FOR the next few days the Island Tribe was busy getting up Swimming Coups. Shingebis made sure he had passed the necessary tests for the Swimming Degree. He had won the coup for swimming one hundred yards a long time before but had now to swim with all clothes on. This promised to be great sport and every one looked forward to the exhibition with delight.

The morning dawned bright and warm. By eleven A. M. the sun shone hot upon the calm bay, and the high tide before luncheon was just what was wanted for the exhibitors.

Miriam and her little sister Betty arrived about ten o’clock and shortly after, the Rosemary Aunt and Uncle with Trixie came scrambling up the steps from the floating-stage. Soon the procession of “Annette Kellermans” in rubber bathing caps of every colour, and the boys brown-legged and brown-armed, ran down the well-worn path leading to Treasure Cove, a genuine Island sight. Suddenly Fred stopped and turned to Billy who unexpectedly collided with him.

“Say! We forgot the sand bag!” exclaimed Fred.

“Gee! So we have—I’ll run back and hunt one,” offered Billy, starting for the bungalow to find a bag that would hold the necessary five pounds of sand.

“I’ll go, too!” called Paul, following Billy.

At the kitchen door, Billy hailed the cook.

“Say, Mose, got a bag that’ll hold five pounds?” asked Billy, looking about quickly.

“Wha’fo’, Chile?” wondered Mose, suspiciously.

“Oh, I have to do a stunt for a coup—a strong white salt bag will do.”

“Ah reckon Ah kin len’ yo’ th’ cook-salt bag but don’ yo’ go an’ waste enny salt outen the bag. Ah jes’ got this lot o’ salt an’ its gotta las’ me a fo’tnight!” As he spoke Mose took the full salt-bag from the shelf to hand to Billy.

“Pooh! We can’t use your old salt—all I want is the bag!” laughed Billy, rummaging about in the kitchen cupboard.

“See heah, Bo! don yo’ go t’ dislodgin’ m’ pots an’ pans now! Jes’ give Mose time t’ dig out a bag, will yo’?” So saying, the southern cook yanked a crate out from a corner and lifted a heavy burlap bag therefrom.

“How’s dis? It’ll onny take a shake t’ dump out th’ rock salt—er kin yo’ use the hull thing jus’ as it is?” Billy laughed and Paul declared, “Mose, you’re a numm-skull, sure as shootin’.”

“You see, Mose,” explained Billy, “before that bag of salt was in the water very long it would be melted and a cinch for any diver to bring up from the bottom. I am going to try out the test for diving and we must have a white bag holding just five pounds of sand. White, so I can see it under water, you know. The sand will wash out of a loose-meshed bag like burlap, and it wouldn’t weigh more than two or three pounds by the time I had it on shore, and that wouldn’t be fair.”

“Sho, nuff! A flour bag is jus what yo’ want—an’ Ah emptied one dis mawnin’, too. Yo’ kin weigh five poun’s on dis scale, Ah reckon,” agreed Mose, handing Billy the scale and going for the bag.

“By the way, Mose, aren’t you coming down to watch the fun?” asked Paul, as they took the bag and started away.

“Ah shore am, Honey! Jes’ waitin’ t’ remove dis pan o’ biskits from d’ oven!”

“Let’s run across to the float and get another boat,” suggested Paul.

“Good idea—we’ll need an extra boat anyway,” approved Billy.

When the two boys arrived in Treasure Cove with the bag and scales, Fred carefully weighed out five pounds of sand while Billy prepared himself for the dive. Paul stood watching Billy heft the bag of sand and became imbued with the spirit of achievement.

“Ever try it before, Billy?” asked he.

“Lots of times, but never before three witnesses who will attest the dive.”

“When you finish, guess I’ll do it, too!” said Paul.

“Maybe you think it’s easy, eh?” queried Billy, laughing.

“I’m a good diver now, and grabbing a bag of sand isn’t anything to do,” said Paul, boastfully.

“Well, just try it!”

Fred had marked off a pole into foot lengths and this he placed in the canoe. After paddling out to the middle of the Cove he used the pole to measure the depths and when he had found the depth of eight or nine feet he called to Elizabeth, who was following the canoe in a boat with Billy and the bag of sand, for passenger and freight.

“Now lift that bag out and drop it carefully just here where the pole stands—don’t fall over with it, though,” ordered Fred, watching as his sister followed his directions.

“Bill, wait a few seconds for the ripples to settle and when you dive look for the white object right under this spot.”

Billy did as he was told and in a few seconds he was in and almost immediately after appeared again bringing the bag of sand up with him. A loud chorus of “Hows” greeted him as he swam in to shore. “Now I’m going to do it!” cried Paul.

“Why you never tried before,” said Miriam.

“No, but it’s so easy! I might as well pass the test now as later,” bragged Paul, swimming out to the boat.

