"Oh, where is Cora!" gasped Bess, as she landed at the island rock, and almost fell fainting into Jack's arms.
"Why, she is with Laurel—in the hut. What ever is the matter,Bess?"
"We thought—thought they had taken you all to jail! Oh, those horrible men! Those detectives!"
"You silly," exclaimed Jack, seeing that the poor girl was really exhausted from fright. "Don't you know better than that?"
"But they would not believe us! They made us tell them where you were, and Belle is sick in bed. Their boat passed ours as we were coming in. We had a delay. Oh, we've been so alarmed!"
"Poor Belle," Jack murmured. "Now, Bess, just step up here and make sure for yourself that Cora is just as intact as when you last saw her. I am here to speak for myself. If anything she is better for a night's rest in the open. We expect to start a camp on this plan. It can't be beat."
Ed motioned Jack aside. "Wasn't that the police boat?" he asked.
"Yes, and Cora and I gave them all the clues they wanted. None at all in other words. They're after Tony."
"Oh! and Cora, is she all right?" Ed questioned further.
"Splendid. Did you hear the latest?"
"Which?" asked Ed, significantly.
"Laurel's father is almost better. The hermit, you know."
"You don't say! Can he testify?" asked Ed.
"He may be able to if they require it. But the queer part is it seems to have been the shock that awakened his brain. I have read of such cases."
Ed was silent, for the girls were returning. Hazel had her brown arms around Cora while Bess looked at Laurel as if she expected every moment her chum might evaporate. Walter towed on behind the little party.
"I must go down to the landing, Jack," Cora said. "I expect a registered letter, and it is most important that I get it at once."
Now this was the very thing that Jack did not want her to do—to get into the crowd of curious ones that would be sure to be congregated about the landing.
"Could I not fetch it? You don't want to leave the girls when they have just come up," Jack interposed.
"I am afraid this time I will have to get my own mail," said Cora with a smile. "Ed can run me down and we will come straight back."
This was finally agreed upon, although Jack did not like the arrangements. He called Ed aside and warned him not to let Cora leave the boat, not to let her speak to anyone, and not to let any one intercept her. "You can tell about those lawyer fellows," he finished. "They might think it their legal duty to interview her, for they know she has been let into the hermit's secret."
Ed readily promised all Jack said, punctuating his remarks with a display of arm muscle which meant that anyone would have to pass pretty close to it to reach Cora while she was in his company. Then they left.
Jack sat down on the ledge near the water. He was not given to the "glooms" but surely he had had more than his share of serious business lately. How it would end was his cause for anxiety. So he was pondering when Laurel touched his arm.
"Father would like to speak to you," she said in a faint voice. "He seems to think he knows you."
Jack jumped up suddenly. "He spoke to me very rationally last night," he said; "perhaps that is what he means."
He followed Laurel into the hut. The old man had gotten up and was as nicely washed and fixed as a sick person is usually when loving hands hover around.
"Good morning, sir," Jack said pleasantly, taking the seat beneath the opening in the boughs that served as a window.
"Good morning, good morning, and a really good morning it is," said the older man. "I wanted to speak with you. Laurel dear, is there not water to fetch?"
Laurel took the cue and hurried out, leaving Jack alone with the hermit.
"Young man," he began, "something has happened to clear my brain. A shock some fifteen years ago, if I have not lost all track of time, almost, if not altogether, deprived me of my reason." He paused and put his hand to his brown forehead, in a motion that seemed more a matter of habit than of necessity. "Then I came here, or he brought me here. I was all alone. Little Laurel must have been a baby, when one morning I found her at my side. Dear, sweet little cherub. He told me since that her mother had died!"
Jack did not venture an interruption. It all seemed too sacred for the lips of strangers to break in upon.
"Then we lived here. That man—!" He clenched his fist and Jack feared the excitement might be bad for his weakened head.
"Don't let us talk of him," Jack advised. "Let us consider what is best to do now."
"My brave boy!" and the hermit put his arm on Jack's shoulder. "That is always the mighty question for right; what is best to do now?"
A flush had stolen into his sunken cheeks, but Jack could see that it was not years, but trouble, that had marred his handsome face.
"He said I would be convicted—of that… crime!" The words seemed to burn his throat, for he put, his hand up as if to, choke further utterance.
"A crime you never committed," Jack ventured, without having the slightest knowledge of what it might mean to his listener.
"Can you prove it? Can you prove it!" gasped the man and for the moment Jack was frightened. He felt he was again in the presence of the mad hermit of Fern Island.
"Of course we can prove it. My sister has gone now for the absolute proof!" Jack was daring more and more each second. "But you spoke of Breslin. You said you knew him."
