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.”

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.”