AT breakfast, Sunday morning, Mrs. Remington announced a startling piece of news.

“Friends, children, and Sagamore-in-the-making! I have to surprise you! Aunt Edith and I are going to Boston on a visit. While I am away you girls are to stay with Aunt Flo-Flo at Rosemary. Anna and Teddy are going to Isola Bella, and you boys are to remain with Fred in charge of the Island. How do you like the plan?”

A mixed chorus arose: “Oh, don’t go!” and “Fine! fine!” “We’ll be good!” and “How long will you stay?”

Mrs. Remington laughed but waited to hear from Fred. He rose and keeping an eagle eye on his future vassals, proclaimed: “Order shall be kept, or I, Wita-tonkan, will perish in the attempt! Wough! a Black Bear has spoken!”

“When you are in charge, you can really earn your title of ‘Island Chief,’ Fred,” remarked Elizabeth.

“When are we going to Mrs. Charlton’s?” asked Trixie. “I suppose you girls can wait and see me off. You can pack your suit-cases for a week or ten days and the Captain can set you ashore at the Rosemary landing after leaving me at the steamer wharf. We are going by the Boston boat you know—it is much cooler.”

What a bustle there was during the two days that ensued.

On Monday, Aunt Flo-Flo and Mrs. Charlton came in the Orion to visit the Islanders.

“I thought it best to come over and take an inventory of my ready-made family,” laughed Aunt Flo-Flo.

“Oh, we’ll be good as saints if you’ll only take us on enough motor-trips to last a month!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

“Maybe the boys would like to sail over for a day’s trip, too,” suggested Aunt Edith, but the boys had disappeared from the porch. Fred had given them the high sign for a pow-wow to be held in his tee-pee immediately!

That evening the girls begged to be told what was the cause of the serious and animated pow-wow. Portentous looks were all the answer returned while Mrs. Remington remained in the room.

“Say, who wants to walk to the south end of the island and watch the tide come in in the moonlight?” asked Fred, when it was found that his mother expected to remain in the room. Every one declared they wanted to see such a sight, and soon the room was vacated and quiet—Mrs. Remington being occupied with her written orders for Mose during her absence.

Once down upon the little beach, Fred announced that he and the others planned to do lots of things that his mother wanted done. Such as blasting out a big rock in the middle of Treasure Cove, raising a big new flag-pole, and making a pebble walk around the little log-cabin which was Mrs. Remington’s sanctuary when she was driven to retirement from the “madding crowd.”

“She will love that!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

“Oh we intend doing lots of other things, too,” bragged Billy.

“We’re going to cook our own meals over a camp-fire!” declared Dudley.

“That’s to save Mose the work while you girls are away!” added Paul.

“Listen to him! Why, you boys eat twice as much as all of the Islanders together!” scorned Edith.

“Besides, I don’t believe you younger boys can cook a thing!” came from Elizabeth, doubtfully.

“I wouldn’t want to eat the stuff you cook!” said Trixie.

“Fred and Bill know a lot about camp-cooking and they are going to show Paul and me,” admitted Dudley.

The idea of having the boys do something to surprise and please Mrs. Remington upon her return, made Trixie and her girls wish to do something for Mrs. Charlton. So a conference was held in Elizabeth’s room to which Anna was invited.

“What do you s’pose Aunt Edith would like most?” asked Elizabeth after all were seated.

“I know!” cried practical little Edith.

“What?”

“Her flower beds weeded and all that wild grass dug out of the paths.”

“Oh!” was the disappointed reception of the commonplace proposition.

“I can wear old gloves, you know,” ventured Trixie.

Her hearers laughed as Trixie’s nails still showed the result of the earnest efforts of a city polish, of which she was quite proud.

“Well, we may consider Edith’s plan as a side-work,” grudged Elizabeth, when no other inspiration seemed on tap.

Mrs. Remington was not permitted to forget her promise to take everybody on the Medric for a last farewell to her at the Camp Grounds where the Boston boat stopped for passengers. Whether it was the farewell, the sail, or the fun on the mainland that was the inducement, she wisely refrained from questioning.

