the "pad" and had distributed these among the boys. ephraim had borrowed an old hoe from a farmer near by, wicky had caught up a pick-axe from his own wagon--he had meant to leave it at his brother's cabin but forgot; chloe had seized a carving knife, and the others had spoons, table knives, or whatever came handiest. only the colonel and the captain were without implements of some sort. even the jesting corny had seized the fallen branch of a tree and broken its end into the semblance of a tool. it was he who first observed the idleness of the two men most interested, and slapping cap'n jack upon the shoulder, ordered: "dig, my hearty! dig!" "i--i'm a--a cripple!" answered the sailor, with offended dignity; "and don't you know, you simple simon, 't they always has to be a head to everything? well, i 'low as how i'm the head to this here v'yage, an' i'll spend my energy officerin' this trip!" corny laughed. now that all was well at his home in the fields he found the world the jolliest sort of place, and the "lilies" the most interesting people in it. then he turned upon the colonel, sitting upon a soft hummock of weeds as near in shape to billy's restful back as possible. "but, cunnel, how 'bout you? i thought the 'treasure' was yours--in part, anyway. why aren't you up and at it? 'findings are keepings', you know. up, man, and dig!" the colonel lifted sorrowful eyes to the jester's face, and murmured in his tired voice: "i cayn't. i never could. i shouldn't find it if i did. they ain't no use. i couldn't. they won't. nobody will. not nigh _her_; not on my lady cecilia's manor. i've known that all along. but i _had_ to come. something made me, i don't know what. but i had to. corny stillwell, do you know what day this is? or ain't you no memory left in that rattle-pate o' you-all's? i don't suppose they is. nobody remembers nothin'. ah! hum." corny's face had sobered and he held out his hand in sympathy. "shake, old fellow! and look-a-here, haven't you held on to your grudge long enough? the doc's a fine man if he is a mite greedy for the almighty dollar. land of love! aren't we all? else why are we acting like such a parcel of idiots this minute! get up, cunnel. get some energy into your tired old body and see how 'twill feel. at present, you're about as inspiriting as a galvanized squash, and first you know your willing helpers'll quit. come on. let's strike off a bit deeper into the woods. too many banging around the roots of that one old tree. first they know it'll be tumblin' over on 'em. come on out of harm's way. you and i've been good friends ever since i used to go to the manor house and flirt with--" "hold on! don't you dare to say that name to me, corny, you fool! you ain't wuth your salt but i'd ruther it had been you than him. you clear out my sight. i ain't got no thoughts, i ain't got no memories--i--i--ain't got no little girl no more!" the man's emotion was real. tears rose to his faded eyes and rolled down over his gaunt cheeks; leaving, it must be admitted, some clean streaks there. big-hearted, idle corny couldn't endure this sight and was now doubly glad he had wandered to this place that day. the colonel was a gentleman, sadly discouraged and, in reality, almost heart-broken. his merry friend could remember him as something very different from now; when his attire was less careless, his face clean-shaven, the melancholy droop of his countenance less pronounced. he had always talked much as he did still but he had been, despite this fact, a proud and happy man. these strangers mustn't see the old planter weeping! "come." the touch of the jester's hand was as gentle as lucetta's own, as he now adroitly guided his old friend to a sheltered spot where none could see his face. except--well, dorothy was quite near; harmlessly prodding away at the earth with aunt betty's best paperknife. her digging was aimless, for her thoughts were no longer on her present task. they were so absorbed that she didn't hear the approach of the two men--nor of one other, yet unseen. suddenly, the little steel blade of her implement struck with a ringing sound upon something metallic, and she paused in astonishment. then bent to her work excitedly, wondering: "is it--can it be i've--found--it--it! oh!--" an unfamiliar voice suddenly interrupted her task, demanding: "girl! why are you despoiling my property, trampling my choicest ferns, trespassing upon my private park?" the paperknife went one way, dorothy's red tam another, as she sprang up to confront the most masterful looking woman she had ever seen. tall as an amazon, yet handsome as she was forbidding, she towered above the astonished child as if she would annihilate her. "i--i couldn't do very much--with a paperknife, could i? i didn't know--i'm sorry, i'll plant them right back--i only did what the others said--nobody warned me--us--" "_us?