"I do! Where is he! Breslin always believed in me, and he could save me now," replied the man.
"Well, listen and try to be calm, or Laurel will not let me talk further to you," Jack cautioned. "Last night you mentioned the name of a wealthy banker, for whom my best friend works. This friend is a mechanical genius and he runs a racer boat for Brendon Breslin, the banker!"
"Where? Here? On these shores?" and the man was panting.
"Only a short distance off. But I tell you, Mr.—?"
"Starr," volunteered the man.
"Mr. Starr, if you will only get strong enough you can do a great deal for yourself and Laurel. The night that you fell a man was on this Island. Did you know Jim Peters?"
"Jim Peters!" repeated the hermit. "Yes, he was here the nightLaurel went away with that nice young lady who looks like you."
Jack started at that. The night Laurel went away was the night JimPeters had quarreled with Tony and been hurt.
"Did he come to the hunt?" asked Jack.
"No, but the other man did. Brentano and he quarreled, and he drove Jim Peters down to his boat. I saw them for I was wandering about wishing for Laurel, and I remember it all."
"If that man, Brentano, you call him, chased Peters into the boat did he get in with him?" Jack asked anxiously.
"Yes, I saw them shove off, but Peters was ugly and wanted to come back."
"Did he?"
"I had to hide then, as they might have injured me if they caught me. I did not see the boat go out or come back. I went to one of my many hiding places," finished the old man with evident effort.
"Well, Mr. Starr, you have relieved my mind greatly, and I hope I have not taxed your brain too strongly. But the fact is the detectives are trying to find out about those men and every bit of information helps. The police, you know, like to clear things up to suit themselves," Jack said.
At the word "police," the man winced. Jack noticed the change of manner, and at once turned the subject to that of the health of his listener. He urged him to get up enough strength to leave the island, for Laurel's sake, as well as for his own.
"But I have lived here like a wild man," argued Mr. Starr, "in fact I fear I have grown to be one in ways and manners. Solitude may be good for some, but for those in distress—"
"Exactly. But you are not going to have any more solitude. You see we have invaded your camp, and when my sister Cora makes a discovery she always insists upon developing it. I never did see the beat of Cora for finding things out," and the pride in Jack's voice matched the toss of his handsome head.
"And my little girl will have a friend," mused the elder man. "Well, in moments when I could think, that torturing thought of my dragging her down with me was too much. It drove me back always to the old, old despair." The look of terror, that Jack noticed before came back into the haggard face. It was as if he feared to hope.
Laurel was at the door. Her face was a picture of happiness as she stood there gazing at her father. Her skin was as dark as the leaves that outlined the entrance to the hut; her eyes lighted up the rude archway: and her lithe figure completed the bronze statuette.
Jack's eyes fell upon her in unstinted admiration. Generations of culture are not easily undone even by the wild life of a forest.
"You are better every minute, father," she said simply, "I think the cure you need comes from pleasant company."
"None could be more pleasant than your own, my dear," he answered, "but now I want to go and see my birds. And I must feed that cripple rabbit. He was shot," to Jack, "but the leg is mending nicely. I missed him so, for he knew us so well and would eat from our hands. You see we established a little kingdom here. Laurel was queen and we, the birds and other life creatures, were all her subjects."
Laurel blushed through her tan. "Yes, he had to do something," she said, "else the days would have been too long."
The chug of a motor-boat interrupted them. "That's Cora," saidJack, and so it was.
Cora brought back with her the letter promised by Brentano in his note of mystery. This time she confided in Laurel her scheme for unraveling the tangled skein in the web of dishonor that had been woven about the strange girl's father.
Ben had spoken to Cora at the Landing. He seemed to think that Cora might know more about the trouble between Peters and Tony than he had expected at first.
"But I don't, Ben," she insisted, while Ed was absent getting mail. "You give me credit for being better able to solve mysteries than I am. Is he worse hurt than they thought, Ben?"
"Much worse, miss. Of course, he's not dangerous, but the officers want Tony the worst way. Now if you could tell where to find him—"
"But I can't," she explained. "They came to me—"
And then she stopped suddenly. If Ben did not know of the visit of the detectives she was not going to tell him. She had had a faint suspicion that Ben might have sent them to her. But he evidently had not.
"Yes—yes," he said eagerly. "You were sayin', Miss Cora, that—"
"Oh, nothing, Ben," she answered quickly. "I think I am really so happy at having helped Laurel, that I don't know what I am saying."
"Yes, indeed you can well be, Miss," and Ben looked at her with what Cora thought a strange gaze. Still, she might be mistaken. Then she made some excuse to stroll away.
