The Brownie Scouts
at Silver Beach

Soft wisps of mist enfolded the shadowy building.
(See Page 34) “Brownie Scouts at Silver Beach”

The Brownie Scouts
at Silver Beach

by
Mildred A. Wirt

Illustrated

CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY
Publishers New York

Copyright, 1952, by
CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

THE BROWNIE SCOUTS AT SILVER BEACH

Printed in the United States of America

[CONTENTS]

THE BROWNIE SCOUTS AT SILVER BEACH

CHAPTER 1
SAND DOLLARS

“WATCH me dive into that big wave! I’m a fish!”

Vevi McGuire shouted the words as she ran along the sandy beach toward the ocean. In her red bathing suit, the dark-haired, freckled little girl made a bright flash of color against the blue sky.

“Be careful, Vevi!” called Connie Williams. “The tide is coming in, and those waves are strong.”

Now Vevi did not heed the warning of her friend. In fact, she didn’t even hear what Connie had said. That was because she was thinking only of being the first Brownie Scout to get into the water.

Flinging her arms wide, she ran to meet a big saucy wave. Icy cold, it slapped hard at her knees.

Vevi squealed and turned her head to see if the other girls were watching.

“Last one in is a sissy!” she challenged the group of Brownie Scouts. “Who says the water is cold?”

“Watch out!” shouted Connie.

Another big foam-flecked wave came rolling slowly in. Vevi did not turn quickly enough to see it.

Before she could brace herself, a great wall of water washed over her.

Now Vevi was very much surprised, for she had not known that a wave could be so rough. Her feet were swept from beneath her and she fell flat on her knees.

Spluttering and choking, Vevi clawed at the sand. For a second she could not get her breath and was very frightened. She was afraid she might drown.

Then the wave was gone, and Vevi found herself lying in a puddle of salt water. When she scrambled to her feet, her bathing suit was gritty with sand. Her elbow had been skinned too.

“My, if you didn’t look funny when that big wave slapped you!” laughed Connie Williams.

Connie was Vevi’s very best friend, and a leader in the Rosedale Brownie Scout troop. Her blue eyes twinkled, for she always enjoyed a joke.

“It’s not funny,” Vevi protested, rubbing the skinned place on her elbow.

“Look out, or you’ll be knocked flat again,” warned Jane Tuttle, another Brownie Scout. She had long yellow braids which shone in the bright sunlight.

This time, Vevi saw the wave coming and raced to safety. She did not feel nearly so brave now that she knew how hard water could slap.

The five Brownies, Vevi, Connie, Jane, Sunny Davidson and Rosemary Fritche, were spending their very first day on Silver Beach along the Atlantic Coast.

All the girls were looking forward to ten wonderful days as guests of Miss Gordon, the troop leader. Rosemary, Jane and Sunny were staying at the teacher’s vine-covered cottage overlooking Silver Beach. Vevi and Connie bunked at Starfish Cottage rented by Connie’s mother.

Now as Vevi shook sand from her bathing suit, the other girls waded into the water. They were careful though, not to get knocked down by a wave.

Nearby, Connie’s mother, Mrs. Williams, and Miss Gordon sat watching from beneath the shade of a yellow beach umbrella.

“Oh, see what I’ve found!” cried Jane Tuttle suddenly.

She stooped to pick up something from the sand.

“What is it?” demanded Rosemary, running up. Jane showed her an odd-appearing, round, gray object. “It doesn’t look like a shell,” she said, “and it isn’t alive either.”

“Let’s ask Miss Gordon,” proposed Rosemary.

The Brownies ran over to the beach umbrella where the two women were reading magazines.

“Why, Jane, you’ve found a sand dollar!” the Brownie leader exclaimed when she saw the gray-purplish colored disc.

“A sand dollar!” echoed Jane, greatly excited. “Is it real money?”

“Dear me, no,” laughed the teacher. “It is only called by that name because of its shape. Sand dollars really are like sea urchins, having five parts to their shells. They have many hair-like spines or legs, and eat tiny pieces of seaweed.”

“I’m going to find a sand dollar!” announced Vevi. “A dozen of ’em!”

All the Brownies joined in the search. No one, however, could find another sand dollar. Connie picked up a pretty clam shell and Rosemary found one of pure white which Miss Gordon told her was called an angel’s wing.

“I wish the Brownies could gather shells every day we’re here,” Connie declared. “And then maybe have an exhibition of them.”

Miss Gordon nodded approval.

“Perhaps we can, Connie,” she replied. “I thought too that we might study sea life and perhaps learn a little about the birds.”

“And the ocean,” broke in Vevi. “I want to know where it came from and how it got its salt.”

“The story of how the ocean became salty must wait until tomorrow,” Miss Gordon said, smiling. “This afternoon we are to have a swimming lesson. Barney Fulsom, the life guard, has promised to give the Brownies a few pointers.”

“Is that Barney coming now?” asked Connie.

A deeply-tanned, broad-chested young man was walking briskly toward the group of Brownies. The girls knew he was a life guard for he wore a Red Cross emblem on his black bathing trunks.

“That’s Barney,” agreed Miss Gordon. “Now we must all do exactly as he tells us.”

Barney carried a rubber sea horse under his arm.

“Hi, kids,” he greeted the Brownies. “All set for your first lesson?”

“I want to ride the sea horse,” announced Vevi. “I already know how to swim—at least a little.”

“It didn’t look like it a minute ago when that wave smacked you,” teased Connie.

Barney told the Brownies that the one who did the best in the swimming lesson would be the first to ride the sea horse.

Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon decided they would go into the ocean too. The teacher removed her wrist watch, slipping it into the pocket of her beach robe. She left the robe lying in plain view on the sand.

“Now kiddies,” said Barney when the Brownies had gathered in a circle about him. “We’re going to pretend to be jellyfish. Watch me!”

Wading out a few feet into deeper, smoother water, he flung himself face downward in the water.

The Brownies were surprised to see that although he didn’t move arms or legs, he floated easily on the water’s surface.

“How do you breathe?” Connie asked when the life guard stood up again.

“Just hold it,” Barney instructed. “And lie perfectly still on the water. It’s easy.”

One by one the Brownies tried to float like jellyfish. Connie and Jane weren’t afraid to put their faces in the water. They learned to float quite easily.

Sunny, Rosemary and Vevi didn’t like to get their feet off the sand even when Barney held their hands and pulled them along.

“I don’t like being a jellyfish,” Vevi complained. “Whenever I put my face in the water, I taste salt.”

“You’ll soon get used to it,” Barney told her. “Only the Brownies who do as I say may ride my sea horse.”

Vevi wanted very much to ride the rubber steed, so she gritted her teeth and ducked her head into the water. After the first time or two it was easy.

“Lesson’s over for today,” Barney announced after the Brownies had practiced for awhile. “Connie did the best so she may ride the horse first.”

Connie tried to climb on the back of the rubber pony. She could not get on until Barney lifted her up.

“Kick your feet,” he advised. “That will make the old boy go.”

Connie thrashed her legs back and forth and the horse moved with little jerks through the water.

“This is fun!” she cried.

“Let me try next,” pleaded Vevi.

Just then a wave upset the horse, and Connie fell off. Barney picked her up and sat Jane astride the rubber steed.

“I’m going to stay on a long while,” she boasted.

Even as she spoke, a wave struck the horse, and over she went!

One by one the Brownies took their turn. Vevi was the last one to ride. When a wave upset the horse, she clung to his neck for a long while. But finally she ran out of breath and had to let go.

“That was fine!” approved Barney. “You stayed under water a long time, Vevi.”

Connie stood watching a swimmer far out near the pier. She was afraid he might be in danger for she could see he was in very deep water.

“Oughtn’t you to save him?” she asked the lifeguard anxiously.

“That’s Raymond Curry, a guard at the hotel beach,” Barney told her. “He’s an expert swimmer. Each day he swims from the hotel beach over here, a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile.”

“My, he must have strong muscles!” exclaimed Rosemary. “Will we be able to swim that far after we’ve had a few more lessons?”

“I’m afraid not,” Barney smiled. “Raymond has been swimming all his life and has won several medals.”

The children watched the lifeguard for awhile.

He was swimming very smoothly away from Silver Beach. At times his head would disappear from view. But a moment later, it would pop up again between the waves.

“I wish we could take lessons from him,” remarked Vevi.

“Raymond doesn’t care too much about teaching youngsters,” Barney told her. “Figures it’s too hard work. He has a son of his own only a little older than you girls.”

The Brownies were starting to shiver, so Miss Gordon sent them to get their beach robes.

“It’s time to dress now,” she said. “But before you race to the showers, I must tell you of our plans for tomorrow.”

“Another swimming lesson?” pleaded Connie.

Miss Gordon nodded. “We’ll have an early beach breakfast,” she promised. “I’ll tell the Brownies how the ocean got its salt. Meanwhile, I want you all to watch the sea birds. Learn the name of at least one and be prepared to report on its habits at the meeting.”

“I already have my bird!” cried Connie. “The gull.”

“And I’m going to tell about the sand piper,” added Rosemary.

“My report will be on the tern,” declared Sunny Davidson, quick as a flash.

“I’ll tell about egrets,” announced Jane. “I wrote a paper on them last year in school.”

Now all the girls except Vevi had named a bird on which they would report.

“Maybe I’ll tell about a robin,” she said.

“A robin isn’t a sea bird,” Jane reminded her. “Anyway, we know all about robins.”

“Vevi will think of a bird before our meeting tomorrow,” said Mrs. Williams kindly.

“I’ll think of the best one of all,” Vevi boasted.

Miss Gordon reminded the girls again that it was time to dress. She and Mrs. Williams began to gather up their sun glasses and other possessions.

“What time is it?” inquired Connie’s mother.

Miss Gordon had slipped on her beach robe. She reached into a pocket for the wrist watch she had left there.

A strange expression came over her face. The Brownies knew at once that something was wrong.

“What is it?” questioned Vevi. “What’s happened?”

“I can’t find my wristwatch,” Miss Gordon murmured. “It’s gone!”

CHAPTER 2
A TURTLE RACE

AT first, Miss Gordon and the Brownie Scouts could not believe that anyone had stolen the wrist watch.

“I must have dropped it somewhere in the sand,” murmured the teacher.

Mrs. Williams and the Brownies looked carefully beneath the beach umbrella. Miss Gordon removed her beach robe and shook it. But the missing watch could not be found.

“I’m certain I put it in the pocket of this robe not a half hour ago,” the teacher declared. “When I went in swimming I left it lying on the sand. Oh, dear, I should have checked the watch at the bathhouse. I kept it because I wanted to keep track of the time.”

“I can’t believe anyone would steal the watch,” insisted Connie’s mother. “Certainly not while we were so close by.”

Miss Gordon declared that the robe never had been out of her sight. “I’ll admit though,” she added, “that during the swimming lesson, I seldom glanced in this direction.”

Connie, who had been poking about in the sand, suddenly shouted: “See what I’ve found!”

The other Brownies thought that she had come upon Miss Gordon’s missing watch. Instead, Connie pointed to a large footprint in the loose sand.

“It was made by a man with wet feet!” she exclaimed. “See, here’s another—and another! Maybe the person who left these prints stole your watch, Miss Gordon!”

“I think not,” replied the teacher, examining the prints. “These marks plainly were made by a bather. See, the trail goes directly down to the sea.”

“And one wouldn’t take a wrist watch into the water,” said Rosemary. “That would be stupid.”

Just then Barney Fulsom, the lifeguard, came over to the group to ask if anything were wrong. Miss Gordon told him about losing her watch.

“It’s been stolen, all right,” Barney said. “That thief gets bolder every day.”

“Then you’ve had other articles stolen here?” inquired Mrs. Williams.

“We’ve had at least a dozen thefts reported during the summer. Several cars have been broken into too, and a couple of cruisers. It’s giving the beach a bad reputation.”

“Can’t police catch the thief?” asked Vevi. “Once when Connie and I traveled with a circus we helped the circus people trap a pickpocket.”

