"Tell 'em the truth, of course," that brave young man declared. "Carrie ought to hear it once in a while."
He looked so determined that Polly and Jess had hard work not to laugh when, as the red-faced Carrie and the wilted Mattie came up to them and demanded, "What did Joe say? Where was he going?" Fred began to stutter.
"I—I guess he was going to town," he said, and not another word.
"He and Albert are going to the carnival," chirped Artie, who had a passion for telling all he knew, as Polly had discovered more than once when she wished to keep Riddle Club matters a secret.
"They are! Why, they asked us to go!" exclaimed Mattie Helms. "Last night we had a beach party and we invited them, and Joe said would we go to the carnival this afternoon? I think that's a funny way to act."
"What did Joe Anderson say, Artie?" said Carrie suddenly, and flattering Artie with her attention. Usually she ignored him.
Polly and the others stared fascinatedly at Artie. They were all hoping that he would not remember Joe's remark concerning Carrie' appetite. By good luck he passed that over, but his memory was appallingly clear as regarded the rest of Joe's speech.
"He said he and Albert didn't have enough money to take you and Mattie and have a good time themselves," repeated Artie slowly and carefully as though he was on the witness stand.
An angry color came into Mattie's face and she opened the elaborate beaded bag she carried.
"Carrie and I don't need Joe Anderson to take us to any carnival," she declared loudly. "Daddy gave me five dollars when he heard we were going. Carrie and I'll have a good time all by ourselves."
"Go to it," advised Fred, in all sincerity. "We're going to take in the show to-morrow."
Carrie and Mattie plowed on through the sand, and the Riddle Club members trailed silently back to the water. Polly's eyes were dancing, and, happening to glance at Fred, she began to laugh. Jess and Margy snickered, and in a moment all six were laughing uncontrollably.
"Oh dear!" cried Jess, wiping her eyes. "Didyou ever hear of anything so funny! Mattie and Carrie probably have more money to spend than the boys have."
"I hope Joe and Albert see them coming and dodge them," Fred gurgled. "Can't you picture those two boys dodging Carrie and Mattie all the afternoon, afraid they'll be asked to treat them to a soda or take them on a merry-go-round? And all the time Carrie and Mattie will be having a grand time and taking in all the sights as fast as they can! I hope Carrie gets a chance to tell Joe what she thinks of him. Trust her to do it."
"Mother said you weren't to talk about Carrie Pepper the way you do," Margy reproved him.
"I don't think she's so bad," said Artie in a tone that convulsed the others again.
"She probably thinks you're a wonder," Jess told him.
"The original little information booth, aren't you, Artie?" Fred added.
Artie happened to find an exceptionally large clam shell just then and wisely forebore to argue. And the Riddle Club spent the rest of the afternoon amiably, asking and answering riddles, searching for shells, and watching the fishing boats come in.
"There's a motor boat," said Jess, as a smallboat some distance out turned and sped down the coast. "Look how fast it goes!"
"That's Larry's boat," Fred said. "It's called theClaraand he takes picnic parties out."
Fred had gone on several fishing trips with his father, and already he knew most of the boats at the beach and the names of their skippers.
"Who is Larry?" asked Margy idly.
"Oh, he's a native," Fred answered. "Every one calls him Larry. I never heard his other name."
Artie wanted to know if he was a native.
"Not of Sunrise Beach," Jess told him good-naturedly. "You're a native of River Bend, Artie."
"Why am I?" insisted Artie, whose thirst for information was remarkable.
"You happened to be born there," Fred told him. "Now I'll ask you a riddle: What is hung in the middle and wags both ways?"
"My tongue," said Artie, with irresistible sweet temper.
They carried home several additions to Artie's collection of dishes and were careful not to leave them on the porch railing. The talk at supper was all of the carnival.
CHAPTER XII
THE CARNIVAL
Thealarm clock in the boys' room went off at five o'clock the next morning.
"Want any errands done before breakfast?" called Fred down the stairs.
Fred's mother was a wise woman, and she could, as her husband often said, make the most of any situation. If the boys, who usually had to be called at least twice, were awake at five and ready to give practical help, what reason was there for waiting till eight o'clock and breakfast time?
"I wish you'd go after some eggs, Fred," said Mrs. Williamson, perhaps a little sleepily. "Get yourself some bread and butter and a glass of milk and then you can walk out to the farm and back before breakfast."
"Let's go, too," whispered Polly to Margy.
The alarm had wakened the two girls, and now they jumped up and managed to get dressed without disturbing Jess.
"Are you up?" said Fred, when they came intothe kitchen where he and Artie were getting their bread and milk.
"Did we wake you up?" Artie asked, staring round-eyed over his glass of milk.
"Yes, to both questions," said Polly. "We thought we'd go out to the farm with you. Hand me the bread knife, please."
"Where's Ward?" Margy demanded, pouring out a glass of milk for Polly and one for herself.
"Sleeping," replied Fred, grinning. "He said he wasn't going to get up early when he didn't have to."
"Well, I think myself it's kind of silly," Margy said frankly. "What made you set the alarm for five o'clock?"
"Oh, I just thought I'd feel gay this morning, and I do," declared Fred. "I think the carnival makes me a little skittish."
They all laughed, recognizing one of the pet words of Mrs. Pepper, Carrie's mother.
"Come on, or we won't get back for breakfast," Fred urged. "Mother gave me the egg money. Let's hurry."
Even Margy changed her mind about the silliness of an early rising hour when they stepped outside the cottage and saw the sunrise over the point of land that ran out beyond the fishing pier. A wonderful rosy glow was over the world, andthe ocean, which had not yet begun to sparkle, lay smooth and dark.
"I can count three, four—no, seven, sails!" cried Margy.
"Fishing boats," Fred said. "Look—from here we can see eleven boats, counting the sails and hulls."
Polly found another ship, barely visible, and Artie picked up another and that gave them thirteen before they turned away to follow the road that would take them back into the country.
"Say, I know a riddle!" exclaimed Artie. "Fred, why is the ocean never a lonely place?"
"Why is the ocean never a lonely place?" repeated Fred slowly. "Because it's full of fish, I guess."
"No," drawled Artie.