“What if it rains!” wondered Edith.

“Oh, we can wear clothes that won’t be damaged by a drop of rain,” said Elizabeth. “Trixie can wear her checked skirt if it’s rain you want,” plagued Billy.

“Now then, I’ll wear it just for spite!” retorted Trixie. “I’ll prove to you by the sunshine that the checks are not a rain jinx!”

Tuesday dawned clear and sunny, therefore proving Trixie’s statement to be true. The merry party set out directly after lunch as Mrs. Remington remarked that the Boston boat was very early at odd times—especially so, if one happened to be a little late.

The Medric’s engine helped her “buck” the tide while Bill remarked, “We sure have got a favourable puff!”

It was almost low water when they reached the wharf and the Medric had to be anchored off the landing while her passengers were set ashore in the tender.

The moment feet were on terra firma, the owners started for the post office and general store where candy and cake were sold; but, on the way a tin-typer’s caravan was found resting by the side of the main road from the wharf, and the diversion was invaded and well patronised that day.

The meagre delights of the Camp Ground were soon exhausted and time hung heavily upon the hands of the active Islanders. Then Mrs. Remington announced that the Boston steamer would be an hour late that day.

“Oh, why did we leave our happy home?” wailed Billy. “Think of all the fun we are missing!” added Paul.

“There are certain joys in a lingering farewell but I say that some of them are drawn out much too long!” remarked Fred.

“How! how!” laughed the other boys, and Mrs. Remington joined even at the expense of her own feelings.

“The question still remains before us—what to do with this extra hour the gods bestowed?” mourned Elizabeth, who had had visions of Rosemary in the sunset glow.

“I’ll run over and ask that jitney man who is watching us as if we were outlaws,” said Fred, starting off across the road.

The man was very communicative for he had nothing else to do at the time.

“Thar’s a merry-go-round back over that hill—it was runnin’ all mornin’ an’ I guess it’s thar still.”

“Just the thing!” replied Fred, thanking him.

The suggestion met with instant acceptance and every one started for the hill designated. But a disappointment awaited them. The merry-go-round was deserted with the sole exception of a small tow-headed boy.

However Fred was equal to the emergency. “‘Come one, come all, these steeds shall run around this track ’til set of sun,’” shouted he, beckoning wildly.

But Mrs. Remington would not allow him to tamper with the engine or carousel, so she questioned the small boy who turned out to be the proprietor’s son.

“Now, you run and find your Daddy and tell him we want two dollars’ worth of rides!” promised Mrs. Remington.

At the munificent offer the bare-footed urchin showed a swift and dusty pair of heels to the would-be riders, and soon returned with both father and grandfather—the latter being the patriarch of the money-till.

“Isn’t this fun! I’ve always wanted to ride on a merry-go-round!” cried Trixie.

“Maybe you won’t think it fun after a ride!” said Paul.

“You just watch me and see!” boasted Trixie, smiling.

“I’m going to climb on the animals while we’re waiting for the man to start up the engine,” proposed Billy.

“Me for the lion!” shouted Dudley, as he mounted the king of beasts.

“Paul, let’s ride the white horses side by side and pretend we’re running a race,” suggested Trixie.

“Bet’che a cookie I’ll beat!” laughed Paul.

“You wouldn’t beat me if these were real horses! I can ride anything—even a colt!” teased Trixie.

“Oh, well, that colt of the Captain’s was green and full of fire—the Captain says so!” said Paul, defendingly.

The carousel began to turn slowly by this time and with many a wheeze and groan, it gathered momentum. Every one laughed at its slowness at first but the urging on of their steeds must have infected the merry-go-round for it soon whirled at a surprising speed.

Mrs. Remington sat near the old white-bearded ticket chopper, watching the different expressions on the children’s faces as the carousel went round.

When the first slow circle was made Trixie had laughed merrily and cried, “Oh, this is a real joy-ride!”

When it went somewhat faster, she remained silent, and as she spun around on the horse, passing Mrs. Remington at rapid intervals, her face looked grey and her eyes seemed fixed.

“Oh! we surely are going too fast!” gasped she, finally.