“I wish the Brownies would help me catch this fellow,” replied Barney soberly. “So far we haven’t a single clue.”

Mrs. Williams inquired how long the beach thefts had been going on.

“All summer,” the life guard answered. “Almost from the day I started to work here. That’s what makes it look so bad for me. Folks are starting to shun the cottage beach and use the one by the hotel.”

“The thefts never occur there?”

“None has been reported so far. Raymond Curry guards at the hotel beach. He likes to twit me and make out that it’s my fault so many things are taken here. He says I don’t keep close enough watch.”

“My loss certainly wasn’t your fault,” Miss Gordon said. “I never should have left jewelry in the pocket of a beach robe. I blame only myself.”

Barney told the teacher that it would be most unwise in the future to leave any item of value on the beach. Lockers were provided in the bathhouse for the safekeeping of all valuables.

“Your watch may turn up later,” he said. “I doubt it though.”

“Maybe the Brownies can catch that thief,” suggested Vevi. “We’ll all keep watch for ’spicious characters.”

Miss Gordon felt her loss most keenly. However, she told the Brownies they were not to worry about it.

“Scamper to the bath-house now and dress,” she advised them. “You’ll have an hour or so to play before dinner time.”

Miss Gordon told the girls that if they liked they might use the free period to watch the sea birds and learn their habits.

The teacher did not think to warn the Brownies that they were to stay close to Starfish Cottage. Anyway, she knew all the girls could be trusted to use good judgment.

Now none of the Brownies lived at Silver Beach. Instead, their homes were at Rosedale, a town many miles away.

At Rosedale, Connie and Vevi were next door neighbors. Always they had been close friends, enjoying many good times together even before both had joined the Brownie troop.

Miss Gordon’s unit was a very active one. With her as the leader, the girls had spent several exciting days at Snow Valley.

Another time, Vevi and Connie had been carried away with a circus. However, that had been an accident.

On one occasion the Brownies had taken part in a wonderful cherry festival. At Rosedale, the troop met either in private homes or their own little tree house which had been built in the metropolitan park. If you wonder how they ever acquired a tree house, read the book called, “The Brownie Scouts and their Tree House.”

The Brownies now raced off to the bathhouse to dress.

Connie and Vevi dressed faster than the other girls. They both took showers, washing salt water from their bathing suits. Then they put on their pinchecked brown gingham uniforms with white stitching. On the right side of each collar was a tiny Brownie pin.

Vevi gave her dark hair a quick brush and put on her brown felt beanie. “Come on, slow poke,” she said to Connie. “Let’s walk up to the hotel beach.”

The girls left their bathing suits with Connie’s mother and started off.

“Don’t be gone long,” Mrs. Williams called after them. “Dinner at six.”

Hand in hand, the two girls skipped along the beach. They kept watching for birds but the only ones they saw were gulls.

Before long, Vevi and Connie came within view of the big Beach House hotel. The waterfront was dotted with colored umbrellas and many bathers were in the sea.

An even larger crowd had gathered in a huge circle on the lawn in front of the hotel.

“Why, what are all those folks doing?” Vevi demanded, stopping short.

“Let’s find out,” proposed Connie.

The children approached the group of people, who were laughing and having a good time. In the center of the circle were a number of turtles. The creatures were crawling toward the rim which had been chalked on the grass.

“It’s a turtle race!” cried Vevi. “Let’s watch!”

She and Connie crowded into the front line. A tiny turtle with a yellow painted stripe across its back, was coming directly toward them.

“Come on, yellow!” shouted Vevi. She wanted the little turtle to win.

Instead of coming on toward the edge of the circle, it stopped short, raising up its head to look and listen.

A spotted pond turtle went around it. Vevi and Connie thought it would be the winner. But a moment later a snapper went around both turtles. It was crawling very fast, much like a creeping baby.

Suddenly everyone began to shout. The snapper had crossed the chalk line, winning the race.

Raymond Curry, the hotel life guard, had been conducting the race.

“No. 10 wins,” he announced in a loud voice. “Who owns him?”

A boy of ten years stepped forward to claim a prize for having the winning turtle.

“Ten dollars for you, son,” said the lifeguard. “Nice going! Now remember, folks, we’ll have another race here Saturday afternoon. The hotel again will offer ten dollars to the winner, and a second prize consisting of a free motor boat ride.” Vevi pinched Connie so hard that it hurt. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

“Ten dollars,” murmured Connie. “That’s a lot of money!”

“Maybe we could win it for our Brownie troop!”

“But we have no turtle.”

“There must be a way to get one,” Vevi declared. “Let’s ask.”

The girls sidled over toward the lifeguard. He was busy and did not act as if he wanted to be bothered.

“Well, what is it?” he asked impatiently.

“Please,” said Connie politely, “may anyone enter the race?”

“That’s right.”

“We have no turtle,” Vevi informed him. “How do we get one?”

“You’ll have to hunt,” replied the lifeguard. He spoke rather crossly, snapping out his words.

“But where does one find a turtle?”

“That’s up to you,” the guard returned, shrugging his powerful shoulders. He walked away before the girls could ask another question.

“I don’t like him one bit,” said Vevi. “His name should be ‘Snapper.’ He snaps just like a turtle.”

Picking up a stick, she poked it at one of the turtles which was crawling across the lawn. It huffed up and bit fiercely at the stick.

“Careful,” warned the man who owned the turtle. “That old boy is a biter. The only safe way to handle him is to pick him up by the tail.”

“I don’t think I want a racing turtle,” said Connie, backing away.

“Only the snappers are cross,” the man explained. “They’re safe enough if you handle them right. If you youngsters want to enter the race, better get yourselves a pair of nice pond turtles. Most of them are good-natured.”

“I don’t think Mr. Curry wants us to be in the race,” declared Vevi. “He wouldn’t tell us anything about it.”

“Oh, Curry’s out of sorts this morning,” the man replied. “It seems his son has run away again.”

Now Vevi and Connie had forgotten that Barney Fulsom had told them the hotel lifeguard had a son. In fact, they did not know anything about him, except that he was a fine swimmer.

“Curry and his son, Jamie, can’t seem to get along well,” the man went on. “Every so often, the youngster chases off somewhere for a day or two. It makes his father very angry.”

Vevi and Connie now understood why the lifeguard had spoken so crossly to them. They thought though, that he might have taken time to tell them more about the race.

“I’d give you youngsters this snapper, only I’m afraid you couldn’t handle him,” continued the friendly man. “Better get a pond turtle.”

“But how do we find one?” asked Vevi eagerly.

“Try Cabell’s pond. That place should be thick with them.”

Without telling the children how to reach the pond, the man walked away with his snapping turtle.

“I guess we may as well forget about the race,” sighed Connie, deeply discouraged.

“And not win ten dollars for our troop? Why, Connie Williams!”

“I’d like to win a race. But how can we ever find Cabell’s pond?”

Vevi had sighted Barney Fulsom far down the beach near Starfish Cottage.

“Let’s ask him,” she proposed. “He’s much more friendly than Mr. Curry. I’m sure he’ll tell us how to reach the turtle pond.”

CHAPTER 3
FOG

BARNEY Fulsom was raking papers and seaweed from the beach when Vevi and Connie hurried up. They were quite breathless from hurrying so fast.

“Please, Mr. Lifeguard,” began Vevi, “can you tell us how to get a turtle?”

Barney leaned on his rake, smiling down at the girls. “What kind of turtle?” he inquired. “A huge one that lives in the sea?”

“Oh, no, we want a little turtle,” explained Connie, “One that won’t bite. And one we can enter in the hotel beach race next Saturday.”

“If you want to win you probably will need a fast-moving snapper,” the life guard replied. “You never can make a pet of it though. The same is true of a pancake, musk or mud turtle. Other kinds of pond turtles are more friendly.”

“How do we reach Cabell’s pond?” Vevi questioned eagerly.

Barney told the girls to take the main paved road leading away from the beach. When they reached Bus Stop 23, they were to turn off onto a dirt road and keep walking until they came to the pond.

“Is it far?” Connie asked.

“Less than a half mile. It’s a pretty walk through the trees. Once you reach the pond, you’ll see plenty of turtles.”

Connie asked if the turtles were hard to catch.

“Well, there’s a trick to it,” the lifeguard answered. “Turtles are fast in the water. If they see you coming, they’ll duck down to the bottom of the pond. I’ll lend you my net and that should make it easier.”

From the bathhouse Barney brought a long-handled net. He warned the children to be very careful at the pond.

“The water is shallow there,” he said, “but if you should tumble in, you’d ruin your clothes.”

“We won’t fall in,” laughed Vevi. “When we come back, we’ll have a lot of racing turtles!”

Carrying the net, the two girls went first to Starfish Cottage to tell Mrs. Williams where they were going. They could not find her or Miss Gordon, so they left a note saying they would be gone for an hour.

“It looks sort of misty,” Connie said, glancing at the sky. “Do you think we should go, Vevi?”

“Oh, we’ll be back in an hour,” Vevi replied. “Come on.”

They started off along the main highway. Cars whizzed past very fast. One driver stopped for a moment, offering the girls a ride. Vevi and Connie did not know him, so they turned down the offer.

Presently, they came to Stop 23 and the winding dirt road.

“It can’t be much farther now to the pond,” Vevi sighed. She was feeling a little tired.

The road wound through low ground, in among the tall, whispering trees. Soon Vevi and Connie found their shoes coated with dust. The air seemed chilly too for the sun had disappeared under a thickening blanket of clouds.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” Connie said anxiously. “I didn’t think it would be so far.”

“Neither did I,” admitted Vevi. “We can’t turn back now though. We must be almost there.”

The children trudged on. And then, as they were becoming very discouraged, they glimpsed an expanse of blue through the trees.

“There’s the pond!” cried Vevi. “We’ll get our turtle yet, Connie!”

Although small, the pond was very attractive. It was rimmed with trees and shrubs and at one point had a tiny sand beach. An old boat was tied to the end of a sagging dock.

Vevi and Connie walked out on the planks, taking care not to slip through any of the yawning holes.

“Oh, look!” cried Connie. She stopped so suddenly that Vevi who was directly behind, bumped into her.

“What do you see, Connie? A turtle?”

Connie shook her head. Without saying a word, she pointed toward a bird with a striking feather pattern of orange-red, jet black and white.

Amazingly, the little fellow was digging and pushing in the mud, turning over small stones in a search for food.

“Oh, I wish I knew the name of that bird,” Connie whispered. “I’d report on it at our next Brownie Scout meeting.”

“It looks like a dove with bright orange legs and feet,” added Vevi in awe.

Her words startled the bird. Frightened, it took wing.

In the air, the colors merged, giving the bird the appearance of a flying marble cake.

“Oh, we must tell Miss Gordon about this place,” Connie declared happily. “Why, it’s simply alive with birds!”

Overhead, gulls were winging in graceful flight. Sandpipers twinkled at the water’s edge on their fast-moving, tiny black legs.

Vevi, however, was more interested in finding a turtle she could race.

“I don’t think this old pond has any turtles,” she complained. “I don’t see a single one.”

“I do!” exclaimed Connie whose eyes were keen.

“Where, Connie?”

In her excitement, Vevi nearly fell off the dock.

“Out there in the middle of the pond. See that log!”

Vevi gazed where Connie pointed. Sure enough, a small spotted turtle was perched on the log, drying his shell.

“Let’s get him!” she cried.

“How? We can’t wade out into the middle of the pond.”

Vevi went quickly to inspect the old boat. There were no oars. Besides, several inches of water had seeped in over the floor boards.

“We can’t use that old boat either,” said Connie quickly. “It would be too risky.”

“There must be other turtles in this pond,” Vevi declared. “We’ll find ’em.”

Leaving the sagging dock, the girls started around the pond. The water was very still. Several times they saw bubbles rising to the surface.

“Turtles must be down there,” Vevi declared. “But I can’t see a single one.”

The girls walked until they were tired. Finally they sat down on a little bank to rest.

“It’s getting late,” said Connie, glancing at the murky sky. “We ought to be starting back to the cottage.”