Walter had rambled off with Hazel and Bess. The day was now one of those so wonderful in August, when nature seems tired of her anxieties, and rests in a perfect ocean of content. The haze had cleared from the water, the hills were shimmering in the rival honors of sunlight and shadows, and Cedar Lake from far and near was glorious. Not a breeze broke the spell:
"No brisk fairy feet, bend the air, strangely sweet,For nature is wedding her lover!"
This line prompted Cora. Somehow the joy of relief was the one thing that had ever overcome her, and now, although nothing in all, the strange things that had happened around her, or had warped the life of Laurel and her father seemed really cleared away, still there was that odd look on old Ben's face, there was a new light in Laurel's eyes, and something like vigor in the voice of Mr. Starr. Oh, if he could and would only tell about that note! Then everything else might await time for adjustment.
Cora took Jack and Laurel down under the broken chestnut tree to tell them about the letter. It was best, she concluded not to mention it yet to Mr. Starr.
"You know," she began, "that Brentano, that is the man of many names," she explained to Jack, "promised to send me information that would clear Mr. Starr of his supposed crime."
Laurel drew a deep breath. The word crime made her almost shudder.
"And this is to-day's letter." She opened the bulky envelope. "He says so much about a girl's power of influence," Cora explained, as if not wanting to read that part of the letter. Then he says this:
"'I have some excuse for my folly. When I was a very little child my mother died. My farther was an expert mathematician employed by the Mexican government. From a tiny lad I watched him make those fascinating rows of figures, and I always wanted to know what they meant. He told me money, riches, gold, and I got to believe that the way to acquire money was to make figures, and do wonderful things with pen and ink. When I was twelve years old my father died, and I was left, with considerable money, in the care of an old nurse who idolized me. Poor old Maximina! She meant no wrong, but who was to guide me? Then the money was gone and the nurse was also gone. I had to follow some occupation, and a friend coming to America brought me with him. At fifteen I was a bank runner. It was there I met Mr. Starr, the respected first clerk of the bank. He liked me, talked to me and was my friend. Then I got in with a set of so called scientific cranks. I knew something about the ways of hypnotism, and when I wanted money the temptation came."
Cora stopped, for Laurel had clutched at Jack's arm. Her face was a faded yellow and her eyes were twitching.
"Shall we wait for the rest, Laurel?" Cora asked. "Perhaps it is—too painful for you now!"
"Oh, no! It is not pain, it is agony. This boy whom my fatherbefriended!"
"But you see he was not born a scoundrel," Jack interrupted. "He is now trying to make amends."
"Yes," sighed Laurel, "please go on, Cora."
Cora read: "I have kept proofs of everything, but if the authorities refuse to accept these proofs I am willing to come back to America and give myself up. You will find the papers marked 'bank records' in a chest in the back kitchen of Peters shack. They are sealed in a big tin can marked 'red paint.' What are they saying about Peters? That must be a hard nut for the Lake people to crack, but since they know so much, or they think they know, it might be a good thing to let them find out how little they really do know. I am sorry for poor Peters. He got ugly, however, and it was his own fault?"
As Cora read these last few words her, eyes left the paper. What did he mean? Why did he not say more? He knew Peters' shack held the needed proofs of that forgery case. It would take many days to write to and hear from Mexico. All this was dashing before Cora's confused mind.
"The thing to do," spoke Jack, "is to go to the shack at once. When we find those papers we may believe the man."
"I believe him now," said Laurel, "for all that he says of my father I have heard in his ravings. Poor, dear father! And to think I was too young to help him!"
"It was evidently not a question of age," said Jack, "when one is hypnotized into the belief that he has committed a crime it would take scientific treatment to restore him to his correct view of the case. To remove you from the possibility of this, I suppose, is the very reason that Brentano brought you here."
"We cannot go for the papers to-day," Cora said, "for we must, if possible, get Mr. Starr either to the boys' bungalow, or to our camp. Which do you think, Jack?"
"We will take him to our bungalow, certainly. And it seems to me he is smart and bright enough for the trip now. If we wait later he might have some reaction," Jack replied.
Laurel agreed with him, and presently they broached the matter toMr. Starr.
"But I cannot go just now," the hermit argued. "I have that little lame rabbit—"
"Why, father," and Laurel folded her arms around him, "don't you think it would be dreadful to disappoint our friends when they have waited the whole night? And they must want to get back to their comfortable quarters."
"Looking at it that way," he faltered, "I suppose I ought to. But how can a man leave the woods when he has been in them for ten years?"