"I don't think that was a good answer," observed Margy. "Fish—horrid old things—wouldn't keep any one, not even another fish, from being lonely."
"What is the answer, Artie?" said Polly, after a little more thought on the part of all. "We all give up."
"The ocean is never lonely because it is always filled with old Salts."
"Old salts?" queried Margy. "What does that mean?"
"Old Salts are old sailors, Margy," explained her brother impatiently. "And the ocean is full of salt and the old Salts— Well, I don't think that's a very good riddle, Artie. No wonder we couldn't guess it."
"Maybe not," agreed Artie good-naturedly. "But lots of our riddles aren't so very good."
"I wouldn't mind getting up at this time every morning," declared Fred, who seemed to be unusually energetic. "What say, Artie, my lad?"
"Go on, if you like," Artie encouraged him. "But I am not going to get up at five o'clock every morning—not if I know it."
"It's no fun getting up alone, so I'll have to stay in bed, I suppose," said Fred. "Well, if I am not famous for doing a day's work before breakfast, you'll be the one to blame, Artie."
The farm where Mrs. Williamson bought eggs was some two miles from the beach. The boys and girls were forced to walk in the middle of the road, for the grass was wet with dew. Now and then a farmer's cart rattled past them, but it was too early for the truck gardeners to be out with their loads of green vegetables.
"Why don't we take the Riddle Club dues and buy a farm with 'em?" suggested Artie, as they passed a particularly well-kept place which apparently struck his fancy.
"The only reason," Fred returned, "is that if we took the dues out of the bank, it would collapse. I don't want to be responsible for wrecking the River Bend Bank—do you?"
Artie giggled and shook his head.
"I guess we won't add much to the account this summer," said Polly seriously. "We have the dues for the last meeting, but even if we have another meeting we won't be fussy about collecting. Mother said she thought we should have our allowances to spend for vacation fun as long as we were at the beach."
"I don't care if we don't add much to the amount in the bank," Fred said. "But it does get me to have the boys always planning some way to spend what we have. If Ward and Artie had had their way, we wouldn't have a cent to show."
"Well, can't I even have ideas?" demanded the aggrieved Artie. "I didn't say to buy a farm—I just asked why we couldn't."
"Isn't this where we turn in?" Polly suggested diplomatically.
They had reached the farm, and though Margy whispered that she didn't believe the folks would be up, they found the farmer and his family at breakfast. While the "farmeress," as Polly designated her, bustled around and put three dozen eggs in a pail, her husband kept urging the children to "pull up your chairs and have a bite to eat."
"We're going to have breakfast as soon as we get home, thank you," said Polly, who was generally appointed spokesman by silent consent. "And we had bread and milk before we started."
They found it a little difficult to get away, for the farmer's wife liked to talk and did not often have visitors so early in the day. When they finally were out on the road again, Artie announced that he had changed his mind about buying a farm. He thought they could do better with the money saved from their club dues.
"Did you hear that man?" he asked. "He said he gets up at four o'clock the year around. Gee, in winter it's pitch dark at four o'clock! Why, I wouldn't get up at four o'clock in winter for—for anything."
They brought tremendous appetites home with them for breakfast, but Mrs. Williamson was ready for them. So was Jess, who scolded roundly because the other girls had not wakened her. The morning sped by on wings, for there was the prospect of a lively afternoon before them to lend zest even to the tasks of putting their rooms in order and sweeping off the porches before they went swimming.
"That's the only trouble with all these balconies," Margy confided to Polly. "You have to sweep 'em off, just as though they were really porches. I think there is such a thing as having too many balconies."
Sometimes the children sat about on the sand in their bathing suits and found the hot sun so pleasant after their baths that they over-stayed their time and one of the mothers had to come out and ring a huge old-fashioned dinner bell to remind them that it was time to come in and get dressed. However, this morning they cut their water sports short and were dressed before lunch was ready.
"I see that nothing is to prevent our trip to town this afternoon," remarked Mrs. Larue, smiling, as they sat down at the table. "All I ask is, please do not expect me to ride on the merry-go-round."
"We'll watch and let the youngsters do the wild things," Mrs. Williamson said, ladling out the delicious clam chowder she had made for them. "I dare say the carnival will be too full of motion for us."
"Oh, but, Mother, they have movies!" said Margy eagerly. "You like moving pictures, Mother! You know you do!"
"Yes, I do," Mrs. Williamson admitted. "Well,we can see them and then find a quiet place to sit while you investigate the rest of the carnival."
There was a neat little bus that ran from one end of the beach to the other and through the town. This passed Meeker Cottage on a side street, and the mothers voted to ride to the carnival grounds. As soon as the lunch dishes were out of the way, they started, and when Artie saw the bus coming toward them with a huge sign fastened on the front, reading "To The Carnival," he almost ran to meet it. Or so Fred declared.
"Here it is!" cried Artie, when they came in sight of the tents. "They have a band! I hear it!"
"A band does certainly affect Artie," Mrs. Larue declared. "We'll have to watch him or he might follow it as the children did the Pied Piper."
Artie scarcely heard what they were saying. His eyes were shining and his feet were tapping merrily and he looked so happy and so thoroughly alive that every one who passed him turned to smile.
"Let's go to movies first," suggested Margy. "Mother likes them."
The moving pictures were shown in a large tent. It was not as large as it looked, for it was setover another tent, and in this darkened inner place were the seats for the people who came to see the pictures. If you think it is hard to find your way down the aisles of a dark theater—especially if you are staring at the screen as you walk, so as not to miss any of the picture being shown—you ought to try to find your way into a tent as the Riddle Club members and their mothers did that afternoon.
The chairs were fastened together in rows of six, and if the people in them happened to be excitable when something happened on the screen they were apt to jerk or twist about in their seats and in time this moved the rows closer together or sent them sideways. As a result, some of the rows were closed, some were open, a few were bunched so closely together that it was impossible to walk between them, and at least one row was completely overturned.
Margy and Polly made this discovery in a rather painful manner by falling over the chairs.
"Ow—oh!" wailed Margy, in the darkness. "What was that?"
"Sh!" Polly warned her, trying not to laugh. "We walked into something. Come on."