Vevi shivered, for the air had turned damp and chilly. She would not admit, though, that she was the least bit cold.

“Let’s not go just yet,” she pleaded. “I want to catch a turtle.”

“So do I,” agreed Connie. “But since we aren’t having any luck—”

Vevi at that moment grasped her friend’s arm. She pointed toward a clump of reeds and lily pads directly below where they sat.

A tiny head was peeping out of the water. For a minute, Vevi and Connie both thought that the creature was a snake. Then, in the clear water, they made out a round, curving body and four claws.

“A turtle!” whispered Vevi. “Watch me get him.”

“Be careful or you’ll scare him away,” Connie warned.

Carrying the net in her right hand, Vevi slipped down the grassy bank.

Just as she was about to reach out and scoop up the turtle, his head disappeared from view.

“Oh, he’s gone!” she wailed. “How mean!”

A moment later, however, the turtle’s head popped up again farther from shore.

“I’ll get him yet!” Vevi announced grimly.

She stripped off her shoes and stockings. Then, moving carefully so that she would not splash, she stole toward the turtle.

“Now!” whispered Connie.

Vevi made a quick sweep with the fish net. She felt something heavy hit the circular rim.

“I’ve got him!” she declared triumphantly.

“Where?” demanded Connie.

Vevi had raised the net. The turtle had not been trapped.

“I’ll get him next time!” Vevi said crossly. “He’ll stick his old head up in a minute and then I’ll net him.”

Patiently, the girls waited. But the minutes went by and not a glimpse of the turtle did they obtain.

Vevi began to feel very chilly without her shoes and stockings.

“We can’t wait any longer,” Connie told her. “It’s late and the sky looks funny.”

“Sort of smoky,” Vevi agreed.

Wisps of fog were filtering in over the treetops. The girls could feel dampness everywhere.

“Fog is coming in from the ocean,” Connie said uneasily. “We must leave right away.”

Vevi began to pull on her shoes and stockings. She had lost interest in turtles. The heavy mist went through her light clothing making her quite uncomfortable.

“It won’t take us long to get back to Starfish Cottage,” she declared. “My, I’m hungry!”

The girls walked very fast along the dirt road. However, before they had gone far, Vevi stopped short. A look of dismay came over her freckled face.

“Oh, Connie,” she wailed. “I left the fish net lying on the shore! What’ll we do?”

“We’ll have to go back,” Connie decided. “Barney wouldn’t like it if we lost his net. Oh, Vevi, why didn’t you think about it?”

“I—I just didn’t. Connie, you wait here. I’ll get the net. It won’t take me long, if I run.”

“All right, but hurry,” Connie agreed. “Fog is coming in fast. I’m cold already.”

Leaving her friend to wait along the roadside, Vevi hurried back to the pond. It took her a long while to get the net. By the time she returned, mist was swirling everywhere.

“It took you an age,” Connie said.

“I hurried as fast as I could,” Vevi puffed.

Hand in hand, the girls hastened on down the road. Fog was settling everywhere, blotting out all but the closest trees.

“It’s like being in a forest fire—only colder,” Vevi murmured uneasily. “Oh, Connie, what if we couldn’t find our way home?”

Connie had been afraid of the same thing. But she spoke bravely.

“We’ll come to the main road any minute now,” she said to encourage Vevi. “After that it will be easy. We’re not far from Starfish Cottage.”

The dirt road dipped down into a small, winding valley. Here the fog had gathered even heavier. Hurrying along, the girls could see only a few yards in front of them.

Presently, to their relief, they saw a ribbon of dark pavement ahead.

“The highway!” Connie exclaimed. “Well be all right now.”

At the exit to the dirt road, the girls paused. Landmarks did not look familiar.

“Do we turn right or left?” Connie asked in perplexity. “Which way is toward Starfish Cottage?”

“I remember passing a large white house,” Vevi recalled. “We should be able to see it from here.”

“The trouble is we can’t see anything in this fog, Vevi. Nothing looks right.”

Connie’s voice quavered. Cold and tired, she longed to be snug at Starfish Cottage. Even now, the other Brownies would be preparing for a warm supper.

“I guess we turn left,” Vevi said after a moment.

“Left? Why, I’m sure the ocean is the other way.”

Connie and Vevi stared at each other, truly alarmed.

The fog was settling about them like a damp rain cloak. Nothing looked familiar.

“We can’t be far from home,” Connie murmured. “But this mist is getting worse.”

“And we’re lost,” Vevi added in a frightened voice. “Oh, Connie, what’ll we do?”

CHAPTER 4
THE SHIP HOUSE

NOW Connie was as worried as she could be, but she tried not to show it. She remembered that a Brownie Scout always must be calm in an emergency.

“We can’t really be lost,” she told the frightened Vevi. “Not as long as we stay on the main road.”

“We can turn the wrong direction though,” Vevi insisted. “If we do, we’ll be hours getting home.”

With the mist settling more closely about them, the girls stood for a moment trying to get their bearings.

In either direction, the road ahead was like a gray, dim tunnel.

“Listen!” commanded Vevi. “What was that?”

She had heard a strange, deep-throated sound which seemed to come from a long distance away.

“The fog horn out on the bay!” Connie exclaimed. “That means it’s really getting bad. Ships are being warned so they won’t run into the rocks along shore.”

The girls could not decide which direction to walk. Connie thought they should go one way, while Vevi was in favor of the other.

As they debated, Connie heard a car coming from far up the road.

“Oh, we can stop the driver and ask directions!” she exclaimed, greatly relieved. “Maybe too, we can catch a ride to Starfish Cottage.”

Soon the children caught a glimpse of headlights boring through the mist.

Stepping out into the roadway, Connie and Vevi shouted for the driver to stop. In the thick fog they scarcely could be seen. Their voices apparently did not carry.

Without glancing toward the girls, the driver of the car went on. A moment later the red taillight of his automobile had completely vanished.

Vevi and Connie were too discouraged to say a word. They stood at the roadside a moment, cold and miserable.

“Another car will come along in a minute,” Connie said at last.

Huddling together, the girls waited and waited. Finally, because they didn’t know what else to do, they started walking along the paved road. To find their way, they had to watch closely lest they wander off the pavement.

“Connie, I’m sure we didn’t come this way,” Vevi murmured after they had gone a short distance. “Didn’t we pass a house just before we turned off onto the dirt road?”

“I think so, Vevi. I’m not sure. We didn’t pay enough attention.”

The girls trudged over a little hill. Ahead, the fog seemed a trifle lighter. Instead of being dense and thick, it rolled in clouds.

“I think I see something over there to the right,” Vevi declared hopefully. “It looks like a house!”

Soft wisps of mist enfolded the shadowy building, giving it an eerie, almost ghostly appearance.

“It’s a house of some sort,” Connie admitted. “But I don’t see any light. It—it doesn’t look lived in, Vevi.”

“Let’s find out, Connie.”

Hand in hand, the girls left the pavement and stumbled up a gravel path. The fog was lighter and they could trace the outline of a low, rambling shingle and timber building.

“Why, it’s not a house at all!” Connie exclaimed.

“It’s a little ship! But how could a ship be here on dry land?”

Vevi squeezed her friend’s hand nervously. Through the mist the building had a most unreal appearance. Was her imagination playing tricks?

“Pinch me, Connie,” she whispered.

Connie obeyed, nipping Vevi’s arm so hard she squealed.

“It’s real, all right,” Vevi said, satisfied that she was wide awake.

Cautiously, the girls inched closer. Now they could see that the building really was a house. It had been built though, to resemble an old ship.

The windows were round like portholes. Just inside a picket fence stood a huge anchor, painted white. An old ship’s lantern dangled by the cottage door. Just above it was a battered sign.

Moving in close, the children were able to read the lettering on the carved piece of board. It said: “WELCOME.”

“Friendly people must live here,” declared Vevi, feeling less afraid.

Connie looked carefully about the yard. Weeds had grown very high and flower beds were untended.

“This old ship house looks deserted to me,” she said in awe. “Another thing—I’m sure we never came this way before, Vevi.”

“That’s so. We must have turned the wrong direction when we left the dirt road. What’ll we do?”

“Let’s knock,” Connie suggested. “Someone might live here, but I don’t think so.”

The front door was made of heavy wood and appeared to have been removed bodily from an old sea vessel. Door knob and hinges were of iron.

Raising her hand to knock, Connie made a startling discovery.

“Why, the door’s unlocked!” she exclaimed. “See, it’s partly open!”

Vevi saw that Connie was right. The door stood slightly ajar.

“Then someone must live here after all!” she cried.

Connie knocked twice and waited. The girls thought they heard a flurry of footsteps inside. But no one came to let them in.

“Try again, Connie.”

Once more Connie rapped on the door, this time so hard that it opened a trifle wider. But still no one came.

“Someone must live here,” Vevi reasoned. “Otherwise, the door wouldn’t be unlocked. Unless the place is owned by a ghost,” she added with a nervous giggle.

Connie rapped twice more. “It’s no use,” she said at last.

“But I’m sure I heard someone inside, Connie. Let’s peek in for a second.”

“I don’t think we should, Vevi.”

“Why not?” her companion argued. “The sign says ‘Welcome.’ That must mean we’re to walk right in if no one answers.”

“I hate to, Vevi.”

“Well, I’m going to do it,” Vevi announced boldly.

Before Connie could stop her, she gave the door a little push with her foot. It swung back with a loud, screeching sound.

“Just like on a radio serial,” Vevi giggled. “Come on! Who’s afraid? Not I!”

Connie followed her friend into the little ship house. In the front hallway, they stood very still, listening.

Not a whisper of sound disturbed the quiet. Yet Connie had a dreadful feeling that they were not alone in the house.

“Is—is anyone here?” she called.

Her voice sounded so strange and weak that she scarcely recognized it as her own.

“No one is home,” Vevi declared, looking around. “I don’t think anyone has lived here for a long, long while. Everything’s so dusty.”

“But it’s a darling place,” Connie said, becoming a trifle excited. “Just like a ship inside. Or a club house!”

The girls had tiptoed from the hallway to a main living room.

There were no rugs on the floor or curtains at the porthole windows. The furniture was all built into the walls. At one end of the long room there were two double-deck bunks.

“Someone must live here!” cried Connie. “At least that lower bunk has been slept in. See, the blanket is mussed!”

A desk had been built into the opposite wall. Connie went over to inspect it.

Almost at once she came upon a dusty old Bible. She turned slowly through the yellowing pages. Toward the back of the huge book, her exploring fingers encountered a photograph.

“It’s a picture of a young man,” she informed Vevi. “There’s writing on the back of it.”

Vevi quickly crossed the room to see what Connie had found. Taking the picture to the window where a little light filtered through, they were able to make out the writing. Connie read it aloud.

“Jerry R. Tarwell, 19, lost at sea, Dec. 25, 1934.”

“Why, that was on Christmas Day,” Vevi said, staring at the picture. “He’s nice looking.”

“This old Bible hasn’t been opened in a long while,” Connie added, brushing dust from her hands. “It’s queer.”

“What is, Connie?”

“Why everything. This ship house. The open door. This picture. This bunk that’s been slept in.”

“That part is the queerest of all, Connie. This house looks deserted, and yet someone appears to be living here. You don’t suppose—”

“A ghost?” Connie interposed with a quick laugh. “Don’t be silly, Vevi. You know there aren’t any such things.”

“I know, but I was sure I heard footsteps—”

Vevi broke off, listening hard.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“I—I didn’t hear anything. Yet, I do too!”

Distinctly, both girls could hear a tiptoeing sound. They were certain someone was moving about in the adjoining room.

“I’m scared,” Vevi whispered. “Let’s get out of here!”

Connie nodded. Clinging together, she and Vevi started toward the hallway.

The corridor connected with another room, apparently a kitchen. But the girls had no desire to explore further. Their one thought was to leave this strange old house and be on their way.

As they reached the doorway opening into the hall, they stopped short.

At the outside door they saw the flash of clothing. A boy in blue jeans and a rough, cloth jacket turned toward them in a fleeting instant. He uttered a choked cry as if sharing their fright.