"It must be hard," Cora agreed, "and if you want to come back we could arrange to build you a real camp out here, one in which Laurel might have some comforts. But first you must get strong. Just think of beef tea-broth—can't you smell it?"
"Girl! Girl!" he exclaimed with a real smile brightening his benevolent face, "you have a way! Laurel, we have no trunks to pack," he said, half grimly, "have we?"
"But we have things to take with us," 'and she jumped up so pleased, believing that he had almost, if not entirely, consented to go.
"Where's that rabbit?" asked Jack.
Walter and the girls were coming the other way.
"It's in a mossy bed just back of where Bess stands," said Laurel.
"Then he's the first thing to be packed," said Jack, walking straight for the path where the others stood.
From that time until the Petrel landed at the lower end of Cedar Lake Mr. Starr, the hermit, felt that he was in a dream. At the same time he allowed himself to be guided and managed with the simplicity of a child, for his awakened memory seemed stunned by this new turn of affairs. He was weak, of course, but with all the hands that now crowded around him his every need was well looked after.
"I'll get Dr. Rand," Ed volunteered. "They say he is wonderful on mental cases."
"But he needs rest first," insisted the busy Cora, for she andLaurel had gone directly to the boys' bungalow with Mr. Starr.
Between them all the illness seemed overwhelmed. In fact, the man's eyes, the safest signal of the brain, were as dear as those of the young persons who so eagerly watched his every move.
Dr. Rand came at once. He diagnosed the case as one of mental shock, and called the patient convalescent. A nurse however was called in to hurry the recovery, and this necessitated the renting of another bungalow for the boys.
There had never been more excitement around the wood camp. The boys ran this way and that, each anxious to outdo the other in the accomplishment of something important. Finally Cora suggested that they all go away to make sure that Mr. Starr would have real quiet.
"Can't we go for the papers? To the shack?" Laurel ventured.
"We might," Jack replied. "I see no reason why we should not."
"Let us three go," proposed Cora, "I mean you and Laurel and I,Jack. It might be best not to attract attention."
Once more the Petrel sailed up the lake, this time toward the Everglades. Cora thought of that day when she and Bess dared take the same journey, when the strange man sat at the willowed shore ostensibly making sketches. She thought now that his work then must have been the forging of a letter to hand the poor demented hermit of Fern Island.
"The shack is just over there, Jack," she said, pointing out the willows.
"There's another boat anchored there," Jack said. "It looks like an important craft too."
He had seen it before. It was the very boat in which the detective and the police officer sailed up to the far island the morning they came searching for evidence in the Jones' case.
"The path is narrow," Cora said, "but I happen to know it." She led the way.
"There are men!" exclaimed Laurel as they neared the shack.
Two men were trying to force open the low window. Cora drew back, for one of the men was in uniform.
"I suppose they have not finished the case," Jack ventured, and at that very moment he would have given a great deal to have had his sister and Laurel back at camp.
The men had not yet seen them. They forced open the window, and were now inside.
"Let us turn back," Jack suggested. "They may ask us questions—"
"But the papers," begged Laurel. "They mean so much to father. And what if those men should take them?"
"They will likely take everything they can lay their hands on," Jack answered, "and I suppose it will be best for us to go on."
"Certainly," Cora said, knowing well that it was on her account thatJack hesitated. "They cannot do more than ask questions."
But scarcely had she uttered the words than they saw the two men walk out of the shack, and one of them had the can marked "red paint!"
Seeing their precious papers, or the receptacle that was said to contain them, in the hands of the detective, Cora and Laurel both drew back. They could not now demand them, was the thought that flashed to the mind of each, and yet to leave them in possession of the officers, was the very worst thing that could have happened, for there was always the danger of the old story coming up and then the risk to Mr. Starr, after all his years of evading the law!
"They have no right to them," Jack said under his breath.
"Hush!" Cora whispered, "they are going the other way!"
The two men were talking. Suddenly one of them said loudly enough for the listeners to hear:
"It might be dynamite. Not for me! Here goes!" and he carefully set the can down under a bush.
"Yes," said the other man. "You are right. Those two fellows were up to most anything. We will get Mulligan. He could smell dynamite," and with that they turned, took a new path toward the shore, and were soon sailing off in their boat.
For a few moments neither of the three, who were standing there watching, spoke. Then Cora's face brightened.
"They are ours, Laurel's," she said, "and we have a right to take them."
"But the law is queer on such points," Jack argued. "I have known men to be put in jail for what they call interfering with an officer when the officer could not do just what he wanted to with some spunky citizen. I should not like to touch the can of red paint."
"But my father," said Laurel, in the most pleading of tones. "Think what it means! How we have suffered; and now, when this is at our very hands!"