“Oh, no! We’ll go faster than this—just hold on!” cheered Paul.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m slipping off—oh, oh!” wailed Trixie.

“You’re all right—just stick on!” laughed Paul.

“O-oh—Paul—I’m getting so dizzy! I’ll fall!”

“I’ll steady you; here, grab hold of the horse with your knees and hang on to the iron pole in front!” advised Paul.

“There goes my hat—and oh! the old thing has shaken out all my side-combs!” came from Trixie, weakly. “Never mind that—just hold on!”

“I ca-an-t hold ano-oth-er m-m-min-ute!”

“Keep a stiff upper lip, now, Trix! We’re slowing down!” encouraged Paul, throwing an arm about the girl as she swayed uncertainly.

And indeed, the awful whirl did slacken and in a few more moments, with one last “yawp” the hurdy-gurdy gave up the spirit—of music.

Then a very pale and shaky Trixie was lifted from the race-horse and helped over to a seat beside Mrs. Remington.

“Oh, wasn’t it awful!” gasped she, shuddering.

“Awful! Why, it was great!” cried Dudley.

“I should say so! Look, I got the brass ring Trixie! Want it for another try?” asked Billy, generously.

But Trixie thought “discretion to be the better part of valor.” She knew from actual experience what a merry-go-round meant so she sat contentedly by and watched the others whirl.

When even Billy had been sated with the dervish delight Mrs. Remington led her escorts back to the wharf where they found Aunt Edith and Aunt Flo-Flo had arrived from Rosemary by land.

When it was suggested that the girls start back with Aunt Flo-Flo at once, there was a chorus of protests.

“We’re going to stay as long as anybody—and say good-bye,” retorted Elizabeth, fearing she would miss some fun. The two chiefly concerned in saying farewells thought this persistence worthy of a greater if not a better object. But they consented to the delay of the return party and in its own good time the “City of Rockland” bore down upon the landing. Then the young folks had the gratification of positively knowing by evidence of their own sight, that their guardians were well out of the way for a time.

“Oh, gee! we won’t do a thing while we’re boss!” sighed Billy, with a great sense of the time before him.

“Some fun—I should say!” ejaculated Paul, while Dudley whistled a medley of many tunes and fox-trots and tangos.

“But the Island Chief rules! Remember!” threatened Fred.

While on the way to Rosemary, the Islanders discussed the fact that fine weather broke the hoo-doo of Trixie’s rain jinx.

“But it hoo-dooed her in another way—my! but she was green on that carousel!” laughed Billy.

“I never thought Trix could look so sick!” added Dudley.

“I wasn’t sick a bit! I was only dizzy—only my head!” defended Trixie, valiantly.

The boys laughed teasingly and Elizabeth looked off at the horizon while groping for her poetic medium.

Finally, she turned to Trixie. “It’s a shame to wreck a perfectly good poem for I love Tennyson dearly, but the aptness tempts me beyond measure, so here goes!”

The classic thus converted by Elizabeth was hailed with loud acclaim by the boys, but Trixie said never a word! How the poetess made her “separate peace” was never told but Trixie was as friendly as ever the next time the two appeared together.

Wednesday morning at the earliest permissible tide the Captain and the boys were busy drilling into the ledge of Treasure Cove. The boys were deeply interested when they realised that before another tide flowed over that ledge a blast could be set off. In the meantime, they went fishing and soon had a fine mess of cunners for their camp-lunch.

Knowing the extent of the boys’ appetites, Mose’s tender heart ached in dread of empty stomachs and a raid on his pantry when he was not at hand to defend the fort! So he brought a large pan full of biscuits and “fixin’s on th’ side” to the cooks. The “fixin’s” comprising a hearty meal by themselves.

“Oh, Mose, you needn’t to have taken this trouble—we’re just going to live a simple life while mother’s away,” said Billy.

“Yes, you see, Mose, we’re now serving our toasted bread and baked potatoes. Sit down and have some with us?” urged Paul.

Mose eyed the charred bread and half-cooked potatoes and winked at the Captain. “Ah don’ b’lieve Ah will pa’take ov dis munifercence to-day! But, t’ank yo’ all d’ same!”

