RED FEATHER GUIDE
Luckily Mrs. Martin had told Mrs. Dorsey, the housekeeper, to give the
six girls who were to remain in the seminary during the short vacation,
all the liberty they wished, permitting them to go on long hikes on
condition that they would return in time for the evening meal.
Directly after lunch, following Betsy’s suggestion, they donned their
khaki hiking suits and started out, the would-be detective in their
lead.
Suddenly she whirled about, and, holding up a staff which she had found
when they passed through the grove, she announced in a mock-solemn tone:
“Members of our adventurous band, we are setting forth without a plan,
except to go where-ere we will and do what-ere we wish as long as our
hearts find no wrong in it.”
They had left the school grounds and were following a trail that had, at
one time been made, it would seem, by pastured cattle.
“If we follow this path, we will come out in some farmer’s barnyard,
methinks,” Barbara put in. “And surely that would not be an adventure.”
“Oh, goodness, gracious! Don’t do that, please! I’d rather meet a
three-headed dragon any day than a cow.” Sally looked so truly terrified
that her companions laughed. All but Virg, who slipped an arm through
that of the youngest member of their band. “If you had grown up with
cattle as I did on the desert, you wouldn’t mind them in the least. I
never heard of a cow attacking anyone unless, indeed, someone tried to
take away its calf.”
They had reached the brow of a meadowland knoll, and Margaret, looking
over, announced: “Babs is right! There is a farm directly below here and
this trail leads right to the neat red barn.”
Betsy, with a little squeal of joy, pounced upon something that was
caught in a bush. “Lookee!” she called. “Here is a scarlet feather
fallen from some bird of passage. I have an idea! Let’s toss it to the
air again; let it fly away in the breeze, and follow where it leads.”
As she spoke, the little red plume went soaring, and, as the breeze was
a brisk one, it took the girls on a merry chase, for the little feather
followed no trail, but led them through wiry grass and stubbly bushes
away from both school and farm, and toward the sea.
“We’ve never been in this direction before,” Margaret announced, when
the feather dropped to the ground and the girls paused to rest. “That,
in itself, is an adventure, I think, don’t you?”
“I certainly do,” Babs replied. “I’ve often wondered what lay beyond
that rocky promintory over there. We can see it from our window. I think
since we are so near, it would be all right for us to climb to the top
of it and see what lies beyond.”
“I can pretty nearly tell you,” Betsy said, as she picked up the little
red feather. “A stretch of sandy beach, rocky cliffs and nothing more.”
It was a hard steep climb that the girls had when they endeavored to
scale the almost perpendicular side of the promintory which jutted from
the mainland out into the shining blue sea.
Sally, more frail than the others, soon gave out and sank down on the
rocks to rest. Eleanor and Barbara leaped back to help her. “Maybe I’d
ought to have stayed at school,” the youngest girl said. “Maybe you’d
have had a better adventure without me.”
“Of course not,” Virginia protested as she seated herself beside the
other. “It’s only two-thirty and We are not going anywhere in
particular.”
But even as she spoke Virginia had a strange feeling as though she had
said something which was untrue. She could not in the least understand
it.
The unwearied Betsy did not wish to rest. “On the alert,” she called.
“Hist! Dids’t hear a noise on the other side of the cliff? I believe
something or someone must be there. You all get your breath, while I
climb up and look over.”
“I’m rested now!” Sally smiled gratefully up at Virginia. “Let’s all go
on.”
[Illustration: When the top was reached ... all they saw was a long
deserted stretch of beach and a boat.]
When the top was reached the girls peered over and how Betsy did hope
that something mysterious would be revealed, but, all that they saw was
a long deserted stretch of beach and a boat, evidently a fishing smack,
which seemed to be anchored near a dilapidated dock.
“No adventure in sight,” sighed Betsy. “That feather was not a good
prognosticator.”
“Hear! Hear!” teased Barbara. “Wouldn’t Miss Torrence be pleased as
Punch if she knew that Betsy could use a word of more than one
syllable?”
“Not that any of us know whether she used it correctly or not,” she
added, laughingly, to conciliate her bristling friend.
“What shall we do now?” Virg inquired. “Since there is nary an adventure
below us on the beach, shall we retrace our steps?”