"But suppose it were something other than the papers," cautionedJack. "Those men had a pretty bad reputation."
"I will take all the risks," declared Cora, and before Jack could detain her she ran to the bush, pushed it aside, and grasped the can.
Jack hurried to take it from her. "Let me have it, Cora; if there is a risk it must be mine."
"All right, Jack dear," she replied, "I am sure there is nothing in it heavier than papers. Wouldn't you think those men could have guessed that?"
"Perhaps they did not want to," said Jack. "You can never tell what they want or mean. They have a system even the country fellows, and it covers a multitude of failures." He shook the can, put it to his ear, rolled it a few feet, picked it up again and laughed. "Mr. Mulligan won't find this can," he said, "Somehow it is attractive, and I am anxious as you girls to see what is in it. If we get in trouble for taking it—well, we'll see," and he led the way down to the Petrel.
On the water they passed the police boat, but the can of "red paint," was snugly resting under Laurel's skirts in the bottom of the boat.
"Will you tell your father at once, Laurel?" Cora asked.
"If he is well enough. Oh, I can scarcely wait. Coral, what wonderful good luck you brought to us," and she reached out her hand to press Cora's.
"Don't be too sure," cautioned the other, "it is not all cleared up yet."
"But I feel sure," she insisted. "Brentano was too clever to do anything half way."
"He certainly was a star," Jack admitted. "But I hope he will not insist upon keeping up the correspondence with Cora. He might give us the hoo-doo."
They were soon at their dock. The Peter Pan was tied, there, and that meant that Paul Hastings was at the bungalow. Jack thought instantly of Paul's employer, the banker, whose name Mr. Starr had mentioned. It did seem now that things were shaping themselves to tell all the story.
"Who is the stranger?" Cora asked, noticing a man in a dressing robe sitting on the little rustic porch.
"I—wonder—" Jack said.
"It's father," almost screamed Laurel, "and he has had his hair cut and his beard taken off! Doesn't he look lovely!"
"It can't be," Cora said hesitatingly. "That man is so young!"
"He's my dear father, just the same," declared the delighted girl, hurrying from the boat up to the bungalow.
The man did not turn his head to greet her, but she was not to be deceived by his little ruse. "What a surprise!" she exclaimed. "I scarcely knew you."
"But you did know me," he replied, with a happy smile. "I feel years and years younger, my dear."
"Indeed you look it," Cora said. "I wonder how you ever hid such good looks."
The nurse was fetching the beef tea, Paul took the cup from her hand. Jack made a wry face at Laurel, indicating that they would have to watch Paul and the pretty new nurse. Then he took the chair nearest Mr. Starr. The can of "red paint" had been safely hidden in a locker of the Petrel.
"Your friend has been telling me the wonders of his fast boat," began Mr. Starr to Jack, speaking of Paul.
"Yes. This is the young man who is employed by Brendon Breslin,"Jack replied.
"Employed by Brendon Breslin!" exclaimed Mr. Starr. "Is Mr. Breslin around here?"
"Gone to the city to-day," replied Paul, "but I take him home every night in the Peter Pan. That's what he wants the best boat on the lake for."
"He always believed me, and never wanted me to go away," Mr. Starr said. "And now if I could see him—"
"I don't see why you cannot," put in Jack. "He often rides by here, doesn't he Paul?"
"He thinks this the prettiest end of the lake," Paul replied. "But if you ever knew him and he was your friend I am sure he would be only too glad to make a special trip to see you, for he boasts he never forgets an old friend," Paul said.
"That's him—that's Brendon," exclaimed Mr. Starr, moving uneasily in his chair. "I feel I must be dreaming."
There was a general pause—for realization. Everyone felt indeed it was like a dream, and almost beyond human power to grasp. Mr. Starr swept his hand over his forehead.
"Laurel," he called, "I wonder if I couldn't take a ride in thePeter Pan. Ask the nurse, please—?"
"Oh, no," objected that young lady. "It would not be wise for you to take another boat ride to-day. We will ask the doctor about it tomorrow."
"Don't be impatient, father," pleaded Laurel. "You must not forget how weak your head has been."
"All right, child. But I want it cleared up," he murmured. "I feel there is no safety for me until I'm vindicated."
"Come on, Jack," whispered Cora. "We must open that can."
Paul was leaving. Cora and Jack walked to the dock with him. He assured them both that Mr. Breslin would call very soon, and also promised to be on hand on the following Wednesday evening when the girls and boys were planning to have a celebration.
"They will never know but that it is really paint," Cora remarked, as she and Jack walked boldly up the path with the precious tin can. "Just take it around to the back, and be careful opening it."
