“But at least they have enough to eat, catching fish,” said Sarita.
“I doubt it, if they work for Bill.”
“Come, children, I must hurry,” said Beth. “There is a meal to cook and I promised to meet our boarder at the Eyrie.” Beth put on an expression of great dignity.
“Ha!” exclaimed Dalton. “Do you girls realize what has occurred? Never can we leave our sister unchaperoned again!” Dalton linked his arm in Beth’s and began to stride around the camp with such long and exaggerated strides that Beth, laughing, had to run to keep up with him. But when she told him that the stranger would really arrive by way of the wood, he stopped and more sensibly directed their way into it, while Leslie and Sarita not understanding what that move meant, waved a goodbye.
“I’ll walk with you a little way,” said Beth. “Have you seen anything of Peggy or Jack today?”
“Not a thing. Peggy was coming early, too, for I told them that I was taking a day off before my men came to work on the house and that we would take out the Sea Crest.”
“Probably Mr. Ives has come home. Peggy so cherishes coming here, or so she says, that she does not risk him forbidding her to come.”
“He knows all about it, though. Didn’t Peggy relate what he said about disliking the ‘intimacy’ with us?”
“Yes, but that makes Peggy all the more afraid that he will stop it. Possibly he thinks that he will know what we are doing through her, however, though I can’t imagine his getting much out of Peggy unless she wants to tell. Leslie worries about it slightly.”
“That is because it is not the sporting thing to accept a man’s hospitality when one is opposing him. That is what bothers Les when Peggy takes her out in his launch or insists on her going around Steeple Rocks. After all, the hospitality is extended by Peggy and her mother.”
“Certainly, Dal. But Leslie and Sarita are not‘opposing’ Mr. Ives exactly, are they?”
“I am not so sure that their search for the ‘secret’of Steeple Rocks will not result in their finding Mr. Ives much concerned in something decidedly out of the way. By the way, the launch put out from the village last night, or early this morning. I was awake and I heard it. It had disappeared in a thick fog by the time I reached the rocks.”
“Peggy herself seems to think that something is wrong,” said Beth, thoughtfully, “but our girls scent a ‘mystery’ chiefly, and Sarita hopes to find some‘pirate gold.’”
“Much good that would do her if she found it at Steeple Rocks, and the Ives have enough wealth as it is.”
CHAPTER XIII
“WAVES OF BURNISHED GOLD”
Before Beth realized it she was some distance within the thick forest with Dalton and she was just saying that she must go back, when they heard someone coming, off the scarcely recognizable trail, and struggling through bushes. Dalton, called, “this way,” thinking that it was probably Mr. Tudor.
It was the young man himself, fortunately for his good suit of clothes, in which Beth had first seen him, now attired in camping costume, with high leather buskins. “I missed the path, didn’t I?” said he, smiling and pulling off his cap, “but I was pretty sure of the general direction toward the sea.”
“Mr. Tudor, this is my brother, Dalton Secrest,” said Beth. “He will help you choose a place for your camp.”
Dalton held out his hand, liking Evan Tudor at once. “I’m glad to meet you, sir. If you are a writer, I suppose that you want a quiet spot?”
“You are right; I should prefer to be back in the woods rather than near the shore. It will give me exercise to take a run to the ocean every day. But I want to thank you for allowing me to camp in your woods. I shall help protect it, I assure you.”
“I believe that you will, and we may need you, indeed. There is no reason why you should not stay as long as you like.”
Evan Tudor was surprised and delighted at this quick decision and told Dalton that he should have no reason to regret it, while Beth, seeing that her share in the affair was over, excused herself and went back to camp, though not before she had invited Mr. Tudor to be their guest at supper. “Perhaps I will send the girls to call you after a while,” she said. “I suppose that you will show him to some place not too far from the spring, Dal?”
“Yes, Beth.”
