CAUGHT
"That woman seems to--persecute us!" burst out Mollie, when the girls
were well on their way again, out of range of the sand dunes, going down
the beach where the salty air of the ocean and bay blew in their faces.
"Oh, hardly as bad as _that_," remarked Amy.
"Well, she always seems to be following us," insisted Mollie, "and I am
positively tired of being asked to her cottage to drink milk."
"I'd never touch a thing she offered," said Betty. "I would be afraid it
wouldn't be--clean."
"She always seems to leer at one so," went on Mollie.
"Oh, you're making out a terrible case against the old woman," Grace put
in, carefully selecting a chocolate from her supply.
"Well, she is very persistent," observed Betty. "And now let's forget
all about her, and the--well, I won't mention them, but you know what I
mean," and she smiled at her chums. Indeed Betty was beginning to think
she had been just a little indiscreet in speaking aloud of the precious
stones.
"We'll just have a good outing, as we used to," she went on.
"Like the time when we found the five-hundred-dollar bill," suggested
Amy.
"Or when the girl fell out of the tree," added Mollie.
"Gracious! Those _were_ tragic times enough!" broke in Grace.
"But we enjoyed them--after they were over," added Betty. "And I think
we shall enjoy finding--well, finding what we did find, after Allen
straightens it out for us."
"Oh, is he going to straighten it out for us?" asked Mollie.
"Well, isn't he working hard on it?" Betty wanted to know.
"I thought Will was going to get us clues," Mollie went on. "Or your
father?"
"Oh, of course they may find the owners, but they are waiting for
something to be published in the papers."
"Well, is Allen doing any more?" Amy asked. "If he is he hasn't said
anything to us about it, though of course you'd be the first one to
hear of it, Betty," she said, innocently enough.
"I?" cried the Little Captain, with upraised eyebrows. "Why I, pray?"
"Oh, because you and Allen are----"
"That's enough!" laughed Mollie. "Spare her blushes, child!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Amy, in confusion.
"You needn't worry about me," said Betty, quickly. "What I meant was
that Allen is working on a plan to solve the mystery."
"Has he told you all about it?" Grace wanted to know.
"Not all. We agreed that it would be better to say nothing to any one
else about it until he was ready to act."
"Oh, of course," admitted Mollie. "The fewer the outsiders are who know
about the--well, let's call them 'apples,' and then no one will suspect.
The fewer who know about the 'apples' so much the better. But I do hope
we each get one--'apple'--out of it," and she laughed.
"We ought to," returned Betty. She looked back toward the sand dunes,
possibly for a sight of the old fishwife, but no one was in view.
The girls wandered on. The day was bright and beautiful, giving little
hint of the tragic occurrence that was in the air. It was as if the
outdoor girls were on one of the walking tours which they had
instituted. The sand, however, was not conducive to rapid progress, and
they were content to stroll idly.
They were now past the place where the diamonds had been found, though
they were all anxious for a sight of the hole in the sand, to see if
they could discover any signs that those who hid the precious stones
there had come back to find their booty gone. But they did not think it
wise to visit the place, with that queer old woman in the nearby sand
dunes.
Now and then they would stop to pick up some prettier shell than usual,
or to gather a few of the odd-shaped pebbles.
"They look just like that queer candy they sell in Tracey's," commented
Grace, as she rattled a handful of the little stones of various colors,
shapes and sizes.
"Oh, the pebble candy--yes," assented Mollie. "I wonder what they will
imitate next?"
"Plenty of wood here for a marshmallow roast," commented Amy, a little
later, as she idly kicked the bits of drift on the beach.
"Yes!" exclaimed Grace. "But we didn't bring any. I meant to, but----"
"She had so much other candy she couldn't carry marshmallows,"
interrupted Betty.
Grace threw a wisp of seaweed at her chum, but the Little Captain easily
dodged it.
"I wonder if Percy will really come for us in the car?" asked Amy, after
a pause.
"Do you want him to?" asked Betty, with a smile.
"I? No, indeed!" and Amy's face was suffused with a blush.
"Oh, well, don't get fussy about it," mocked Mollie. "We don't want him,
either."
"He'd have trouble running his car through this sand," Grace said. "It's
awfully deep and dry. Let's stop. When are we going to eat?"
"Eat?" cried Mollie.
"Eat?" echoed Amy. "Why we just had breakfast!"
"Eat?" spoke Betty, in a tone characterized as "dull and hopeless," in
stories. "Why, Grace Ford, if you have done anything else but
eat--candy--ever since we started on this picnic, I'd like to know it!"