_ are there others then? where? this is outrageous! can't you read? didn't you see the signs 'no trespassing' everywhere? where are the rest? this must be put a stop to--i wouldn't have had it happen for anything. my park--eunice's precious playground, where she is safe and--oh! i am so sorry, so sorry." the lady was in riding habit. a little way off stood a horse and beside it a tiny pony with a child upon its back. a groom was at the pony's side, apparently holding its small rider safe. the child's face peered out from a mass of waving hair, frail and very lovely, though now frightened by her own mother's loud tones. these tones had roused others also. wheeling about the lady faced corny and the colonel, slowly rising from the log where they had been resting. a moment she stared as if doubting the evidence of her own eyes, then her whole expression changed and springing forward she threw her strong arms about the trembling colonel and drew his tired face to her shoulder. "oh! daddy, daddy! you have come home--you have come home at last. and on my wedding day! to make it a glorious day, indeed! ten years since i have had a chance to kiss your dear old face, ten years lost out of a lifetime just because i married--_jabb_!" but now her strong, yet cultured voice, rang out in mirth, and dorothy looked at her in amazement, almost believing she had found a crazy woman in these woods. then mr. corny, as she called him, came to where she stood, observing, and gently pushed her back again upon the heap of ferns. "best not to notice. best keep right on diggin'. that's josie--i mean josephine--dillingham--jabb! her father intended her to marry into one of our oldest maryland 'families' and she rebelled. took up with jabb, a son of the poorest white trash in the county, not a cent to his name--that's bad enough!--but more brains 'an all the 'first families' put together ever had. made his way right straight up the ladder. has a reputation greater outside annyrunnell than in it. only fault--likes money. says he'll make a fortune yet will beat the 'aristocrats' into being proud of him. says if he does have to leave his daughter the humble name of jabb he'll pile money enough on top of it to make the world forget what's underneath. says when she marries she shall never discard that name but always be 'of j'. poor little child! her parents adore her but all her father's skill and pride is powerless to straighten her poor little body. she's a hunchback, and though she doesn't mind that for herself she grieves over it for them. oh! but this is a grand day! the colonel will just idolize little eunice--i want to fling up my hat and hurra!" all this information had been given in a whisper while dorothy snuggled in the great fronds, and mr. stillwell crouched beside her, idly digging with the paperknife he had picked up, and trying to keep his presence hidden from these two chief actors in this unexpected scene. "do you suppose it was really to find the 'buried treasure' the colonel came? or to--to make up friends with his daughter?" asked dolly, softly. "well--both, maybe. no matter why nor how--he's here. they've met, and at heart are just as loving as they always were. it is a good day, the best anniversary josie dillingham ever had. hark! what's doing? peep and see." "the lady has motioned that groom to lead the horses this way. ah! isn't that sweet? the little thing is holding out her arms to the colonel as if she knew him and loved him already!" "reckon josie's taught her that. joe always was a brick! liked to rule the roost but with a heart as big as her body. she told my lucetty 't she should teach little eunice to know she had a grandpa somewhere and that he was the very best, dearest man alive; so that when they met, if they ever did, she wouldn't be afraid but would take to him right away. reckon her plan's succeeded. won't lucetty be glad about this!" the groom was now leading the two horses through the woods, toward the copse and the water lily. both saddles were empty for little eunice was in her grandfather's arms and he stepping as proudly, almost as firmly, as the woman walking beside him. "they--why--why--what have you done? broken aunt betty's paperknife of real damascus steel! she says she knows it's that because she bought it there herself, once when she went on a 'round the world' tour. she says it mayn't be any better