Jess grabbed Margy and dragged her along in the darkness until Fred managed to find them an unoccupied row of seats into which they filed.He had not counted enough, and he and Artie found themselves "left over," as Ward expressed it.
"We'll go further down," Fred whispered.
"Wait for us at the door, will you, when you go out?"
The others promised him to wait, and Fred and Artie went down the aisle, trying to find two more vacant seats.
"There's two," Artie said, in a shrill whisper, and darted ahead of Fred.
He slipped into a row and sat down. Some one large and impressive rose and shook him from her lap as though he had been a small and troublesome lap dog.
"I sat on a lady," Artie explained, rejoining Fred, who laughed and guided him into another row with better success.
The moving pictures were a great success, from Artie's point of view, because they displayed a wonderful raft in one of the stories. It was a trick raft, so Fred insisted, but Artie chose to believe that any well-constructed raft could behave as well.
"I'm going to build a raft and then you'll see," he whispered to Fred.
"Better let Larry put in a motor for you," Fred counseled him. "Then you can make better speed.I think a motor raft would be a wonder, Artie."
"I'd rather pole it along," said Artie earnestly. "Motor boats are always breaking down. Larry had engine trouble the other day."
"When he was coming from Blackberry Island?" said Fred. "Yes, I heard about that. But Larry always fixes his engine. He's a dandy mechanic."
Then the people about them said "Sh!" and the boys turned their attention to the picture which was delighting Margy, but which did not have the appeal for Fred and Artie the raft picture had had, because it was, to quote them, "all girls and clothes."
Ward blinked as they came out into the sunlight, after staying till the intermission.
"Bet you were asleep!" Jess accused him.
"I was not!" he flashed back indignantly. "But I couldn't see very well because a tall wide man sat in front of me. Let's go on the merry-go-round."
"I hear it stopping now," Jess cried. "We'd better hurry."
CHAPTER XIII
SIX PASSES
Mrs. Laruelaughed and said she thought that even if they missed the next ride, it would not be a serious matter.
"I see a number of comfortable benches over there in the shade," she announced, "and they look as though they had been placed there especially for patient parents. We'll go over there and wait for you."
The entrancing music grew slower, the platform of prancing beasts began to revolve more slowly and at last stopped. There was a wild scramble of children to get on their favorite mounts.
"I want the giraffe!" cried Jess, who never rode anything else.
"I like a lion!" this from Ward.
Polly and Fred chose cream-colored horses and Artie was delighted with an elephant while Margy climbed into a red plush car and sat on the high seat like a queen in a gondola.
With a suddenness that made Mrs. Marley jump, the music started, the merry-go-round began to move, and the blissful ride was well under way.
When the music stopped, Jess took another giraffe, on the outside of the platform this time, Ward deserted his lion for a friendly-looking bear and Fred and Polly tried the zebras. Artie stuck to his elephant and Margy refused to budge from her car, though the others urged her to ride an animal.
"It's lots more fun than that silly old car," said Fred, with brotherly disapproval.
"I like it here," Margy retorted.
When the second ride was over, they trooped off. Margy pulled Polly aside as they were walking over to the benches where the mothers were waiting.
"Polly, look!" said Margy.
She held out her little pink hand, palm up, and there twinkled a ring with two white stones.
"Diamonds!" Polly said. "Where did you get that?"
"I found it," explained Margy. "You know when I sit on a sofa or in a stuffed chair, I run my fingers down along the edges of the seat. I don't even know when I do it—I just do, that's all. And that's what I did in that car on the merry-go-round. And I felt something hard and pulled out this."
As soon as Margy showed the ring to her mother, Mrs. Williamson declared that some one must have lost it.
"We'll hunt up the man in charge of the merry-go-round and he will know if any inquiries have been made," she said.
"You don't want a parade following you," Mrs. Larue declared; "so the rest of us will wait here for you."
"Let Polly and Jess come," begged Margy. But Mrs. Marley said that was too many; so Mrs. Williamson and Margy went in search of the man who was in charge of the merry-go-round.
They found him—after some questioning—in a queer little cubbyhole so surrounded by odds and ends of lumber and tent rigging and paint pots that Margy wondered how he ever got in or out of his tiny office without breaking his neck.
Mrs. Williamson explained that her little girl had found a ring in one of the cars on the merry-go-round. She had hardly explained, before the manager was greatly excited.
"You don't say!" he cried in a hoarse voice. "So that's where it was! A lady lost it last night and she's offered a reward of a hundred dollars.Has the ring got two diamonds, ma'am? Yes, that's it. Then your little girl gets the money."
"Oh, she doesn't want any money for finding the ring," Mrs. Williamson said quickly. "She's only too glad to return it to the owner. No, we won't leave any name or address. That isn't necessary either."
The manager tugged at his mustache and seemed distressed.
"I wish you'd let me do something for you, ma'am," he said wistfully. "If you don't want the little girl to take the money, how about a pass? I own most of this show and I'll write her out a pass in a minute that will take her into most anything she wants to see."
Mrs. Williamson laughed and explained that Margy was one of a party of six children who had come to the carnival.
"That's all right—I'll be glad to give 'em all passes," said the manager heartily. "You say the word and these kids can have the run of the show. We've got as fine a side show over on the other lot as you'll see in the best circus going."
He was so anxious to do something for Margy that Mrs. Williamson did not want to decline the passes. So she said that the children would be delighted, and within a few moments Margy had six bright-colored bits of pasteboards that would,the manager told her, "let her in free" to any of the carnival attractions.
"And don't miss the side show, or you'll always regret it," he finished earnestly.
Mrs. Williamson and Margy went back to the rest of their party, and maybe those children's eyes didn't pop out when Margy showed them the passes and explained what they meant.
"Can you get ice cream cones with 'em?" Ward wanted to know.
"Are they good for any time?" demanded Fred. "Then, let's come every day and see something different."
Mrs. Williamson laughed and shook her head.
"Make the most of your fun while you're here," she said warningly. "This is positively the last trip we'll make. Besides, Fred, these traveling carnivals seldom stay long in one place. The whole thing may move on to-morrow."
"What do you want to do, Polly?" Margy asked.
