Dot burst into tears, and Tess, startled by the sudden tragic outcome of her prank, leaned so far over the edge of the boat to see what happened to the doll that Ruth cried:

“Be careful! You’ll fall! Don’t you go into the lake, as well as the doll!”

Tess bounced back on deck. She looked ashamed when she saw Dot crying.

“You can have one of my dolls when we get back home,” Tess offered. “Or you can have my half of Almira the cat, and all her kittens. I’ll give you my share.”

“I don’t want ’em! I want my Alice-doll!” wailed Dot.

“I’ll have Hank get her for you!” called Neale, as he swung the boat around. “The string will float, even if your doll won’t, and Hank can fish it back aboard.”

Neale signaled to Hank by means of a bell running from the upper deck near the steering wheel to the motor room below, where the former mule driver looked after the gasoline engine. It was arranged with a clutch, so it could be thrown out of gear, thus stopping or reversing the power, if need be.

“What’s the matter?” called Hank, coming out on the lower deck and looking up at Neale. “Going to make a landing?”

“No. But Dot lost her Alice-doll overboard,” Neale explained. “Tess had a string to it and—”

“Oh, is that what the string was?” exclaimed Hank. “I saw a cord drop down at the stern past the motor-room window and I made a grab for it. I thought it was somebody’s fish line. Wait, I’ll give it a haul and see what I can get on deck.”

Leaving the wheel, which needed no attention since power was not now propelling the craft, Neale hastened to the lower deck, followed by Ruth, Tess and Agnes. They saw Hank pulling in, hand over hand, the long, white cord. Presently there came something slapping its way up the side of the Bluebird, and a moment later there slumped down on the deck a very wet, and much bedraggled doll.

“Oh, it’s my Alice! It’s Alice!” cried Dot. “I’ve got her back once more.”

“There won’t be much left of her if she gets in the water again,” prophesied Neale. “This is the second time this trip.”

“She is rather forlorn looking,” agreed Ruth, trying not to smile and hurt her little sister’s feelings, for Dot was very sensitive about her dolls, especially her “Alice” one. “I shall have to get you a new one, Dot.”

“I don’t want anybody but my Alice-doll! Will you hang her up in the sun for me so she’ll dry?” begged Dot of Neale, holding out to him the really wretched doll.

“Of course, Dottie. And when we get back to Milton we can take her to the hospital again and have her done over as we did after she was buried with the dried apples. Poor Alice-doll! She has had a hard life.”

Tess had gone off by herself, thoroughly ashamed of her behavior. Dot now went to her own little room, to grieve over the fate of the Alice-doll.

“Aggie,” said Neale, “I think our Tess must have surely gone insane. I never knew her to do a deliberately unkind thing before.”

“It certainly is curious. There, Neale, Mr. Howbridge is beckoning to you.”

“Yes,” Neale replied. “He wants us to start, and he’s right. Start her up again, Hank,” he added. “We’re on Lake Macopic now, and we’ll have to watch our step. There’s more navigation here than there was on the river.”

“Is this really the lake?” asked Ruth, “Are we really on Macopic at last?”

“This is where the river broadens out into the lake,” said Neale, indicating the sweep of waters about them. “It is really a part of the lake, though the larger and main part lies around that point,” and he indicated the point of land he meant.

Lake Macopic was a large body of water, and on its shores were many towns, villages and one or two places large enough to be dignified by the appellation “cities.” Quite a trade was done between some of the places, for the presence of so much water gave opportunity for power to be obtained from it, and around the lake were many mills and factories. There were a number of islands in the lake, some of them large enough for summer hotels, while others were merely clumps of trees. On some, campers spent their vacations, and on one or two, owned by fishermen, cabins were built.

“Yes, we are really here at last,” said Neale. “I must find out where we are to head for. Where do you have to deliver this boat, Mr. Howbridge?” he asked the lawyer.

“At the upper end of the lake,” was the answer. “But there is no hurry about it. I intend that we shall all have a nice cruise on Lake Macopic before I let my client have possession of this boat. He is in no special need, and the summer is not nearly enough over to make me want to end our vacation yet. That is, unless you feel you must get back to the Corner House, Martha?” and he smiled at his oldest ward.

