A BIT OF GOOD FORTUNE
Ward said the rope must have broken and Fred thought perhaps the raft
had sunk, but nothing would convince Artie that his raft was not stolen.
"All right, say somebody took it," Fred gave in. "What would they do
with it?"
"Use it," said Artie. "It was a good raft."
"Maybe," Ward offered in his slow way, "Joe Anderson took it, just to
be mean."
"Now you're talking!" exclaimed Fred. "That would be a Joe Anderson
trick, all right. But he's going home this afternoon."
"He could hide it," Ward suggested.
"Well, I didn't think he'd take it on the train with him," grinned
Fred. "Now it's up to us to do a little detective work."
This sounded exciting, and Artie and Ward waited expectantly for Fred
to tell them what to do.
"Are there any footprints?" Fred demanded. "Look around and see if you
see any footprints on the sand."
The boys reported that, as far as they could tell, the only marks were
those made by their own feet.
"That proves," announced Fred triumphantly, "that Joe came in a boat
and towed the raft away--just what I thought!"
"Huh," Artie snorted, "the tide's been in. Even if he had walked, we
wouldn't see his footprints. Those we made ourselves before lunch are
all washed out."
This shrewd observation was disconcerting, even to a detective of
Fred's ability.
"He couldn't drag the raft very far on land," he argued. "I know he
couldn't drag it as far as the bungalow. That's more than a mile from
here."
"Yes, I know," replied Artie. "But I don't believe he came in a boat.
Look!" and he swooped down upon something in the sand.
He held up a long splinter--an ugly, jagged strip of wood from which a
rusty nail protruded.
"He chopped it!" Artie cried, his voice shaking with rage. "He went and
chopped it up. And now the fence is gone!"
The loss of the raft would have been serious enough, but far more
tragic was the double crime of destroying Mrs. Meeker's fence. And, as
Ward said, the first thing their fathers would notice when they came
home would be the gap in the boards.
"Perhaps it would have fallen down anyway," said Ward, trying to say
something comfortable.
"I shook it--just a little," Artie confessed.
Now that they guessed the raft had been chopped up, it was easy enough
to find more evidence. There were numerous splinters lying on the sand
and a few feet past the piling a tangled wreckage of boards and rope
floated on the water.
"I guess Joe came back, all right," admitted Fred. "All I have to say
is that it was a mean trick."
But that did not help solve the problem of how to replace the borrowed
section of fence.
The boys waded in and brought the bits of floating wood ashore, but
Joe, if he had chopped it, had been thorough and any hope of salvage
was seen to be hopeless.
"Well, we might as well go home," Fred said at last. "The folks will be
coming back."
Rather disconsolately they trailed up to the cottage and Artie's guilty
conscience gave him a distinct shock when he saw a strange man sitting
on the porch steps.
"I--I guess I'll walk out to the bus line and meet the folks," he
murmured, hanging back.
"In your bathing suit, I suppose," Fred countered sarcastically. "You
come along--he can't arrest you for knocking down a piece of fence."
Artie did not feel at all sure on this point, but he dragged himself
up to the steps and managed a weak smile in response to the broad grin
with which the stranger greeted them.
"I thought every one was drowned, perhaps," said the man, pointing over
his shoulder to the array of garments swinging on the line. "Where's
your ma?"
The boys explained that their mothers were away for the day.
"Well, I figured there wasn't anybody home, so I told Ben to start
right in," the man said comfortably. "Mrs. Meeker gave the order, and
she allowed the noise wouldn't disturb any one, but I thought I'd ask
first, if there was some one hanging around to ask."
For the first time the boys were aware of a noise of hammering. It
seemed to come from behind the barn.
"Are you Mr. Meeker?" asked Artie fearfully.
"Mr. Meeker's been dead ten years, son," the stranger replied. "I'm Jim
Wright, the carpenter. That's Ben you hear back there. He's making a
racket all right, isn't he? But once it's torn down the worst is over.
The wood's so rotten, Mrs. Meeker said to chop it up for firewood. Your
ma can have it and welcome."
Fred was puzzled, and so were Artie and Ward. By common consent they
moved toward the barn. The sound of hammering and ripping and tearing
grew louder. Half dazedly, they went around to the back of the barn and
to the fence which had furnished Artie with his ill-fated raft.
There was another man, evidently "Ben," the carpenter's helper. He
was busily engaged in tearing down the fence, and, as they watched, a
section fell with a crash. Dust and splinters flew high in the air.
"Hello," Ben greeted the boys cheerfully. "You're just in time to see
the wrecking crew get in the last fine strokes."
He hit one of the posts a mighty blow with his hammer, and it fell with
a crash. The boys stared in fascination till Margy, running out to
them, announced the arrival of the party from Glen Haven.
"They're tearing down the fence, aren't they?" said Margy, as one who
makes a discovery. "Say, we called you and called you and you never
answered. Mother wants to know if you fell in--all your clothes are out
on the line."
There was a scramble to get dressed quickly after that, and by the time
they were ready for supper and had heard the day's shopping adventures
Mr. Larue drove up with Mr. Marley and Mr. Williamson.
"The next time you want a raft," muttered Fred to Artie, as they sat
down at the table, "I hope you'll have sense enough to let other
people's fences alone."
Artie said nothing. He was still thinking over his narrow escape.
"We came through the Mooney place again," said Mr. Larue at supper. "It
is still necessary to make that detour."