Then, he darted through the door and was gone.

“Wait!” Connie called impulsively. “Don’t run away!”

“We want to find out how to get to Starfish Cottage!” Vevi shouted. “Wait!”

But the boy did not turn back. Leaving the door wide open, he fled into the fog and quickly was swallowed by the gray mist.

CHAPTER 5
AN OLD SEA CAPTAIN

THOUGH Vevi and Connie called after the boy several times, he did not return.

“Do you think he was real?” Vevi asked anxiously. “We didn’t imagine we saw him?”

“Of course not,” replied Connie. “He was real enough.”

“But why did he run away?”

“We must have frightened him, Vevi. Maybe he had no right to be inside this little house. So when we came in, he waited for a chance to sneak away without being seen.”

“Whoever he was, I wish he’d waited, Connie. Maybe he could have told us how to get to Starfish Cottage.”

Feeling that they had no more right to be in the little ship cottage than the runaway boy, the girls decided to leave. Connie took care to close the front door firmly behind them.

“I wish we knew who owns this cute little place,” she remarked. “Perhaps the owner doesn’t know that the door is unlocked.”

The fog horn was tooting again as the two girls picked their way down the path. Vevi shivered, for the damp air had chilled her through.

“What’ll we do now?” she asked in a discouraged voice. “I can’t even see the main road.”

“Listen!” Connie commanded suddenly.

Vevi stopped short. For a minute she thought her friend wanted her to listen to the wail of the fog horn. Then, she too heard the sound that Connie’s keen ears had detected—a crunch, crunch, crunch of gravel.

“Someone’s coming,” whispered Connie.

The girls huddled motionless by the trunk of a huge hard maple, peering into the mist. Gradually they made out a shadowy, moving figure.

“A man,” whispered Vevi, half afraid.

Through the mist, the figure appeared very large, almost a giant.

The man was very close to the little girls before he saw them. He pulled up quickly, exclaiming with a hearty laugh:

“Avast, there! Nearly ran you down in this pea-soup fog, didn’t I?”

The elderly man had such a friendly voice that Connie and Vevi lost all fear. He was tall, with broad, slightly stooped shoulders.

Walking seemed hard for him, for he carried a stout cane. Perched jauntily atop his head was a seaman’s cap.

“Aren’t you young ladies afraid to be walking alone in this dense fog?” he asked with concern. “You might get lost.”

“We are already.” Connie gravely informed him.

“We’re trying to get back to Starfish Cottage,” added Vevi. “We don’t know which way to go. Please help us.”

“Lost, eh?” chuckled the friendly old seaman. “This fog put me in mind o’ the day we were running from Halifax to New York on the John Horner. The fog was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.”

“Are you a sea captain?” Connie asked. She had noticed that the old man wore a uniform with gold braid.

“Aye,” the stranger chuckled. “An old sea dog that’s coiled up his cables. I’ve been in dry dock so many years all my hinges are rusty.”

“Don’t you sail any more?” asked Vevi.

“Haven’t set foot on a deck since my son was lost at sea. I’m an old salt that’s quit the sea—swallowed the anchor, so to speak. But what were you saying about looking for a starfish?”

“Not a fish—a cottage by that name,” explained Connie.

“Starfish Cottage?” the old man repeated. “Never heard of it, but it must be one of those little places along the beach.”

“We can’t even find the beach,” Vevi declared. “Everything is all mixed up and nothing looks right.”

“Now don’t you fret,” soothed the captain. “Just grab my hand, and I’ll steer you through the shoals. We’ll be at Starfish Cottage before you can say Davey Jones Locker.”

Vevi and Connie felt quite safe now that they were with the captain. They fell into step on either side. The captain noticed that Vevi was shivering and made her put on his warm jacket. After that she felt very comfortable.

Tapping along the gravel walk with his cane, the captain led the Brownies to the paved highway.

“Now, we could follow this road to the beach,” he said. “But I know a shorter way that cuts off a quarter of the distance.”

The captain walked along the pavement only a short distance. Presently he chose a path which wound in between clumps of tall trees. Vevi and Connie never would have known that it was there. Their guide, however, seemed familiar with every inch of the trail.

“We’ll be at Starfish Cottage quick as the wind,” he encouraged the girls. “Now tell me how it was that you lost your way.”

Trudging along beside the old seaman, Vevi related how she and Connie had started for the pond to find a racing turtle. She told also of coming to the strange ship cottage and of seeing a boy run out of the dwelling.

“The door was open?” The captain seemed quite disturbed. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes,” insisted Vevi. “Connie saw him too. We shouted to him to wait, but he wouldn’t.”

“Now how do you suppose that door came open?” the captain muttered, talking to himself. “I must look into it right away.”

The path had become very steep. Vevi and Connie had to step carefully not to slide and fall.

“Doesn’t anyone live at the little ship house?” Vevi asked as she paused an instant to catch her breath.

“Not any more.”

“It’s such a darling little house,” sighed Connie. “I wish the Brownie Scouts could hold meetings there.”

“And who are the Brownie Scouts?” inquired the old captain.

Vevi and Connie told him about the Rosedale Troop and of the good times they were having at the beach.

“We have Brownie songs and we do useful things,” Connie explained proudly. “We have a secret slogan too—its initials are HOP.”

Now Vevi and Connie both knew that the initials HOP stood for “Help Other People.” Because it was a secret, they could not tell the captain.

“I’ll show you the Brownie salute,” Connie offered. “It’s like this.”

She raised her right hand smartly to the temple, the first two fingers straight. The ring finger and little finger were held down by the thumb.

“The two straight fingers stand for the two parts of the Brownie Promise,” Vevi told the captain. “Want to hear the Promise?”

The captain said he did, so she recited it.

“‘I promise to do my best to love God and my country, to help other people every day, especially those at home.’”

The captain said it was a very nice promise indeed. He reminded the girls that they had told him almost everything about themselves except their names.

“I’m Vevi McGuire, and this is Connie Williams. At Rosedale we live next door to each other.”

“Now tell us your name,” urged Connie.

“Why, I’m Cap’n Tarwell. Just an old sea dog that’s lost his bite. I like to walk in the fog.”

“Tarwell?” Connie repeated the name thoughtfully. “Why, that same name was in the old Bible at the ship cabin.”

“Jerry R. Tarwell,” recalled Vevi. “He died at sea.”

She wanted to ask the old captain if he were related to the young man mentioned in the Bible. From the odd way he looked, she thought he must know all about the ship cottage.

Before she could ask a question however, they came within the sound of the breakers.

“Hear ’em roar?” asked the captain, pausing to listen. “We’re almost at the beach now, and the fog’s lifting a bit. By tomorrow it’ll burn off and we’ll have a nice day.”

A little farther on, Captain Tarwell showed the girls a group of cottages through the mist.

“Oh, I know where I am now!” Connie cried. “I can see Starfish Cottage from here!”

Even though the girls were sure they would not lose their way again, Captain Tarwell walked with them to the cottage.

Connie’s mother, Miss Gordon, and all the Brownies had gathered on the porch. They were ready to start off in search of the two missing girls.

“Oh, here you are!” Mrs. Williams exclaimed as Connie and Vevi dashed up the steps. “We’ve been so worried.”

“The fog came in so fast,” added Miss Gordon. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Feeling ashamed to have caused so much trouble, Connie and Vevi explained once more about their search for a racing turtle. Then they introduced Captain Tarwell and told how he had brought them safely to the beach.

“’Twas nothing,” insisted the captain when Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon tried to thank him. “The children weren’t lost really. The fog only confused them.”

Captain Tarwell turned to leave. Vevi took off the jacket he had given her and politely returned it.

“So you’d like to have a racing turtle?” the old man asked.

“Oh, yes!”

“Tell you what! If your troop leader says the word, I’ll take all the Brownies to the pond to hunt for turtles. Blast my barnacles, I will!”

“Oh, may we go?” cried Vevi.

“Tomorrow?” demanded Connie.

Miss Gordon laughed and said she would think the matter over.

That night, the Brownies sat around a fire at Starfish Cottage, singing songs and telling stories.

The walls fairly rocked as the girls warbled:

“We’re the Brownies, here’s our aim,

Lend a hand and play the game!”

Everyone plied Vevi and Connie with questions about their adventure in the fog. They tried very hard to describe the strange little house they had discovered beside the road.

“I never heard of a house built like a ship!” exclaimed Rosemary in awe.

“You say no one appeared to be living there, and yet the door was open!” added Jane.

“And a boy ran out while you were there!” commented Sunny Davidson. “Maybe you imagined it.”

Vevi and Connie became indignant at such a suggestion.

“We did not imagine it!” they declared together. “The captain was real enough, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, he was real,” Jane agreed with a shrug. “But he didn’t say anything about a little ship house. Fog, they say, gives rise to strange fancies.”

Now Vevi and Connie were very annoyed. Jane, they felt, was putting on airs. She wanted the other Brownies to believe that they had been confused.

“Another thing,” Jane went on, “it seems funny to me that Captain Tarwell would have the same name as the one written in the Bible.”

“Well, it’s so!” Vevi declared. “At least the last name was the same. You heard him tell Mrs. Williams he was Captain Tarwell.”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Jane. She flashed a very wise smile. “But did anyone hear him mention a little house?”

“One with ‘Welcome’ over the door?” giggled Sunny.

“He didn’t have a chance,” retorted Vevi hotly.

“Oh, yes, he did,” insisted Jane. “He was here quite a while. You mentioned the little house once, Vevi, and he gave you a very odd look. I think he knew you had imagined the whole thing!”

“Oh,” gasped Vevi. “Connie and I will prove to you that the little house is as real as Starfish Cottage!”

“And that it’s built to look like a ship,” added Connie.

“How?”

“We’ll take you there,” Connie offered. “We’ll take all the Brownies. That is, if Miss Gordon says we may.”

The Brownie Scout leader, who had been listening to the heated debate, smiled and nodded.

“What better way to settle the question?” she laughed. “As soon as the fog disappears, we’ll all go together to see what we can learn.”

CHAPTER 6
HOUSE IN THE MIST

WISPY fog still hung over Silver Beach when Connie and Vevi awoke next morning.

The mist, though, had started to burn off by the time they had finished breakfast. Eagerly they ran next door to see how many Brownies were awake at Oriole Cottage.

“Let’s start for the little ship house right away!” urged Vevi, bursting in upon the group.

However, Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams had made other plans. A picnic had been scheduled at the hotel beach.

Observing Vevi’s disappointment at the announcement, Miss Gordon promised her that later in the day they would try to hike to the cottage.

Quickly the girls made their own beds and helped with the dishes. Before they were through, Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams had the lunches packed.

By the time the Brownies reached the hotel beach the sun was shining quite bravely. Nevertheless, Miss Gordon decided it was a little too cold for comfortable swimming.

“We’ll have our bird session first,” she announced. “Who will make the first report?”

Sunny Davidson wanted to be the first to offer her talk. That was because she had switched from a tern to a gull. She was afraid Connie would get ahead of her if she delayed the report.

“I’m going to tell about the herring gull,” she announced quickly. “He sits on piers, rocks and buoys when he isn’t flying around looking for food. He’s a noisy bird too.”

“We knew all that before,” said Vevi. She was a bit rude because she had wanted to tell about a gull herself.

“Sometimes one sees brown or speckled gulls,” went on Sunny, paying no attention to Vevi. “They’re the young gulls. When they become adults they turn white. Some of them have a little gray, black or blue in their plumage.”

“And did you notice the color of the gull’s legs?” questioned Miss Gordon. “That is most important in identifying a herring gull.”

Sunny had failed to notice the gull’s legs. But at that moment one of the big fat birds flew lazily overhead. “Why, they’re real pale!” Sunny exclaimed. “Sort of flesh colored.”

“That’s exactly right,” approved the Brownie Scout leader. “Your report was excellent, Sunny. I’ll reward you by giving you a few crumbs to toss out on the water.”

Sunny broke up a slice of bread the teacher gave her. She tossed several of the small pieces far out into the waves.

