By Abbie Farwell Brown

FRIENDS AND COUSINS. Illustrated. 12mo,
$1.00.

BROTHERS AND SISTERS. Illustrated.
12mo, $1.00.

THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER WONDERS.
Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.

THE FLOWER PRINCESS. Illustrated. Sq.
12mo, $1.00.

THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS. Illustrated.
Square 12mo, $1.10, net. Postpaid,
$1.21.

A POCKETFUL OF POSIES. Illustrated.
12mo, $1.00, net. Postpaid, $1.09.

IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS. Illustrated. 12mo,
$1.10, net. Postpaid, $1.21. School edition,
50 cents, net, postpaid.

THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY
BEASTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.
School Edition, 50 cents, net, postpaid.

THE LONESOMEST DOLL. Illustrated. Sq.
12mo, 85 cents, net. Postpaid, 95 cents.

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
Boston and New York

FRIENDS AND COUSINS

TOM BECOMES AN OUTLAW

FRIENDS AND
COUSINS

BY
ABBIE FARWELL BROWN

ILLUSTRATED BY
ETHEL C. BROWN

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1907

COPYRIGHT 1907 BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published September 1907

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

FRIENDS AND COUSINS

CHAPTER I
THE WIGWAM

WHEN, after a long winter in the city, Kenneth and Rose came back to the Island which was their summer home, they were eager to see all their favorite places.

On the very first morning they both wanted to visit the bathing beach and the Indian forest, the chasm and the pirate cave. They wanted to know what new wonders had sprouted in the garden of live flowers, and how much their little oak tree had grown. They wanted to see if there were any deer tracks down by the spring, and if there was still a wasp’s nest in a certain spot under the stone wall. Besides, there was the beech tree, where Rose had her summer-house; and the theatre among the rocks, where they used to speak pieces; and the post office in the hollow pine,—and a hundred other places which they loved. It was very hard to choose. But finally they decided that most they wanted to see the wigwam in the forest.

They had discovered the wigwam in the forest by accident one day last summer, and they had seen it only that once; for the very next day they went back to the city. What a pity they had not found it sooner! Kenneth and Rose could hardly wait for summer to come so that they could visit it again; it was such a lovely place in which to play Indian hunter.

This first morning was not a very good one for a walk in the woods. It was gray and misty, threatening rain before night. But the children were not going to postpone their plans on that account. Kenneth put on his Indian suit, and took his bow and arrows. Rose wore her moccasins and wampum belt. Kenneth was sure that he remembered the way to the wigwam, although it was a long distance and he had gone but once.

The forest came close to the back door of Sweetbrier Cottage, and the children entered it by the same path up which the little Prouts came every day to bring the milk. Presently they came to another path, which branched to the right. This one was very narrow and indistinct, difficult to follow even in bright sunlight, but Kenneth remembered it well.

Soon they were in the midst of the dim, gray-green forest. The trees were so thick that there was little sunshine here, even on a pleasant day. They trotted happily along, their feet crunching the dry twigs and springing on the elastic moss. How good it seemed to feel the pine needles under foot, instead of brick sidewalks and asphalt!

The path grew fainter and fainter. It wavered and branched and strayed off in every direction, as if it were not quite sure which way to go. But Kenneth seemed to know where to turn, just as Indian hunters always do. Rose thought him wonderful. She did not remember anything at all except the greenness of the moss and ferns and the brownness of the tree-trunks. On they went, farther and farther.

“I think we are almost there now,” said Kenneth at last. “I remember that old dead pine, don’t you, Rose?”

“No,” said Rose honestly. “I don’t remember. But I do think we must be almost there. It seems a long, long way.”

But when they came into the open space beyond the pine tree, there was no wigwam waiting them. Kenneth looked surprised.

“Well, it must be just a little farther,” he said. And they trudged on. It was growing darker and darker in the forest. A gray veil seemed to be drawing around them, hiding the way. Rose shivered.

“I wish I had worn my coat,” she said. “I think it is going to rain, Kenneth. Don’t you think we had better go home?”

“No, indeed!” cried Kenneth. “We are almost there now. Yes,—I remember that oak tree with the big rock beside it. I am sure we are there now;” and he brushed eagerly through the bushes.

But when they passed the oak tree, there was no wigwam. Rose shook her curls uneasily. “I want to go home,” she said. “It isn’t nice in the forest when there is no sunshine. The trees are full of gray smoke. I wish we had waited for a sunny day.”

“It isn’t smoke, it is fog,” said Kenneth. “I am sure that this was the place, but the wigwam is gone. Somebody must have pulled it down. Perhaps the Indians themselves came back.”

Rose looked over her shoulder anxiously. “Let’s go home,” she said.

“Well, perhaps we had better,” agreed Kenneth. He remembered that sometimes the Island fogs grew so thick that even the fishermen were afraid of losing their way.

They turned about and started towards the little thin path which they had left a few minutes earlier. But where had the path gone? They could not find it anywhere. The fog was creeping around them so that they could see scarcely ten feet ahead. Kenneth took Rose by the hand, and together they stumbled on over the moss and dead branches. But still they found no path. Every few minutes they would stop and look about, and then, fearing that they were going wrong, would start in another direction. The fog grew thicker, and they could hardly see one another. Kenneth’s cap was dewed with heavy drops, and Rose’s curls looked almost as though she had been in bathing.

She squeezed Kenneth’s hand tightly. “Are we lost, Kenneth?” she asked, in a brave voice.

