“I wonder what Bill was doing down at your dock,” said Sarita.

“It needs some repairs,” Peggy replied. “I heard Dad say to Mother that he was going to bring the yacht down from where it has been undergoing something or other. I smell that smoke again, Sarita. Where do you suppose it comes from?”

Peggy jumped up and went out upon the shelf again. “Don’t smell it at all out here,” she said. Sniffing, Peggy walked back further within their rocky den. “Must be a volcano under here, girls. I smell it more strongly.”

“Do volcanoes smoke tobacco?” joked Leslie.

“This must be a new kind,” Peggy returned. “Come here, girls.”

Sarita and Leslie, rather cramped from long sitting, rose and shook out their frocks. Leslie tossed a bit of her last sandwich to the rocks below and said that the birds might have it.

“You are right, Peggy. It isn’t very strong, but I do notice a bit of tobacco smoke. Isn’t it queer? Perhaps someone is outside and there is some current that whisks the scent through here.”

“Nothing like having an imagination, Sarita. Perhaps there is a smuggler’s den below us. We may smell the liquor if we stay long enough. Perhaps Bill has some little cave inside, too.” So speaking, Peggy again ran out upon the ledge to look toward the Ives’ dock on this side. There was no sign of Bill.

“If there is this much of a cave here, why mightn’t there be one somewhere below? We haven’t found the way to one, but we just might have missed it.”

“That is so, Peggy,” said Leslie. “Isn’t this odd!” Leslie and Sarita were sniffing till Peggy laughed at the whole performance.

“If I looked as funny as you girls do, sniffing and going from one crevice to another, I wonder that you didn’t make fun of me at the start!”

“We were more interested in the smoke than in how anybody looked,” Sarita returned. “It is stronger way back here, don’t you think so?”

Sarita was back where she was obliged to stoop considerably. There was a crack, or fissure, and a hole of no great size into what Peggy called the “inner darkness.” “I believe that I could crawl into that,” said Peggy, with some decision.

“Not for the world!” cried Leslie. “My dear chief investigator of the ‘tri-feminate,’ you might step off into space and fall into some crevice that we never could get you out of!”

“That would be a calamity,” grinned Peggy. “I won’t then,—not now, at any rate. It must be as you think, somebody is smoking somewhere and a current brings the odor up here,—but some way that theory doesn’t satisfy me.”

“That is because we scent a mystery, Peggy,” said Sarita. “It’s fun to imagine things. I’d just as lief find Bill to be a villain, but perhaps we’d better not meddle too much with things around here, Peggy.”

Peggy set her lips together. “If there’s anything that ought to be found out, why, then, it ought to be,—that’s all there is about it!”

Peggy’s attitude settled it. Though the older girls felt that care should be taken not to go beyond the bounds of courtesy within the limits of Steeple Rocks, they certainly had no objections to Peggy’s solving any mystery there, particularly if the Count were the chief villain.

Peggy had not told them of her little adventure in such detail before. With the words of Peggy’s step-father clearly in her mind, Leslie felt jubilant to think that their possession was to be practically undisputed. But what other plan was there in which they were probably concerned? She would tell Dalton, or get Peggy to tell him. Probably Peggy would enjoy the excitement of it. The date was interesting. That would be July twenty-eighth, perhaps. Was something to happen to them before that time? “See that they ... by the twenty-eighth!” Pleasant prospect!

Such thoughts ran through Leslie’s mind and Sarita asked her what she was thinking about.

“I’m just thinking what the next enemy move will be. Peggy, I hope that you can find out what the plan is and what they intend to do to us.”

“I’ll try,” Peggy promised. “What I’m wondering about is how we can get over on the front of the cliff and see if there are any caves there.”

“I don’t know that I ever used my glasses on the headland when we were close,” said Sarita. “Suppose we take the Sea Crest out and go over that way.”

“You forget how we watched those gulls and things that were roosting up there,” Peggy reminded Sarita in her usual indefinite way at which Sarita always laughed.