The next instant the Brownies heard a loud “squawk, squawk.” Down dived the big white gull, flapping its wings as it seized the bread.

“Oh, let me throw the next piece!” pleaded Vevi.

Miss Gordon gave her a chunk which she hurled into the waves. This time, not one gull, but two came after the food.

The loud squawking of the birds also brought Raymond Curry, the life guard.

“You’re not supposed to feed the gulls here,” he scolded the children.

“It was my fault for I gave them the bread,” Miss Gordon apologized. “I’m very sorry.”

The Brownies gathered in a semi-circle again to resume their bird talks.

Jane’s turn came next. She told about the tern, describing it as one of the most graceful birds she had ever seen.

“They look like large black-capped swallows,” she told the Brownies. “When they fish, they’re faster than a gull, plunging head-first into the water.”

Jane went on to describe the common type tern as a white bird with an orange-red bill. It was much smaller and thinner than the average gull.

Connie told about the turnstone she and Vevi had seen at the pond. Rosemary gave a long talk on the habits of the spotted sandpiper.

“Now it’s your turn, Vevi,” said Miss Gordon. “What bird will you tell us about?”

Vevi had made no preparation for the talk. She thought very fast.

“I’ll tell about a blackbird,” she announced.

The other Brownies hooted.

“A blackbird isn’t a water bird,” Jane said, flipping her long braids. “I guess you’ve been paying too much attention to turtles and little houses to think of the assignment.”

“No such thing,” Vevi defended herself. “I just didn’t have time, that’s all.”

“It really doesn’t matter,” said Miss Gordon quickly. “Vevi can make her report at our next beach meeting. At any rate, I had planned today to tell you how the ocean got its salt.”

“Vevi’s a tail-ender, all the same,” Jane teased. “I’ll bet she won’t have a report at the next meeting either.”

“You just wait and see!” Vevi retorted.

Miss Gordon began to tell the girls about the ocean. The Atlantic, she said, had more salt than most large bodies of water.

“Rivers are largely responsible,” she went on. “Can anyone guess why?”

No one could answer so Miss Gordon told the girls that each year the rivers carried large quantities of soluble mineral matter to the sea.

“Salt doesn’t dissolve easily. Therefore, each year the amount in the ocean keeps increasing.”

“Some day will the entire ocean be a big bed of salt?” asked Rosemary anxiously.

“No, the rivers never could carry that much,” Miss Gordon smiled.

Jane, who had noticed a jellyfish on the beach that morning, asked the teacher to tell about them.

“Their bodies consist of a jelly-like substance,” Miss Gordon explained. “They have no skeleton. Some types have stinging cells.” “I know because I stepped on one!” cried Connie. “How do they move through the water when they have no legs or fins?”

“By muscular tissue action. Oh, that reminds me! We’re to have a jellyfish hunt this morning.”

Jane looked troubled. “I don’t like jellyfish,” she announced. “I wouldn’t pick up one for anything in the world.”

“Neither would I,” shuddered Sunny. “I’d rather look for sand dollars.”

“Wait until you see our jellyfish,” laughed Miss Gordon.

Now, unknown to the Brownie Scouts, she and Connie’s mother had filled balloons with water, tying them securely with string. The balloons were every color of the rainbow. After Miss Gordon had dropped them into the shallow water, they did gleam like real jellyfish.

“A prize to the Brownie who finds the most jellyfish!” Miss Gordon spurred the girls on.

With shouts of laughter, the Brownies dashed into the water. The waves were tossing the jellyfish about, and it wasn’t easy to find them.

Rosemary got her hands on the first one, a yellow balloon. But when she lifted it out of the water, it slipped from her fingers. A wave swept it toward Jane, who grabbed it and held on.

“It’s my jellyfish!” she cried.

Vevi managed to get a balloon next and then Connie was able to seize one. In getting it though, she pierced the rubber with her fingernail. The water oozed out and she held only a flat piece of rubber.

“Connie’s got an old dead jellyfish!” Sunny Davidson teased. “Does that count, Miss Gordon?”

Before the teacher could answer, the Brownies saw Raymond Curry, the life guard striding down the sand. He looked very grim, as if displeased.

“What goes on here?” he demanded of the children.

“We’re hunting jellyfish,” Jane informed him. “I’m the leader because I just found another! That makes me two!”

“Hunting jellyfish!” the lifeguard retorted. “Littering up the beach, you mean. I don’t allow you to toss wet balloons around. We don’t permit picnics here either.”

Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams had come up by this time. They apologized to the guard, assuring him that they would pick up all the scattered balloons. “We didn’t know about the rule against picnics,” Mrs. Williams added. “We’ve been having them at the cottage beach. Barney Fulsom, the guard there, never objected.”

“Well, Barney doesn’t care if his beach looks like a garbage dump,” the hotel guard replied. “We’re more particular here.”

Miss Gordon, Mrs. Williams and the Brownies thought Raymond Curry was being most unfair. They were willing to obey all the rules. However, they had not scattered balloons or paper plates.

“Mr. Fulsom’s beach is nice,” Vevi said. “It’s as clean as this one!”

Mrs. Williams gave her a quick glance, so Vevi did not say any more. But she and all the other girls were provoked that the hotel guard had spoiled their morning’s fun.

“Who wins the prize?” Jane asked as they began gathering up their belongings.

“I guess you do,” Miss Gordon said. From her beach kit, she removed a curious object and gave it to Jane.

“Oh, it’s a starfish!” Jane cried in delight.

“I found it on the beach this morning,” Miss Gordon said. “If we have a little exhibition of shells and sea animals, you can include it.”

“Oh, I shall!” Jane’s eyes shone. “But after the exhibition, is it mine to keep?”

The Brownie leader assured her that it was.

“Where will we have our exhibition?” Vevi inquired as the girls trudged back to the cottage beach.

“We’ll find a place,” Miss Gordon promised.

Vevi had been thinking about the little ship cottage. She remarked that it would be nice to have the exhibition there.

“I don’t believe you and Connie ever saw such a place!” Jane challenged again.

“We did too!” Vevi retorted. “What’s more, we’ll prove it, if Miss Gordon will let us!”

The girls began to tease the Brownie leader to take them on the promised hike into the hills.

“This morning?” she asked dubiously.

“Just as soon as we’ve eaten our lunch,” Rosemary pleaded.

The teacher allowed herself to be persuaded. At the cottage beach, the children spread out the lunch. After the meal, they carefully gathered up all the paper plates, disposing of them in a trash can.

“I like this beach much better than the one at the hotel,” Vevi announced. “And I like Barney better than Mr. Curry too!”

All the Brownies said they felt the same way.

“I’m sure Mr. Curry doesn’t mean to be unkind,” Mrs. Williams declared. “He’s had trouble with his son, I understand. The boy ran away for a day or so. I believe he came back again though.”

Lunch over, the Brownies dressed in hiking clothes and stout shoes. With Vevi and Connie leading the party, they all set off at a brisk pace along the paved highway.

“Wouldn’t it be dreadful if we couldn’t find the little house again?” Vevi whispered to Connie. “We’d never live it down!”

“Without the mist, everything looks different,” Connie replied uneasily.

Soon the girls came to the dirt road which turned off toward the pond.

Vevi and Connie paused, uncertain which way to go.

“I think we keep on walking straight down the highway,” Connie decided at last.

“Don’t you know?” demanded Jane, who had overheard. “I’m not sure,” Connie admitted. “In the fog, we couldn’t tell where we were walking.”

She and Vevi went on, looking hard along both sides of the road. Tall trees loomed as far ahead as they could see.

“We may as well turn back,” Jane said impatiently. “I guess this proves who was right.”

“We haven’t walked far yet,” Miss Gordon remarked. “Besides, I think I see something that looks like a house set back among the trees on the left hand side of the road.”

“That’s it!” cried Vevi. “The little ship house!”

The Brownies hadn’t believed that the cottage could be real. Now that they saw it was, they became very excited.

With Vevi and Connie leading the way, they all started to run up the gravel path. Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams were hard pressed to keep up with the girls.

“Now who was right?” Vevi demanded of the crestfallen Jane.

“Oh, I guess the cottage is real enough,” Jane admitted grudgingly. “I was only teasing.”

“It looks as if it had come from the pages of a picture book!” declared Sunny. “How wonderful if no one owns it! Then we could use the place for our shell exhibitions.”

“And sleep here overnight,” Connie added. “It has bunks and everything.”

“Wait until you see the inside!” Vevi laughed.

Eager to show the other Brownies, she raced on ahead.

At the entrance, she halted suddenly. The door remained closed as she and Connie had left it the previous afternoon.

But there had been a change.

Across the crack of the door had been placed a metal bar. With a sinking heart, Vevi realized she never would be able to show the Brownies the inside of the cottage. For attached to the metal bar was a huge padlock which had been snapped shut.

CHAPTER 7
THE LOCKED DOOR

“WHY, it’s locked!” Vevi exclaimed, rattling the padlock. “We can’t get in.”

“The owner must have been here since yesterday,” agreed Connie. She too was disappointed. “He must have found the door open and locked it.”

The Brownies circled the little house several times, peeping through the porthole windows. Plainly, the cottage was deserted.

“This place would be ideal for our shell exhibition,” declared Rosemary. “And what grand cook-outs we could have here!”

Miss Gordon reminded the Brownies that the cottage did not belong to them.

“Since we don’t even know the owner, we may as well forget it,” she advised.

The Brownies did not want to forget the ship cottage. Reluctant to leave, they wandered about the grounds for a while. The back yard sloped down to the cliffs which overlooked the ocean.

“Why, one can see Starfish Cottage from here!” exclaimed Connie.

“The beach too, and the docks,” agreed Sunny. “Looking down from here is like being in an airplane.”

The little girl never had been in one. She imagined though that scenery would look much the same if one were high in the sky.

After the girls had left the cliff, Vevi pleaded with Miss Gordon to let the Brownies hike on to Cabell’s pond.

“Turtles?” asked the teacher, smiling.

“To see the birds,” Vevi answered quickly.

Both Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams thought the hike would be worth while. The matter was put to a vote. Everyone was in favor of making the trip on to the pond.

Vevi and Connie knew the way well now that there was no fog to confuse them. Without once hesitating, they led the troop to the tiny body of water off the winding, dirt road.

“Oh, someone’s here ahead of us!” exclaimed Vevi.

A boatman was fishing in the center of the pond. Apparently, he was having no luck. At any rate, upon seeing the children, he rowed in.

“Catch anything?” Vevi demanded, running up to peer into the bottom of the boat.

“Nothing except turtles,” the fisherman replied in disgust. “They’re a nuisance in this pond. Always taking your bait.”

“I wish I could catch one,” Vevi said quickly. “I’d give anything in the world if I could. You know what I’d do with him? I’d race him at the hotel beach!”

The fisherman smiled. He seemed to like Vevi for after asking her several questions about the race, he said:

“It’s easy enough to get a turtle. The trick when you’re fishing at this pond, is not to get one. Jump into my boat and we’ll have a turtle in nothing flat.”

Vevi made a scramble for the boat and so did all the other Brownies. The fisherman had to tell them to get out again.

“I can’t take you all,” he said. “Only two may go. The little girl who wants the turtle and you.” He pointed to Sunny.

Sunny and Vevi jumped into the boat and the fisherman pushed off. He did not row out very far.

“Now you’ll have to be quiet, or we’ll never get a turtle,” he warned the pair.

Hardly moving the oars, the fisherman eased the boat into a little reedy cove. Vevi and Sunny looked sharp, but they could not see a single turtle.

For awhile, the fisherman sat motionless in the boat, just watching the water. Vevi and Sunny began to grow tired. They thought the man was wasting a lot of time.

“There’s one!” he whispered suddenly.

“Where?” demanded Vevi.

In her eagerness to see, she turned around fast and struck the oars. They clattered loudly.

“He’s gone now,” said the fisherman. “You’ll have to be quiet if you want to catch one.”

Vevi and Sunny kept as still as they could. The sun beat down on them and they were rather uncomfortable. They began to think they never would see another turtle.