Poor Grace looked a little startled at this combined attack on her.
"Why, I--I haven't done anything," she said, innocently enough. "I just
asked when you were going to eat and you take me up as though I had
proposed throwing those--'apples'--we found, into the sea."
"If you look back along the way you'll see at least three empty candy
bags," declared Betty.
"Oh, well, they were little bags," protested Grace. "I had them put in
small bags on purpose so I would know just how much I was eating."
"I don't believe you ever know how much candy you are eating," laughed
Mollie. "Never mind, Grace, we all have our faults."
"We'll eat soon," promised Betty. "I want to get in the shade."
They strolled on, walking near the wet edge of the sand where the tide
was coming in, for that section of the beach made firmer footing.
"There's a good place for our picnic," finally decided Mollie, as she
saw a little clump of scrub evergreens which grew rather close to the
water. "We can eat and have a fine view at the same time."
"Is that the boys' boat out there?" asked Mollie, as they made their way
toward the bit of shade.
"No, that's a small schooner. It's been anchored there for some days,"
Betty said. "There's something queer about it, too."
"Something queer?" repeated Amy.
"Yes, the men in it don't seem to be gathering clams, which work all the
other schooners are engaged in around here, and they're not net
fishermen aboard her."
"Who told you that?" asked Mollie.
"Old Tin-Back. He notices anything odd about the boats. He said he
passed her in his dory the other day, and some one yelled to him not to
come too close."
"Why was that?" Grace asked.
"That's what Tin-Back didn't know. He thought it was very strange,"
Betty went on. "But come on, I know Grace must be--famished! Aren't you,
my dear?"
The baskets were opened, and the contents spread out on a cloth on the
sand. Grace reached for the bottle of olives.
"For an appetizer," she explained.
"You need it, after munching candy all the way here," commented Mollie.
And then, as they ate, the girls talked of many matters, now and then
looking off toward the bay or ocean, whereon could be seen many vessels,
mostly little clamming schooners, drifting with the wind on their
squared sails, dragging the big rakes along the bottom. But the schooner
of which Betty had spoken rose and fell at her anchor, and there was no
sign of life aboard.
"This is just perfect," remarked Grace, as she found a comfortable
position, leaning back against a tree. "Please don't disturb me, any
one, I'm going to sleep."
"I believe I'll join you," added Mollie. "Salt air always makes me
drowsy. Or perhaps it is the effect of the bright sun on the sand."
While Mollie and Grace closed their eyes, Betty dug idly in the sand,
and Amy produced a handkerchief and a tiny embroidery frame and began
initialling a corner.
"Virtuous girl," observed Betty. "You shame us all by your industry."
"It's only that I promised Henry I would put his initials on some new
handkerchiefs he bought," Amy explained. "I must hurry and finish them,
for he is going West on a trip soon."
"It's nice to have a brother," remarked Betty, idly.
She tossed some sand and little pebbles toward Grace, but the latter had
actually gone to sleep, and the deep and regular breathing of Mollie
proclaimed the same fact.
"Oh, I can't stand this!" the Little Captain cried, a few minutes later.
"I want to do something. Let's go for a little walk, Amy, and let them
sleep."
"All right."
"Will you go as far as the place where we found the--'apples'?" asked
Betty, with a look around to be sure no stray fishermen were in the
neighborhood.
"Yes, if you like."
"Then come on. I want to see if the men came back, and tried to find the
box that was buried in the sand."
It was rather a longer walk than Betty had thought, but finally she and
Amy came within sight of the lone fisherman's hut, and the log that lay
on the edge of the hole in the sand, though the latter, so Betty
expected, would be filled up by the action of the waves or wind ere
this.
"I do hope that horrid old woman doesn't invite us in again," Betty
remarked. "She is a--pest!"
The Little Captain and Amy were walking down the sands, in the midst of
a number of high dunes, or hills.
"There's the place!" Betty said. "It doesn't seem to have been----"
A noise behind caused her to turn suddenly. A scream came to her lips,
but it was choked off by the sudden forward rush of the old crone who
roughly placed her withered hand over Betty's mouth.
"I--I've got her!" she croaked. At the same time a man caught Amy by the
arm, and stifled her impending cry in the same manner.
[Illustration: THE OLD CRONE PLACED HER HAND OVER BETTY'S MOUTH.--_Page
162._
_The Outdoor Girls at Ocean View._]