"Dynamite?" asked Jack with a smile.
"No, but you might damage something," she replied.
"No worry about damaging myself?" he persisted. "Well, Cora, I hope it contains—some jewels. Wouldn't that be nice?"
There was no chance for further conversation. Cora went to the porch while her brother carried out her instructions. Presently she made some excuse, and left Laurel alone, talking with her father.
She found Jack sitting on the wash bench with the can opened and in his hands.
"Didn't go off?" she asked, peering into the tin.
"Not a go," replied Jack, "but look! What did I tell you! There's an envelope marked for Laurel, and feel! Are they not stones? Diamonds or pearls?"
"You romancer!" exclaimed Cora, as she felt the bulky envelope. "I admit they do feel like stones, but they may be merely corals. But oh, Jack! Do let me see!"
"Lets call Laurel," he suggested. "We cannot read any of those papers. They are for her, or her father, to open."
"Oh, of course," and Cora looked rebuked. "I had no idea of reading anything, but I thought we should make sure of what was in the can before we got Laurel excited over it," and she slipped around the side of the bungalow to beckon to Laurel.
The girl's face turned white when she saw why she was wanted. "I am so afraid of disappointment," she murmured with a sigh.
"Well, there's something in here," Jack told her. "Look at this," and he handed her the heavy envelope.
She read her name—then she tore open the paper. A necklace fell out on her lap!
"Mother's!" she exclaimed, pressing the golden chain to her lips reverently. "Darling mother's!"
"And the stones are amethysts!" Cora exclaimed as Laurel held up the gems.
"Yes, it was father's wedding present to mother," Laurel told them."Oh, I scarcely know how to tell him all this."
"Tony was a pretty decent robber after all," remarked Jack. "He kept them for you, at any rate."
"Yes, poor man. Perhaps, as he said, his one temptation was to do clever things with a pen. Let us look over the papers."
"Perhaps your father had best see you do that," Jack suggested.
"Oh no. I think I had better know first," Laurel insisted. "Let me open this," and she carefully broke a large red seal on a packet of documents yellow with age.
Paper after paper she took out. Finally what she was looking for she found. It was a check that had been cashed and cancelled! It bore the marks also of "forgery!"
"That's it," she exclaimed. "That is the ten thousand dollar check!"
"I remember it all—it's like a book open before me!"
Laurel had insisted upon her father reclining in the hammock, and she was now fussing with his pillows, that he might nestle deeper in their softness. It was he who was speaking. On the porch sat Brendon Breslin, looking into Peter Starr's face like one enchanted. There was Cora moving a big fan so that apparently without her doing it, the breeze reached the man in the hammock. Jack was there and Ed was inside the bungalow teasing Walter who had "discovered" the new nurse. Hazel, Bess and Belle were busy—there was to be "something doing."
A day had passed since the opening of the can of "red paint." In fact it was the evening following that eventful performance. Paul had only to say "Peter Starr"' to Mr. Breslin, and the latter was ready to be at the bungaloafers' camp. So the story was unwinding.
"Do you really feel able to talk?" asked the millionaire banker. "I will insist now—you got, the better of me once, Peter."
"Yes, Mr. Starr," Cora added to the request. "Do be careful."
"And she asks me to be careful!" He actually seized Cora in his trembling arms. "She! Why she risked her life for us. It was she who found my Laurel! She who came to us at night to be sure we would not repel her! She who followed up that—"
"Oh, please, hush!" Cora begged, "or it will be she who causes your relapse," she insisted.
"Indeed no," and the man held in his hands before him the flushed face of Cora. "What you have done cannot be told of in this rude way."
"Father, I'll be jealous," said Laurel, trying to relieve the tension.
Cora slipped away. It was Mr. Breslin who spoke next.
"And you really remember?" he asked of Mr. Starr. "How was it that you ran away?"
"The bank president's name had been forged to a check for ten thousand dollars!"
"Yes, I know that well," said Mr. Breslin.
"And they traced the forgery to me!"
"But you knew you were innocent!"
"I knew it, but I was frightened by the accusation, and they had found trials of the signature in my desk!"
"I have a letter that explains that," Cora imparted, and then she told how Brentano had confessed to the forgery, and to his almost hypnotic influence over Mr. Starr.
"And then?" inquired Mr. Breslin.
"Brentano told me I must go. He fixed everything. I have been on the island ten years," and the hermit sighed heavily.
"How did you live?" asked the banker.
"He fixed that," and there was bitterness in his tone. "He brought me letters regularly. These were alleged to come from those who would prosecute me if I did not keep on paying money!"
