The Phantom Violin / A Mystery Story for Girls

ree-pronged hook of her trolling spoon was securely entangled in that bushy m

voice, threw his head about, took one startled look, the

. "Won't do to let him take more line," the girl tol

the boat, leaped to her feet to stand sta

It's a wolf

im!" Florence laughe

od! Let him go!" Jeanne cried as

in. When he started away, she gave him line, but not too much. There was the vener

errified whisper. "Can't you see he's turni

ire, seized two smouldering sticks and waved them to a red glow. Rushing forward,

le. Black on the instant, it nevertheless left its imp

pposite bank and disappeared, as much as to

She reeled in when perhaps she should have given line. It was astonishi

r story. He was not looking for a fight, that wolf. He was looking only for sa

r spinning round and round like mad, it came to a jerking halt. For one

Jeanne breathed.

companions' utter consternation, Floren

s later. In her hand was

airs!" She held it out for inspection. "Gray hairs, that's all I get. But the moose got his li

ose is practically powerless in deep water. If you catch up with him when you're in a canoe, you may leap i

, Jeanne and Greta crept back among the blankets beneath the bo

distant shore. This wild throbbing made her restless. She thought of the wreck. How was it standi

et a tent or have some one build us a r

gun to love their

hat's what one wants, things that are different, experiences th

as if we were going to get just that,

that had visited the wreck the night before, and now

all that, Greta will go back again and again,

nest beneath the boat when, of a sudden, she dropped on

told herself, "moving ou

at her own sudden shock. Not for long, for as the th

past her, dark, silent,

spered. "Wonder if it's been

t has been too stormy. They are putti

urned boat, crept beneath it and had soon found herself a cozy spot among the bla

f coffee and bacon in the air. Gret

"Unless they have seen the black schooner,

Old Superior had put on a bland and smiling face

grim as soon as breakfast

Greta protested. "Aren't

ns, trappers and traders who had camped here for hundreds of years. In a f

But you'll see! There's another day coming. We'll find

as as much at home in a boat as a cowboy is in a saddle. Breakfast over, she sent their light craft skimming through the narro

wing back her head. "Old Superior, th

ck waters and the fog horn on Passage Island adds its hoarse voice to the tum

ning her brow wrinkled. "What if it should be carried out to sea!" she thought with a shudder. "And we, the last passenge