“No, we aren’t lost,” he answered. “We know where we are,—right in the middle of the forest. But I can’t remember the way home. Let us shout. Perhaps some one will hear us and show us the way.”

They shouted as loudly as they could,—“Hello! Hello! Hello-o-o!” again and again; but nobody answered. There was not a sound in the forest; only cold, damp, gray fog came sifting silently everywhere.

“I wish we hadn’t come,” said Rose. “Shall we get home before night? I shouldn’t like to sleep in the forest. There might be snakes.”

Suddenly they ran into something like a wooden fence. “Hurrah!” cried Kenneth. “Look, Rose, here is the wigwam now. I told you we were near it all the time.”

Kenneth was right. There they stood in the very door of the wigwam, which had been hidden by the fog.

They gave a shout of joy and went inside. Yes, there it stood, just as they had left it a year ago. There was the piny roof, the pile of brush for a sofa; the little heap of stones which had been their play stove; the cupboard made of a hollow log.

“Somebody has been in our house,” said Kenneth, like the Great Big Bear in the story. “Here are some pieces of broken crockery.”

“Somebody has been sitting on our sofa,” cried Rose, like the Middle-sized Bear, “and she has left her shawl. See!”—she held up a plaid shawl. “It is nice and warm. I am going to put it on.”

“It is an Indian blanket,” said Kenneth. “And look! Somebody has been into our cupboard and has left something to eat!” he cried, like the Little Wee Bear. He held up a pail full of blueberries, big and ripe and luscious. “Rose, it must be the Indians!”

Both the children glanced at the door and shivered. Never had the Indians seemed so near. It was very creepy here alone in the forest. The fog might be hiding all sorts of dangers which they could not see.

But soon Rose took courage. “I don’t believe it was Indians,” she said. “Indians don’t leave things all ready for lost children. It must be the fairies. I knew there were fairies in this forest. I have told you so, Kenneth, ever so many times. I am hungry and I am going to eat the berries. If the fairies left them it will be perfectly safe.”

“Pooh!” said Kenneth, who did not believe in fairies. But he decided to help eat the berries. The two sat down on the pine-bough sofa and began to dip out handful after handful. And the luncheon tasted so good that they spoke hardly a word for five minutes. The wigwam was as quiet as before they had come.

CHAPTER II
INDIANS

SUDDENLY, outside the wigwam, a twig snapped. There was,—yes, there certainly was a rustle in the bushes. Steps were creeping towards the wigwam. It sounded like an Indian. Kenneth grabbed his bow and arrows. Rose kept very still, but her fingers trembled. They both sat staring at the door of the wigwam.

Stealthily a face came peering around the side of the door—a dark, reddish-brown face, with bright eyes. Then another face appeared; then another. It seemed as if the fog were full of eager faces and shiny, black eyes.

“It is the Indians!” said Kenneth to himself. “At last they have really come!” He lifted his bow and pointed the arrow at the face of the tallest Indian. But just as he was about to let the arrow fly, the head in the doorway moved and a voice cried,—

KENNETH AND ROSE SEE A STRANGE FACE IN THE WIGWAM

“Don’t shoot! I am a friend.”

Kenneth’s arm dropped with surprise, and as it did so a figure stole into the tent. Behind it, out of the fog, crept five other figures in Indian file, each shorter than the one before it. They were none of them big or terrible. The tallest was about Kenneth’s own height, and the smallest was hardly more than a baby. Three of them were boys and three were girls, and the little ones kept behind the others as if they were afraid.

“Ho!” said Kenneth. “I thought at first you were Indians!” and he began to laugh.

The biggest boy laughed, too. “No, we aren’t Indians,” he said shyly. “We are Captain Prout’s children from the Cove. I am Tom and this is Mary. That one with the freckles is Susan, and the three little ones are Bill and Bob and Jane.”

“The little Prouts!” exclaimed Rose; and they all looked at one another curiously. Although Kenneth and Rose had been coming to the Island for years, this was the first time that they had stood face to face with their little neighbors who brought the milk every morning. The Prout children had always been very shy. After they had stared for some time, Kenneth remembered to be polite.

“How do you do?” he said. “I am Kenneth Thornton, and this is my sister Rose.”

“Oh, we know who you are,” said Mary Prout, “and we knew you came yesterday. We heard you yell for help just now, and we guessed where we’d find you. We were right close by. We were coming back to get the berries that Sue left here,”—she stopped abruptly, seeing the empty pail which Rose was holding.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” said Rose. “We have eaten all your lovely berries; but we thought the fairies had brought them to us.” Then they all laughed and felt better acquainted. “I suppose this is your shawl, too?” asked Rose, pulling it off.

“Yes,” said Mary, “but you are very welcome to it and the berries, too. I am so glad we left them here!”

“But how did you know about our wigwam?” said Kenneth.

The little Prouts looked at one another and laughed. “Why, you see,” said Tom, “we thought it was our wigwam. We built it, you know”—

“You built it!” interrupted Kenneth and Rose together.

“We thought it was the Indians,” explained Kenneth.

“What clever children you are!” said Rose admiringly.

The little Prouts looked pleased and proud. The three smallest ones stole out from behind Tom and Mary and Sue, and stood in a half circle around Kenneth and Rose.

“Then we had no right to come here at all,” said Kenneth, much mortified. “We were very rude to walk into your house and eat up your berries and wear your shawl. But we did not know. Come, Rose;” and he started for the door.