than other steel--reckon it isn't, or it wouldn't have broken that way. i ought not to have taken it but i was so excited, everybody was, i didn't stop to think. what makes you look so queer, mr. corny? aunt betty won't care, or she'll blame me only. you--you most scare me!" indeed, her companion was looking very "queer," as she said. his eyes were glittering, his face was pale, his lips nervously working, and he was rapidly enlarging the hole her knife had made by using his bare hands. dorothy sprang to a little distance and then watched, fascinated. a suspicion of the truth set her own eyes shining and now she was scarcely surprised when the man stood up, holding a muddy box in his hand, and shouting in hilarious delight: "found! found! after all, that old yarn was true! it's the 'buried treasure', as sure as i'm alive! hurra!" away he sped carrying the big box above his head and summoning all his fellow searchers to join him at the house-boat and behold. half-dazed by this success dorothy picked up the discarded fragments of the paper cutter, and followed him. but even as she did so she wondered: "odd! that he can carry it so, on the very tips of his fingers, and so high up! i thought 'buried treasure' was always gold, and a box full of gold would be terrible heavy. even two, three hundred dollars that mr. ford let me lift, out in california, weighed a lot!" but she shared to the full the excitement of all the company who now threw down their own tools to follow corny with his joyous shouts: "come on! come on, all! the 'treasure' is found!" chapter xvi. when the monkeys' cage was cleaned. it was an eager company gathered in the big saloon of the water lily. no time had been lost by all these seekers after the "buried treasure" in obeying farmer corny's summons to follow him; and having arrived at the boat, found the colonel, his daughter, and grandchild already there. the colonel's proud introduction of his newly restored family found a warm welcome at aunt betty's hands, and she and the younger matron, members both of "first families," were friends at once. as for little eunice, who had always shrunk from the presence of strangers, there was no shrinking now. her grandfather had set her down upon the floor, while he presented mrs. jabb--even deigning to call her by that name--and the little one had looked about her in great curiosity. then she perceived elsa, holding out entreating hands, and promptly ran to throw herself into the welcoming arms. instantly there was sympathy between these two afflicted young things and, as a new sound fell upon the little one's ear, the elder girl explained: "the monkeys! would you like to see the monkeys? or would you be afraid?" "eunice never saw monkeys. what are monkeys? are they people or just dear, dear animals?" "they're not people, darling, though oddly like them. come and see." elsa was herself so shy in the presence of strangers, especially so majestic a person as the mistress of lady cecilia's manor, that she was glad to escape to the tender where her charges were in their cage; and for once the little animals were docile while on exhibition, so that eunice's delight was perfect. indeed, she was so fascinated by them that she could scarcely be induced to leave them, and when she was compelled to do so by her mother's voice, she walked backward, keeping her eyes fixed upon those delectable creatures till the last instant. meanwhile those in the cabin of the lily were merrily disputing over who should open the "find," and finally drew lots upon it. careful mrs. bruce had brought a tray to put under the muddy box and brushed the dirt from it, till she was prevented by the hubbub of voices, in which that of the newcomer, mrs. jabb, was uppermost. she was exclaiming: "the lot is corny's! oh! i'm glad of that, and i say right here and now that if i have any share in the 'treasure' i pass it onto him 'unsight, unseen,' as we used to say when, boy and girl together, we exchanged our small belongings." "pooh! joe, i don't half like it! but--shall i, folks? looks as if the box would come to pieces at a breath." "yes, yes, you--you do it! and we ratify what mrs. jabb has said. anyone of us who has a right to any of the contents of the 'treasure' he has found will pass it on to mr. cornwallis stillwell," said aunt betty. "dolly, hand him this little silver ice-hammer, to strike the chest with." laughingly, he received it and struck: "the fatal blow! be kind, oh! fate! to a frightened meddler in this mystery!" the wooden box did fall apart, almost at that first stroke of the tiny hammer. it was extremely old and much decayed