Then the fisherman without saying a word, pointed a few yards ahead of them. At first Vevi and Sunny didn’t see anything unusual. Then they noticed a black head peeping up amid the lily pads.

The fisherman eased the boat forward. While it drifted, he picked up a net from the bottom of the craft.

So fast that Vevi and Sunny were astonished, he swished the net into the water directly under the turtle.

“Got him,” he announced triumphantly.

Wrapped in the folds of the net was a spotted turtle. It clawed at the netting trying to escape.

“He’s not too likely a specimen,” declared the fisherman. “But at least he’s a turtle you can enter in the race. Now we’ll get one for the little girl with the big smile.”

“Oh, I don’t want one, please,” said Sunny. She was afraid of turtles. “I’d rather have a water lily.”

The fisherman shoved the boat into the water lily pads. Sunny picked her own flower. The stem was tough though and she had to pull very hard.

Vevi was too busy looking after the turtle to think about flowers. The fisherman showed her how to hold it so she would not be bitten.

The turtle though, would not hold still. He kept squirming and squirming. The shell was wet and slippery and Vevi finally dropped him into the bottom of the boat.

“Don’t you dare let him get near me!” squealed Sunny, edging away.

The turtle had fallen upon his back. But he used his long neck to lift himself up and flip over on his feet again. Vevi picked him up before he could crawl toward Sunny.

All the Brownies were waiting when the boat reached shore.

“You don’t know what you missed!” Jane called out before Vevi could show her turtle.

“We saw a wonderful bird,” added Connie, her eyes shining. “It had long legs like a stork.”

Vevi thought at first that the girls were only teasing her. Then she realized that they really were excited.

“Who cares about an old bird?” she replied. “I’d rather catch a turtle any day.”

Miss Gordon told the girls that the bird the Brownies had seen was a great blue heron, rarely observed in the area.

“It had a neck like a flat ‘S’ loop,” Jane described the bird. “And a funny long tailpiece on its head. When we saw it, it was standing in the edge of the water looking for crayfish.”

Miss Gordon told the girls that herons belonged to a group of birds called waders. For that reason, she explained, they had long legs, and long necks and sharp bills with which to search for food.

“Want to see my turtle?” Vevi offered. “I’d rather look for another heron,” declared Jane, running off.

The other Brownies followed her.

Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams both admired the spotted turtle. But they warned Vevi it would require a great deal of work to look after it properly.

“I don’t mind,” replied Vevi. “I’ll make a little pen and feed and water my turtle every day. I’m going to name him ‘Lightning.’ He’ll win the race for the Brownies!”

Vevi dropped her turtle lightly on the ground to see how fast he would go. He crawled very slowly, then faster and faster toward the water.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Vevi laughed, running after him. “You don’t get away from me!”

She recaptured the turtle and held him for awhile. By this time the other Brownies were having fun exploring along shore. Vevi would have liked to join them, but was afraid to leave the turtle for fear of losing him.

She decided to put Lightning in the boat for awhile. But the fisherman already had overturned it on shore. As he started to leave the pond, he warned the girls never to use the boat in his absence.

“We won’t,” Vevi promised. “Brownie Scouts are honor bright. They never take property that doesn’t belong to them.”

Sunny, who had come up behind Vevi, heard her remark.

“Why, we didn’t even try to get into the little ship cottage,” she added earnestly. “And we wanted to dreadfully.”

The fisherman did not know what the children meant, so they told him about the cottage built to resemble a ship.

“Oh, you mean Captain Tarwell’s place!” he exclaimed.

The name took Vevi by surprise. “Is that who owns it?” she asked quickly.

“Yes,” replied the fisherman. “He’s a retired sea captain. These days he doesn’t do much except act as a caretaker and guard at the Yacht Club docks. One occasionally sees him walking along the shore or through the hills—always by himself.”

“Connie and I met him in the fog,” Vevi said. “He didn’t tell us though, that he owned the cute little house.”

“Captain Tarwell isn’t one to talk about his personal affairs. He’s never been quite as cheerful since his son was lost at sea.”

The fisherman then went on to explain that since the cottage had been built no one ever had lived there. Captain Tarwell had constructed it with his own hands, intending it as a home for himself and his only son, Jerry. After the boy’s drowning, he had locked the doors, refusing even to rent the place.

“Maybe Jerry isn’t really dead,” said Vevi. “Perhaps someday he’ll come back.”

The fisherman shook his head as he gathered up his fishing equipment.

“Jerry never will return,” he said. “His drowning was well established. Captain Tarwell ought to try to forget the past.”

Now Vevi and Sunny felt very sorry for the kindly old sea captain. Nevertheless, they considered it a shame that he would not allow anyone to live in the little cottage.

“Captain Tarwell must have put up the padlock after Connie and I told him about the door being unlocked,” Vevi said thoughtfully. “I suppose he doesn’t want us going there any more.”

Very shortly after the fisherman had left the pond, Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon announced that it was time for the Brownies to leave also.

Vevi was ready to go, because she was having trouble with the turtle. Whenever she would put him down, even for a minute, off he would start for the water.

Lightning would be plenty of work, Vevi realized. Not only would she have to make him a pen, but she would need to feed him each day.

“What do turtles eat?” she asked Connie’s mother.

Mrs. Williams told her she could buy turtle food at the store, if she wished. Or she might feed her pet bits of raw meat, fish and lettuce leaves.

A half hour later, back at Starfish Cottage again, Vevi looked around to see what she could use for a turtle pen. Not finding anything that would do, she wandered down to the beach to ask Barney Fulsom if he had any ideas.

The lifeguard was busy giving a swimming lesson and did not have time to help her.

“Ask Jamie Curry,” he suggested, pointing to a boy who was digging with a stick in the sand. “He’s an expert on turtles.”

The name startled Vevi. She knew that Jamie must be the son of Raymond Curry, the hotel lifeguard. But she thought he had run away.

“Jamie’s back again,” Barney said, as if reading Vevi’s mind. “Better not say anything to him about being a runaway because I hear his father gave him a licking. Hey, Jamie!” At the lifeguard’s call, the boy came over. He was barely thirteen, but very muscular and strong for his age. His nose was blotched with hundreds of freckles. Vevi liked him because she had lots of freckles too.

Barney introduced the youngsters and then said: “Jamie, Vevi has a turtle and needs help in fixing up a place where she can keep him.”

Jamie looked at the turtle. He didn’t seem to think very much of it.

“What d’you want a sluggish old turtle like that for?” he asked. “He’s no good.”

“He is too,” Vevi insisted. “I call him Lightning. I’m going to enter him in the race Saturday. Maybe I’ll win for the Brownies.”

“You won’t win with that old slow poke,” Jamie scoffed. “I’d toss him in the water.”

“No,” Vevi answered firmly. She was so hurt and disappointed she felt like crying.

Jamie seemed to be ashamed of himself for making fun of the turtle. At any rate, he said quickly:

“Oh, he’s not too bad. And you never can tell about turtles. Sometimes the fast ones won’t start up right, or maybe they get scared and stop just before they reach the finish line.”

“Then you think he might win?” Vevi demanded eagerly.

“Might,” Jamie shrugged.

“You’ll help me fix a pen for him?”

Jamie told her that she wouldn’t need a pen. “An old dish pan will do,” he said. “I can get you one, I guess.”

The boy took her across the beach to the big hotel. On the way he pointed out a little beach house where he lived with his father during the summer.

Jamie didn’t say much about his father, or explain why he had run away. Vevi wanted to question him, but she was afraid he might be offended if she acted curious.

She couldn’t help thinking though, that he was exactly the same size as the boy she and Connie had seen in the fog. Had he hidden in the little ship house? And had she and Connie frightened him away?

Jamie took Vevi around the big summer hotel. In the courtyard, near the trash barrel, they found an old dishpan.

“It’s rusty,” the boy said, giving it a crack with his stick, “but it will hold water.”

They took the pan back to the beach. Jamie found several rocks and built up an island in the center of the pan. Then he poured in a pail of fresh water.

“That will make a first-rate turtle pond,” Jamie declared. “Now where’s Lightning? Stick him in.”

An odd expression came over Vevi’s face. She tried to answer and couldn’t say a word.

“Don’t tell me he got away?” Jamie demanded.

Vevi nodded miserably. She hadn’t meant to be careless. But she had been so interested in watching Jamie build the rock island, that she had forgotten all about the turtle. Just for a second she had put him down on the sand. Now he was gone.

“You’ll never see that turtle again,” said Jamie in disgust. “Oh, well, he never would have made a good racer anyhow.”

Two big tears rolled down Vevi’s face.

“Don’t start bawling,” Jamie said quickly. “Turtles are a dime a dozen. There’s only one I know of that would be worth keeping.”

“What one is that?” Vevi asked him.

“A young snapper that won every race here last summer. His name was Clover and it was painted in yellow on his shell. If you had him you might win.”

“What became of the turtle, Jamie?”

“He was tossed back into the pond.”

“He’s still there then?”

“Might be. Turtles live for years and years.”

Already Vevi had lost interest in Lightning. Clover, she decided, would be a much better turtle to own.

“Oh, Jamie,” she said, catching her breath. “I’d give anything to own Clover. Couldn’t you find him for me?”

“I’d like to find him for myself,” Jamie admitted with a laugh. “Not much chance though. There are thousands of turtles in Cabell’s pond.”

“They come out on the logs to sun themselves. If Clover has a name painted on his shell, couldn’t one spot him?”

“Maybe, if you were there at just the right time.”

“Won’t you try to get Clover for me?” Vevi pleaded. “I do so want to win the race for the Brownies.”

Jamie seemed to be thinking over the request.

“I don’t like to promise,” he said after a long silence. “My dad keeps me close to the beach since—well, lately. I might be able to get you a turtle, but not Clover.”

“Any will do,” Vevi said. “I’d rather have Clover though. Will you please get me a turtle right away?”

“If I get one at all, it will be right away,” Jamie answered soberly. He looked out across the waves. “I’m not figuring on being around here much longer.”

“You’re not going to run away again?” Vevi asked.

Jamie did not appear offended by her question.

“Maybe I will. And next time, I won’t come back! I’ll go so far my dad never will find me.”

Vevi was very troubled by the boy’s threat to leave home.

“Oh, Jamie, you mustn’t run away,” she said quickly. “Silver Beach is wonderful! I shouldn’t think you’d want to leave. Don’t you like your father?”

Jamie hung his head and didn’t answer the question. He dug the sand with the toe of his beach sandal.

“You wouldn’t like it here either, if you knew what I do,” he said finally.

Having spoken, he turned and ran off down the beach.

CHAPTER 8
HIGH TIDE

VEVI had hoped to return soon to Cabell’s pond to search for Clover.

However, she had no chance to do so the next day, for Miss Gordon told the Brownie Scouts they were to have an outing at Brant’s Point.

“We’ll picnic there and gather shells for our collection,” she outlined plans. “Vevi will have a chance too to give her bird report.”

Vevi said nothing, but she felt rather queer inside. She had been too busy to give the required report a single thought.

“I’ll bet Vevi won’t have one ready!” teased Jane.

“Oh, yes, I will,” Vevi insisted. “Just you wait and see.”

After the breakfast dishes had been washed and the beds made, the girls all piled into Mrs. William’s big sedan. The tide was low, so it was possible to drive along the beach without the tires sinking in.

Before long, the Brownies sighted the tall lighthouse directly ahead. Often at night the girls had observed its revolving ray blink on and off.

“Brant’s Point light has saved many a ship at sea,” Miss Gordon told the troop. “And the lives of countless birds.”

Rosemary asked her how a lighthouse could save birds.

“Some of the older lighthouses have beacons that burn steadily,” Miss Gordon explained. “Such a light always seems to attract birds. Some circle the light towers until from sheer exhaustion they drop into the sea. Others fly against the windows and batter their wings.”

The teacher went on to say that birds were much less likely to be attracted by Brant Light, which blinked off at intervals. Also, the tower had projections or shelves where a tired bird might rest in its long flight southward.

“May we visit the lighthouse?” Connie asked as the girls unloaded the lunch hampers at the point.

