“Certainly a pretty resort,” announced Spouter, after dinner and while they were riding around the town.
They found a splendid road along the shore leading to Edgartown and were told there was another fine highway to the westward which ran through Vineyard Haven to Indian Hill and Gay Head.
“You certainly ought to visit Gay Head,” said the jitney driver. “It’s only about twenty miles from here and a splendid drive, and Gay Head is well worth looking at. You’ll find some of the old Marthas Vineyard Indians down there, too, selling trinkets.”
The boys talked it over, and decided that they would have the driver take them to Gay Head and were soon on the way. After passing through Vineyard Haven they struck out through the country in the direction of Indian Hill, and then passed on through the woods and beyond numerous farms until they came out on a high headland close to which was located a government lighthouse.
Gay Head proved to be a series of headlands consisting for the most part of clay of various colors. As the setting sun played upon this kaleidoscope of color, Spouter went into ecstasies.
“Isn’t it magnificent!” he cried. “Just look at the wonderful combinations of coloring—red, blue, green, brown, and a hundred and one shades! I never dreamed they had anything like this!”
Nearly all the boys took the path leading down from the top of Gay Head to the beach far below. But Andy and Randy, more venturesome, decided to find a way of their own.
“Be careful, there!” sang out Fred. “That stuff is awfully slippery.”
“Oh, we’re all right,” responded Randy. “Don’t you worry.”
He and his twin brother were walking along one of the larger of the headlands. There was a shelf a few feet below, and both attempted to scramble to this. But as Fred had said, the vari-colored clay was exceedingly slippery, and almost before they knew it the twins had gone flat on their backs. Randy clutched at Andy, and both did their best to keep from slipping farther.