by its long burial in the ground, and had been held together only by the metallic bands which dorothy's paperknife struck when she was digging among the ferns. but there was a box within a box! the second one of brass and fastened by a hasp. a feeling of intense awe fell on all the company. this did look as if there had certainly been buried something of great value, and the impression was deepened when corny lifted the inner receptacle with reverence, remarking: "it's very light--not very large--it might contain precious stones--diamonds, do you think? i declare, i'd rather somebody else would do it. you, colonel, please." "no, no. ah! hum. i've something far more precious 'an any diamond in my arms this minute. i don't give that up for any old box!" and so declining he rubbed his face against eunice's soft cheek and laughed when she protested against its roughness. every head was bent to see and all were urging haste, so that no further time was wasted. undoing the fastening and lifting the lid of this inner "shrine" there lay revealed--what? nobody comprehended just what until the man held up the half-bright, half-tarnished metal image of a "fool's head," as pictured in old prints. then the laughter burst forth at this ancient jest coming home so aptly to the modern jester who had unearthed it. "maybe there's something inside! maybe that's only an odd-shaped box to deceive folks. maybe--do, do, look inside!" "do that yourself, miss dolly. remember it was you who first found the 'treasure!'" returned mr. stillwell and merrily passed it on to her. she didn't hesitate. in a twinkling her fingers had discovered where a lid was fitted on and had lifted it. there was something in the box after all! a closely folded bit of paper--no, parchment--on which was writing. this wasn't in french as the map had been inscribed, but in quaintly formed, old-fashioned characters, and the legend was this: "who hides his money in the earth is but a fool, whate'er his birth; and he who tries to dig it thence expecting pounds, should find but pence. the hider is but half a wit, the seeker's brains are smaller yet, for who to chance his labor sells is only fit for cap and bells." "take my share of this wonderful 'treasure'," cried mrs. jabb, when the momentary silence following the reading of this rhyme had been broken by corny's laughter. "and mine!" "and mine!" "and mine, for my great-great-grandfather's sister was--how was that, dear colonel? about our great-greatgrandmother's--father's--relationship? well, i know one thing, i'll never believe in any such foolishness again! _i_ never did really, you know, i only--" "oh! nonsense, dolly! a girl who is so interested she catches up a paperknife--" reproved aurora, who had herself ruined a table knife. "aunt betty, that's true! i did break it--i mean--" "i did that, madam, and i fear i can never travel to damascus to fetch you another; but what i can do i will do. vote of the company! attention, please! does not this quaint old 'cap and bells' belong of right to mrs. calvert?" demanded and explained cornwallis stillwell, holding the little metal head in the air. "no, no, to you! to you!" to dorothy, the most amusing feature of the whole affair was the earnestness with which each and every one of them denied that they had ever had any faith in the old tradition. "_i_ only went along to--for fun!" stoutly declared gerald; and so calmly stated all the rest. even the old captain rubbed his bald spot till it shone, while tears of laughter sparkled behind his "specs;" and some were there, looking upon this "nigh useless old hull," as he called himself, who felt that the expedition had not failed since he could find so much enjoyment from it. as for mrs. josephine, her face was transformed with the happiness of that morning's reunion with her father and it needed but one thing to make her joy perfect. "oh! daddy, if only the doctor were here! but it's only a little delay, for of course, you're going home with me to the manor house now, to stay forever and a day. say, daddy dear? how's farming? and oh! where, how is billy?" the colonel was actually smiling. nay, more, was laughing! for as if he had heard himself inquired for, old billy answered in his loudest bray--"ah! umph! a-a-a-ao-o-m-p-h!" then into that merry company came running again little eunice, who had for a moment slipped away with elsa. in her little hand she held joan's chain, while with a saucy glance around jocko sat grinning upon elsa's shoulder. "i beg pardon, but she will not leave them, lady. i never saw anybody so pleased with monkeys as she is, and not one mite