The Captain felt very grateful for Mose for his additions to the menu, so he added, “Oh, do sit down and be friendly, Mose.”

“Yes, Mose, I’m just cookin’ the cunners! They’re fine!” added Fred.

“Well, seein’ ez Ah fetched a bit from m’ own domain, Ah don’t min’ ef Ah tas’ some cunners!” sighed Mose, who was fond of this fish.

As Fred served him a delicious slab of the broiled fish Mose remarked, “Does tas’ kinder good t’ eat some odder chef’s cookin’. No t’anks, Billy, Ah don’ guess Ah’ll have any pertates.”

The boys each took a potato and did their best to enjoy them but it was not to be! The potatoes were more than half raw.

“Lemme tell you-all,” said Mose, after the potatoes had been replaced on the fire, “taters take a heap o’ cookin’. Speshully when dey’se big and not cut up.”

“Bring them here, boys, and I’ll show you what to do with them,” offered Fred, taking the frying pan and dropping a chunk of butter in it.

Then the boys watched and soon learned how to fry good potatoes—an art many cooks lack.

“Now for the blast!” cried the Captain, when the dishes and pans had been cleaned with sand and water.

“You boys watch Captain and me fix the fuse and then when we yell you must run way up on the porch of mother’s retreat and stand there,” ordered Fred.

The three boys were greatly surprised to see Captain Ed cut the dynamite with his knife as if it were a cheese.

“It looks just like a roll of yellow plasticene!” said Dudley.

“It won’t act like one!” laughed Billy.

“You know last year, Captain and Fred blasted out the boulders for our Council Place and we had to cover the rocks with logs and things to keep them from flying through the air and smashing the windows,” explained Billy, for Paul’s and Dudley’s benefit.

“Oh, did you blast for that Ring?” wondered Paul.

“I should think we did! We have to blast for everything! There isn’t a level spot on the whole island. Did you think the pebbles grew so level and smooth on that Council Place?” laughed Fred.

“I thought it had to be filled in where any hollows happened to be but I didn’t know you had to blow off the bumps!” said Paul, in defence.

That made the Captain laugh, and he now turned and said: “Run to cover now, boys! I’m goin’ to light th’ fuse!”

So the boys scrambled up the pathway while Fred and the Captain lit the fuse and then ran to hide behind a big spruce. But Paul, curious to note the effect of that harmless looking cheese, lingered behind the other boys, thus hoping to get a closer view of the explosion.

Just as the terrific blast rumbled, Fred sighted the tardy boy. He dashed out, grabbed him roughly, yanked him back to safety, and then pitched into him.

“Don’t—you’re hurtin’ me, Fred!” whimpered Paul, with a better realisation of his danger as the rocks began raining down upon the spot where he had just stood.

“You ought to be hurt—good and plenty, too! Just so you’ll never do such a fool thing again! I’m Chief of this Island, I’ll have you to know, and you’ve got to obey orders!”

Billy and Dudley ran to see what had caused the quarrel and the Captain, who had seen the rescue, came over to tell Paul a story as a warning in the future.

“You boys know the light-house just down off Spruce Island? Well, last year, ol’ Captain Ball was blastin’ out some rocks in the road near his barn. He got keerless like at the last and stood too near—right out in the open. And by heck! a chunk of rock as big as my two fists come plumb down on top of his head and killed him then and thar! Not a minit t’ think of what he wanted done ’bout things!”

After an impressive silence the Captain added with a certain feeling of satisfaction: “But he had a grand funeral! The finest ever given in these parts. One of them Dark Harbour millionaires lent the widder his big private yacht to carry the remains to Metinicus, where the Cap’n hailed from.

“Seein’ she hadn’t got to pay any costs for shippin’, Mrs. Ball put all that money in a casket and it was so fine that it seemed like a shame to put all them silver handles and satin puffs in the ground.

“Widder Ball invited everybody to make the trip with the Cap’n an’ most every one accepted the invitation, too. Thar would have been room on that yacht fer a few more—it was that big.

