“In case of a large band of Indians,” grinned Dalton, rising from the stump, “there are plenty of cartridges in my tent.”
“Just think,” said Sarita, looking around at the spruces and ferns, “once there were Indians all over this place. I ’spect they liked it, too.”
“I ’spect they did,” returned Dalton, “and I ’spect that they and the white men had a great time trying to drive each other off.” With his back to Beth, Dalton winked at Leslie. “Girls,” he added in a new tone, “whatever happens, I’m going to take one dip with you. Come on. Everybody into bathing suits!”
Beth was already strolling toward her rocks, but one more unusual adventure was in store for the others. It was not quite as convenient as if their property sloped directly to the beach, but the trail was not long to a descent whose footing was not too impossible.
Presently they were on their way, Dalton running ahead, with his bathrobe over his arm, the girls in their coats over their bathing suits, for the breeze was a little cool. Yet the sun was warm, and the lapping waves of a smooth sea invited them.
“Dal says,” Leslie was saying, “that he is going to find out where the deed is recorded and he may be able to get into touch with the man of whom Father bought the place. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back. Let’s get Beth to bed early to-night. It will be easy, because she is ordered to do it, you know. Then she won’t know if Dalton doesn’t get back. Will you be afraid?”
“Very likely, but it has to be done. Mr. Ives looked rich. Don’t you suppose that he could even get the records fixed up if he wanted to?”
“I don’t know. I should imagine that we’d have some account of the recording, some receipt, or something. I don’t know much about such things, but Dal will find out, and Beth, too, if we have to tell her. Oh, if Beth can have only a few weeks of rest, it will be enough! Mercy, what’s that?”
The girls looked back along the narrow, weed-grown trail. A loud clattering on the rocky way announced the coming of a horse at some speed. The girls drew off among some bushes. They were startled to see a great black horse dashing over the uneven ground and a frightened girl clinging to reins and saddle, with no control of the animal. A white face and tight-set lips flashed by, as the horse swerved suddenly, almost unseating its rider. Then it dashed on.
“It shied at us,” said Sarita. “Look. She’s trying to shake loose from the stirrups—to jump, I suppose. My! There’s that pretty nearly straight-up-and-down place just beyond where we go down to the beach!”