At this statement the banker dashed up from his seat. "The scoundrel!" he almost hissed. "He ought to be jailed! If I had him here I'd do it too. I'm mayor of this borough."
"Oh, Mr. Breslin!" exclaimed Laurel. "He must not have been entirely bad. See how he saved the papers—the proofs—and how he kept for me my mother's jewels."
"That's the sentimental mire that foreign criminals wallow in," he replied with irony. "I cannot see that it mitigates the crime."
"And yet," interrupted Mr. Starr, "see how the influence of a meregirl turned him to right? I did like that boy!"
Cora and Laurel had crept away to the far end of the porch. Two men came up the path.
"Hello!" said Mr. Breslin. "Officers!"
There was surprise on the officers' faces when they saw Mr. Breslin, their superior officer, the mayor of Cedar Lake, sitting on the porch. Greetings were exchanged and finally they ventured to make known their mission.
They had heard that someone saw Cora Kimball take the state's evidence—the can of "red paint!"
"But what was a can of paint?" asked the mayor. "As if a girl would want that," and his voice was almost mocking.
"Well, it might have been dynamite," and the man who wore brass buttons shook his head sagely.
"A girl steal a can of dynamite," repeated Mr. Breslin mockingly.
The officers were trying to see who was in the hammock. But the man therein sank back into the cushions, while Jack carelessly slipped his chair directly in front of him.
"Why didn't you take it when you saw it?" asked the town's mayor.
"Well," explained the other man, "we didn't fancy the blow-up. We went for Mulligan who knows about such things, and when we came back it was gone."
"You had better tell that story before the jury," and the sarcasm in Mr. Breslin's tone was unmistakable. "Suppose you tell them that a girl took what you were afraid to touch!"
Seeing that it was useless to argue with the mayor, they turned to leave.
"Wait," he said good naturedly, "I have my boat here. Take a ride with me. It's better than walking the dusty roads. Good evening," he said. "Mr. Fennelly," (to Mr. Starr,) "I hope you will regain your health by the time your son has to return to college!"
"Fennelly," said one officer to the other. "That's not the name, it was Starr! We're on the wrong trail." And they hurried away. Thus had Mr. Breslin saved the hermit from having to testify.
"Laurel," Cora said wearily, "let us go for a little walk. My nerves are all snarled up, and only a walk will unravel them. We will have time to go as far as the hemlocks before those girls and boys make up their minds to disband."
"But it is dark," objected Laurel.
"All the better; the quiet will be more effective. Come on, Laurel.Surely you do not mind a dark evening."
"Oh, no indeed, Cora," she replied, winding her arm, about her friend's waist, "but I was thinking it might shower."
"Oh, we could beat any shower," insisted, Laurel, "Come let us get away before they miss us."
It was getting very dark indeed, but they heeded it not, so interested were they in their chat.
They talked of many things, as girls will, and Laurel told much of her half-wild life, on Fern Island, while Cora related some of her own experiences. Then they returned to the house, where they found the others assembled.
"Let's have some fun," suggested Walter.
"I vote for charades," said Jack. "I'll be a fish."
"All right!" exclaimed the nurse, entering into the spirit of the fun, "here's where you swim!" and she poured a glass of water down Jack's back. He accepted the challenge and made exaggerated motions as if he were struggling in deep water. There was a gale of laughter, and that was the beginning of a gay time. The troubles of the past seemed all forgotten.
The now happy party remained together for several days and in the meanwhile there were many developments.
Through the efforts of Mr. Breslin everything regarding the former hermit was cleared up, and his name was once more restored to its untarnished honor. There was absolutely no charge against him, and on learning this, his health took a big change for the better. As for Laurel, she was happier than she had been in many years.
The injury to Jim Peters did not amount to as much as had been feared at first and he gradually recovered. There was no trace of "Tony," as everyone called Brentano. The search for him was given up, but the officers who had been fooled by the can of "red paint" had a hard time living down the joke against them. Cora destroyed all the correspondence she had received. It was like a bad dream, all but that part about helping Laurel and her father, and she wanted to forget it. Laurel also destroyed the letter Jack had picked up the night of the search. It was one from Brentano, and she, too, wanted no remembrance of him. This epistle had a slight connection with the mystery.
Old Ben proved a good friend and Cora was sorry for the momentary feeling she had had against him. He showed the boys many woodland haunts and took them to secret fishin' "holes" unknown to the general public. The lads voted him a "brick."
It was a bright, beautiful day and every one was happy—happy because of the fine weather and because everything had turned out so well.
"I feel just like doing something!" exclaimed Cora, who, came in from a walk in the woods.