"I'd perfectly love to have my fortune told," said Polly, her eyes dancing.
"But maybe nobody tells fortunes," Margy objected.
"Oh, you'll find that in the side show," Mrs. Larue interposed. "I never yet saw a good sideshow that didn't reveal a fine future for any curious person who asked."
"Goodness, he said we mustn't miss it, either," said Margy eagerly. "The side show, I mean. We'll always regret it, if we do."
"Probably," agreed Mrs. Larue. "But I think any one over sixteen who does see a side show regrets it. I think we can wait here for you in this quiet, shady place."
"I think so, too," Mrs. Marley said. "The children will be all right—there isn't a large crowd and they all seem to be nice people. So if you'll promise to keep together and not get lost you may investigate this wonderful side show and then come back and tell us everything you see."
Margy gave each child a pass, and they set gayly out for the side show. The manager had said it was on "the other lot," and they found this to mean a lot across the road from the one where the merry-go-round was put up. On the way Ward saw a peanut and popcorn stand, and he could not resist trying the magic of his pasteboard.
"Could I have some peanuts—I mean buy them with this?" he asked the little fat man behind the stand.
"Sure! A quart enough?" was the answer, and Ward managed to say he thought a quart would be enough.
"Here, what are you trying to do?" asked the man, as Ward took the bag of peanuts and started to walk away. "Fifteen cents, young feller."
"But I have a pass," Ward said, his face scarlet. "I showed it to you and you said it was all right."
"I thought it was a dollar bill," declared the fat man. "What's a pass to me? I don't care if the manager did give it to you, he doesn't own my peanuts and popcorn. I pay him rent for this stand, and what I sell is my own. See?"
Ward never, by any chance, having a cent in his pockets, Fred paid for the peanuts and as several people had stopped to listen, Ward was glad to get away.
"I'm awfully sorry, Ward," Margy apologized, feeling she was responsible for the fat boy's trouble. "I thought he said it was good for everything."
"Refreshment stands are different, I guess," said Jess. "I don't believe you can ever get anything to eat on a pass. Here's the place to have your fortune told, Polly."
Polly looked eagerly. She saw a black tent, the front plastered with queer signs cut out of red cloth. Suns and stars and moons were freely sprinkled over the sides of the tent, too. Thesigns on the front flaps were the zodiac signs, though Polly did not know that.
"I don't believe you can go in on a pass," said Ward. "You'd better not try."
Boys are seldom as eager to have their fortunes told as girls, for some reason, and Fred and Artie declared that nothing would induce them to go in and see "Madame Zelda Orlando," who would, so her announcement said, "read your past, present and future for fifty cents."
"Huh, I know my past and the present is what is happening to me right now," Artie sniffed. "And I can get along without the future till it happens."
But Polly and Margy and Jess were filled with curiosity and they held out their yellow, blue and white passes to the strange turbaned man who stood on guard at the tent door.
"Enter!" he said, and held back the mysterious curtain.
Polly gave one startled backward glance at the boys and went in, followed by Jess and Margy. The turbaned guard dropped the curtain back into place.
"Say, I didn't think they could get in on their passes," said Fred. "I wonder if we ought to have gone in with them."
"They're all right," Ward declared carelessly."Come on and let's see the snakes while we're waiting."
"No, we said we'd keep together and we'll stay right here," said Fred firmly. "The girls will want to see the snakes, too. I don't suppose it takes very long to tell your past and present and future."
Madame Orlando evidently agreed with Fred, for in less than fifteen minutes Polly and Jess and Margy came out. Madame had read their palms, they said, and she said that good fortune awaited them all through life.
"I could have said that," complained Ward. "Hurry up and let's see the snakes. They're over here."
Their passes admitted them into the inky darkness of the snake tent where the reptiles, in glass tanks, writhed back and forth in the glare of electric lights turned full upon them.
"Wait a minute, I dropped my pass," whispered Ward.
The next moment a woman began to shriek and to jump up and down and wring her hands.
CHAPTER XIV
THE SIDE SHOWS
"It'sout!" screamed the woman. "Oh-oh! It's out and it's got me! Save me! Save me!"
As Polly told her mother later it was "creepy" to hear these screams in the darkness of the tent, and a dozen voices began to ask:
"What is it? What's the matter?"
The snake charmer, who had been behind the scenes of the tiny stage, came out in her beautiful pink velvet dress and spoke calmly.
"What is it, lady?" she called clearly. "What is the matter with you?"
"There it is again!" shrieked the woman. "It's the boa constrictor! I can feel it creeping over my feet!"
My goodness, that was enough to make any one nervous! Two or three more people began to cry that they, too, could feel the boa constrictor crawling over their feet on the floor of the tent.
There might have been a panic in another minute, but a carnival attendant who had heard theracket came pushing his way through the crowd of people, a powerful flashlight in his hand.
"What's the matter here?" he kept asking. "What's wrong? Hey, madam, keep still and tell me what's bothering you."
"A snake!" gasped the woman. "There! There! Get him, quick!"
Polly and Margy were holding hands tightly and Jess had a desperate clutch on Polly's skirt. Fred and Artie were close by. All leaned forward as the attendant swept the floor with his light.
Then every one began to laugh and the tent resounded to the sound of relief. There in the glare of the light, flat on his stomach, was Ward, his hair sticking straight up, his face red with the heat and his exertions, and the precious pass gripped tightly in his right hand.
"I got it!" he beamed. "Somebody stepped on it, but I found it all right."
"My land, was it you crawling around in the dark?" the woman who had begun the screaming asked in amazement. "Don't you know any better than to scare folks out of their wits?"
"Ladies and gentlemen," began the snake charmer diplomatically, "now that your fears have been proved groundless, may I ask for your kindest attention? I want to present to you Richard the Third, the noblest snake——"
She began to fondle and exhibit her snakes and the crowd pressed closer. Ward made all haste to get further away from the woman who had been frightened. He was afraid she might begin to scold again, but she was too interested in the snake charmer to remember her fright.
The Riddle Club stayed till the last snake had been put back in its box and then came out, the strong sunlight making their eyes blink after the darkness.