“Oh, please don’t go!” begged Tom and Mary together. And Susan and Bill and Bob and Jane said, “Please don’t go!”

“Won’t you stay and play Indian hunter, the way you did that day last year?” said Tom eagerly.

“Why, how did you know about that?” asked Kenneth, in surprise. “You were not here.”

“Yes, we were,” nodded Mary. “We were right over there behind the big rock. We watched you all the time.”

“Why didn’t you come and play with us?” said Rose. “It would have been so much nicer with eight of us, instead of two.”

The faces of the little Prouts lighted up joyously. “Oh, would you play with us?” said Tommy.

“We didn’t dare, then,” said Mary shyly. “But now it’s different.”

Susan drew close to Rose and touched her hand gently. “We know about ‘Brothers and Sisters’ now,” she said. “You told in the letter when you sent us the box of lovely Christmas things that we were all like brothers and sisters together, because we had one Father. So we aren’t going to be afraid of you any more. You were so kind to us!”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Kenneth awkwardly, for he hated to be thanked. “We didn’t do anything. But it will be fine to have a big band of Indians and Pirates. Shall we play Indian now?”

“Yes!” they all cried, dancing up and down like real little Indians. And so they played together. Tommy was the Indian chief, and Rose, Bill, and little Jane were in his band. Kenneth was Hawkeye, the famous Indian hunter, with Mary for his trusty guide, and Susan and Bob were his scouts.

All that morning the foggy forest rang with the sound of war whoops and the shouts of victorious hunters, as the fights raged about the wigwam. It was great fun. The Indian chief knew the woods so well that he could find his way everywhere, even in the thick fog. Hawkeye would have had a hard time trying to find him but for the service of his brave scouts. As it was, they had some narrow escapes from being scalped. But they finally captured Jane-Little-Injun as their prisoner.

By this time they knew, because of their hungriness, that it must be noon. So they called a parley with the Indians, and smoked a peace pipe—Susan found one growing in the forest.

“I suppose we must go home,” said Kenneth, with a sigh. Then his face fell. The fog was thicker than ever, and he knew that he could never find his way home. He hated to confess it to the Indian chief. But Tommy Prout was a thoughtful Indian.

“We have smoked the peace pipe,” he said. “Now we Indians will go with Hawkeye and his braves and show you the quick trail home.”

And back through the fog they went in Indian file, talking and laughing and telling one another about things which were so different in the city and on the Island; for the little Prouts were full of eager questions about the city, which they had never seen, while Kenneth and Rose were just as anxious to know what the Island was like in the winter.

When they reached the broad path by the back door, Tommy and the other Prout children said good-by, and started back to the Cove, because it was late, and their father and mother did not know where they were.

“Good-by,” said Kenneth and Rose.

“Don’t forget to come to-morrow to play with us again,” added Kenneth.

“Be sure and bring your dolls,” said Rose to the little girls. “And they shall all play with my Alice under the beech tree.”

You can imagine whether or not the little Prouts promised to come.

CHAPTER III
THE ANTS’ FIRE-ESCAPE

IT was not quite bedtime; for they had tea early at the Island, so that after the fire was lighted in the big chimney the children might have a little hour with the grown-ups for a game or a story, or for whatever pleasant thing might happen.

Kenneth and Rose ran to get their fat cushions, and put them down in the two corners of the hearth. Kenneth’s cushion was red, and he always sat on the right hand of the fireplace. Rose’s cushion was blue, and she sat on the left.

Papa began to poke the fire to make it burn more brightly, for it was not so big and bustling a blaze as usual.

“Somebody forgot to fill the wood-box,” he said. “We need a nice crisp birch log to make the fire crackle. Who wants to run out to the wood-pile and bring one in?”

“I do!” cried Kenneth, jumping up eagerly.

“Oh, I do!” cried Rose, jumping up too.

“Well, you may both go,” said Papa. “And between you I think you can bring in a good big one. But mind not to trip over it.”

Out they ran to the wood-pile, which was close behind the house on the edge of the forest, where Rose suspected that the fairies lived, and where Kenneth was sure that there were Indians. But neither Kenneth nor Rose was afraid. They were very brave children, especially by daylight.

“Here is a nice little log,” said Rose.

“Oh, that isn’t half big enough,” cried Kenneth scornfully. “Let’s carry this one, Rose. This is something like;” and he seized one of the very largest logs in the wood-pile.

“All right,” said Rose; and she bravely stretched her little arms around the other end. They tugged and they tugged, and they grunted and grunted, and they pulled and pulled; and finally, after pushing and hauling and rolling and shoving it, they got the log up on to the piazza, where it fell with a bang! Out came their father and mother to see what all the noise meant.

“Mercy!” cried their mother. “How could you two children bring in such an enormous log as that? Aren’t your poor little backs broken?”

“I’m not so very small. I’m ten,” said Kenneth, drawing himself up.

“And I am seven,” said Rose proudly.

“Of course,” said their father; “it is good exercise for them, Mama, and will make them big and strong. Don’t you remember the story about the poor little girl who learned to carry a cow upstairs, and so the Prince married her?”

“Oh, how did she learn?” cried Rose eagerly. “Could I do it?”

“Why, you see, she carried the little calf upstairs every day—every day of its life. Of course it was growing all the time, so that before she knew it, the calf had become a big cow, and the little girl was carrying the cow upstairs as easily as you please. Then the Prince came along and married her.”

“That sounds like one of Aunt Clare’s stories,” said Rose.