“Yes, sir! That was one grand funeral—what with red plush curtains and willow arm-chairs everywhere! And a dining-room fixed up with painted dishes and sparklin’ glass! I sometimes wish how old Cap’n Ball oughter know about that trip—he would have felt better where he is, I’m sure!”

The boys had listened to the sudden ending of Captain Ball’s career without due respect for dynamite and Captain Ed, finding Paul had not been thoroughly frightened by his tale, drove it well home.

“But you wouldn’t have a good time like Captain Ball! You’d be sent home in a box and no yacht and crowd of folks to sail to your funeral! So, just keep behind a tree after this!”

Paul suddenly realised how lonely he must feel if he was instantly killed by a rock and freighted all the way from Maine to New Jersey, and he felt contrite and humble for a full hour after the incident closed.

The rest of the afternoon was given to preparing an old spar for the flag-pole. It was about thirty feet in length so that all the boys worked at the same time in sand-papering and polishing the wood.

“Next time I go over to the Cove I’ll have the blacksmith make a collar to go around the mast-head, and then we’ll have it all ready for the raisin’ bee before your mother comes back.”

“We want everything done and waiting so all we have to do when she comes is to hoist the flag,” added Billy.

The following day Uncle Tom came over and announced that he was ready to start the rifle-range and teach the boys how to handle a gun.

“Did they say we could?” asked Paul, eagerly, his desire to obey in certain ways, tinctured by the tale about Captain Ball.

“Yes, the committee reported favorably providing that I would keep watch of you all and never let you get reckless!”

So, the boys painted a large target on a packing case and set it up against a rock where a clear range could be had. Uncle Tom chose a spot where no danger to passing boatmen could be incurred.

The spy-glass was trained upon the target and each boy was allowed five shots each turn. The use of the glass obviated the many tiresome trips to and from the target to count the score for every boy.

Only between the turns did the Captain go to the board and put a dab of paint on the marks made by each boy. During these intervals no one was allowed to load or handle a gun.

Captain Ed made a splendid score with Fred’s Marlin 38–55 but Paul and Dudley took a long time to get the proper range and sight. Their bullets cut into the ledges right and left so that the Captain laughed heartily.

“When we need more blastin’ done there’s no use wastin’ money for dynamite—we’ll jus’ ask you two boys to aim at Treasure Cove and your fire will blow off the top of the ledges!”

The others tittered but were too much engaged to care much whether the Captain joshed them or not. Then, Fred, who stood at the spy-glass called, “A hit for Paul!”

That spurred Dudley to better work so when it came his turn to try he took great pains to aim carefully and was rewarded by seeing the splinters fly from the packing-case.

Evening came all too soon for the joy of firing real rifles was intoxicating to the boys. They begged Uncle Tom to be sure and come over every day, as early in the morning as he could get away.

“Oh, but I’m scheduled to take the girls out on some of these days,” he protested. “However, I’ll try to get in some regular practising hours with you boys.”

The rifle-range was almost forgotten the next morning when Captain Ed brought in the mail. An answer from Mr. Remington to Billy’s plea for the launch, authorised him to “Go ahead and get it if the Captain says it is all right!”

As that necessitated an immediate exodus from the island, an eager pilgrimage started for the little landing near Saturday Cove, where lay the coveted craft at her moorings.

To the disinterested eye she seemed old and shabby, to say nothing of dirt. To Billy, however, she was a vision of beauty and a promise of joy. The ex-owner took the lad for a trial spin so that he could learn the tricks of the little engine.

Billy disdained the tow offered by Captain Ed and insisted upon returning under his own power. Not for nothing had he watched and helped for weeks with the Captain’s engines, hoping for the day when he should be captain of his own launch.

That same night, as they lounged about Fred’s teepee, the Chief made a suggestion.

“Now that Cap’n Bill has a launch suppose we make an aqua-plane? We might start it to-morrow.” The idea was met with delighted “Hows!” and in the morning all started on the carpenter’s job.

The plane completed, the boys felt such a pride in the work that they longed for some one to admire it. Besides, they had to have an audience when they aqua-planed. So it came about, that all of the girls and Aunt Flo-Flo were invited to a bathing party with aqua-planing on the side.