“Oh, no,” Ruth made haste to reply. “It is too lovely here to wish to leave. I’m sure we shall find it most delightful.”

“Can we go in swimming?” asked Tess, who liked the water.

“Yes, there are bathing beaches—several of them in fact,” answered the lawyer. “We will stop at one and let you children paddle around.”

“I can swim!” boasted Tess.

“I can too,” added Dot, not to be outdone by her sister.

Lake Macopic was beautiful, reflecting the sunlight, the blue sky, and the white, fleecy clouds. The houseboat once more began slowly navigating it as Hank threw the clutch in and Neale kept the wheel steady. They passed several other boats, and then, as their supplies were running low, it was decided to put in at the nearest town.

“We’ll get some cake and maybe a pie or two,” said Ruth, after consulting Mrs. MacCall. “And of course, some fresh vegetables.”

“Can’t we get some strawberries?” questioned Dot.

“Too late I’m afraid, Dot. But maybe we can get huckleberries.”

“Oh, I know what I would like,” cried Tess.

“I know too,” declared Agnes. “An ice-cream cone.”

“Yep. Strawberry.”

“I want chocolate,” came promptly from Dot.

“And oh, can’t we have some lollypops too?” went on Tess.

“Sure—if the stores keep them,” answered Mr. Howbridge promptly. “Yes, I see a sign, ‘Ice Cream and Confectionery.’ I guess we can get what we want over there—when we reach the place.”

“Oh, goody,” cried Dot; and Tess patted her stomach in satisfaction.

It was early evening when they tied up at a wharf, which was operated in conjunction with a store, and while Mrs. MacCall and the girls were buying such things as were needed, Neale and Mr. Howbridge made some inquiries regarding the rules for navigating the lake. They found there would be no trouble in getting the Bluebird from place to place.

“Have you seen a small motor boat run by two men around here lately?” asked the lawyer of the dock keeper, after some unimportant talk.

“What sort of men?”

“Roughly dressed.”

“That isn’t much of a description,” was the retort. “A lot of the fishermen dress roughly, but they’re all right. But we do have some fellows up here who aren’t what I’d call first-class.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Howbridge.

“Well, I mean there’s a bunch camping on one of the islands here. Somebody said they were returned miners from the Klondike, but I don’t know that I believe that.”

“Why, those may be the very men we mean!” cried the lawyer. “One of them claims, or is said to have been, in the Alaskan gold regions. In fact this young man’s father is, or was, a Klondike miner,” went on Mr. Howbridge, indicating Neale. “Maybe these men could tell us something about him. Did you ever hear any of them mention a Mr. O’Neil?” he asked.

The dock tender shook his head.

“Can’t say I did,” he answered. “I don’t have much to do with those men. They’re too rough for me. They may be the ones you mean, and they may not.”

Further questioning elicited no more information, and Neale and Mr. Howbridge had to be content with this.

“But we’ll pay a visit to that island,” decided the lawyer, when its location had been established. “We may get some news of your father in that way.”

“I hope so,” sighed Neale.

Rather than tie up at the dock that night, which would bring them too near the not very pleasant sights and sounds of a waterfront neighborhood, it was decided to anchor the Bluebird out some distance in the lake.

Accordingly, at dusk, when supper was over and a little stroll on shore had gotten the “kinks” out of their “sea legs,” the Bluebird was headed into the lake again and moored, with riding lights to warn other craft away.

In the middle of the night Neale felt the need of a drink, as he had eaten some buttered popcorn the evening before and he was now thirsty. As he arose to get a glass of water from a shelf in his apartment he became aware of a strange movement. At the same time he could hear the sighing of the wind.

“Sounds as if a storm were coming up,” mused the boy. And then, as he reached out his hand for the glass, he felt the Bluebird rise, fall and sway beneath him.

“Why, we’re moving! We’re drifting!” exclaimed Neale. “The anchor must be dragging or the cables have been cut. We’re drifting fast, and may be in danger!”