“What did he want to marry her for?” asked Kenneth. “Princes’ wives don’t need to carry cows, do they?”

“Well, I forget the rest of the story,” said Papa. “But there was a reason; a very good reason indeed, if I could only remember it. There always is a reason for things in fairy stories, isn’t there, Rosie?”

“Yes, indeed!” said Rose. But Kenneth sniffed.

Papa seized the big log in both arms as easily as the Princess did the cow, carried it in and threw it on the fire, which spouted up with a burst of sparks, like a fiery fountain. The bark began to crackle deliciously. Rose and Kenneth cuddled down on their cushions, one on each side of the fire, and watched the little tongues of flame lick the old log greedily. They loved the fire. Usually it made somebody think of a story.

Suddenly Rose cried out “Oh!” so loudly that even Kenneth jumped. Rose was pointing into the fire, and her forehead was puckered with distress.

“Why, what is it, Rose?” asked her mother.

“Oh, oh!” cried Rose again. “Oh, the poor little ants! Do look!”

Sure enough! the old log must have been an ants’ house. The poor little things were creeping out of the holes in it and scurrying wildly about in every direction, seeking a way of escape from their dwelling, which was growing hotter and hotter every minute.

The foremost of them tried to climb down the andirons. But these were too hot, and soon they went scurrying back again. They grew wilder and wilder, wandering about crazily as if they did not know what to do. Their home was surrounded by flame on every side. Some of them tried to jump down. But Rose shuddered to see the poor things fall into the fire or upon the hot hearth and shrivel up into sad little cinders. It was too dreadful!

“Oh, Mama and Papa, what shall we do?” she cried. “I cannot bear to see them. It is just like a house full of people being burned, with nobody to help. Kenneth, can’t we do something?”

“Ding-dong! Call out the fire-engine!” roared Kenneth, jumping up and galloping to the kitchen for a pail of water. Kenneth was always ready for a new game.

“Water will do no good. You cannot put out the fire without drowning them,” called Kenneth’s father. “I am afraid the poor ants are doomed, Rosie. It is like a crowded tenement house, isn’t it?” he said to Mama. “The poor little creatures crowd together like people in the upper-story windows, hoping for a ladder.”

“That is what they need—a fire-escape,” cried Rose. “Oh, I must make a fire-escape quickly!”

She ran to the wood-box and seized a long, flat piece of wood. This she took for her fire-escape, resting one end on the rug in front of the hearth, and the other on top of the log which had now caught fire and was blazing briskly. It made a nice little bridge from the burning wood above the hot hearthstone. Almost immediately an ant spied the fire-escape and started across it eagerly. Another followed him; then another and another, until a constant procession was filing down the bridge toward safety.

“Hurrah!” cried Rose, as the first ant reached the rug; but she stopped suddenly. “Look at him!” she cried. “He is going back!”

Sure enough, back he was going,—back to the burning log. And all the other ants were doing the same thing. One after another they returned up the fire-escape, stopping to wave their feelers and make signs to all the ants whom they met coming down. They must have told these last something to make them change their minds; for every single one turned about as soon as he was told. Presently it was plain what they meant. The ants were coming out in crowds, and each was carrying something white in its mouth.

“The ant babies! They are trying to save the ant babies!” cried Rose. And that is exactly what they were doing. Eagerly the children watched the crowds running down the fire-escape with their precious burdens. Faster and faster they came, and the hearthrug was black with them when Papa took it up gently and carried it out to shake it over the piazza railing. How glad the poor little ants must have been to feel the cool grass under their feet!

They were all saved at last, and it was high time, for the log was now one mass of flame.

“I think you should have a fireman’s medal for life-saving, Rose,” said her mother.

“Oh, I ought not to have a medal,” said Rose modestly. “I only built the fire-escape. But every one of those brave ants who came back into the fire and saved the babies ought to have one.”

“Yes, we should call them Heroes if they had been men,” said Papa.

“They would rather have something sweet than a medal,” said Kenneth, who knew a great deal about sweet things.

“Sure enough!” cried Rose, clapping her hands. “Mama, may I scatter some sugar out there in the grass where Papa shook the ants?”

Her mother said that she might. So I dare say the rescued ants had a jolly banquet that night to celebrate their wonderful escape. But I suppose that the ant babies were too little to share in it.

CHAPTER IV
BEECH HOUSE

BRIGHT and early the next morning a small procession came up the path to Sweetbrier Cottage. It was the little Prouts, making their first real visit to the Thornton children. Tom and Mary led the way. It was the second time they had come that morning. Once, before daylight, they had traveled over the same path to bring the milk for Kenneth’s and Rose’s breakfast. But they did not mind an extra walk of a mile or two. Behind Mary and Tom came Susan, holding little Jane by the hand, and after them trotted Bill and Bob. The three girls carried each a doll, dressed in her prettiest clothes.

It was a great event for the little Prouts. They were rather frightened when they found the piazza empty and no one anywhere to be seen. They had hoped that Kenneth and Rose would be outside waiting for them. That would have made them a little less bashful. They did not know what to do next, so they gathered in a bunch and began to whisper.

“You must knock on the door, Tom,” said Mary.

“No, you do it,” said Tom, hanging back.

“Let’s all go together, then,” whispered Mary, looking timidly at the front steps; for she remembered how once she had been frightened at this same place by the ringing of a terrible bell. So all the little Prouts took hold of hands and advanced in a crowd. But just as they were going to mount the steps the door swung open, and out came Mrs. Thornton with the baby in her arms. From the window she had seen the little Prouts coming. She smiled at them kindly and said,—

“Good-morning, little neighbors. I am very glad to see you. I suppose you are looking for Kenneth and Rose, aren’t you? Well, they are expecting you, and they are waiting down under the beech tree. Come, and I will show you the way.”