Fred had paddled in and now carried the bag out to the same place and dropped it in but Paul, try as he would, could not find it.

“I know what’s the trouble—Paul doesn’t keep his eyes open. He closes them tight the moment he strikes the water,” cried Elizabeth to Fred.

So Fred called to Paul, “How do you expect to find an object under water if your eyes are shut?”

“I’m afraid to open them, it feels awful,” said Paul.

“Well, the sooner you learn to do that the better. No swimmer can become expert if he dives or swims under water with closed eyes,” remarked Fred, starting to paddle back to land.

“Oh Fred, while we are here let us try for a test for swimming the breast, overhand, and crawl, in to shore,” cried Paul, and this was done very well although Dudley did it better, having had much more practice at home.

Meantime, Billy had dressed in a complete suit of old clothes—with shoes, cap and coat—as he proposed to try the test of swimming with all clothes on.

Wita-tonkan took the measuring tape and fastened it on one end of the rock that jutted out over the Cove, then Elizabeth paddled the canoe out to the required distance and waited. Edith, Paul and Billy followed in the boat and stopped alongside the line of limit.

Every one was watching eagerly as Billy dove off the end of the boat and swam for shore. Then, as he reached the rocky island and clambered out, a chorus of “Hows” congratulated him.

“Huh! That was nothing! Now, watch me do some real stunts in swimming,” laughed he.

“Not to-day, Billy. Go and dress now and leave your fancy swimming for another time,” advised Mrs. Remington.

Billy obeyed but his face expressed his reluctance.

Meantime Fred was sure that he could overturn a canoe in the water and right it again if some one would stand by while he tried the difficult stunt. Captain Ed offered his services.

While Fred was striving to accomplish this deed, some one suggested a “splashing match” and before a place of dry safety could be reached by the grown-ups who had been sitting near the edge of the water, every one was liberally sprinkled by the merry water nymphs. So much noise did they make indeed, that Aunt Edith called for more quiet.

“Oh, but noise is part of the game, you know!” retorted Billy, who was watching from the sunny rocks since he could not take part in the fun.

The match ended when Paul ducked Edith under water. As soon as she could sputter, she wildly denounced him, but Billy and Dudley laughed heartily as they told her to “get even.”

Paul hurriedly got out of Edith’s way for she had very good muscle for a girl and Paul had been made aware of its power several times previously to this day.

Elizabeth was floating serenely when Edith confided to her that she had kept her eyes open when Paul unexpectedly pushed her under water.

“And it felt so strange that I’m going to try it again.”

“That’s right! No diver is any good until he can see where he is going or what he really is after under water. Why not get the others to try, too,” replied Elizabeth.

So they were all trying to dive and keep their eyes open. “The one who keeps his eyes open the longest while under water will be given an extra dish of dessert at lunch time,” cried Billy.

“But it feels so funny to have the water biff your eyes,” commented Paul, who had experimented when the others did.

“Why, I don’t know whether I see anything or not! I tried but couldn’t see the white sand-bag,” said Dudley.

“Listen to the nutlet!” laughed Elizabeth. “Why, there is nothing but water to see, ’cause the bag is in the boat. Here, hold this white clam-shell under water about a yard or two away from your nose and then tell me if you can see it!”

Elizabeth handed the clam-shell to Edith who offered to hold it for Dudley or Paul. Paul clamoured for a trial and thus attracted Edith’s attention to him. She had an idea then and there.

The clam-shell was held and Paul dove. The moment he was near enough to her hand, Edith caught hold of his head and held it under water just as he had done to her a short time before.

Forgetting his predicament, Paul tried to scream for help and a flood of water poured into his mouth. Edith soon allowed her victim to come up again, but he choked and coughed so with anger that every one laughed at the case of “tit for tat.”

While this affray was going on, the watchers on the rock saw Fred try in vain to empty the water out of the canoe after righting it, so Mrs. Remington called out:

“Better desist at present—there are plenty of days to try again—Fred!”

Fred did not want to give in but the tide was running down and he was nearly opposite the south end of the island at the time, so Captain Ed helped to empty the canoe and the lad paddled back to the float in a disappointed frame of mind.

When the visitors were ready to leave, Miriam and Trixie were invited to remain and visit Elizabeth for a few days. So they gladly remained stretched out on the rush mats drying their long wet hair in the hot sunshine.

“Say, mother, isn’t it past time for lunch?” called Fred, as Mrs. Remington came from the float-stage after seeing the guests off in their launch.

“Um—that’s what we all want to know,” added Billy.

“Perhaps it is, I’ll go up and see,” replied Mrs. Remington, but the ringing of the bell just then caused a stampede from the rocks.

The ravenous young folks fell upon the pyramids of hot biscuits and clam-chowder as if there would never be another mouthful of food that summer. After three helpings to the soup and many, many slices of bread, besides the biscuits and crackers, Fred warned them all.