“Gulls and things, indeed. I’m sure that I found an eagle’s nest and we were following a bald eagle as he flew. However, girls, I’m not so sure that we’d see anything if it were there. We never saw this from the bay, you know. There is one opening that we know of.”

“What’s that?” Peggy inquired.

“There in Pirates’ Cove.”

“But there is the whirlpool, or whatever it is, and the buoys say danger.”

“Sometimes I have wondered if that were a fiction,” thoughtfully Leslie remarked, “just to protect the old pirates or smugglers; and maybe Bill and his rum-runners take advantage of it. Do you remember, Sarita, how those gulls the other day were floating near that place? It was fairly quiet, you know, not much spray on the rocks, and I noticed how wide that low opening is. I think that a person could almost stand up there, if there is anything to stand on. I’d like to find out how it looks at low tide. I’m not sure that we ever were out there or thought of it at low tide. Were we?”

The other girls did not know, but Sarita suggested that they would not dare risk going among the rocks there in any event and the girls agreed with her. “Dalton would go up in the air if we rowed in there, to say nothing of Elizabeth,” said Sarita.

“I’d like to do it, girls,” and Peggy’s tones vibrated with her suppressed energy.

“Much you would, if you once got inside and found that the whirlpool, or undertow, or what not, was no joke. Promise me that you’ll not try it.”

“Oh, I’ll not do anything of that sort without you girls. But if ever you do, I want to be along.”

“It is a bargain,” laughed Leslie, with no serious thoughts of its possibility.

Peggy had asked permission to stay at the Eyrie if she were asked for supper, rather imagining that she would be, if chance took her there at the time. Jack probably would be working with Dalton until late. She welcomed, accordingly, the suggestion of their going out in the Sea Crest to take a look at the great bulk of the headland where it jutted out in its irregular masses over the waters that bathed its base. Before leaving, however, Peggy tarried behind to carry out an idea.

It took the girls some time to climb carefully back to level ground and they took their own pace through the woods, or along the cliff, as fancy directed on their way back to the camp. They found Jack and Dalton perspiringly happy over their wood-chopping activities, for they were now trimming the trees of their branches and taking these to an open spot where they would dry for firewood.

“Don’t take the Sea Crest,” said Dalton. “Catch us a fish for supper, girls.”

“All right, we’ll either catch or buy one for you boys. Where’s Beth?”

“Haven’t seen her this afternoon. She said that she was going to write to Mrs. Marsh. I went down to the village for her to get some groceries; so mind you have a good supper for your workmen, Les!”

“We will. I’ll stop to see Beth.”

At the camp they found Beth bringing up her correspondence, which was such a waste of valuable time in this glorious spot, the girls thought. Leslie and Beth planned their meal, which was to be a good one, whether they caught a fish or not. Peggy received her desired invitation before they descended the rocky way to where the row boat was moored. Sarita had stopped at the tent to get her field glass.

They looked rather longingly at the Sea Crest, but their purpose could be as easily accomplished in the Swallow and there was a better chance of catching a fish for supper. Leslie was in charge of the fishing tackle and prepared to lure some unwary denizen of the deep to its destruction. So Sarita said, as she put her glass in a safe place and took the oars.

The bay was calm and beautiful. This, after all, was their chief pleasure.

Rowing steadily, for there was really no time to waste if they caught any fish for supper they reached the spot immediately opposite Pirates’ Cove and its frowning cavern.

“See? There are a lot of water birds now,” said Leslie, pointing to some herring gulls that floated contentedly in the cove, not very far from the opening.

“Yes,” said Sarita, “but remember that they can lift their little feet and fly away from any wave or tugging below.”

Letting her oars rest, Sarita took her glass and began to scan the rocks above. “What’s that sign up there?” she queried, her glass turned toward the left. “Funny! I never noticed it before.”

Sarita lowered her glass and looked at the girls. Peggy was as sober as a judge, her eyes widening. “Let Leslie look first,” she said, as Sarita offered her the lenses.

Sarita put them into Leslie’s hand and she, too, expressed surprise. “There doesn’t seem to be anything written on it,” she remarked, still looking. “It is just a square white thing of some sort.”