THE LITTLE PROUTS COME TO MAKE THEIR FIRST CALL

They followed Mrs. Thornton down the green slope, around big rocks and under the pine trees on top of the cliff, until they came to a huge beech tree, the only one on the Island.

“This is the place,” said Mrs. Thornton. The little Prouts could dimly see somebody moving about beyond the green wall of leaves. But no one came to meet them. “We must let them know that we are here,” explained Mrs. Thornton, and she pulled down a branch of the beech tree which was in front of her. On the end dangled a tin horn.

“This is the way visitors do when they come to Beech House,” she said. Then she blew a long blast on the horn. “Now a little one for the baby,” she added, blowing again, very softly. “There, Tommy, now it is your turn. You must each blow, so that they may know how many guests to expect.”

Tommy blew the horn so loudly that Mrs. Thornton jumped. Then Mary blew, then Susan, and Bill, and Bob. Last of all, little Jane blew. But she scarcely made any sound at all.

When the echo of all these blowings had died away, Kenneth and Rose lifted up the branch and looked out.

“Welcome, eight strangers!” said Kenneth, bowing very low.

“Welcome to Beech House,” said Rose, making a neat courtesy. Then they led their visitors in,—all but Mrs. Thornton and the baby, who said they must go back to the house.

The little Prouts followed Kenneth and Rose into Beech House, and a fine house it was! The great beech tree arched over like an enormous umbrella. On every side the branches came down close to the ground, so that the children were shut in by green walls, like a tent. This was Rose’s summer-house, where her dolls lived. Kenneth often played here, too.

The little Prouts stared around them with grins of delight. Beech House was all ready for a party. In the centre of the room stood a little table, spread with a cloth and set with dishes for eight people. About it were several little chairs. Over in the corner was another table, even tinier, and set with still smaller dishes. At the head of this table sat Alice, Rose’s best doll, and beside her was Matilda, with the broken nose, whom Rose loved almost as dearly as she loved Alice.

“We thought we would have a party,” said Kenneth, “because this is the first time you ever came to see us.”

“And, of course, the dolls had to have another party to welcome your dolls,” added Rose. “Come, Alice, and greet your little new friends.”

Rose brought Alice forward, and she shook hands with the three dolls which Mary, Susan, and little Jane had brought. Now these were the very same dolls which Rose had sent to the little Prouts in the Christmas box, before she had ever spoken a word to Mary or Susan or Jane. So Rose was really better acquainted with the dolls, and with their dresses which she had made, than she was with the Prout girls themselves.

“How do you do? How do you do? How do you do?” said Alice three times (in Rose’s voice). “Come and sit down at the table near my dear sister Matilda, who has only one leg, so that she cannot rise to greet you very conveniently.”

Then the Teddy Bear was introduced. Rose loved him too, but in a different way. He wore a red sweater and a tam-o’-shanter cap. He shook hands with the Prout dolls very politely, and squeaked “How!” like an Indian. The little Prouts had never before seen a Teddy Bear, and at first they were afraid of him, because they thought he was alive. Rose put Teddy at the foot of the table, as he was the only boy in the party.

When Teddy and the five dolls were seated at their table, Rose and the other little girls went back to where Kenneth was showing the boys his camera and his tool-chest.

“Let’s play Desert Island,” said Kenneth. “That is our favorite game. I am Robinson Crusoe and Rose is my Man Friday. Let’s play you are the Swiss Family Robinson, come to have dinner with us. One, two, three, four, five, six,—yes, you are just the right number! You can be Mr. and Mrs. Robinson and their four sons. Isn’t that splendid, Rose?”

“Splendid!” echoed Rose, clapping her hands. “Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, will you and your children please be seated?”

There were only four chairs, and these were rather small ones. So Kenneth and Tom, Mary and Rose, sat cross-legged on the ground. Their chins came just above the edge of the table, which made everybody laugh.

“Now, Man Friday,” said Robinson Crusoe, “bring on the banquet.”

Friday ran to the little cupboard in the corner. It was such a cunning little cupboard that Mary said: “Oh, how did you ever think of building one like that? It is so easy, too!”

“My Mama used to make them so when she was a little girl,” said Rose. “She showed me how. See, it is just two bricks with a shingle laid across; then two more bricks on top, and another shingle; and up, up, up, as many shelves as you like. I have seven, and they are very convenient.”

“We must build one in the wigwam,” said Mary.

“Yes; that must be your Swiss Family Robinson house, if this is our Crusoe one,” said Kenneth.

Then Man Friday served the party. There was bread and butter spread with marmalade, and there were cookies and chocolate fudge, and lemonade in a tall pitcher. It was a very jolly party. Every one was happy. The Prouts laughed all the time. You see, it was their very first party!

When the Crusoe dinner was over, Kenneth had still more things to show the Prout boys, and the girls were just as much interested. There was the express wagon, in which the provisions had been drawn down from Sweetbrier Cottage. But in places where the path was too narrow, they had been obliged to carry it over the rocks in their arms. Rose told how they had tipped over and wasted one whole pitcher of lemonade!