"Did you see Ella?" asked Polly and Jess eagerly.
"What did she have on?" Margy chimed in.
Mr. Larue laughed and answered that he could never tell what little
girls wore.
"But we did see Ella, and she and her father are going to spend this
week end at the hotel," Mr. Larue went on to stay. "The Captain thinks
that a little change will be good for Ella--they live such a quiet life
in that beautiful big house with no one to talk to but the servants."
"Maybe we'll see Ella," said Polly hopefully.
She had liked the rather shy little girl who had smiled at them in
such a friendly manner, but who had said almost nothing.
Later that evening, when they were all sitting on the porch, Jess
suddenly announced that she had a bright idea.
"Why can't we give a beach party and invite Ella Mooney?" she suggested.
"What's a beach party?" Artie asked immediately.
"Oh, it's a party," said Jess impatiently.
"Carrie Pepper and Mattie Helms are always giving 'em," put in Margy.
"They've had two since we've been down here."
"Mother, can't we have a beach party?" asked Jess.
"I suppose so," Mrs. Larue answered. "I think it would be nice to ask
Ella Mooney. And to-morrow night, if it is clear, would be a good time
to hold it."
Ward wanted to know if there would be "eats," and, satisfied on that
score, he seemed to think that his only responsibility toward the party
was to attend it.
"Are we going to ask Carrie Pepper?" said Jess. "And Mattie?"
"For goodness' sake, why?" Margy demanded. "They never asked us to any
of their parties."
"Well, I just thought perhaps we ought to," Jess replied, and subsided.
The next day was hot and clear and every one knew that the evening
would be ideal for a beach party. Mrs. Marley and Mrs. Williamson went
over to the hotel, taking Polly with them, to call on Captain Mooney
and his daughter. They announced, on their return, that Ella had seemed
delighted with the idea of a party and that she would come at half past
seven.
As always, when a party is to be given, there was a great deal to be
done to get ready for it.
"We'll get the driftwood," Mr. Marley promised, "and we'll see that you
have enough sticks sharpened for the bacon and marshmallows. I think
right out in front of the house is a good place for the fire; the sand
dune will break the wind."
Along in the afternoon, Artie took advantage of the temporary lull in
the day's activities to suggest that he might go after the mail.
"Get the marshmallows, too," his mother asked him, giving him the
money. "And, Artie, do try to hurry."
Artie promised speed and set off joyfully for the town. He went by way
of the beach, and of course no one can hurry along a beach, for there
are so many interesting things to see and do, even though one has seen
and done them all many times before.
"Shall I get the mail first, or the candy?" thought Artie, as he came
in sight of the town.
He decided to get the candy first, for he rather hoped the marshmallows
would be sold by the pound. If they were in a paper bag, he argued,
there would be no harm in eating one or two.
Alas, the marshmallows came in pound tins and the shopkeeper gave Artie
three tins so tightly sealed and wrapped that a burglar could not have
opened them and left no trace.
Artie went on to the post-office and there, waiting for the letters to
be sorted, was Carrie Pepper.
"Hello, Artie," she greeted him. "Mercy, what's that you are carrying?
Eggs?"
"No," said Artie, always ready to give information, especially when
asked. "No, I haven't any eggs. These are marshmallows."
Carried looked as though she rather expected him to offer her one.
"They're in a box and sealed up, so I can't offer you any," Artie
explained. "Anyway, they're for to-night."
"What are you going to do to-night?" asked Carrie curiously.
"Have a beach party down in front of our house," Artie replied. "Ella
Mooney is coming."
Carrie said "Oh!" and just then the little wooden shutter at the
post-office window went up with a bang and the postmaster began to
distribute the mail. Artie had a small sheaf of letters and papers to
take back with him and he did not see Carrie again.
Margy was the only one of the three girls who was deeply interested in
the question of what she should wear. Margy dearly loved pretty clothes
and, if her mother had allowed her, it is to be feared she would have
worn her most fetching frock to the beach party, a white lace affair
with a pink sash. As it was, she had to be content with her pongee, but
at least, so she said, she could do her hair a new way. She meant part
it a new way, for it was bobbed.
After supper she went upstairs to dress, knowing by experience that it
would take her longer than either Polly or Jess. Polly, drying dishes
for Mrs. Larue, was startled a few minutes later to hear a frantic call
from Margy.
"Polly!" called her chum. "Oh, Polly! Jess! Listen, girls!"
Dish towel in hand, Polly ran out into the hall. Margy was leaning over
the banisters, distress pictured vividly in her anxious face.
"Polly, who do you suppose is coming?" whispered Margy. "I happened to
look out of the bathroom window, and I saw them coming down the road!
Mattie Helms and Carrie Pepper!"
"Perhaps they're not coming here," Polly whispered back hopefully, but
at that instant the screen door banged and Jess flew into the hall.
"Say, Carrie Pepper and Mattie Helms are coming!" she cried. "I saw
them up the road. Who invited them to our party?"
Polly's sense of humor helped her to see the funny side.
"You sound as though you were telling us, 'the enemy are advancing!'"
she giggled. "I don't know who invited Mattie and Carrie, but if they
have come, we'll just have to be nice to them, I suppose. Maybe they
didn't know we were going to have a beach party and this is just a call
they're making."
"I'll bet a cookie they've come to the party!" Margy announced, as they
heard the unbidden guests ascending the porch steps.