The boys drank greedily of the admiration freely poured out by the girls as they stood about the plane. Finally, the girls were invited to try it.

“Isn’t it awfully hard to manage?” asked Trixie.

“Not much harder than that wooden horse on the merry-go-round,” teased Paul.

“Even if you should fall off you can swim, you know,” added Billy.

“I’ll let Elizabeth try it first,” generously allowed Trixie.

Elizabeth was a splendid swimmer and nothing on or in water could daunt her, so Billy was soon towing her along after his launch.

“Gee! That’s pretty good, Lizzie—for a girl, I mean!” conceded Billy, as he admired the way she stood upright and managed the plane.

“You needn’t have added that last—‘for a girl’; just remember please, that I learned to swim at a much younger age than you ever did!” retorted Elizabeth, ruffled at the hated nick-name.

Then, when every one had tried the aqua-plane Aunt Flo-Flo had something to say. “Won’t you boys come over to Rosemary and hold a Council for some friends of mine?”

What with rifle shooting, aqua-planing, and other intense delights, the boys were not as enthusiastic as usual.

“We’re going to have piles of ice-cream and delicious cakes—to say nothing of other good things,” hinted Elizabeth, her superior knowledge of boys standing her in good stead.

“We-ll—seeing that you all want a Council so much, maybe we can manage,” said Billy, looking at the other boys.

“All right—when?” hastily accepted Aunt Flo-Flo.

“I s’pose Mose will freeze some cream for us as usual on Sunday and Thursday so we’d better say Tuesday, as that gives us ice-cream on an off day,” interjected Paul, before any one could decide.

“All right! Then we can go marketing to Belfast on Monday, and spend Tuesday at Rosemary,” said Fred.

The Tuesday for the Council was a lovely day and Paul took a snap-shot of Aunt Flo-Flo and her visitors. The Nature coups were claimed by Elizabeth and the three younger boys. Then Trixie formally presented a red scalp to the Black Bears and Elizabeth followed suit. Paul and Dudley also paid their forfeited locks so that Fred and Bill had a number of brilliant trophies hanging from their belts. Finally, the much-longed-for ice-cream was brought and the pyramids piled up on the boys’ plates received sincere applause and attention.

Among the cakes passed around were certain cookies that the boys preferred to any others. So good were they, that Billy remarked, “My! But these are the best ever!”

“Who do you think baked them?” asked Trixie, eagerly.

“Not you, anyway!” laughed he.

“Well, Smarty, we did! Elizabeth and I made the batter and Edith cut them out and put them in the pans.”

“Hoh! That’s nothing! We cook whole meals at our camp!” exclaimed Paul.

“Yes siree! Say, boys, how about that breakfast yesterday, eh?” boasted Dudley.

“Umph! You ought to have tasted that! Billy went over to Islesboro in his launch and shot five red squirrels. We skinned and broiled them for breakfast and maybe they weren’t good!” said Fred, abetting the younger boys.

“What else did you have?” queried Elizabeth.

“Fred baked some pancakes and we ate, and ate, and ate!” asserted Paul, looking at his companions.

“I never saw any one eat so much as they did, except at our clam-bakes,” said Fred.

“Well, maybe you baked the pan-cakes but Mose was there to advise and start that breakfast going!” asserted Trixie.

“Who told you so?” cried a number of voices.

“We just went over to get something Elizabeth wanted from the Island and you were all gone to Adamses for milk. Mose told us about the squirrels and the funny mistakes you boys made while experimenting on them. And he told us of the towers of pancakes you boys made way with, too.”

“Do you know, we haven’t had our annual clam-bake yet?” hastily declared Billy.

“That’s so! As soon as mother comes home we must try and get it started,” added Fred.

“Oh, Trix, we have the most wonderful time at these bakes!” exclaimed Billy, rolling his eyes and patting his stomach.

So, in talking and planning for the clam-bake, the thin ice of camp-cooking was forgotten and the character of the boys for being first-class chefs was not completely ruined.