Sarita looked again and then offered the glass again to Peggy, who did not try to keep from laughing now. “You little mischief!” Leslie cried. “Sarita, that is where we were this afternoon and Peggy stuck something up there. What is it, Peggy?”

“Oh, there was just a piece of pasteboard in the bottom of the basket and I had a brilliant thought. That is why I stayed behind and you had to call to me to hurry up. I just pinned our paper napkins on top of the pasteboard and then stuck it up. The first good wind will blow it down. I thought that we could tell from down here what was next to it, you know, and whether there would be any chance of getting around any further.”

“Did you want our retreat discovered, Peggy?”

“I thought of that, but I imagine that people have climbed all over there before, don’t you?”

“Very likely,” Leslie replied. “Now be good children while I get ready to catch Dal’s fish.”

The boat had drifted a little, and Peggy, who now was the only one with oars, looked mischievous as she allowed it to go just within the circle indicated by the chief buoy and one or two others. The other girls did not notice. Sarita was scanning the cliff and Leslie was engaged with the line.

But they heard a hail and saw a boat approaching. “They’d better do all their calling before I begin to fish,” said Leslie, looking at the approaching boat. “That’s Bill and there’s somebody else,—oh, it’s Tom! We haven’t seen him for an age.”

Tom was beckoning and Leslie looked around to see what could be the matter. “Peggy,” she said; “child, you’ve gotten us inside the forbidden territory. Pull out!”

Peggy did so without a word, but Tom continued to pull toward them and came up smiling. “How do you do, Miss Secrest and—?” He did not mention the other names, but took off his cap in salute. “Bill called my attention to you and I saw that you were in dangerous quarters, so I rowed over. See what luck we have had.”

Tom displayed the fish in the bottom of their boat with pride, while the girls acknowledged the presence of Bill with little nods and “how do you do’s.” He was not very responsive and one “How do you do, Miss?” sufficed for all.

“Oh, Tom!” exclaimed Leslie, who felt that she knew the lad that had shown them how to run the Sea Crest. “Couldn’t we buy some of those fish? We’re not doing it for fun this time. The boys are hungry for fish and Dal doesn’t have time to fish these days—he’s so busy getting ready to build our log cabin.” Leslie cast a surreptitious glance at Bill, remembering his warning to Dalton. But Bill was looking at Sarita’s glass, which she held loosely in her hand.

“Of course you can have some of our fish. We were going to sell them anyhow. It will be all right with you, Bill, won’t it? I’m working for Bill now sometimes, Miss Leslie.”

Bill had surlily nodded assent to Tom’s question, while Leslie bent over eagerly to look into the other boat, now close beside them, and to select her fish.

“Kin ye see very fur with them, Miss?” Bill was now asking Sarita.

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “It isn’t exactly like a spy glass, you know, but you ought to look at the moon with it some night when it’s full!” Sarita bid fair to start on her favorite fad now.

“I noticed ye lookin’ at the rocks. What wuz ye lookin’ fur? Do ye mind lettin’ me look through ’em?”

Sarita handed over her glass immediately. “Certainly you may use it,” she said, though by this time it had occurred to her that Bill’s question might have some other ground than mere curiosity. But it would never do to show any reluctance. “I thought that I found an eagle’s nest the other day, and I was looking for that first. Then that forbidding old cliff is interesting anyway, don’t you think so?”

Bill grunted some reply as he focused the lenses with no unpracticed hand. “Somebody’s tacked something up there,” he said presently, the glass pointed in the direction of the “retreat.”

“I did that,” said Peggy. “That is to show our prowess. We’ve been climbing around about as far as we could go, I guess, and I was wondering if there weren’t other places we could get to.”

This was very bold, Sarita thought, to the man who was very likely the chief smuggler. But then, Bill worked for Mr. Ives, she knew.

“You’d better be keerful, Miss Peggy. Fust thing ye know, ye’ll miss yer footing and git drawed under in Pirates’ Cove. Here, Tom, I guess she wouldn’t mind if you took a look, too,” and Bill handed the glass to Tom, who wiped his fishy hands first, then took it and looked through the lenses with deep interest.