“It’s only three by my little wrist watch,” Margaret put in. “Don’t
let’s give up searching for an adventure quite so soon. Betsy, where’s
that feather guide of yours?”
“Here it is, and there it goes.” The little red plume again sailed in
the air, then slowly fluttered downwards, A brisk breeze caught it, and
the gleaming bit of red fairly rushed toward the broken old dock.
“Whizzle! Lookee! Will you? If it hasn’t boarded that fishing smack.
Who’s game to go down and take a look at the old boat?”
Sally, who dreaded nothing more than to be considered a doll-baby by
Betsy, was the first to reply with a courage she did not feel. “I am,”
she said, “if Virg thinks we ought to.”
But there was no time for the oldest girl to give the matter a deciding
thought, for Betsy, with Babs closely following, was already fairly
sliding down the seaward side of the promintory.
“Watch me, I’m a whiz at this sort of thing!” Betsy looked over her
shoulder to call. Unfortunately for the boaster, when she was not
watching, she stepped on a rolling stone, and went scudding the
remaining way to the beach at a terrifying rate. Luckily she had not far
to go. She sprang up, to Virginia’s relief, and laughingly called,
“Rather the worse for bumps, maybe, but what’s an adventure without a
mishap?”
Again, as she heard that word, there was in the heart of the oldest
girl, a strange warning premonition.
“I think we’d better follow the beach until we come to a road leading
into town and go back to the seminary,” she said, addressing Margaret,
especially, for she could always depend upon her adopted sister to
second her suggestions.
“Aw, I say! Let’s play the game! We said we’d follow the little red
feather and it went aboard that old boat. I’d like to take a peek at
it.”
They were starting across the beach and toward the water, when Margaret
touched Virginia’s arm and whispered, “Look over in the shelter of the
cliff. There’s a little old cabin. Maybe the fisherman who owns the boat
lives in it.”
“Maybe,” Virg replied, “but it looks to me as though it had been long
vacant.”
They reached the little dock, which was sheltered from the pounding surf
by a projection of the rocky promintory. Betsy was walking carefully out
on the tottering beams and rotting cross boards.
“Watch your step, if you never did before,” she sang out warningly. This
caution was not needed for, most carefully the six girls proceeded Virg
holding the arm of Sally.
Betsy, ever in the lead, had reached the part of the dock against which
the boat was bumping.
Eleanor looked at it curiously. “Is it anchored or tied?” she inquired.
“Anchored, I should say,” Margaret replied. “Don’t you see the rope
hanging over the stern and into the water!”
“Of course.” Betsy was climbing over the low rail, “All aboard, that’s
going aboard.”
She was closely followed by Barbara and Eleanor, then Megsy climbed
over, and Sally; last of all, Virginia, though much against her better
judgment.
“We mustn’t stay more than a moment,” she told them.
“We won’t,” this cheerfully from Betsy. “Lookee! There’s a sure enough
cabin below decks.” She was peering down into the dark hold. “I suppose
the fisherman who lives in the cabin under the cliff has just returned
from a fishing trip. He anchored his boat here while he went in to town
to sell his catch.” Then twinkling her eyes at Sally, she said, “I dare
you to go alone down in that dark hole.”
“Well, I _won’t_ take the dare,” the youngest girl retorted with some
show of spirit.
“I will.” Babs was descending the rickety stairs even as she spoke, and
Betsy clattered down after her.
“Oh, lookee! Here are two funny bunks that fold up against the walls,”
Betsy sang out to the girls who were still on deck, “Oh, I say, be game,
kids. Come on down and see what a fishing boat looks like. You may never
have another chance.”
So Virginia and the other two girls descended. It took several moments
for their eyes to become used to the dusk. Then. “Here are life
preservers, but they’re all crumbling to pieces. Even a drowning rat
wouldn’t find them much use,” Babs remarked.
“Hark!” Virginia held up a finger and they all listened.
“What’s that swishing sound, do you suppose?” Her questioning glance was
directed toward Margaret.
“The wind must be rising,” that maiden replied. “We’d better get out of
the boat. I’ve had adventure enough for one day.”
“Seems to me I hear a queer kind of a scraping noise,” Sally said.
Betsy was the first up on deck, then she called down the hatchway in
alarm. “Girls! Girls! Come quick. What do you suppose has happened? The
anchor must have broken off for we are drifting out to sea.”