afraid. that's more than some of us can say:" sweetly apologized elsa, with a mischievous glance toward aurora who had gathered up her skirts and mounted a chair. "mamma! i want the monkeys! the lovely monkeys! i do, i do! don't you know? don't you 'member? always you told me i should have anything i wanted that day when grandpa comes, anything--any single thing. you wouldn't like to tell a wrong story, would you, mamma dear? because he's comed--this is the day--and what eunice wants is the lovely, lovely monkeys! buy 'em for me, mamma darling! grandpa, make her!" pleaded the child, for once wholly forgetful that she was displaying her deformity to all these people, and running from her mother back to the colonel. with a return of his usual sadness, he lifted her and kissed her, then set her gently down, saying: "honey, i cayn't. i never could. ah! hum, she was a deal younger 'n you when she took the reins into her hands an' begun drivin' for herself. i cayn't help ye, sweetheart, but i'd give--give--even billy if she'd do what you want." "oh! colonel, you can't give again what you've already given! billy--" "no, miss dorothy, there you're mistook! billy wouldn't be give, he wasn't accepted, he--honey sweetness, grandpa cayn't!" "are those monkeys for sale?" asked mrs. jabb. aurora looked at gerald and gerald nudged melvin. here was a solution to their own dilemma--"what shall we do with the monks?" so being thus urged, as he supposed, by his partner in trade, melvin promptly answered: "no, mrs. jabb, they aren't for sale. but if this little girl would like to have them we are delighted to make her a present of them, don't you know? just--_delighted_." the lady was going to say she couldn't accept so valuable a gift and would prefer to buy them, but just then a groan he couldn't subdue escaped the disappointed gerald and she felt that he was selfish and should be punished. of course, anybody rich enough to idle away a whole autumn, house-boating, could afford to give a half-share in a pair of monkeys to a crippled child. but in her judgment she did poor gerry an injustice. his groan would have been a cry of rejoicing that his deal in monkeys was to be taken off his hands had not jim, at that instant, given him a kick under the table with a too forcible sympathy. "very well. but how does a person transport monkeys?" asked the doctor's wife, while eunice danced about the cabin in great glee. "oh! they have a cage. a real nice cage, but i'd like to give it a good cleaning before it's taken away," said elsa. "would that take long? i'd like to send for it as soon as we get home. eunice so seldom cares about any new toy i'm anxious to please her while the idea _is_ new." "not long, i'll be real quick. would you like to come and see it done, eunice?" "oh! yes, i want, i want!" then it suddenly developed that all the young folks "wanted," even aurora. now that they were to part company with the simians the curious creatures became at once more interesting than ever before. so they gathered about the wooden cage, some helping, some suggesting, and dorothy seconding elsa in the statement: "if they're to belong to this lovely child not a speck of dirt must be left. i've not taken out that sliding bottom of the cage but once, it fits too tight, and you'd have laughed to see how the dear pets watched me. ugh! it _does_ stick--dreadfully!" said elsa, wrestling with the wooden slide. "here, girlie! let me! you just keep the wretched beasts out of reach of me. i ought to help in this and you'll hurt your hands. let me, elsa!" as gerald spoke he gave a strong pull on the false bottom and it yielded with a suddenness that sent him sprawling. but it wasn't his mishap that caused that surprised cry from elsa, nor the angry, answering one of the now excited monkeys. it was all she could do to prevent their springing upon gerald who had so interfered with their belongings. for between the false and real bottoms of their cage was a considerable space; and in some ingenious fashion they had stored there all their cherished possessions--as well as those of their human neighbors. missing thimbles, a plume from chloe's hat, metty's pen knife, thread, nails, buttons--anything and everything that had been missed and had captivated their apish fancy. elsa and dorothy made a thorough search, compelling by their ridicule the "timid boys" to keep the animals off while they did so; and it was then that one more "mystery" was solved, one more miserable anxiety and suspicion laid to rest. "our money! our money! it was they who 'stole' it, and gave us all our trouble! oh! mrs. bruce, this is the