“The flag is up!”

“Where?” questioned Miriam, innocently, whereupon the initiated Islanders laughed hilariously.

“I see it!” cried Trixie, as she pointed to an American flag draped over the fireplace of the room.

Again every one laughed, and Miriam thought she knew what it was all about.

“What—tell us?” demanded the boys.

“It’s the same as F. H. B. Family hold back!”

She had guessed wrong so Billy offered to tell the girls. “It means, ‘Save a place for dessert—it’s something good!’”

“Well, who ever thought of that!” exclaimed Trixie.

“Oh, we read a story in a magazine so we adapted it for our own use. In the tale the folks had a flag stuck on the caster in the centre of the table. If the flag stood upright it was a sign that dessert was good, but when the flag was down, it showed there was no need to leave room unless one wanted to,” explained Elizabeth.

“How could any one see the flag if it was on the centre caster under the table?” wondered Miriam.

“Ha, ha! Did you think I meant the brass roller on the table leg?” laughed Elizabeth.

“Didn’t you?” returned Trixie.

Mrs. Remington then explained. “Some people call them cruets. They are a silver, or plated affair, with revolving holders for bottles. In the holder are six or seven holes in which glass bottles fit snugly. They are filled with pepper, salt, oil, vinegar, catsup, mustard or horseradish. The bottles are raised a few inches above the table-top and when any one wants a condiment the revolving holder is swung about until the bottle in need comes opposite the one wishing to use it.”

“Goodness! Did every one reach out and get the bottle he or she wanted?” asked Trixie, sceptically.

“I saw a queer little thing like that for a doll’s tea-set but I didn’t know what it was for,” added Edith.

“It is like everything else—things deemed necessary or fashionable to-day pass into the antiques of to-morrow,” remarked Mrs. Remington. “Say there, mother! don’t shunt us off on a sidetrack of antiques when we are maintaining that vacant spot for dessert,” asserted Fred, vehemently.

“Where is the welcome dish, anyway?” added Billy.

“Patience—Mose will soon appear with it,” said his mother.

Steps were heard shuffling towards the swing door of the pantry then, and every eye watched the entrance of Mose. He carried a deep covered pudding dish and several tongues smacked in anticipation.

The dish was placed accurately in front of his mistress before Mose ceremoniously removed the silver cover.

“Ugh!” came from expectant Islanders and chairs were pushed back from the table without delay.

“What is it?” wondered Miriam.

“Just some old bread-pudding!” scoffed Edith.

“Bread pudding is healthy, I’ve heard,” ventured Trixie to be polite to her hostess.

“So are all nasty things to eat!” retorted Billy.

“We might give Trixie our portions, Billy,” suggested Elizabeth, as she asked to be excused.

“Well, if no one wants this pudding I fear Mose will have to eat it all by himself,” said Mrs. Remington, laughingly.

“Serve you right, Mose, you know how we hate bread-pudding,” added Fred.

Mose stood behind his mistress’ chair grinning but now he replied to Fred’s remark. “Wha’fo’ yo’ all diden’ have dat flag down!”

Every one laughed but Billy, who had gone out by the pantry. Before the laughter had ceased however, he pushed in past the swinging door and carried aloft a great blueberry pie.

Fred caught the dish from his brother and balanced it upon his palms in imitation of a Japanese juggler.

“Friends and fellow Islanders! We have routed the miser who guarded this treasure and now we place this life-saving device before you all to help you recover from the recent fatal disappointment. The question now before the house is, ‘To be or not to be!’”

The pie was placed before Mrs. Remington who laughed and looked at Mose for a verdict.

“It is to be, of course!” shouted Billy, hugging his mother to show how much he loved her just then.

“How! How!” yelled the children so that the lady of the house had to cover her ears.

“Ah wishes t’ offer a sugges’ion!” remonstrated Mose.

“Silence while the proprietor of the pie speaks!” called Fred, authoritatively.

“Ef yo’ each eats a bit o’ dat bread-puddin’ Ah says, let each take a slab o’ my blueberry pie!”

“Done! Done!” promised the boys, and every one sat down to swallow large chunks of the detestable pudding.

“While I am cutting this pie I wish some one would explain why it was thought that a good dessert was prepared for this noon,” said Mrs. Remington.

“How does any hungry boy know what is in the pantry?” asked Fred.

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied his mother.

“By following his nose, of course! When a feller is famished he naturally hangs around the kitchen. That’s what we did and so we smelled something good. By following the trail we saw the deep-dish pie cooling on the pantry window-sill but we dared not snitch it then ’cause Mose was right there, so we had to come in and take our turn,” confessed Billy.

Mrs. Remington laughed as she cut the pie but one or two slices were the fraction of an inch larger than the others, hence the hot argument that instantly arose to confound her carelessness.

