Meanwhile in Vine Haven Seminary a nearly frantic housekeeper had, as Virginia had prophesied, reported to the sheriff that six girls had started out on a hike at one o’clock of the day before and had not returned. It was then eight in the morning. Mrs. Dorsey’s hope had been that the girls had wandered so far from the school, that they had decided to remain in some sheltered place and return by daylight in the early morning.

Not knowing how she could reach Mrs. Martin, the poor woman had put in a call for Drexel Academy and when Dean Craig replied, she had told the circumstances in such a breathless, excited manner that it was hard for him to understand just what had happened, but he did gather that Mrs. Dorsey wished as many boys as he could spare to come at once to Vine Haven to help the sheriff search for someone who was lost.

Benjy Wilson happened to pass the Dean’s office at that moment, and, hearing his name called, he went in.

“Oh, Dean Craig,” he implored, “I beg of you, permit me to go. Two of the girls, who were to remain at the school during their spring vacation, are neighbors of mine in Arizona and I couldn’t do a thing here not knowing what trouble they may be in.”

“I quite agree with you, Benjamin,” the serious young officer replied. “Take two boys with you, any two that you believe would aid you the most, and ride at once to Vine Haven. You may take my car, I shall not need it.”

Scarcely more than an hour elapsed before the three boys dressed in their hiking togs appeared on the wide veranda of the Vine Haven Seminary.

A red-eyed, though pale housekeeper, admitted them. “I haven’t slept a wink, nor eaten either, and I never shall, I’m thinkin’, unless we can find those girls,” she said, when she had finished telling them all she knew about the girls’ departure on the day before.

Benjy was most courteous. “Mrs. Dorsey, do not be so worried. I feel confident that they are safe somewhere. Virginia Davis is an unusually capable girl, as you know, and so are Margaret Selover and Barbara Wente. I am sure they can take care of themselves in any ordinary circumstances. Now if you will tell us in which direction they first went when they left the school, we will start out at once in search of them.”

Mrs. Dorsey felt comforted by the lad’s optimism and told all she knew, which was very little.

“That Betsy Clossen, she as is always thinking up mischief, told me they were an Adventure Club, and that they were starting out to hunt for an adventure. I said ’twas all right as long as they were home before dark. I stood and watched them a spell and they headed for the dairy farm over in the valley, but, by and by, they dropped out of sight below the top of the hill and I went on with my work.”

Benjy rose as did his two companions.

“We will start in that direction, Mrs. Dorsey. Perhaps at the dairy farm there may be someone who saw them pass.”

“No,” was the doleful response. “The sheriff rode in a bit ago, just before you came it was, and he said he and his men had been there and everywhere in this neighborhood, for that matter, that is, everywhere ’ceptin’ over the Wall o’ Rocks Promintory. The sheriff said there was no use looking there as school girls wouldn’t even think of trying to climb over it. Well, I sure wish you luck. I’ll keep watching out for you to come back. I’ll have plenty to eat waiting for you.”

Benjy was indeed sorry for the good woman who was so crushed by the disappearance of the girls. As soon as the three lads were beyond the confines of the school grounds, Benjy paused. “That Wall of Rocks Promintory is about two miles from here,” he told his companions. “Some of us from Drexel went there last year on a cross country hike. I remember how very steep it was. I have little hope of finding the girls there, and choose it merely because the sheriff mentioned that his men had searched everywhere else.”

Jack Dennison and Dick Beardsley, who were the particular friends of Benjy’s at the military academy agreed that the promintory would not invite the ordinary schoolgirl to scale its jagged and almost perpendicular side. When the top was reached, they stood looking down at the beach that was gleaming in the sunlight. Jack was the first to notice the small hut close to the base of the cliff. Smoke was rising from the chimney and Benjy cried: “Down the trail, boys, and let’s find out what we can from whoever may be there.”

The occupant of the old hut was an ancient fisherman who sat in the shade mending nets. He looked up when he saw the three boys approaching, and, taking his clay pipe from his mouth, he inquired: “Wall, lads, be ye comin’ fer fish? If so, help yerselves. Had a big haul last week.”

Then, noting their anxious expressions, he added: “What’s up? Anything wrong?”

Benjy told of the disappearance of the six girls who had started in that general direction on a hike. Then eagerly, “You didn’t see them anywhere around here on the beach yesterday, did you?”

The old man shook his head. “They might o’ been, now, for all that,” he said. “It’s me as wasn’t here. I’ve been gone down the coast fishing the week past.”

He nodded as he spoke toward the dilapidated dock, and the boys, glancing in that direction, saw an old boat there with patched sail so soiled that it was hard to believe that it might once have been white. “Ye can take The Nancy and cruise along the shore, if ye think ’twill help ye any. I won’t be wantin’ to go fishin’ again for many a day I’m thinkin’.”

“Thank you,” Benjy said. “We will pay you well if we decide to accept your offer.” Then the three lads walked slowly toward the old dock. “If only we had some clue,” Dick was saying, when Jack leaped forward, beckoning excitedly. “Here’s a red feather,” he cried. “Don’t you think it might have blown off a girl’s hat?”

He picked it up as he spoke. “Oh, I don’t think so,” Benjy began, “and yet, maybe it might.”

“There’s a brisk breeze blowing beyond the shelter of the wall of rocks,” Dick announced. “I vote that we do take the old fisherman’s boat and scud up and down the coast. The girls may have been stranded somewhere by the tide. I’ve read stories like that, and they were founded on fact.”

“So have I,” Benjy agreed. “It might be a good bet.”

And so it chanced that the three lads set sail in the old boat Nancy just as the girls, whom they were searching, were sitting down to partake of a fish dinner on an island which could be seen, but dimly from the mainland.