The Secret of Steeple Rocks

was enthusiastic, sleeping soundly, taking a daily dip or two with the other girls and adding

erly recorded. Someone at the courthouse had asked Dalton, in connection with some inquiry of his, whether he ha

I'd like to see Mr. I

s and get us away. Could he be connec

I scarcely think so. I've put it up to Jim Lyon, anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if he too

; but there would be some place that he coul

ster and the kiddies,

nted to be nearer the ocean. Write again and suggest it, Dal. Mrs. Marsh looked sort of wistful when we were talking about going and wis

er looked at. Now I'm going to have a good time fishing. I found out who sold the place to Father, and I've written to him,-so let nature take its course while we camp. I met a chap on the train that has a motor boat, a

eted the news with enthusiasm, though Leslie remarked t

eing accustomed to spend the summers here, you know. He almost gave the little boat away. I took a big chance, of course, for I haven't seen it, but he said that if it wasn't what he said i

omatically and then gave it up when the time came. Elizabeth did look sober and warned Dalton that he was using money which should be saved for his further education

place which Dalton thought would be suitable for the boat. Nature had provided most of the steps, but there was one stretch where it was necessary to assist nature and make a safer footing. Then a ro

his time on these preparations. In a rented boat he and the girls rowed out on the bay and examined its every cove. "Snoopers," Sarita said they were, and Leslie remarked that so far their observations had been "healt

alton's first acquaintance. But he paid no attention to them and ga

e coast. The girls began to talk learnedly about codfish and mackerel, lobster, haddock and halibut. They did not tire of the sea f

s age, who was fussing about the engine to see that it was working properly. Leslie and Sarita were in the bow, uttering mild squeals of deligh

Dalton what part of the bay to avoid, though the entrance was large enough and without any rocks in its deep wa

very near rowing in there the other day, but there was that buoy with 'Da

s wide enough, and luckily there is that sort of a long bar of broken rocks that separates their dock from Pirates' Cove. That is what the smaller bay is called. There is a terrible current or undertow, they say, and the last person that ever went in over there never

eslie, who had come to watch the p

as been here for several years. They seem to have a lot of relatives that visit them, especially in the summer. Bill Ritter, too, always has a lot w

idly asked Leslie,

ks folks with fish and lobster. He's always going there.

. And that is the boat from which somebody waved to me, when I was over by Pirates' Cove. It was probably Bill that pointed out the buoy with the danger sign. When he saw

he rowboat to which they were now nearer. But its occupant, after a glance in their

ing over to look at the depths and asked wha

is almost new. Keep her oiled an

think," laughed Leslie. "Honestly, thoug

except inside the bay, of course. But I wouldn't advise you to get out there in

place fixed for it. Dal wants you

n the rocks badly there, even in a gale; but I wa

almost calm, except where a line of breakers came in close to the shore. In the bay there were only ripples, with the salt water gently bathing the rocks of the clif

ocks with her big umbrella and her easel. She was too deeply engaged to see them