"What, sis?" asked Jack, making a grab for her which she adroitly avoided.
"Oh—almost anything. Since so much of our summer was spoiled in exploring and in solving mysteries, suppose we dispel the gloom with a spell of reckless gaiety."
"Suppose," agreed Hazel. "What shall it be? I vote for water fun.We can have parties and that sort of stuff all winter."
"Fishing! The very thing!" exclaimed Cora, "and give prizes for fish, near fish, and no fish."
"Oh, the boys would be sure to win on the fish number," said Hazel, "but let's try it. We have to have live bait, I suppose."
"And we can haul the bait nets. Did you ever see them cast one of those thirty feet ones?" asked Cora.
"Never," replied Hazel. "But when shall we start, and what do we start? I'll dig for worms."
"To-night we will go for the bait, and you can go out with a lantern in the darkest parts of the woods to dig for worms," Cora said, knowing, that this would put an end to Hazel's offer.
"In the woods? In our own back yard. I know how to turn stones over. I have often helped Paul," Hazel attested.
But it was casting the big thirty foot net that really furnished the best sport. It was dropped from a rowboat by Bess and Cora while Laurel and Belle rowed. Then when it was all spread out they had to row very quickly in a circle to close the bottom and to drag in the unsuspecting little fishes that were to make the live bait.
The first trial resulted in Belle resigning as oarsman. She had lost a gold-rimmed side-comb overboard, besides getting very wet when the boat turned suddenly and "took a wave."
"I can row alone," insisted Laurel. "Cora and Hazel must manage the net."
This time they did bring up some fish—a whole drove of wiggling, frightened little minnies.
"How do we get them out?" asked Bess, more frightened than the fish.
"Pick them out and put them in the bait box," Cora explained, whileBess made a negative face.
"It seems a shame to use them for bait," Laurel said, as on the pier they opened the net carefully and saw the pretty silvery things slip around. "Couldn't we put them some place to grow up?"
"The fish-orphans' home," suggested Cora. "But I must have a few. You know, girls, fish have no brains. That's the reason I suppose they go into the brain business when they get a chance at humans."
The very next afternoon the girl's fishing party rowed out fromCenter Landing. Walter went along to take the fish off the hooks ofBelle and Bess who declared they would never be able to do that.The other boy's composed a rival party.
Ben was at the landing, and he wished them all sorts of luck besides telling them the secret spots where fish dwelt. They went deep into the cove, as Ben said the pickerel loved to lay in the grasses there.
Bess and Belle insisted upon following the directions on the box of a patent "plug" they had purchased and cast near a lily pond, reeling in so slowly that Hazel and Cora had both had "strikes" before the twins saw their white make believe fish come to the surface. This sort of casting was for bass of course.
"I've got one! I've got one!" shouted Cora, as she pulled in a handsome big, black bass.
This won the first and last prize, for it was an exceptionally fine specimen.
"We knew you would have the best luck, Cora," Hazel said without malice, as she dragged up a very small, scared sunny. "We knew it. You always do."
"It isn't luck," added Laurel, "It's skill. She knew that she must pull up as soon as the fish struck. I lost something. It might have been a snake but it got away because I was not quick enough."
There was quite a laugh when Jack, after a hard struggle, during which he protested that he must have the biggest pickerel in the lake, pulled in a large mud turtle. Later, however, he redeemed himself by catching one of the long fish which gave him quite a battle of the line. The other boys did well, and the girls were not far behind them.
"Well," remarked Cora, during a lull in the proceedings when they had gone ashore to eat the lunch they had brought along, "we really haven't had so much fun as this since we came to the lake. There was so much excitement."
"There are other vacations coming," predicted Ed. "There is no telling what may happen since she has learned to adjust a spark plug, and regulate a timer."
Ed was right; there were other adventures in store for the motor girls, and what they consisted of will be related in the next volume of this series to be entitled "The Motor Girls on the Coast or The Waif from the Sea."
The afternoon waned. No one felt like going fishing after lunch. Besides, as Cora said, they, had enough, and they were all cleaned up from the "mess" of baiting hooks.
And now, for a time we will take leave of the girls, as they are sitting on the shady shores of Cedar Lake, talking—talking—and the boys listening, with occasional remarks.
"And I'm so glad it all came out right," Cora murmured. "You are to go to school with me, Laurel—mother has planned about that."
"And it was so good of Mr. Breslin to arrange to have father do clerical work for him," added the woodland maid. "Oh, how lovely everything is!"
And the sun, sinking to rest, cast a rosy glow over the peaceful waters of the lake.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Motor Girls on Cedar Lake, by Margaret Penrose