most wonderful day ever was! i'm so excited i can hardly breathe--the money's found--the money's found!" "my! but i'm glad! does seem as if some wonderful things has happened this day, just as you say. so many 't i'm getting real nervous. i hope nothing more will till i get over this. we said 'twas to be a 'rest,' this trip, and i haven't never had so many upsets in the same length o' time before. land of love! what next? there's wheels coming down the road and nobody's been to get in provision, if it happens to be company to dinner. mrs. calvert hasn't much sense that way. seems sometimes as if she'd like to ask all creation to meals without regard to victuals. peek under that tree. can you see? don't it appear like the doctor's rig? it is! and there's a man with him--_two men!_ as sure as preaching i'll warrant you your aunt betty'll ask these folks to dinner!" dorothy obediently "peeked." then stood up and rubbed her eyes. then peeked once more and with a wild cry of delight bounded over the gang-plank to the bank beyond, straight into the arms of a gray, vigorous old man, whose coming was the most wonderful event of all that day's strange happenings. chapter xvii. conclusion. "uncle seth! oh! is it you--truly--really--you darling uncle seth? now, indeed, this is the most wonderful day in all my life! i am so glad--so glad!" "same little, dear, enthusiastic dorothy! well, my child, i reckon i'm as glad as you. but have you no greeting for your old acquaintance, mr. stinson? or a 'howdy' for the doctor? he and i are old friends, let me tell you. i've known him since he was a mighty small boy." dorothy released mr. winters and made her pretty obeisance to the gentlemen with him, while the good doctor added to his friend's statement: "yes, indeed, since i was big enough to walk alone. it was he who taught me my letters, sent me to school at his own expense, gave me my start in life. what i don't owe your grand 'uncle seth' couldn't be told. but, hello! what's up? josephine? eunice? so they've at last called upon my house-boat friends, have they? and--my eyes!" as the three newcomers stepped to the ground and started across the gang-plank, the doctor did, indeed, rub his eyes and stare. he had not forgotten that this was the tenth anniversary of his wedding and knew that his wife would prepare some pleasant surprise for him, after her custom of celebrating, but he was more than surprised this time to see his father-in-law standing on the little deck, holding eunice in his arms and--yes, actually smiling! but the physician was a man of few words. shaking the colonel's hand in the most ordinary fashion he said: "good morning, father;" and in that brief salutation the alienation of ten years was bridged, and was never referred to again by either side. "well, cousin seth. better late than never;" was aunt betty's characteristic greeting of her most trusted friend. but the light of relief that spread over her lovely old face was more eloquent than words. five minutes later, the doctor's party had gone. mrs. calvert did just what mrs. bruce had prophesied she would--invited them all to dinner, but the invitation was declined. "our anniversary, you know. cook has a grand dinner waiting for us at home and it wouldn't do to disappoint her. father, you get in with the doctor. eunice and i will ride close behind. and look here, wicky stillwell! what's to hinder you two boys, you and corny, following along in your wagon yonder with the monkeys' cage? you can share our fine fixings, just as we used when we were little and you ran away from home to 'joe's,' whenever there were 'doings' at the manor house. oh! i'm so happy! i feel like a little girl again and just be dear good little boys and come. will you?" of course they went. mrs. josephine had a way of getting her will of other people, and this time it was a relief even to hospitable aunt betty to have only her own family about her. when the rumble of wheels had died away she called mr. winters from his inspection of the water lily and bade him: "give an account of yourself, please. why haven't you come before and why have you come now? come everybody, come and listen. let dinner wait till we learn what news this man has in his budget." so they gathered about him while he explained: "i wanted to come at the very beginning of the trip but, also, i wanted to see what my dorothy would do with her 'elephant' of a house-boat. engineer stinson, here, wrote me about the breaking of the engine and your plans for a simpler outing because of it. i tried to get him to come back to you and take the job in hand but he had other