The call came from the rocks at the end of the water tongue. Presently three sprites appeared. They might have been humans, but to the boys they looked like nothing more or less than water sprites. All three happened to be gowned in white, Bess, Cora and Belle, and as they gamboled over the rocks, making their way to the water’s edge, the boys were compelled to draw in long breaths of admiration.
“’Low there!” greeted Ed. “Wait till I become Ulysses. Hey there! Circe! Not so fast else thy feet will have to follow thy heads!”
“Ulysses!” mocked Walter. “More like Jupiter! Just watch him make the water roll off of his head. He is going to dive!”
Scarcely had Walter uttered the words than Ed plunged over the end of the water tongue, and could not stop until he had actually splashed into the shallow water. The tongue ran to a fine point, and the point was not discernible from the viewpoint available to Ed.
“Whew!” he spluttered. “Circe had me that time! Now, what do you think of that for a new pair of shoes!”
By this time the girls had reached the water’s edge.
“Better stick to plain Chelton and the motor girls,” said Cora with a hearty laugh, in which the other girls joined. “You will find that the myths are dangerous brands of canned goods—won’t keep a minute after they are opened up for review!”
Ed was running the water out of his shoes. They were thoroughly soaked, and the salt effect was too well known to be speculated upon. Jack stood on his head in the deep sand—he was exulting over Ed’s “downfall.”
“Wait! Wait!” prophesied the unfortunate one. “You are not back home yet.”
“Oh, there’s the bungalow!” suddenly called out Bess, who was some paces in advance. “How I wish we girls could camp!”