Then there was the ring-toss game and the animal circus. How the little Prouts did enjoy the jointed animals, and the clown, and the funny things which Kenneth and Rose made them do! Fancy it! the little Prouts had never seen a real circus! Kenneth and Rose could hardly believe how any one could be so unfortunate. But the little Prouts said that they had never been away from the Island, and of course the circus never came to the Island, it was so far away from everywhere.

Rose and Kenneth said to themselves that, after all, there are some unfortunate things about living on an island.

CHAPTER V
MUTINY

WHILE the little ones were still playing with the clown, the elephant, and the donkey, Mary and Tom went about Beech House looking at other things.

“What a queer flag!” cried Mary suddenly. “It is not a bit like the Stars and Stripes.” She was pointing to something tied to a stick which stood against the tree-trunk. It was a flag of black silk, and on it was painted a skull with two bones crossed below it.

“Why, don’t you know?” said Kenneth, “that is a pirate flag. We always use it whenever we play pirates.”

“What are pirates?” asked Mary.

“Oh, pirates are sea-robbers,” explained Kenneth. “They used to sail all around the world in fast ships, and they captured other sailors and killed them. Then they took their treasures and buried them in places where no one else could find them. Papa says that perhaps they hid some of their treasure down here in Maine. Did you ever find any pirate gold, Tom?”

“No,” said Tom. “But I never looked for any. Perhaps if I had known I might have found it. I’ll hunt for it some day.”

“We’ll all hunt for it!” said Kenneth.

“We played ‘Buried Treasure’ last summer,” said Rose. “Aunt Clare showed me how. It is a very good game for a sandy beach, and I found ten cents.”

“Oh!” cried Susan Prout eagerly. Ten cents seemed to her a great deal of money.

“Pooh!” said Kenneth. “That was a silly game. We will go and find real treasure,—gold and jewels and things like that. And we will be rich as anything.”

“Hurrah!” shouted Tom. Bill and Bob echoed, “Hurrah!”

“First we’ll form a pirate band,” went on Kenneth. “Now there are so many of us it will be jolly to play pirate. I’ll be Bloody Dick. Tom, you can be Slippery Joe. We will think up names for all the little ones,—and for the girls, too. The girls will have to play so that we can have a good big band.”

“Of course we shall play!” said Rose stoutly. “We shall be the best pirates of all, shan’t we, Mary?”

And Mary said, “Perhaps, when we know how.”

“I say, Tom, you know where the pirate cave is, don’t you?” asked Kenneth.

“You mean the cave down by Black Rock?” asked Tom. “We don’t call it that, though. We call it just ‘The Oven.’”

“Pirate Cave is a much better name,” said Kenneth. “Well, Mama says that we can have a picnic there some day. We children will all be pirates, and the cave is our den. Papa and Mama and the baby will be just ordinary sailors with a treasure,—that’s the luncheon, of course. And we will capture them and take them to the cave. Then we will have the picnic. Won’t that be fine?”

“Fine!” cried Tom. “That will be a great game.”

“We must all have black masks like this,” said Kenneth; and he clapped to his face a bit of black cloth with two holes, through which his eyes glowed fiercely.

The littlest Prouts began to scream. “Stop that!” said Tom. “If you are going to bawl you can’t be pirates. You will have to go with the luncheon and be robbed.”

Bill and Bob and Jane were silent immediately. They felt that it would be terrible not to be pirates.

“Yes, we must all have masks and swords, and red handkerchiefs tied around our necks, and turbans, just like real pirates,” said Kenneth. “See, I have a tin sword.”

“I think I can make the masks,” said Mary, who had been examining Kenneth’s. “I can sew a little, can’t you, Rose?”

“Oh, yes,” said Rose, thinking of the dolls’ dresses which she had made. “I can sew a great deal.”

“And I can whittle,” said Tommy Prout. “I will make wooden swords for all of us.”

“So can I,” said Kenneth. “I have a jolly jack-knife—a real pirate ripper!” and he flourished it in the air.

“Who will be captain?” said Rose suddenly. “I suppose there has to be a captain?”

“Oh, yes,” said Kenneth. “Of course there must be a captain, to tell everybody what to do.”

“You be captain, Kenneth,” said Rose, who admired her brother more than anything in the world. Kenneth brandished his sword and cried “Ho!” ferociously, as though he were indeed a pirate chief.

“Tommy is the biggest,” said Susan jealously.

“Yes, Tommy’s the biggest,” echoed Bill and Bob.

“Well, I know the Island pretty well,” said Tom. “I can sail a boat, too. I guess I’ll make a good pirate, though I never played the game before.”

“But the captain ought to know all about it,” said Kenneth uneasily. “You know you had never heard about pirates until I told you.”

“Well, I know now,” said Tommy, flushing; “so what’s the difference? Do you want to be everything?”

“No, I don’t!” retorted Kenneth. “Yesterday I let you be the Indian chief.”

“Yes, but you were Hawkeye, the famous hunter. That was just as good, wasn’t it?” answered Tom.

“Well, if any one else is the pirate chief, I shall not let him wear my sword,” declared Kenneth.

“Stingy!” said Susan.

“I’ll whittle a better one!” Tom cried triumphantly.

“I’m going home,” said Susan. “I shan’t play unless Tom is the chief.”

“Go along, then!” said Rose, pouting.

Little Jane began to cry. Bill and Bob doubled up their fists and looked very fierce.

“Oh, don’t let us quarrel!” said Mary, in distress. And, indeed, it looked as though there was to be trouble in Beech House.

“Let’s go home, Mary,” said Tom sullenly. “We aren’t wanted here any longer.”