"Say, this is your unlucky day all right, Ward," said the grinning Fred. "First your pass is no good for peanuts and then you give the whole snake show a regular fit. Now here's the fat boy. We'll go see him, and if he takes you for his brother, don't blame me."
Wardwasfat, there was no denying the fact. But he was not as fat as the lad they found propped up in a red velvet chair on a little red velvet platform. This boy looked as though he might be ten or twelve years old, but he was fatter than Mr. Higsby, the fattest man in River Bend.
"Willis King, the fattest boy for his age in the world," read Artie.
"Sh! That isn't polite," Polly reproved him. "You'll hurt his feelings."
"No, he won't. I'm used to that," the fat boy answered, for he had overheard. "I know I'm fat, and I don't mind if people do say so."
Ward silently handed him the bag of peanuts, and he took a handful.
"I should think you'd like to travel around," said Artie. "It must be fun to see all the different places and people."
"Do you have to go to school?" Ward asked.
"Can't—I'm too fat," said the boy. "I'd break down all the benches. My mother teaches me. And let me tell you, it isn't such fun going around, especially in hot weather. I'd like to spend a summer at the beach and just have a good time."
"Why don't you?" Margy asked.
"Because I have to work," the fat boy replied. "This is work, though you may not know it. I have to sit up here and have people look at me and the lights make it awful hot at night. Then going on trains and boats is tiresome. You don't know how lucky you are, to stay in one place all summer."
"How did you get fat?" asked Jess, determined to prevent Ward from gaining another pound.
"I was born fat," was the answer. "And then I eat lots of food and don't exercise. Now I trynot to get thin, because I expect to earn my living this way, and if I was thin, I couldn't be an exhibit."
He ate three more peanuts as though he feared he might have lost some weight through the exertion of talking.
"I don't think he is very bright," commented Jess, as they left the tent. "First he says it is no fun to be fat and then he says he wants to stay fat so he can be an exhibit."
"Well, I don't suppose he'd ever be real thin, and if he is going to be fat, he thinks he'd better be fatter than any one else," Polly said. "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well, Mrs. Pepper says."
The others laughed and Ward asked anxiously if they thought he would ever be an exhibit.
"You'd better be careful," said Jess.
"And whatever you do," added Fred, "stop when you have had two helpings of dessert. It is the third time that will put you in the freak class, Ward."
"Mother hardly ever lets me have even two helpings," Ward murmured. He would take Fred's teasing seriously nearly every time.
There were a few more sights, not many, for the carnival was a small one, and when they hadbeen into every tent they went back to the benches where the three mothers were waiting.
"We thought we wouldn't have ice cream till you came," said Mrs. Marley, "but we are glad we don't have to wait any longer. Who knows where we can find something cool to eat and drink?"
The children had passed a refreshment pavilion and they led the way back to this. Here they had ice cream and rice waffles, and then it was time to think of starting for home.
As they were standing at the side of the road, waiting for the bus, Joe Anderson and Albert Holmes came up the road. They had walked from the bungalow colony and they looked warm and dusty.
"We've seen everything," Artie told them as soon as the two boys were within hearing distance. "Margy found a diamond ring and we had passes and saw everything free."
Joe and Albert stared open-mouthed and the members of the Riddle Club were obliged to explain.
"Gee, what did you do with the passes?" asked Joe quickly. "Perhaps we could use them."
"We gave them back to the manager. Mother said to," Margy told him.
"I don't see why you did that. We could havehad a good time with them to-night, and maybe you could have used them again to-morrow," said Joe, looking much put out, as though Margy had acted very inconsiderately.
"Mother said we couldn't come again, and anyway the carnival won't be here long," Fred announced.
"And the man meant us to go in just once, I think," said Polly slowly. "It wouldn't be fair for everybody to use the passes and see the carnival free."
"Just the same, I think you might have let us have 'em," grumbled Joe.
The bus came along just then, and the Riddle Club members followed their mothers, leaving Joe and Albert to go on to the Carnival and make the most of their nickels.
"I don't believe he liked it because we gave the passes back," said Margy, finding a seat between Jess and Ward.
"Who? Joe? Don't let that worry you," Fred counseled. "I'm glad you didn't have a pass to give him; he would have thought he owned the show."
"The hundred dollars would have been nice in the bank account, wouldn't it?" Margy suggested, with a little sigh.
Now, Margy was not the only one who hadhad that idea, and Mrs. Williamson had talked to Fred about it at some length while they waited for the bus. Fred was club treasurer and very proud of the bank account opened in the name of the Riddle Club. Mrs. Williamson had been afraid that he would regret the hundred dollars Margy might have taken for finding the ring.
"Mother said," Fred reported, "that she hopes we'll never take money when we haven't done anything to earn it. She said it is all right to offer rewards and to accept them, if we really do something. If Margy had heard about the ring being lost and she had gone out and hunted and walked miles and worked her head off and then found it, it wouldn't be so bad to take the money. But Mother says all she did was to put her hand down in the crack and pull out the ring. If she kept it, that would be stealing. But if she took it back and took the hundred dollars that would be almost like paying her fornotstealing. You have to really earn a reward."
"But we'll not ever have a chance to get a hundred dollar reward again," sighed Jess.
"How do you know?" Polly challenged. "I'm going to have good fortune all my life—my hand says so. Maybe I'll get a hundred dollars reward for doing something wonderful."
"Will you put it in the club fund?" asked Jess,and Polly promised that the money should go in the bank and be credited to the Riddle Club.
All were tired after their strenuous day, and there were no protests when Mrs. Marley suggested that every one go to bed at eight o'clock. Waking up at his usual hour the next morning, Fred discovered that Artie was not in the room.
"He's dressed and gone out," said Fred in surprise, noting that Artie's shoes were not under the chair where he always left them and that his clothes had disappeared.
Fred made haste to get downstairs and found that Artie was not in the house. The sound of hammering drew him to the barn. There was only one car in it now, of course, since one was in River Bend whither it had carried the three fathers.
"What do you call it you're doing?" asked Fred, peering in at the door.
The hammering stopped. Artie was working in the darkest corner.
"I'm building a raft," he announced coolly. "I want to get it done before Daddy comes to-morrow night."
