“Haven’t seen her this afternoon. She said that she was going to write to Mrs. Marsh. I went down to the village for her to get some groceries; so mind you have a good supper for your workmen, Les!”
“We will. I’ll stop to see Beth.”
At the camp they found Beth bringing up her correspondence, which was such a waste of valuable time in this glorious spot, the girls thought. Leslie and Beth planned their meal, which was to be a good one, whether they caught a fish or not. Peggy received her desired invitation before they descended the rocky way to where the row boat was moored. Sarita had stopped at the tent to get her field glass.
They looked rather longingly at the Sea Crest, but their purpose could be as easily accomplished in the Swallow and there was a better chance of catching a fish for supper. Leslie was in charge of the fishing tackle and prepared to lure some unwary denizen of the deep to its destruction. So Sarita said, as she put her glass in a safe place and took the oars.
The bay was calm and beautiful. This, after all, was their chief pleasure.
Rowing steadily, for there was really no time to waste if they caught any fish for supper they reached the spot immediately opposite Pirates’ Cove and its frowning cavern.
“See? There are a lot of water birds now,” said Leslie, pointing to some herring gulls that floated contentedly in the cove, not very far from the opening.
“Yes,” said Sarita, “but remember that they can lift their little feet and fly away from any wave or tugging below.”
Letting her oars rest, Sarita took her glass and began to scan the rocks above. “What’s that sign up there?” she queried, her glass turned toward the left. “Funny! I never noticed it before.”
Sarita lowered her glass and looked at the girls. Peggy was as sober as a judge, her eyes widening. “Let Leslie look first,” she said, as Sarita offered her the lenses.