Teeth and lips were well-stained a beautiful blue-black and the downward track of juicy pie had left telltale spots on the front of shirts and frocks before Billy stood up and sighed. “I don’t see why it is that there is always so little of a good thing! Now, look at that bread-pudding—a great tub of a dish, and such a tiny little pie!”

The others laughed and Mrs. Remington added, “Well, as you had your pie this noon, there will be no dessert to-night!”

“Say, let’s offer Mose a testimonial for that pie and who knows but he may be flattered into baking another for dinner,” suggested Fred. With such a worthy object in view, the young folks drew up a wonderful set of resolutions and presented it in due form to Mose. Teddy, aged four, was chosen as the courier while all of the others marched in line behind the youngest of the family. As the signed vote of thanks was presented to him, Mose laughed.

“Dis is once when yo’ all get lef’! Ha, ha, ha! When yo’ mah say, ‘Mose, dis bread gotta be used’, Ah says, ‘Yes’m, but dis fam’bly won’t eat bread-pudding, nohow!’

“Den she says, ‘Mek it fo’ an extry dish an’ serb it fust, Mose, an’ d’ blue-berry pie kin be t’ tempter t’ make ’em eat d’ puddin’!’

“Ah wuz goin’ t’ do dat when Billy gits ahaid o’ me an’ done bring dat pie in jes’ es ef it wuz so ordered! Ha, ha, ha!”

“Then that pie was for luncheon after all?” cried Billy.

“Shore thing!” grinned Mose.

“And didn’t you make anything for supper?” worried Paul.

“Jes’ peep in dat po’ch cupboard!” ordered Mose.

“Hurrah! That means ice-cream,” shouted Billy, for Mose always placed the ice-packed freezer out on the back stoop where the melting ice could drain off to the ground.

After an hour of rest, Fred called a class in First-Aids.

Ladders were placed against the bungalow roof and the Fireman’s Lift was practised—Dudley being the willing victim who hung limp and helpless in a faint when the brave fireman found him and carried him down from the roof to safety.

Then the Shaefer method of resuscitation of a drowning person was practised upon Edith. Poles were then run through sweaters and an improvised stretcher made for Paul who was supposed to have been badly injured in a battle. Billy and Dudley were the Red Cross men who carried the groaning soldier away and unexpectedly dumped him out upon the grass.

When serious practice had turned into a frolic, Fred called them all to sit down and rest, but such a thing was impossible for healthy active boys. However, they were stretched out upon the flat rock when Paul asked a question.

“Fred, how long do you think it will take me to swim a hundred yards? By the end of the month, do you think?”

“If you quit fooling and ’tend strictly to work you may. But we have not tried to swim much before this, as the water has been too cold. We can remain in longer, however, as the weather grows warmer.”

“If we would warm up after bathing by running and jumping we could swim in ice-water without danger,” declared Billy.

“We might try that—and do the ‘Hop, step, and jump,’ for a coup and see how it will warm us up after bathing,” added Fred.

Mrs. Remington overheard the boys planning and she now interrupted. “I’ll tell you boys what you might do! You know that bare rocky plateau on top of the Island where the sun always shines so hot? Well, take some sun-baths there after you come out of the cold water. Take an old cot and a spare mattress and leave it there if you like. Besides, you can always use the canoe cushions. By getting tanned all over you will harden and fortify your bodies so that a little chill of the water will not affect you as it is apt to do now.”

This was considered good advice and the boys carried out the plan and resorted to the rock the very next morning.

“In case any one of you should get the shivers after the bath, run to the bungalow and have Mose give you a cup of hot soup—it will warm you through at once,” called Mrs. Remington, as the boys left the float-stage where the others were talking.

That evening while every one sat about reading until it came time for bed, Billy suddenly entered the living-room dressed as Charlie Chaplin. He had not been missed from the family party so the surprise was all the more genuine. He had on a pair of Fred’s long trousers, a black coat of his father’s, a gigantic pair of old shoes from Mose’s wardrobe, and a cane found in the hall-closet. He had cut a small piece of black fur from the rug and attached it to his upper lip with a piece of spruce gum.

Billy was an excellent mimic and could appear most serious upon occasion, and now he threw every one into spasms of laughter by his mimicry of the famous comedian. Before long, all of the audience wanted to act too, so the bungalow living-room became a scene for a motion picture play where fear, joy, sorrow and crime were registered by villains, hero and heroine.

“Say, wouldn’t it be fun to have a character party,” suggested Elizabeth, when every one had to stop and rest for a time.

“Oh, yes! Let’s do it!” cried a number of eager voices.

“Children, you must go to bed! Why, it is fully an hour past the usual time,” reminded Mrs. Remington.

“But we will get together in the morning and plan out some dandy costumes, shall we?” cried Billy, as they all started for bed.

And that was how the idea started which developed later into the Grand Masked Ball.