Part 7 (1/2)

”It isn't pretty,” agreed Phyllis, with a shake of the head. ”Girls, what shall we call our chaperon? And we have never named our houseboat, either. We have a day's work ahead of us. We must think of names for both of them.”

”Wouldn't 'Miss Ann' do?” Eleanor asked.

”I think Ann is such a pretty name.”

”I would rather you had a more individual name for me. I have often been called Ann.”

”You might be the 'Queen of our s.h.i.+p of Dreams,'” laughed Lillian.

”That sounds altogether too high and mighty,” objected Phyllis. ”We ought to have something nice and chummy.”

”We might call you 'Gem,' because it is short for Jemima, and in honor of these corn m.u.f.fins, which we call 'gems' in our part of the world,”

added Phil. ”We'll think of a name yet. Come on, girls, we must get to work; there is so much to be done. Lillian, you and I must go up to the farmhouse to get some supplies this morning. Suppose we take a long walk this afternoon and explore the woods back of us?”

”We will think of the prettiest name we can for you and another for our houseboat,” declared Lillian as the four girls rose from the table to go about their various tasks; ”then we shall make our report to-night.”

It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when the four churns started on their walk. Miss Jones did not go with them. She was tired and wished to sit out on the deck of the boat in the suns.h.i.+ne.

”Be back before dark, children,” she called out gayly as the girls climbed up the little embankment. ”Remember, you don't know your way in this country, as you do at old Harborpoint. I shall be uneasy about you if you aren't back on time.”

There were several scattered farmhouses at the top of the hill that sloped down to the cove of the bay, but back of the farmlands lay a long stretch of forest. The ground was covered with a carpet of wild flowers and a few late violets.

Once the chums were fairly in the heart of the woods they did not meet another traveler. They seemed to have the forest to themselves. They had no thought of danger in the quiet woods, and Madge and Eleanor, who had been brought up in the country, were careful to watch the paths they followed.

They had been in the woods for an hour or more when Lillian, who was stooping over a clump of big, purple violets, thought she heard a peculiar sound resembling light footsteps, Whether there was a human being or an animal near them she could not tell. The footsteps would run rapidly and then stop abruptly.

”Phil,” called Lillian, ”I thought I heard something. Did you? Listen once more. There, did you hear that?”

Phil listened. ”Not a sound, Airy Fairy Lillian. It must have been your fancy.”

But Lillian was not convinced. Several times she believed she heard the noise again. However, she did not mention it.

As the girls came out of the woods to a little clearing Phil, who was in the lead, ran forward. ”Madge, Eleanor,” she called, ”come here, quick! I am sure this must be a regular, old-time log cabin.”

Before them the girls saw an old cabin that looked as though it had been empty for a quarter of a century. It was strongly built of logs, and the c.h.i.n.ks between the logs were filled with mud that had hardened like plaster. There were no windows in the cabin, except in the eaves.

The heavy door was half open, but it had an old-fas.h.i.+oned wooden latch on the outside.

”The old cabin looks rather creepy, doesn't it, Madge?” asked Eleanor.

”It is built more securely than our cabins farther down south, too.

This place seems more like a prison.”

”It looks interesting. Let's go in to see it.” Phil suggested.

The cabin stood in front of a stream of clear water. Close around it grew a number of dark old cedar trees.

Phil and Madge shoved open the heavy door. Inside, the one large room looked gray and dark, as the only light came from the two small windows so far overhead.

”I would rather not go in, Madge,” protested Eleanor, hesitating on the threshold after Lillian had followed the other two girls inside.