“Federal regulations prohibit visitors,” the teacher replied regretfully. “Anyhow, we’ll not have too much time here. After we’ve had our lunch and gathered a few shells, it will be time to leave.”

Mrs. Williams remarked that they must under no circumstance over-stay their time. “I’ve been told that the tide comes in very strong and fast here by the lighthouse,” she said. “By late afternoon, this beach will be almost entirely covered with water.”

“Is it safe to be here?” asked Sunny anxiously.

Mrs. Williams assured her that it always would be possible to scamper to higher ground.

“But if we should stay too long, my car might be trapped,” she explained, “for there is no roadway out. We’ll leave very soon. Then there will be no danger.”

The Brownies helped unload the lunch baskets and set the table with paper plates. Then, with Miss Gordon’s permission, they peeled off shoes and stockings and started to look for shells.

“Don’t wade far out into the water,” the teacher warned. “The surf is strong here now that the tide has turned. There’s a tricky undertow.”

Waves came in with a great roar, nibbling greedily at the sand. The Brownies had no desire to wade out more than a few feet.

“See what I’ve found!” cried Connie. She held up a very attractive shell with a half-moon opening. “It’s not like the others we have.”

When she showed it to Miss Gordon, the teacher told her that it was a moon snail shell.

The Brownies never had seen the waves bring up so many nice shells. Soon Jane dug up a yellowish-white whelk marked by spiral ribs. The other girls found unbroken clam shells and a brown one which not even Miss Gordon could identify.

After the Brownies had wearied of searching, Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams set out the food.

“It will soon be time for Vevi’s bird report,” Jane reminded the group. “I’ll bet she doesn’t have it ready.”

Vevi pretended not to hear. She had boasted that she would be able to tell about a special bird. Actually, the only ones she had seen were those on which the other girls already had reported.

She ate her sandwich very fast. While the others were finishing their cake, she slipped off behind one of the sand dunes. Vevi thought she would walk toward the lighthouse. Perhaps she would see a special sea bird on which she could report. But if not, she would be so late in getting back that Miss Gordon and the Brownies might decide to postpone asking for her talk. Meanwhile, Miss Gordon began to tell the Brownies about some of the strange habits of birds. She said no one knew why they migrated from one part of the country to another, or how they found their way.

“Year after year they’ll return to the same place, often the same nest,” she declared. “A bird is guided by keen eyesight, but also apparently by instinct.”

Miss Gordon advised the girls to observe birds carefully, taking note of points that would help in making an identification.

“Always notice a bird’s size,” she instructed. “Remember that male and female birds vary in color and marking. Notice wing motion too and whether the bird walks, runs or hops on the ground.”

By this time waves were breaking higher and higher on the beach. Mrs. Williams remarked uneasily that the tide seemed to be coming in faster than she had expected.

“Perhaps we should start back to the cottages,” she suggested.

As the girls began to gather up their belongings, Miss Gordon noticed Vevi’s absence.

“Now where has she gone?” she inquired. “She was here only a moment ago.”

“She went off so she wouldn’t have to give her bird report,” Jane declared. “I see her wandering around over there behind the lighthouse.”

“I’ll go after her,” offered Connie.

“Call to her instead,” advised Mrs. Williams. “We really have no time to waste.”

Connie shouted Vevi’s name several times. “Hurry up!” she yelled. “The tide is rolling in, and we want to start home.”

“Coming,” Vevi answered.

Despite the urging to hurry however, she kept loitering by a large sand dune. She seemed to be examining something she had found there.

“That old slow poke!” Jane exclaimed. “I’ll get her!”

“No, she’s coming now,” Mrs. Williams said. “I want everyone to stay here. Gather up everything and bring it to the car.”

Connie’s mother regretted now that she had not turned her car around before parking it on the sand.

She had not realized that the hard, firm beach which had provided her with a safe roadway could disappear so fast.

Although ample space remained along shore for the return drive, not much area was left in which to turn the car around.

“I’m going ahead to move the car,” Mrs. Williams said.

Connie and Sunny went along with her. When they reached the car they noticed that the larger waves were breaking only a short distance from the rear car wheels.

“Oh, the tide is coming in so fast!” Connie exclaimed. “Will we make it, Mother?”

“We’ll be all right once we turn around,” Mrs. Williams replied. She was more worried though, than she cared to have the children know.

Quickly she started the car and swung the steering wheel. The automobile moved slightly uphill into loose sand.

Now Mrs. Williams had not intended to swing in such a wide arc. Nor had she realized that the sand was quite so soft.

Slower and slower crept the car, its engine laboring.

“Keep going, Mother!” shouted Connie. She could see that the auto was about ready to stop in the deep sand.

Mrs. Williams shifted into another gear, but the car would not pull. With a gasping chug, it came to a standstill. The rear wheels kept spinning, but there was no traction.

The car would not budge. They were stuck fast in the sand with the tide rolling in!

CHAPTER 9
STUCK IN THE SAND

THE tires of Mrs. Williams’ car kept spinning faster and faster in the loose sand. They dug in deeply until the wheel was mired to its hub cap.

“Oh, dear, by trying to get out, I’m only making it worse.” Mrs. Williams gasped. “What shall we do?”

Switching off the engine, she sprang out of the car to look at the rear wheels.

By this time, Miss Gordon and all the Brownies except Vevi had come running across the beach with the lunch hampers. They were very worried.

“Are we really stuck?” demanded Jane breathlessly.

“Will the tide wash the car away?” questioned Sunny.

“Let’s all push,” suggested Connie.

“We’ll have to if we are to get out,” Mrs. Williams said. She gazed nervously at the waves. Each one was chewing away a larger and larger bite of sand.

By noticing the rim of dried seaweed along shore, the Brownies could tell that the ocean came exactly that far at high tide. The waves would be certain to sweep over the floor boards of the car.

“Salt water ruins a car very easily,” declared Miss Gordon. “We must get out somehow.”

She glanced hopefully toward the lighthouse. Connie offered to run there and ask for help. But Miss Gordon told her it would be useless as the lone attendant never was allowed to leave his post.

Jane found several large blocks of wood which she placed under the rear tires. It did no good. When Mrs. Williams tried to pull forward again, the pieces of wood were thrown aside.

“Let’s all push,” urged Rosemary. “I’m real strong.”

Miss Gordon agreed that the girls might try to shove the car out. She warned them however, not to strain hard.

At a given signal, everyone stood ready. All the Brownies, that is except Vevi. She was walking slowly from the lighthouse, not even aware that anything was wrong.

“Now girls, together!”

As Miss Gordon spoke, Mrs. Williams let out the clutch of the car. Again the rear wheels began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

Miss Gordon applied all her strength. The Brownies pushed too, but they were not very strong. Their feet kept slipping in the sand.

“It’s no use, no use at all,” the teacher finally gasped.

She signaled for Mrs. Williams to turn off the motor again. The Brownies could smell rubber. By turning so rapidly in the sand, the rear wheels had generated a great deal of heat.

“Can’t we send for a garageman to tow us out?” suggested Rosemary. “That’s what my mother always does when our car won’t run.”

“Dear, there isn’t time,” Mrs. Williams replied. “The tide will be washing against the car in another ten or fifteen minutes.”

Miss Gordon and Connie’s mother looked up and down the beach. Usually any number of cars were in view. Not one was in sight when help was so badly needed.

Connie glanced out across the tumbling water. Not far from shore she saw a small motor boat chugging along. The operator was Raymond Curry, the hotel lifeguard.

“Maybe he’ll help us!” she exclaimed.

Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon had noticed the boat at the same moment.

“If we had a strong man to push, I think we might get out!” exclaimed Mrs. Williams. “Let’s call to him.”

“He’s a lifeguard,” laughed Sunny. “He ought to help us rescue a car!”

The Brownies shouted as loudly as they could and waved. Mr. Curry heard them, for he throttled down the engine and turned to gaze toward shore.

“Help us!” yelled Connie. “Our car’s stuck in the sand.”

“And the tide’s coming in fast!” screamed Jane. She cupped her hands to her mouth to make the words carry.

Now the Brownies were certain that the lifeguard understood their request. Even if he couldn’t hear, how could he fail to see that they were in trouble?

The lifeguard didn’t even wave his hand in friendly greeting. He stared toward shore for a minute, and then turned his head away. Speeding up the motor again, he cruised on past.

Miss Gordon and Mrs. Williams made no comment. But they looked at each other in a most peculiar way.

“He saw us!” Jane declared in a shrill voice. “How mean of him not to help!”

“We’ll never get out now,” Mrs. Williams said. She was deeply discouraged.

Each huge wave that swept in came a little closer to the car. Finally a big one actually lapped at one of the rear tires.

“We may as well take our belongings and climb back on one of the dunes,” Miss Gordon said. “The sea will not rise higher than the rim of seaweed.”

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Connie. “I see someone coming down the beach!”

She had noticed a man with a cane, strolling along the sand toward the lighthouse.

“Why, it’s Captain Tarwell,” she recognized him.

The old seaman came closer, gazing toward the group of Brownies. Observing how near their car was to the foaming sea, he began to walk faster.

“Ahoy,” he greeted the girls. “What’s wrong here? Aground, eh, and with a strong tide running.”

The Brownies, all talking at once, tried to explain what had happened.

Captain Tarwell didn’t bother to listen for he could see for himself what was wrong. He knew too, that he would have to work fast to beat the tide.

“I’m not as strong as I was in the old days when I was master of the Gorchester,” he remarked after inspecting the mired wheels. “But with all hands to help, I think we can heave ’er free. Lay to!”

Rosemary, Jane and Miss Gordon got on one side of the car. Connie and Sunny stood by the other, to help the captain. Mrs. Williams started the engine again.

“Heave-ho!” shouted the captain. “All together now! Push, maties, push!”

The Brownies exerted all their strength. Slowly the car began to move. One tire caught firmly in the sand and then the other.

Suddenly the car spurted forward so fast that Connie and Jane went sprawling in the sand. It did not hurt them. They were laughing as they scrambled to their feet.

“We’re out!” cried Connie. “Just in time too!”

Mrs. Williams swung the car in as narrow an arc as possible. Another moment and all four wheels were on firm sand again. Best of all, the car now was headed toward the cottage beach.

“Oh, Captain, we’re so grateful!” Miss Gordon thanked him. “I hope you didn’t strain yourself pushing so hard.”

“Not a bit,” he chuckled, picking up his cane. “Always glad to answer an SOS distress call.”

“Can’t we give you ride to town?” Mrs. Williams offered.

“I am a mite tuckered from my walk,” the captain admitted. “Aye, if you have room, I’ll ride along.”

By this time the Brownies had piled into the back seat, leaving the front for Mrs. Williams, Miss Gordon and the captain.

“Where’s Vevi?” demanded Mrs. Williams.

Everyone looked toward the lighthouse. Vevi was coming, but very slowly. She seemed to be holding something in her arms, beneath her brown sweater.

“Vevi!” shouted Jane. “You hurry up!”

Mrs. Williams tooted the car horn sharply three times.

Vevi began to walk faster. But despite urging by the Brownies, she would not hurry.

“What’s she got?” Jane demanded suspiciously. “She doesn’t want us to see it.”

Vevi, unaware of the danger the Brownies had been in, grinned from ear to ear as she sauntered up.

“Where’ve you been so long?” Jane demanded. “And what are you hiding under that sweater?”

Vevi answered not a word. She kept grinning and looking very wise. Whatever she held beneath the sweater was alive, for the girls could see the woolen cloth twitch.

“Jump into the car, Vevi!” Mrs. Williams ordered impatiently. “We’ve lost too much time now.”

Thus urged, Vevi leaped into the back seat. But she kept tight hold of the sweater.

“You went off because you didn’t want to give the bird report,” Jane accused her.

“Maybe I did,” Vevi admitted. “But let me tell you a thing or two. I’ve got something better than an old stupid report. I’ve got a real live bird!”

CHAPTER 10
A BIRD REPORT

“I’VE got a beautiful gull,” Vevi announced proudly. “See!”