Kenneth stood with arms folded, kicking the grass sulkily. Suddenly there came a tremendous blow on the horn,—so loud that everybody jumped, and Rose whispered in blood-curdling tones the awful word “Pirates!” But Kenneth soon remembered who he was, and that Robinson Crusoe was never afraid of anything, not even of cannibals.

“What ho!” he called bravely. “What stranger seeks entrance to my house?” and he strode to the door brandishing his sword. Suddenly he gave a whoop of joy.

“Charlie!” he cried. “Charlie Carroll! Where did you come from?”

“It’s a surprise!” said another voice, and in came Kenneth with a boy of about the same age, who was grinning all over his jolly freckled face. Rose flew at him rapturously.

“Cousin Charlie!” she squealed. “Oh, how nice!”

“Hello, Rose!” the boy said. “Having a party?”

“They are the little Prouts,” whispered Rose. “You remember, we told you about them.”

“He is my cousin, Charlie Carroll,” explained Kenneth to the Prout children. “I say, Charlie, why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Are you going to stay?”

“Yes, I have come to stay four weeks,” said Charlie. “Aunt Mollie asked me, and it was to be a secret.”

“Oh, goodie, goodie!” cried Rose, hopping up and down. “What fine times we shall have now!”

“I came up on the boat last night with Aunt Clare,” said Charlie. “Uncle Jack met us at the wharf this morning, and when Aunt Mollie said you kids were all down here I ran away and came as softly as I could so as to surprise you.”

“Aunt Clare here, too! Oh, what fun!” cried Rose.

“You came just in time to be a pirate,” said Kenneth.

“Oh, yes! you will be a pirate too, won’t you, Charlie?” said Rose, clapping her hands.

“Pirates!” cried Charlie. “That sounds fine. I’ll be Bulldog Bill.”

“Hurrah!” cheered Kenneth. “We are to have swords and masks, Charlie, and capture a treasure and live in a cave.”

“But we haven’t chosen a captain yet,” said Rose. “Kenneth and Tom both want to be captain, and we nearly quarreled about it before you came.”

The children suddenly looked very much ashamed. “I don’t want to be captain, Tom,” said Kenneth. “You’ll do it better. Here, you can have my sword.”

“No,” said Tom, “I won’t take it. You be captain. You know all about the game and I don’t.”

Then Mary Prout had a great idea. “You be pirate chief,” she said, turning to Charlie. “That will settle the trouble.”

“Oh, yes, that is a good idea!” cried Rose. “We will all do as you say, Charlie.”

“Oh, I have just come,” said Charlie. “I don’t want to be chief the very first thing.”

“I’ll agree,” said Kenneth. “What do you say, Tom?”

“All right,” assented Tom. “I don’t care. He’ll make a good pirate, I guess.”

“Of course he will!” cried Rose promptly. “Charlie is great fun.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Charlie modestly. “I’ll be captain first, so as to settle things easily. But after that we’ll take turns. Now let’s plan what we will do first.”

“All right!” they cried in chorus. Then they sat down on the grass and told Charlie about the adventure which they had planned before he came. And the new captain said it was a very good plan indeed, and that they would carry it out at the first chance.

So the tea-party ended happily after all, and a mutiny among the pirate band was averted.

CHAPTER VI
THE PIRATE CAVE

ONE morning, a week after the tea-party, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton and Aunt Clare went for a row on the water. They had two large baskets packed full to overflowing with something precious. They also took a stone jug and a coffee-pot. It looked like a picnic party. They were very merry, as if they expected to have a pleasant time; and yet, it may be that they had some idea of the danger into which they were about to run, for they did not take the baby with them.

There was no one in sight when they rowed away from the landing. This was strange; for usually there were half a dozen children, more or less, in that neighborhood. Quite recently stories had been told about a band of pirates who had been seen prowling about the coast. Was it possible that these ruffians had anything to do with the children’s disappearance? Mr. and Mrs. Thornton seemed, however, to have forgotten all about pirate stories, and they rowed merrily away.

“Why, this might indeed be a desert island,” said Aunt Clare, as they rounded point after point with no sign of a house or a human being. They passed several little coves and cliffs, the bathing beach and the chasm, and presently they came in sight of a larger cove with a flat, stony beach. Beyond this a rock extended out into the water like a platform. At the back rose a steep cliff, with a black cavity in the centre.

“There is the cave, up under that rock,” said Mr. Thornton, as the boat grated on the beach.

“Oh, what a splendid place for a picnic!” cried Aunt Clare, jumping out lightly. “Do be careful not to upset those baskets; I am dreadfully hungry already, and I don’t want to lose a mouthful of the delicious luncheon which Mollie has prepared.”

Mr. Thornton helped out his wife and pulled the empty boat up on the beach, where the tide could not wash it away. “Now, then,” said he, “I’ll take the pail of lobsters and one of the baskets. Mama, you can take the other basket. Clare, will you carry the jug and the coffee-pot, please? Forward, march! To the cave!”

Aunt Clare began to hum a tune, and they all marched along in time to it, carrying the luncheon carefully; but just as they were about to enter the cave there came a terrible sound,—a chorus of screams and shouts and shrill whistles,—and a band of fierce and desperate ruffians came rushing out of the cave where they had been hidden, surrounding the unfortunate picnickers.

These desperadoes were very dreadful to look at. They wore black masks covering all their faces except their eyes, and some of them had long, black beards. They carried swords and pistols, which they brandished in a very dangerous manner. One of them waved a fearful black flag, with a skull and crossbones painted upon it.