engagements and couldn't then. so i reasoned that it wouldn't do any of you a bit of harm to live thus quietly for a few weeks, till he was at liberty. he is now and has come, bringing all the necessary stuff to work with as far as jimpson's. "to make a long story short: i propose; 'everybody willing and nobody saying no,' as dolly used to premise in making her plans, to pole back there; to get the engine into first-class order; and then to take a real cruise in this beautiful water lily all down this side the bay and up along the eastern sho'. cousin betty shall visit her beloved severn; we'll see the middies at annapolis; touch here and there at the historic points; do anything, in fact, that anybody most desires. for, by and by, these idle days must give place to days of discipline, when our small hostess, here, will resume her education in the faraway northland of canada. what will befall her there? ah! well. that we must wait to learn from time, and from the forthcoming story of '_dorothy at oak knowe_.' "meanwhile, the autumn is at its best. october on the old chesapeake is just glorious, with occasional storms thrown in to make us grateful for this safe, snug little craft. mr. stinson says he wouldn't be afraid to trust it on the atlantic, even, but we'll not do that. we'll just simply fill these remaining days of dorothy's vacation with the--time of our lives! all in favor, say aye. contrary--no." as he finished the "learned blacksmith" drew his beloved ward to his side and looked into her sparkling eyes, asking: "well, dolly doodles, what say?" "aye, aye, aye!" "aye, aye, aye!" rose almost deafening from every throat. "then, mrs. bruce, since all that is settled bid chloe get to work and give these travelers the very best dinner ever cooked in our little galley;" said mrs. calvert, in her gayest manner. yet as she spoke, her eyes rested lovingly upon the beautiful copse and the sadness which any parting brings to the old fell upon her. till cheerful old seth, her lifelong friend, sat down beside her, with dorothy snuggling to him and talked as only he could talk--always of the future, rarely of the past. "look ahead--lend a hand." they were to do that still. and in this "look ahead" dorothy was asked: "what shall you do with the water lily, when this year's cruise is over?" "is it really, truly mine, to do with exactly as i want?" "surely, child, your uncle seth isn't an 'injun giver'!" he answered, smiling. "then i want to make it over to somebody, whoever's best, for the use of poor, or crippled, or unhappy children and folks. darling elsa said in the beginning it would be 'a cruise of loving kindness' and seems if it had been. i don't mean me--not anything i've had a chance to do--only the way you've always showed me about 'leadings' and 'links in the chain of life' you know. so many such beautiful things have happened beside all the funny ones. the stillwells finding out about each other, and mr. corny 'turning over a new leaf' to take better care of his folks; gerald and aurora learning to be gentle to everybody; those manor house people making up; and darling elsa growing happy, just like other girls. none of these things would have happened if the dear old water lily hadn't brought them all together. i'd like elsa and her father to be the real heads of it, with that sweet lucetta and her babies next. they should keep it just for charity, or goodness--to whoever needs that! what do you say? aunt betty, uncle seth?" what could they say but most heartily commend this unselfish wish. this approval made dorothy so glad and gave her so much to think about that she almost forgot to be sorry when she took her last glance at beloved deer-copse upon the ottawotta. "look ahead." it was all still to come; the fine trip which mr. seth had planned and the joyful return home; the bestowal of the house-boat for its winter's rest; a little time of preparation; and then the new life at oak knowe, the great school in the north which was to mark the next change in dorothy's happy life. swiftly the future becomes the present, then the past; and it seemed to all the voyagers upon the water lily that they had hardly sailed away from halcyon point, to begin their eventful trip, than they were sailing up to it again, whistle blowing, flags flying, and every soul on board, from aunt betty down to little metty, singing with all fervor: "home, sweet, sweet home! be it ever so humble--there's no place like home." the end. transcriber's note: minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. any remaining misspellings or punctuation errors are as in the original book. 