Part 5 (1/2)

The four girls ran up and down the bank, straining their eyes in anxious glances out over the wide stretch of water. There was no houseboat in sight. It had vanished as completely as though it had really been a ”s.h.i.+p of Dreams.”

”Perhaps you have made a mistake in the place, Madge,” was the chaperon's first remark as she joined the excited party.

Madge compressed her red lips. Miss Jones was so provoking. She was utterly without tact. But now that she was to be one of the party it would be wrong to say a single impolite thing to their chaperon the whole six weeks of their holiday, no matter how provoking or tactless she might he. Madge sighed impatiently, then turned to the teacher.

”No, I am not mistaken, Miss Jones. I can't be. You see, I came to this very spot this morning and went aboard our boat. Then I have the man's description of the landing place. I think we had better go back to the village and see if we can get some men who know the sh.o.r.e along here to come to help us look out for our boat. There is no use in having our furniture brought here if we haven't any houseboat,”

finished Madge, her voice trembling.

”Come along, then; I will go back with you,” volunteered Phil. ”Miss Jones, you sit under the tree. Lillian, you and Nellie keep a sharp look-out. If any one comes along in a boat, ask him about ours.”

”Do you think our boat has gone forever, Phil?” asked Madge dejectedly as the two companions walked wearily back over the road they had traveled so gayly a short time before.

”I don't know,” replied Phil. ”I should say it depended entirely upon who had taken the trouble to spirit it away.”

While the two girls stood gazing moodily out over the bay a hard, green apple landed with a thump on top of Madge's uncovered head. Madge and Phil looked up simultaneously. There in a gnarled old apple tree directly above them appeared the grinning face of the small boy whose acquaintance Madge had made earlier in the morning.

”Lost your boat, ain't you?” he asked cheerfully.

Madge nodded and walked on. She was not anxious to renew conversation with the mischievous youngster.

Phil, however, was seized with an inspiration. ”Have you been about this place very long?” she inquired casually.

”Yep,” the boy returned.

”Then, perhaps, you know what has become of our boat,” suggested Phil.

”Yep,” answered the voice from the tree, ”I know all about it.”

”Then tell us this minute what has become of it!” ordered Madge. ”I knew the moment I saw you that you were the very imp of mischief. Tell us where our boat is at once.”

”I won't tell,” the urchin spoke firmly.

”You shall,” declared Madge, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

”I'd like to see you make me tell,” dared the boy. ”A girl can't climb a tree.” The grin on his impish face widened.

”I'll show you that a girl _can_ climb a tree, young man,” exclaimed Madge hotly, making her way toward the tree. ”I have climbed a good many more trees than you have ever climbed in your life.”

”Listen to me, Madge,” admonished Phil, laughing at her friend, ”you can't have a fight with a small boy in the top of a tree or shake him out of it. Don't allow him to tease you. Let's go on into the village and get a policeman. Then, if the boy really knows anything about the disappearance of our houseboat, the policeman will make him tell us.”

Phil tried to make her voice sound as threatening as possible when she mentioned the word ”policeman.”

”I won't be here when you git back,” was the imp's cheerful response.

Madge and Phil paid no further heed to him. They went on toward the town. A few yards farther on they heard the patter of bare feet.

”Can't you wait a minute?” a voice pleaded. ”I was only teasing you.

If you promise you won't give me away, I'll tell you what became of your old boat. My pa took it.”

”Your pa?” cried Madge in surprise. ”What do you mean?”