Pulling aside the sweater, she showed the Brownies a white pigeon with arched wings and well-formed tail.

One of the wings though, appeared to have been injured, for it hung limp.

“Vevi calls that a gull!” scoffed Jane.

“It’s a carrier pigeon and it’s been hurt!” exclaimed Sunny.

By this time the car was moving swiftly along the narrow stretch of beach. Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon no longer were worried for the sand was hard and firm. As they neared the cottages at Silver Beach, the roadway also became much wider.

Captain Tarwell was very much interested in Vevi’s bird. He examined the wing, which he said was only bruised, not broken. Then he looked at a metal band fastened to the pigeon’s leg.

The band bore the number 68971.

“Is the bird carrying a message?” Connie asked eagerly.

“No, only this identification number,” Captain Tarwell replied. “With kind treatment, the pigeon should fly again soon.”

“Where did you find him, Vevi?” Rosemary questioned, eager for all the details.

“In the dunes near the lighthouse. I think I’ll call my bird Snow White. Snow White tried to get away, but he couldn’t fly because of his wing. Is he really a messenger pigeon?”

“Aye,” the seaman assured her. “A young one though. It may have run into trouble on its first flight.”

“Maybe it came from across the ocean,” Vevi speculated.

“Hardly that far,” answered the captain. “From the number, I’d judge this pigeon may belong to Harmon Green’s loft.”

Vevi had never heard of Harmon Green. She asked where his place was situated.

“About a quarter of a mile from Silver Beach,” Captain Tarwell replied. “Mr. Green breeds and races pigeons. If this isn’t his pigeon, at least he’ll know how to find and notify the owner.”

Vevi stroked the pigeon’s plumage, not saying anything. She had hoped that the bird could belong to her. But she knew now that she must try to find its owner.

“Snow White is a stupid name for a racing pigeon,” spoke up Jane. “Especially for one that isn’t a girl.”

“I like it,” Vevi said. “Captain Tarwell, how far can a pigeon fly?”

“Oh, that depends on the bird,” he returned. “The best racing homers have been known to wing home a thousand miles. But not young, untrained birds.”

“I’ll bet Snow White could fly a long way if he hadn’t hurt his wing,” Vevi declared proudly.

Soon the car approached Starfish and Oriole Cottages. As everyone alighted at the bathhouse, Mrs. Williams remarked that she didn’t know what to do about Vevi’s pigeon.

“Tell you what,” offered the captain. “If you like, I’ll take the pigeon to Harmon Green.”

Vevi spoke up quickly. “I want to go along,” she insisted. “So do I,” Connie added.

All the other Brownies then wanted to go. However, Miss Gordon thought it would be unfair for Captain Tarwell to look after so many children. So it was decided that Vevi and Connie, having spoken first, should make the trip.

Taking Snow White with them, the two girls walked with Captain Tarwell into the hills. A shady, winding street finally brought them to a gray shingle house. Off to one side was a small building which looked like a garage with a flat roof.

“That’s the pigeon cote,” Captain Tarwell told the girls. “Hey, what’s coming off here?”

From the direction of the flat-roofed building the girls heard a strange commotion. Birds were making a fearful clatter. They could hear a man talking very angrily.

As Captain Tarwell and the children walked toward the pigeon cote, the door swung suddenly open.

Out came a young man in dirty overalls and grimy white cap. His face was very grim.

“Don’t ever come back here looking for a job,” another man in the doorway called after him. “You don’t know how to handle birds.”

The man in the doorway, who was Mr. Green, saw Captain Tarwell and the two girls. He knew the seaman well, calling him by name.

“Having your troubles, I see,” observed Captain Tarwell.

“Operating a pigeon loft with hired help is no fun,” Mr. Green replied. “I had to fire young Gradbrough just now. He excites the birds and doesn’t handle them skillfully. He neglects to clean the cages too.”

“Lose any birds?” Captain Tarwell questioned him.

“I lost three in the last flight test. That looks like one of my birds.”

Mr. Green’s gaze had fastened upon Snow White, snuggled in Vevi’s arms.

Vevi told him where she had found the pigeon. Mr. Green briefly examined the leg band and confirmed that the bird belonged to him.

“Frankly, I don’t think the pigeon is worth its feed,” he added. “In two different tests it failed miserably.”

“But Snow White’s wing was hurt,” Vevi said, coming quickly to the bird’s defense. “How could he fly back home?”

“The pigeon isn’t as strong as it should be,” Mr. Green explained. “I breed for profit. If a bird fails repeatedly in tests, it must be culled out.”

The cote owner examined the pigeon very carefully and put it into one of the wire cages.

“It will be all right in a few days,” he said. “Then I’ll make one more test. If the bird fails another time, out it goes.”

The pigeon cote had been divided into sections set apart by mesh wire fence. Old birds were separated from young ones. Those that were sick were housed in a special pen.

Mr. Green filled the water pans and placed grain in long feeding troughs. The birds could not crowd each other because a six-inch space was provided for each one.

Adjoining the cote was an exercise cage. The building itself was set in an open place, facing south so that more sunshine would filter in.

Mr. Green told the Brownies that in training pigeons one had to be very patient.

“Food is the key to success,” he declared. “A pigeon always will return to the place where it has been fed.”

The cote owner explained that in training racers he began by whistling for the birds just before he fed them.

After a week, he would place the pigeon on a landing platform outside the loft. When another training period had elapsed, he would start leaving the birds a short distance away but in view of the loft.

“They’ll always return to the landing platform in search of food,” Mr. Green said. “The first real test comes when I take the pigeons in a basket some distance away and release them in a group. After that test, I try them singly at one mile, then five and perhaps ten miles. The pigeon you girls returned failed both the five and the ten-mile test.”

“I hope you give Snow White another chance,” Vevi said.

“In the first test I thought the pigeon might have been confused by the fog,” Mr. Green said. “This last time, the bird may have run into other trouble. The others came back though. So I’m about through bothering with it.”

As Captain Tarwell and the Brownies were ready to leave, Mr. Green asked the seaman if he knew of any young man who would like a job at the pigeon cote.

“Not off hand, I don’t,” Captain Tarwell answered. “I’ll keep it in mind though.”

“I pay good wages,” Mr. Green said. “The work is exacting though. I need a dependable person, one who can be trusted to handle the birds when my back is turned.”

Vevi was a little worried about what would be done with Snow White.

“You really think he’ll get well?” she asked the cote owner anxiously.

“Oh, he’ll be all right in a day or two,” Mr. Green replied. “The wing isn’t broken. But as I said, I doubt the pigeon ever will be any good for racing.”

“You will give him one more chance?” Vevi pleaded again.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Mr. Green asked a trifle impatiently. “I’m testing a basketful of birds Wednesday. If your pigeon is well enough, I’ll include him in the lot.”

“May all the Brownies watch the test?” Connie asked. “I’m sure they’d like to see the birds fly home.”

Mr. Green said he had no objection.

“We’ll be here!” Vevi declared, her eyes bright. “And I know Snow White will do splendidly next time. He’ll make all the Brownies very proud.”

CHAPTER 11
A TEST FOR SNOW WHITE

THE hours at Silver Beach were all too short for the Brownie Scouts. It seemed to them that they never had time to accomplish half the things they wanted to do.

Most intriguing of all was the sea itself. Each morning it coaxed them in for a swim. By the time the girls had taken their sun baths and searched for shells it was nearly lunch time.

“The days are just flying,” Connie sighed. “Before we know it, we’ll be returning to Rosedale.”

“We haven’t learned anything more about that little ship house either,” Vevi replied soberly. “So many things are undone. We haven’t even found Miss Gordon’s wrist watch.”

Now the teacher long ago had given up all thought of recovering the missing timepiece. The Brownies, however, kept hoping that the watch would be found in the sand. Nearly every day when they were on the beach, they would dig around, hoping to find it.

Since Vevi and Connie had visited the pigeon cote, all of the Brownies wanted to go there. Whenever the troop went on a hike, the girls usually walked in the direction of Mr. Green’s loft.

The pigeon breeder would not allow the Brownies inside the building lest they disturb the birds. It was fun though, to stand outside, watching the pigeons drop into the roof traps after long flights.

The racers would alight on the building and walk along the eaves. When they stepped into one of the traps, Mr. Green could reach up and grab them by the legs. Then he would feed them and put them in their cages.

Some of the pigeons had gray and blue plumage with black bars on each wing. Others had feathers in a salt and pepper effect. The less common birds were black, red, yellow and silver. Vevi did not see a single one that appeared as white as the pigeon she had found near the lighthouse.

She asked Mr. Green why he did not have more white racers.

“White birds are more prone to attack by hawks,” he explained. “By the way, your bird has recovered its strength again.”

“Then it’s ready to race?” the little girl asked eagerly.

“It’s as ready as it will ever be. As I said, I doubt the bird ever will be much good.”

“But you promised to give it one more chance.”

“So I did,” Mr. Green agreed. “I’m testing out a dozen birds today. I’ll include your pigeon in the lot.”

All the Brownies wanted to watch the test and Mr. Green agreed that they might. He told Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon that he would release the birds at a point five miles away from the pigeon cote.

Everyone drove there in Mrs. William’s car. By the time they arrived, Mr. Green already had unloaded several wicker baskets of pigeons which he planned to release.

Vevi went over to talk to Snow White. The pigeon was in a basket by himself. His feathers were smooth and glossy and he looked as if he were in good condition for racing. At least Vevi thought so.

“Now you must do your very best today,” she said to the pigeon. “When Mr. Green tosses you into the air, fly straight home! Fly faster than any of the other birds!”

“You’re goofy, talking to a pigeon!” Jane teased, coming up behind her. “He can’t understand you.”

“Maybe he can,” Vevi insisted. “Anyway, you just wait! Snow White will do fine this time.”

The Brownies gathered around as Mr. Green prepared to release the pigeons.

“The birds are hungry, so they should fly directly to the loft,” he declared. “As soon as I’ve set them free, I’ll drive back. I want to be on hand to check their time as they arrive at the cote.”

Mr. Green tossed all of the birds into the air. They rose and circled once or twice. Then one by one they flew off in the direction of the pigeon loft.

“Snow White went with the others!” Vevi cried in delight. “I’ll bet he’s the first to reach the roost!”

Having released the birds, Mr. Green did not waste any time. He drove off home immediately. Mrs. Williams, Miss Gordon and the Brownies followed, but at a more leisurely rate.

“Can’t we drive faster?” Vevi urged impatiently.

“Not on this curving road,” Mrs. Williams replied. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

The pigeons had started to arrive by the time the Brownies finally reached Mr. Green’s place.

As the girls alighted from the car, they saw a gray-blue bird winging in to alight on the rooftop.

Vevi watched it fall into the trap and disappear. Then she ran to the door of the dove cote.

“Has Snow White come yet?” she shouted to the loft owner.

“Not yet,” Mr. Green replied. “Only three of the birds have come so far. I’m very busy now. Don’t bother me.”

Through the windows, the Brownies could see the loft owner seizing each bird as it arrived. He would record its number and exact time in a little book.

“Where is Snow White?” Vevi fretted as one after another of the pigeons arrived.

“Your old bird isn’t any good,” teased Jane.

“Wait and see,” Vevi retorted. “I think he’s coming now!”

She was wrong though. The bird which had settled on the roof was a light colored pigeon which from a distance had appeared almost white.

Mr. Green fed the bird and put it back in its cage. Then he appeared in the doorway of the pigeon cote.

“Well, they’re all in now except one,” he told the Brownies. “No use waiting for it, because it won’t show up.”

Vevi knew he meant Snow White. She was so disappointed she felt like crying.

“I’m sure it wasn’t Snow White’s fault,” she told Mr. Green. “Maybe his wing wasn’t entirely healed.”

“That could be,” agreed the pigeon breeder. “But I only tested the bird to please you. I’m through bothering with him even if he does show up later.”

All the Brownies, even Jane, had wanted the bird to make a satisfactory test. They were sorry that Snow White would never be given another chance.

So that the Brownies would not think too much about the lost bird, Miss Gordon proposed that everyone return to the beach for a swim.