While Dalton and Mr. Tudor went back along the poorly defined bridle path to the road, which came from the village to the wood, then took a great curve to avoid it, Dalton explained that there would be some noise for several days while the men were putting up the log cabin, but that there was a good place for a camp of which he was thinking. “You will be surrounded by woods, though the spot is comparatively open, and if it is not too far from the spring you may like it. The little stream from our lake takes a turn there, and there are rocks on which your fires will be safe. Indeed, you might use that water safely, for the lake is never polluted in any way. It is little more than a big pool, fed by springs and a tiny brook above.”
“That sounds fine, but are you not building near your ‘lake’?”
“Not too close, though we are nearer the spring than we are at our camp. Beth hated to leave the vicinity of the sea. But now she sees that it will be better to be closer to the water supply.”
Mr. Tudor asked a number of questions and seemed to be interested in the way to reach Steeple Rocks from the woods. He inquired, too, about who were spending the summer there, in such a way that Dalton wondered if he had heard of the Ives before.
Not knowing of any reason why he should not be communicative to this sincere appearing young man, Dalton mentioned Peggy, her mother and step-father, the Count, the foreign governess and the guests. He even told him of Mr. Ives’ request that they should leave. “I tell you this, Mr. Tudor, because you, too, may not be wanted here. I’d keep an eye out. Have you any way of defending yourself? By the way, though, we’d rather not have any hunting done here.”
“I have no interest in hunting—animals, or small game of any sort,” and Evan Tudor laughed. “But I am armed, after a fashion.” Evan Tudor knew only too well that he would not be wanted, but he hoped to carry out the idea of a harmless writer on a vacation and to conceal his real purpose in coming. It was true enough that he was a writer, also that he needed a vacation. “Is there anyone besides Mr. Ives who feels inhospitable?” he asked.
“Yes. A man whom they call Bill interviewed me, too, and warned me to mind my own affairs around here. He has a lot of people fishing for him and ships the fish. I rather think that Bill does a little rum-running, for there is much drinking in the village. Bill may ship that, too, for all I know. You may have to convince Bill that you are not employed by the government to detect rum-runners.”
“If Bill inquires,” said Mr. Tudor with a smile, “you may tell him from me that I am not a prohibition agent, though I might do my duty as a citizen in that line, if necessary. However, I’ve another purpose, and I’ll mightily enjoy this woods of yours.
“By the way, I’d like to interview some of those interesting foreign citizens in the village. The setting for them here is just a little more intriguing than in New York, for a change. A friend of yours down there told me a good deal about you. What sort of a chap is Tom Carey?”
“Oh, Tom Carey is straight and all right, if he does work for Bill. Bill has taken a notion to Tom and I suppose he finds him smarter and more reliable than most of his workers. You will have to be careful if you interview those foreigners. Bill may not like it.”
“I see. I’m to be careful about one Mr. Bill Ritter.”
They were pushing through the woods as they talked. Presently they reached the road where a man waited with a heavily-laden mule. Evan Tudor picked up a typewriter from the protection of some bushes and Dalton gathered up a suitcase, which he saw by the side of the road, and a basket of what he judged were groceries. “It was quite a walk for you with these things,” he said.
“Not so bad,” said Mr. Tudor. “I had help and the mule carries the most
of the outfit.”
It took almost as much time to get through the woods as to unload the outfit, but Dalton assured Mr. Tudor that in the direction of their camp the woods would be found more open and that it was not as far as it seemed. Evan Tudor was delighted with the camping spot and started at once to set up his small tent and arrange his supplies. Dalton began to help him, but the departing man, after he had received his pay, waited a few moments and then asked Dalton to “walk a piece” with him. “I want to ask ye somethin’,” he said.
There was a twinkle in Evan Tudor’s eye as he glanced after them. He hoped that Dalton would establish what the modern youth sometimes calls his “alibi” and successfully divert suspicion; for Evan Tudor was on a quest.
“Say,” said the man, as he and Dalton had reached a spot out of hearing and Dalton stopped, not thinking it necessary to go any farther. “Say, Bill wants to know what this chap is up to. Is he any coast guard feller?”
“Bill came to see us when we first came, and I just told Mr. Tudor that Bill was the high ruler of this little village and would very likely want to know about him. He laughed and said that he had nothing to do with catching rum-runners, or words to that effect. He is a writer looking for material and taking a vacation, I suppose. He just came from New York.