“Pirates!” gasped Aunt Clare. “We are lost!”

“Pirates we are!” shouted the leader of the band, in a terrible voice. “What are you doing near our cave? I am Bloody Dick, and you are our prisoners. Hand over your treasure and come along to our captain, Bulldog Bill. Then we’ll see what will happen to you next!”

There was nothing to do but yield, for the pirates were eight to three. Mr. and Mrs. Thornton quickly handed over their baskets and the pail,—Aunt Clare groaned when she saw these treasures seized by the pirates. Then, after a struggle, she herself was forced to give up the jug and the coffee-pot. Bloody Dick and Slippery Joe, the biggest of the band, tied the hands of the prisoners with a piece of rope, while the others danced about shouting and screaming more like wild Indians than like pirates.

THE PIRATES ATTACK THE PICNIC PARTY

“Now come along!” growled Bloody Dick, “and step lively, or the Captain will make you all walk the plank.”

“What’s ‘walk the plank’?” whispered one of the pirates in pigtails to another with long, yellow curls.

“Charlie says that it is like the spring-board which the boys use in swimming,” answered the curly pirate. “But that doesn’t sound very terrible, does it?”

“No,” said the pigtailed one. “But perhaps there is something more.”

The procession marched up the rocks to the entrance of the cave, led by Bloody Dick, who held the end of the rope which bound all the prisoners together, while Slippery Joe guarded the rear. One by one the prisoners were pushed in, bent almost double, for the opening was low. But once inside, they found a high room, big enough to hold them all. It was shadowy but not very dark, for besides the door there was a hole which went up through the roof like a chimney.

“Oh, what a fine cave!” cried Aunt Clare, forgetting that she was a prisoner.

“Sh!” warned Bloody Dick. Kenneth looked so fierce in a tarpaulin hat and long rubber boots, with his belt stuck full of Fourth-of-July pistols, that Aunt Clare almost trembled. “Silence, till our Captain speaks!” he commanded.

There was no captain in sight, but presently there was a sound of scratching, puffing, snorting in the chimney. The pirate captain, like Santa Claus, was coming down from the roof.

There was a slip and a rattle of stones, and with a thump he tumbled into the middle of the cave. It was not quite the entrance he had planned, and the first word of the chief was an “Ow!” of pain. For a minute he did not rise, but sat rubbing some injured spot upon his person. Then he reached for his sword, which he had lost in the fall, and sprang fiercely to his feet, a majestic figure (Charlie was a tall boy for ten years).

The pirate chief wore a great slouch hat pulled down over his mask, below which hung a beard of curly black wool. A yellow handkerchief was knotted about his throat. He wore a red sweater, with a skull and crossbones on the breast, fringed leggings, and his belt bristled with knives, daggers, and pistols, to say nothing of the huge tin sword which he brandished fiercely. He truly was a terrible figure. Little Jane trembled and clung close to Sue when he hissed through his teeth:—

“Well, my hearties, whom have we here? Bulldog Bill thirsts for vengeance and for gold!”

“Captain,” said Bloody Dick, “these are land-lubbers who were coming to our cave. We have captured them and their treasure, which looks valuable. What shall we do with them?”

“Let the prisoners die,” said the captain, in a blood-curdling voice. “Let them walk the plank; but we will keep the treasure.”

With a scream Aunt Clare threw herself on her knees before the pirate captain. “Oh, good Captain Bulldog,” she said, “spare us! we are so young and innocent. One of us has a dear little baby at home who will feel so sad to lose us! Take our treasure, if you will, but spare our lives. Yonder coffee-pot is solid tin, and so are the knives and spoons. Let such a prize content you!”

Aunt Clare pretended to cry so pitifully that the three smallest pirates began to boohoo with sympathy, until Slippery Dick whispered:—

“Sh! You kids! She’s only pretending. Don’t you know it’s all play?”

Bulldog Bill listened to the prisoner’s words, but shook his head. “It is not enough,” he said. “What will you do for us besides?”

“We will be your slaves,” said Aunt Clare. “We will prepare your dinner.”

Still the captain shook his head. “Can’t you do something else?” he asked.

Aunt Clare had an idea. “I will tell you a story,” she said.

“Ha! that is good!” exclaimed the captain. “You shall tell us a tale, but it must be one that we have never heard before. If you do this we will set you free.”

“Give me time to think, and I will promise to tell you a tale which you never heard before,” said Aunt Clare.

“Very good,” growled Bulldog Bill. “Loose the prisoners’ bonds so that they can prepare our meal. But guard them well so that they cannot escape.”

Bloody Dick and Slippery Joe untied the prisoners’ hands, while the other pirates guarded the entrance of the cave.

“Now, then,” said the pirate captain, “we are hungry. Let us dine at once. Prisoners, prepare the food!”

“It is too early for luncheon,” said Mrs. Thornton. But the pirates began to clamor. Aunt Clare sided with them.

“Let them have their way,” she begged. “Hungry pirates are very dangerous! Besides, I confess that I am half starved myself.”

“Well, then, we must have a fire,” said Mrs. Thornton. “Who will gather wood for the fire?”

“Let the four youngest pirates do that,” said the captain. So Jane, Bill, Bob, and Rose went out to hunt for driftwood on the beach. Presently they were running in and out like ants, bringing it by armfuls.

“We must have water,” said Mrs. Thornton. “Who will go to the spring for it?”

“Let me go,” said Sue.