"Why don't you build it somewhere near the water?" Fred asked. "I should think you'd know it has to be carried down somehow."
"Well, I guess a horse can pull it, can't he?"said Artie. "Lots of boats are built where there isn't any water. I've seen them on freight cars."
So had Fred. But his common sense told him that when one lived almost across the street from the ocean, the beach was the place to construct a raft.
"Where did you get your hammer and nails, Artie?" he asked curiously. "And the boards? It must take heavy boards to build a raft."
"They're already nailed together," Artie informed him. "I only have to put on a couple of cross-pieces and it will be done."
"But I think you're an awful chump to build it in the barn," persisted Fred. "You can't see in that dark corner, either. And why get up in the middle of the night to build a raft?"
"It isn't the middle of the night," Artie argued. "Besides, I want to try to sail it before breakfast."
Fred suddenly thought of something. He darted out and ran around back of the barn. Sure enough, his suspicions were correct.
"Come out here a minute, Artie!" he called.
CHAPTER XV
ARTIE'S RAFT
Artiecame reluctantly. His face was red and he looked anxious.
"What do you want?" he asked ungraciously.
"What do you suppose Mrs. Meeker will say when she finds you took half her fence to build a raft?" Fred demanded sternly.
He pointed to a wide gap in the board fence back of the barn which showed the source of Artie's lumber supply.
"I didn't take it," that ambitious youth protested. "It fell down, truly it did, Fred. And I saw it and it was just the right size for a raft. I can put it back, anyway, after I've used it a little."
"You'd better not let any one see you taking the fence," warned Fred. "Leave it alone till after breakfast, and I'll help you carry it down to the water. We'll get Ward to help."
Artie decided that Fred was interested in the raft—as indeed he was—and as he knew he couldnot carry the heavy boards down to the ocean without help, he readily agreed to let the rest of his carpenter work go till after breakfast.
Fortune favored the conspirators, for as soon as breakfast was over Mrs. Larue declared that she must get wool to finish a sweater she was knitting and that as she had tried and could not match it in Sunrise Beach, she meant to take the Shore Line bus and go down the coast to Glen Haven, where there were larger shops.
"Let's all go," Mrs. Marley suggested. "I've always wanted to take a trip on that bus—it follows the boulevard part of the way, and they say the scenery is beautiful."
Polly and Margy and Jess were eager to go, but the boys hung back.
"It's no fun going into stores," Fred complained.
"I hate standing around for hours," almost wept Ward.
And Artie, his raft ever in mind, remarked that he didn't feel as though he could spare the time.
"That's a speech you have borrowed from your daddy," laughed Mrs. Marley. "But if you boys want to stay at home, I don't see any reason why you should not. We can leave you a nice lunch on the kitchen table, and perhaps you'll havea good time without any feminine friends to bother you."
"If you go in bathing, promise not to go out beyond the tent piling," Mrs. Williamson said quickly.
This was the limit always imposed on the children when they went in swimming without an older person at hand. The boys promised readily, and after half an hour of bustling preparation, the three mothers and their daughters were off.
"Now come on out and help me with the raft," coaxed Artie, as soon as the house was quiet. "Ward will want to eat up the lunch right away, if he stays here."
Ward was even then lifting the cloth which covered the lunch that had been left for them, but he declared that he meant only to look and had no intention of tasting.
"Come away from temptation," Fred insisted, dragging him across the kitchen floor and out the door. "We have a busy day ahead of us. We have to try this raft and get it back in place before my dad and yours and Mr. Marley come to-night."
Ward had not known that Artie was building a raft, much less that he had "borrowed" a section of the fence, and his questions rather nettledthe young builder, who was intent on getting his invention down to the water-side.
"How do you know that it will float?" asked Ward, as he tugged manfully at the end allotted to him.
"I don't!" puffed Artie. "But the only way to find out is to put it in the water. Are you lifting, Ward, or just talking?"
Ward was purple in the face. The fence boards were heavy and the section which had fallen was wide. Artie had been unwilling, or afraid, to cut it, so he really had a larger raft than he would have chosen to build.
By dint of much tugging and dragging, the boys managed to get the heavy thing across the sand and down to the water. They were dripping with perspiration when they finally accomplished this feat and were glad to sit down and rest a moment before the launching.
"I'm glad there isn't any one around," confided Artie, glancing up the deserted beach. "It may not float, and then we'd feel foolish."
"If it sinks," said Ward, staring placidly out to sea, "you won't be able to put it back in Mrs. Meeker's fence."
Artie had not thought of this and neither had Fred. The latter now suggested that they ought to have an anchor.
"Or I tell you what we can do," he said. "Tie it to the piling. Then if it sinks, we can pull it in."
Artie protested that he wanted to sail the raft and Fred pointed out that if it did not sink, they could untie the rope and sail it as far as they liked.
"Well, all right; but where's a rope?" demanded Artie, feeling that he had done all that could be expected of him when he supplied the raft. Anything else, like ropes, could be furnished by those suggesting them.
"I saw one in the barn. I'll go get it," offered Ward, with unusual alacrity.
He was gone longer than it would have taken Fred or Artie, but they forgave him because they knew that if he hurried he was apt to lose his breath. He brought back a coil of fairly heavy rope, and this was tied around one end of the raft. They had to drag it almost a hundred feet to get it near the piling, and while Fred was in the act of fastening the other end of the rope to a brace between two of the logs, who should hail him but Joe Anderson and Albert Holmes.
"Joe's going home to-day," Albert volunteered. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," replied Artie, scowling, for once in his life averse to giving information.
"Gee! it's a raft, isn't it?" said Joe. "Whose is it—yours? Have you any poles to guide it with?"
They had forgotten poles, but Fred thought oars would do.
"I saw a couple of old ones in the barn," Ward chimed in. "I'll go and get them."
He darted off before Fred and Artie could say yes or no, and this time stayed longer—but he might have been hunting for the oars.
"Let me try to sail it?" said Joe, when Ward came back, trailing the clumsy oars in the sand behind him.
"It won't carry five," Artie declared, including Albert in his calculations.