“But I’m going to say to Bill sometime that he is going a little too far. The way he does things around here makes any square people suspicious. I’m too busy right now to spend any time on fellows like Bill Ritter, but I am a good citizen of my country and I’m not protecting that sort of thing, either. Bill had better stick to fishing if he doesn’t want to get into trouble some day.”
“I kinda thought you’d feel that way about it,” said the man, “but you’ll have to tell Bill that. Some of the rest of us don’t like Bill any too well, but—well, the kids has to have bread and butter. Bill didn’t tell me to ask was he with the coast-guard. That was my put-in. Bill told me to find out what he was up to. See?”
“Well, now you know, and you can tell Bill from me that I informed Mr. Tudor about unfriendliness shown us and told him to be on the lookout!”
The man laughed roughly. “I will. Sure he’s a writer fellow all right?”
“That is what he told me, and he talked like one. You noticed that he carried his little typewriter case, didn’t you?”
“Was that what it was? I noticed that he parked it kinda careful.”
Dalton felt that this conversation had not been in vain. He repeated it to Mr. Tudor, who was setting up a small heater and began to demur in regard to taking supper at the Secrest camp. “It’s an imposition,” he declared. “I have plenty to eat right here.”
“Sure you have, but what will Beth think? Moreover, we caught too many fish today for four people to eat up. Better not refuse to come—make it a celebration of getting into the woods on your vacation.”
Dalton had scarcely stopped speaking when a feminine “Hoo-hoo” sounded from the woods across the stream. Leslie and Sarita were calling them. “Hoo-hoo,” replied Dalton in shrill imitation, and added, “we’ll be there, girls; give us ten minutes longer here.”
Evan Tudor straightened up from his work to look across at the two smiling girls. Introduction was impossible, but he raised his cap and smiled, standing “at attention,” Sarita said, till they were lost again among the green spruces and birches.
The girls reported to Beth what Dalton had said and preparations went on accordingly. The big fish were baking in the outdoor oven which Dalton had made. Beth was stirring up some blueberry muffins, to be baked in the oven of the “portable.”
“We were stunned, Beth,” said Sarita, “by the style and bearing of your latest conquest. Not to be conceited at all, he looks like our kind of folks. Let’s see, what’s that sweet poem?
“‘When I behold thy lovely face
‘Neath waves of burnished gold,’
—what’s the rest of it, Les?”
“That’s all we ever did get, Sarita. Beth found us as we had just begun to read it off, Dal and I.”
Beth, her lips tightly pressed together to keep them from laughter, pretended to be deeply offended. “Such girls! Come, now, Leslie, get out a glass of that jelly we brought from home and finish up the table.”
“It’s serious, Sarita,” laughed Leslie, still teasing her sister. “She is giving him our precious jelly!”
“Don’t you really want to, Leslie?” Beth asked.
“Of course I do, silly. I know well enough that you are following Mother’s rule of the best for guests. Where are the rest of those linen napkins? I suppose you will use those this time.”
“Yes, if we have any. Look in my trunk, top tray. If you can’t find them, we’ll just use the paper ones.” But Beth kept laughing at the girls, for when Sarita suggested that Mr. Tudor was probably about forty, Leslie corrected her to “I should say thirty, just right for Beth, and poor Jim writes that they can’t come yet!”
“I don’t blame him for taking that case, do you, Leslie?”
“No, Sarita, of course not, but what is it that Shakespeare says about opportunity?”
“Perhaps Mr. Tudor is not as good as Jim.”
“He is much more attractive, though I’d vote for Jim now because he is such a good friend.”
“Well you can’t help whom you fall in love with or don’t.”
“Yes, you can. At least you can keep away from people you don’t want to fall in love with, like some fascinating bad man; but I suppose that you can’t very well make yourself fall in love with everybody that likes you.”
“I’m so glad that I have you girls’ wisdom and experience to guide me,” demurely said Beth, and Leslie was just thinking up some brilliant reply when they saw Dalton and their guest. But Leslie managed to whisper to Sarita before real introductions took place, “There’s where Jim will have to do his best, because Beth doesn’t care enough for him, if I’m any judge.”
