“It looks old enough, and deserted enough, to be haunted,” went on Blake, “though of course it isn’t. We’ll go over and see it sometime.”
“In broad daylight,” stipulated Marie, and the boys laughed.
Then the girls told of how they had been helped by the aged man, and how they had made camp after a fashion. In turn the boys related how they had gone to the end of the lake, where the trains came in, to meet their sisters, but had evidently made a mistake in the time.
“But we’re all here now, and ready for glorious fun,” added Mrs. Bonnell. “We expect you young gentlemen to give whatever aid is needed in time of trouble.”
“Call on us whenever you need us,” urged Blake. “Give your camp cry, or fire three shots from a revolver——”
“Oh!” screamed Marie. “Don’t mention those horrid pistols again!”
“What! Haven’t you a gun?” asked Blake, and he seemed in earnest.
“Look!” cried Mrs. Bonnell dramatically, and she held out something on which the firelight gleamed.
“Put it away! Put it away!” murmured Alice, covering her face with her hands.
“It’s only an ammonia squirt-gun,” explained the Guardian, with a merry laugh. “I saw them advertised and bought one. They are good for man or beast, the paper said. It’s just a rubber bulb on a sort of hollow lead tube. You press the bulb and the ammonia spurts out.”