"No, it may not carry one," said Fred. "Artie has the first chance to be drowned, because it is his raft. We'll stand by to rescue him, and then if he survives some more of us can ship with him."
Artie giggled and took off his shoes and stockings. As he remarked, there was no use in spoiling them.
Fred and Ward took off their shoes and stockings, too, for they knew they would have to help shove the raft into the water.
"Let her go!" sang out Artie, as he stepped into the water, holding up his end of the raft.
With the best intentions in the world, Fred and Ward shoved. The raft caught Artie under the chin and he went over backward. Of course he was in shallow water, but it was as wet as any other kind would have been and when he rose, sputtering and wrathful, Fred made an unfortunate remark.
"You ought to have put on your bathing suit," said he.
"I would have, if I'd known you were going to be so dumb," Artie returned angrily.
"Anyway, it floats," said Ward, pointing to the raft bobbing gently up and down.
Sure enough, it did float, and all the boys were eager to climb on it. Artie, who could certainly get no wetter than he was, scrambled on it and it sank a few inches with his added weight, but still floated.
"Ward's too fat—let me try," urged Joe Anderson.
He waded into the water—he had taken off his shoes and stockings when the others had—and Albert followed him. In spite of Artie's warnings, they insisted on climbing aboard. As a result, they found themselves sitting in water up to their waists.
"Didn't I tell you?" Fred scolded.
"Gee, these are the clothes I am supposed towear home this afternoon," Joe sighed crossly. "My others are packed."
"You'd better come on back to the house and get dried off," suggested Albert, whose teeth were chattering. He seldom went bathing in the ocean because the water was too cold for him.
Joe slid off the raft and tramped moodily ashore. He was inclined to blame Fred and Artie for what had happened, but even Albert declared that it was not their fault. "But it isn't much of a raft," Albert added.
"Now let me on," urged Ward, as the two boys disappeared up the beach. "I'm glad Joe is going home to-day—perhaps we can have a little peace."
Ward gingerly took his place on the raft, though he had to be pulled by Artie and pushed by Fred, before he could gain a foothold, and then, as the craft did not sink, Fred himself came aboard. The raft remained afloat, though it could not be said to be absolutely dry.
"I'll try poling," said Fred, who had brought one of the oars with him.
He meant to pole toward the piling, but either because he was excited or did not think, he began to propel the raft away from the anchorage, and the first thing he knew his oar had stuck inthe sand. It broke off with a loud crack and Fred pitched into the water, head over heels.
IT BROKE OFF AND FRED PITCHED INTO THE WATER.The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach.Page 141
"Did he land on his head?" cried Artie in alarm, running to the end of the raft where Fred had disappeared.
As Ward was also at that end, naturally the raft tipped and both boys went into the sea, coming up within a foot of Fred, who was shaking the water from his eyes and staring about him with a bewildered expression.
"Hello!" Artie greeted him rather foolishly.
"Some raft!" said Fred, in disgust. "And we're the dubs not to have worn our bathing suits. Let's go up to the house and get them on now and hang these clothes out to dry."
This was voted a sensible plan, and the boys waded ashore. When they reached the house and donned their bathing suits, hanging their wet clothes on the line strung in the side yard, Ward suggested that they might as well eat their lunch.
"Then we can stay out all the afternoon," he said.
"Don't forget we have to have that fence fixed before Dad gets here," Fred reminded him.
Artie reached the kitchen first and lifted the cloth which was spread over their lunch. Alas, three empty saucers showed that some one had been there before him.
"Ward Larue, you ate the pies!" cried Artie. "Of all the mean tricks!"
"So that's why you were so anxious to come up and get the rope and the oars," Fred said, suddenly understanding.
"I never get enough pie," stammered Ward. "I thought you wouldn't mind. I won't touch the sandwiches and milk—you can have 'em all."
It was impossible to be long angry with Ward and of course he had his share of the rest of the food. Ward dearly loved to eat, and those pies had been too much for him—at home his mother kept the cookie and cake and pie cans securely locked, lest he be tempted too severely.
At Artie's suggestion they washed the dishes—after a fashion—and then hurried back to the beach. It was then only eleven o'clock and the prospect of a long afternoon was entrancing. Artie ran ahead to see if the raft was still afloat.
"It's gone!" they heard him shout. "Boys, the raft is gone! Somebody's stolen our raft! What do you know about that?"
"And it's Mrs. Meeker's fence, too," Ward muttered, fear-stricken. "What shall we do?"
CHAPTER XVI
A BIT OF GOOD FORTUNE
Wardsaid the rope must have broken and Fred thought perhaps the raft had sunk, but nothing would convince Artie that his raft was not stolen.
"All right, say somebody took it," Fred gave in. "What would they do with it?"
"Use it," said Artie. "It was a good raft."
"Maybe," Ward offered in his slow way, "Joe Anderson took it, just to be mean."
"Now you're talking!" exclaimed Fred. "That would be a Joe Anderson trick, all right. But he's going home this afternoon."
"He could hide it," Ward suggested.
"Well, I didn't think he'd take it on the train with him," grinned Fred. "Now it's up to us to do a little detective work."
This sounded exciting, and Artie and Ward waited expectantly for Fred to tell them what to do.
"Are there any footprints?" Fred demanded."Look around and see if you see any footprints on the sand."
The boys reported that, as far as they could tell, the only marks were those made by their own feet.
"That proves," announced Fred triumphantly, "that Joe came in a boat and towed the raft away—just what I thought!"
"Huh," Artie snorted, "the tide's been in. Even if he had walked, we wouldn't see his footprints. Those we made ourselves before lunch are all washed out."
This shrewd observation was disconcerting, even to a detective of Fred's ability.
"He couldn't drag the raft very far on land," he argued. "I know he couldn't drag it as far as the bungalow. That's more than a mile from here."
"Yes, I know," replied Artie. "But I don't believe he came in a boat. Look!" and he swooped down upon something in the sand.
He held up a long splinter—an ugly, jagged strip of wood from which a rusty nail protruded.
"He chopped it!" Artie cried, his voice shaking with rage. "He went and chopped it up. And now the fence is gone!"
The loss of the raft would have been serious enough, but far more tragic was the double crimeof destroying Mrs. Meeker's fence. And, as Ward said, the first thing their fathers would notice when they came home would be the gap in the boards.