Courteously Evan Tudor met the two girls, but he actually seemed almost embarrassed about having accepted the invitation to supper. “Really I think that it is enough to let me camp here, Miss Secrest,” he said.
“I finally persuaded him,” said Dalton, “by telling him that his ‘name was already in the pot’ and that it would upset all your arrangements if he didn’t show up.”
“Of course we would have been disappointed,” cordially Beth added. “Now just excuse us a moment till we get up this camp meal.”
With her flushed cheeks and pretty smile, Beth made a charming hostess and Sarita whispered to Leslie as they began to do a few last things, “For all Beth says, he sees the ‘burnished gold’ all right.”
There was gay conversation and exchange of news during the good but very informal meal that camping made necessary. The Secrests described the locality, in which Evan Tudor was so much interested and he, in turn, had bright accounts of his recent experiences in the great city. “I am going to forget it all for a few weeks,” he said. “If I write here, it will be because I can’t help it. I brought the old typewriter along for fear the ‘best seller’ might insist on being written; but all that I really expect to do toward my future profession is to fill a notebook or two for future use. Well, I have one or two sketches to get off at once.”
“Will you put us all in for ‘characters’ in your‘best seller,’ Mr. Tudor?” Sarita asked.
“You might all figure in my fiction, but I’ll not use you as ‘types.’”
“Thanks. I’d be proud to be in one of your novels, but I’d rather not be a ‘character sketch.’”
“Beth ‘sketches’ too,” said Leslie.
“Now, Leslie, are you going to play the part of l’enfant terrible?” asked Beth. “Please don’t mention my efforts!”
“Your brother has already told me that you are an artist, Miss Secrest. I wish that I might see how you interpret this place.”
Quickly Beth looked at Evan Tudor. He spoke of interpretation. Perhaps he was one who understood
. But voices were coming from the woods and Mr. Tudor turned to look in that direction. “Hitch’em anywhere, Jack,” they heard. It was Peggy Ives with her cousin.
CHAPTER XIV
THE NEW CAMPER
It could be easily seen that Peggy was under some excitement. She almost sparkled as she ran into the little clearing, alone first, for Jack was doing her bidding with the horses. She was wearing a new riding outfit and cried, “Look at me, folks. Don’t I look grown up?”
Not a little was she taken back upon seeing the stranger, but she recovered herself quickly, especially as Dalton rose and took a step toward her as if to protect her from criticism. Gaily Peggy extended her hand high, its fingers drooping. “Congratulate me, Dal,” she said, “on some new clothes. We’re having company—but excuse me, Beth, for rushing in this way.” Then she paused and waited to be introduced.
“Miss Ives,” said Beth, formally and sweetly, as if Peggy were as grown as she claimed to be, “you will be glad to meet Mr. Tudor of New York, a writer who is taking a vacation in our fine country.”
Peggy stepped forward a little to offer her hand prettily and modestly, as she had been taught to do. “I am glad to see you, Mr. Tudor, and I am sorry that I interrupted your visit, but this is the first time that the Eyrie has had company.
“The great excitement, girls,” she continued, looking at Leslie and Sarita, “is that we are having important guests and I can’t get over having new clothes and part of the responsibility.”
Evan Tudor had said the few pleasant words of greeting that were proper when he met Peggy, and stood by, interested. Jack Morgan now appeared, equally resplendent in riding togs that were new. He came forward as eagerly as Peggy had done, but as he was not saying anything, he was not embarrassed when he observed the stranger.
After Jack had been introduced, he began to explain why they had not been over. “Peggy and I have been trying to help my aunt with her plans. Uncle is bringing down, or up, from wherever they are a prince and princess, a grand duchess or two and I don’t know whom else for a sort of house party, I suppose. Aunt Kit had a telegram some time ago, but we just heard about it lately. Then Uncle wired that he did not know just when they could get together, but he would bring them in the yacht and everything was to be ready to entertain them in their accustomed style.”
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