“No wonder you are crazy about the birds, Miss Sarita,” said Tom. “I can see every feather on that gull.”

“I ought to have showed you when we were all on the Sea Crest so much,” replied Sarita.

“I was busy then,” said Tom.

Bill Ritter now asked Leslie if she had picked out the fish that she wanted. Leslie then pointed them out and Bill started to gather them up. Suddenly the boat tipped a little. Bill, stooping, seemed to lose his balance and fell against Tom, unexpectedly. For calamitas calamitatum,—Sarita’s cherished field glass flew from Tom’s hand, seeking a watery grave just inside of Pirates’ Cove.

Sarita gave a little exclamation. Bill’s boat righted. Bill himself caught hold of Tom, then of the seat, to place himself again, and the incident was ended so far as the final disposal of poor Sarita’s bird glass was concerned.

Tom gave an angry and startled look at Bill, then began to kick off his shoes and pull off his old sweater. “What’re you doing?” growled Bill.

“Going down after her glass. You knocked it out of my hand! What did you mean by falling over me that way!”

“I was trying to get their fish and put it over. Stay in the boat! You can’t dive here. You’ll never dive deep enough to git it!” Bill laid a detaining hand on Tom, who was distressed.

“Oh, yes, Tom,” cried Sarita. “Don’t go in after it. Bill is right, and you didn’t mean to do it!”

“I should say I didn’t!” exclaimed Tom, struggling with a desire to pitch Bill overboard. “I will get you some other good glass, Miss Sarita, as soon as I can. No, Miss Leslie, not a cent for the fish. That’s the least we can do now. It was Bill’s fault, too. I’ll be up at the camp to see you about this, Miss Sarita.”

Seizing the oars, Tom rowed furiously away, paying no attention to Bill’s growlings. “Those squatters on Ives’ land have enough money to pay for our fish. That other girl picked three beauties and had her money out to pay for them!”

Meanwhile Leslie, rather dazed by what had happened, picked up her oars and with Peggy’s help rowed quietly toward home. Sarita sat idle, presently putting her face in her hands, while her shoulders heaved a little. Peggy looked serious. “She cares a lot, doesn’t she?” she said in a low tone to Leslie.

Leslie nodded, her face also serious, and a frown between her brows.

Presently Sarita dropped her hands and wiped her eyes a little. “I couldn’t help a little weep, girls,” she said. “You don’t know the things I went without to save up for that field glass! But it doesn’t do any good to cry. Perhaps I can buy another some time. I can’t let poor Tom buy any. He is taking care of his old grandmother now, Dal said. They live in one of the neatest cottages in the village, but Tom has to make what they live on. Dear me! Think of the birds that I’m going to miss!”

“Sarita,” said Peggy, “I’m going to buy some glasses. I’ll tell Mother that Sarita has gotten me simply crazy about birds and I must have some binoculars like what Dad has, or some good field glasses right away!” Peggy bent over her oars well satisfied with her plans, while the other girls looked at each other and at her with smiles.

“What should we do without our Peggy?” affectionately Leslie inquired. “Don’t go too far, though, in saying how crazy you are about birds. Stick strictly to the truth, honey.”

“All right, Leslie. But I do like them and I want the glass awfully anyway. I’d lend Dad’s, only I don’t suppose you’d want to use that. You can teach me birds, Sarita, and we’ll keep the glass at the Eyrie, so Dad will not find out. I’ll use my own money if you would feel better.”

“Please, Peggy, don’t do anything about it. I can get along. There are enough other nice things in this grand place! And please don’t say a word about it at supper. I’ll be able to enjoy the fun then. But if the boys know, they may talk about it and I don’t believe that I can stand it just now.”

Sarita’s voice was quivering again. Peggy spoke at once. “It’s a perfect shame! Don’t worry. I’ll not say a word at camp. Besides,—I think that Bill did that on purpose!”

“I wonder if he did!” exclaimed Leslie, looking at Sarita.