"Perhaps it would have fallen down anyway," said Ward, trying to say something comfortable.
"I shook it—just a little," Artie confessed.
Now that they guessed the raft had been chopped up, it was easy enough to find more evidence. There were numerous splinters lying on the sand and a few feet past the piling a tangled wreckage of boards and rope floated on the water.
"I guess Joe came back, all right," admitted Fred. "All I have to say is that it was a mean trick."
But that did not help solve the problem of how to replace the borrowed section of fence.
The boys waded in and brought the bits of floating wood ashore, but Joe, if he had chopped it, had been thorough and any hope of salvage was seen to be hopeless.
"Well, we might as well go home," Fred said at last. "The folks will be coming back."
Rather disconsolately they trailed up to the cottage and Artie's guilty conscience gave him a distinct shock when he saw a strange man sitting on the porch steps.
"I—I guess I'll walk out to the bus line and meet the folks," he murmured, hanging back.
"In your bathing suit, I suppose," Fred countered sarcastically. "You come along—he can't arrest you for knocking down a piece of fence."
Artie did not feel at all sure on this point, but he dragged himself up to the steps and managed a weak smile in response to the broad grin with which the stranger greeted them.
"I thought every one was drowned, perhaps," said the man, pointing over his shoulder to the array of garments swinging on the line. "Where's your ma?"
The boys explained that their mothers were away for the day.
"Well, I figured there wasn't anybody home, so I told Ben to start right in," the man said comfortably. "Mrs. Meeker gave the order, and she allowed the noise wouldn't disturb any one, but I thought I'd ask first, if there was some one hanging around to ask."
For the first time the boys were aware of a noise of hammering. It seemed to come from behind the barn.
"Are you Mr. Meeker?" asked Artie fearfully.
"Mr. Meeker's been dead ten years, son," the stranger replied. "I'm Jim Wright, the carpenter. That's Ben you hear back there. He'smaking a racket all right, isn't he? But once it's torn down the worst is over. The wood's so rotten, Mrs. Meeker said to chop it up for firewood. Your ma can have it and welcome."
Fred was puzzled, and so were Artie and Ward. By common consent they moved toward the barn. The sound of hammering and ripping and tearing grew louder. Half dazedly, they went around to the back of the barn and to the fence which had furnished Artie with his ill-fated raft.
There was another man, evidently "Ben," the carpenter's helper. He was busily engaged in tearing down the fence, and, as they watched, a section fell with a crash. Dust and splinters flew high in the air.
"Hello," Ben greeted the boys cheerfully. "You're just in time to see the wrecking crew get in the last fine strokes."
He hit one of the posts a mighty blow with his hammer, and it fell with a crash. The boys stared in fascination till Margy, running out to them, announced the arrival of the party from Glen Haven.
"They're tearing down the fence, aren't they?" said Margy, as one who makes a discovery. "Say, we called you and called you and you never answered. Mother wants to know if you fell in—all your clothes are out on the line."
There was a scramble to get dressed quickly after that, and by the time they were ready for supper and had heard the day's shopping adventures Mr. Larue drove up with Mr. Marley and Mr. Williamson.
"The next time you want a raft," muttered Fred to Artie, as they sat down at the table, "I hope you'll have sense enough to let other people's fences alone."
Artie said nothing. He was still thinking over his narrow escape.
"We came through the Mooney place again," said Mr. Larue at supper. "It is still necessary to make that detour."
"Did you see Ella?" asked Polly and Jess eagerly.
"What did she have on?" Margy chimed in.
Mr. Larue laughed and answered that he could never tell what little girls wore.
"But we did see Ella, and she and her father are going to spend this week end at the hotel," Mr. Larue went on to stay. "The Captain thinks that a little change will be good for Ella—they live such a quiet life in that beautiful big house with no one to talk to but the servants."
"Maybe we'll see Ella," said Polly hopefully.
She had liked the rather shy little girl who hadsmiled at them in such a friendly manner, but who had said almost nothing.
Later that evening, when they were all sitting on the porch, Jess suddenly announced that she had a bright idea.
"Why can't we give a beach party and invite Ella Mooney?" she suggested.
"What's a beach party?" Artie asked immediately.
"Oh, it's a party," said Jess impatiently.
"Carrie Pepper and Mattie Helms are always giving 'em," put in Margy. "They've had two since we've been down here."
"Mother, can't we have a beach party?" asked Jess.
"I suppose so," Mrs. Larue answered. "I think it would be nice to ask Ella Mooney. And to-morrow night, if it is clear, would be a good time to hold it."
Ward wanted to know if there would be "eats," and, satisfied on that score, he seemed to think that his only responsibility toward the party was to attend it.
"Are we going to ask Carrie Pepper?" said Jess. "And Mattie?"
"For goodness' sake, why?" Margy demanded. "They never asked us to any of their parties."
"Well, I just thought perhaps we ought to," Jess replied, and subsided.
The next day was hot and clear and every one knew that the evening would be ideal for a beach party. Mrs. Marley and Mrs. Williamson went over to the hotel, taking Polly with them, to call on Captain Mooney and his daughter. They announced, on their return, that Ella had seemed delighted with the idea of a party and that she would come at half past seven.
As always, when a party is to be given, there was a great deal to be done to get ready for it.
"We'll get the driftwood," Mr. Marley promised, "and we'll see that you have enough sticks sharpened for the bacon and marshmallows. I think right out in front of the house is a good place for the fire; the sand dune will break the wind."
Along in the afternoon, Artie took advantage of the temporary lull in the day's activities to suggest that he might go after the mail.
"Get the marshmallows, too," his mother asked him, giving him the money. "And, Artie, do try to hurry."
Artie promised speed and set off joyfully for the town. He went by way of the beach, and of course no one can hurry along a beach, for there are so many interesting things to see anddo, even though one has seen and done them all many times before.
"Shall I get the mail first, or the candy?" thought Artie, as he came in sight of the town.
He decided to get the candy first, for he rather hoped the marshmallows would be sold by the pound. If they were in a paper bag, he argued, there would be no harm in eating one or two.