The Secret of Steeple Rocks

  CHAPTER XIII

  "WAVES OF BURNISHED GOLD"

  Before Beth realized it she was some distance within the thick forestwith Dalton and she was just saying that she must go back, when theyheard someone coming, off the scarcely recognizable trail, andstruggling through bushes. Dalton, called, "this way," thinking that itwas probably Mr. Tudor.

  It was the young man himself, fortunately for his good suit of clothes,in which Beth had first seen him, now attired in camping costume, withhigh leather buskins. "I missed the path, didn't I?" said he, smilingand pulling off his cap, "but I was pretty sure of the general directiontoward the sea."

  "Mr. Tudor, this is my brother, Dalton Secrest," said Beth. "He willhelp you choose a place for your camp."

  Dalton held out his hand, liking Evan Tudor at once. "I'm glad to meetyou, sir. If you are a writer, I suppose that you want a quiet spot?"

  "You are right; I should prefer to be back in the woods rather than nearthe shore. It will give me exercise to take a run to the ocean everyday. But I want to thank you for allowing me to camp in your woods. Ishall help protect it, I assure you."

  "I believe that you will, and we may need you, indeed. There is noreason why you should not stay as long as you like."

  Evan Tudor was surprised and delighted at this quick decision and toldDalton that he should have no reason to regret it, while Beth, seeingthat her share in the affair was over, excused herself and went back tocamp, though not before she had invited Mr. Tudor to be their guest atsupper. "Perhaps I will send the girls to call you after a while," shesaid. "I suppose that you will show him to some place not too far fromthe spring, Dal?"

  "Yes, Beth."

  While Dalton and Mr. Tudor went back along the poorly defined bridlepath to the road, which came from the village to the wood, then took agreat curve to avoid it, Dalton explained that there would be some noisefor several days while the men were putting up the log cabin, but thatthere was a good place for a camp of which he was thinking. "You will besurrounded by woods, though the spot is comparatively open, and if it isnot too far from the spring you may like it. The little stream from ourlake takes a turn there, and there are rocks on which your fires will besafe. Indeed, you might use that water safely, for the lake is neverpolluted in any way. It is little more than a big pool, fed by springsand a tiny brook above."

  "That sounds fine, but are you not building near your 'lake'?"

  "Not too close, though we are nearer the spring than we are at our camp.Beth hated to leave the vicinity of the sea. But now she sees that itwill be better to be closer to the water supply."

  Mr. Tudor asked a number of questions and seemed to be interested in theway to reach Steeple Rocks from the woods. He inquired, too, about whowere spending the summer there, in such a way that Dalton wondered if hehad heard of the Ives before.

  Not knowing of any reason why he should not be communicative to thissincere appearing young man, Dalton mentioned Peggy, her mother andstep-father, the Count, the foreign governess and the guests. He eventold him of Mr. Ives' request that they should leave. "I tell you this,Mr. Tudor, because you, too, may not be wanted here. I'd keep an eyeout. Have you any way of defending yourself? By the way, though, we'drather not have any hunting done here."

  "I have no interest in hunting--animals, or small game of any sort," andEvan Tudor laughed. "But I am armed, after a fashion." Evan Tudor knewonly too well that he would not be wanted, but he hoped to carry out theidea of a harmless writer on a vacation and to conceal his real purposein coming. It was true enough that he was a writer, also that he neededa vacation. "Is there anyone besides Mr. Ives who feels inhospitable?"he asked.

  "Yes. A man whom they call Bill interviewed me, too, and warned me tomind my own affairs around here. He has a lot of people fishing for himand ships the fish. I rather think that Bill does a little rum-running,for there is much drinking in the village. Bill may ship that, too, forall I know. You may have to convince Bill that you are not employed bythe government to detect rum-runners."

  "If Bill inquires," said Mr. Tudor with a smile, "you may tell him fromme that I am not a prohibition agent, though I might do my duty as acitizen in that line, if necessary. However, I've another purpose, andI'll mightily enjoy this woods of yours.

  "By the way, I'd like to interview some of those interesting foreigncitizens in the village. The setting for them here is just a little moreintriguing than in New York, for a change. A friend of yours down theretold me a good deal about you. What sort of a chap is Tom Carey?"

  "Oh, Tom Carey is straight and all right, if he does work for Bill. Billhas taken a notion to Tom and I suppose he finds him smarter and morereliable than most of his workers. You will have to be careful if youinterview those foreigners. Bill may not like it."

  "I see. I'm to be careful about one Mr. Bill Ritter."

  They were pushing through the woods as they talked. Presently theyreached the road where a man waited with a heavily-laden mule. EvanTudor picked up a typewriter from the protection of some bushes andDalton gathered up a suitcase, which he saw by the side of the road, anda basket of what he judged were groceries. "It was quite a walk for youwith these things," he said.

  "Not so bad," said Mr. Tudor. "I had help and the mule carries the mostof the outfit."

  It took almost as much time to get through the woods as to unload theoutfit, but Dalton assured Mr. Tudor that in the direction of their campthe woods would be found more open and that it was not as far as itseemed. Evan Tudor was delighted with the camping spot and started atonce to set up his small tent and arrange his supplies. Dalton began tohelp him, but the departing man, after he had received his pay, waited afew moments and then asked Dalton to "walk a piece" with him. "I want toask ye somethin'," he said.

  There was a twinkle in Evan Tudor's eye as he glanced after them. Hehoped that Dalton would establish what the modern youth sometimes callshis "alibi" and successfully divert suspicion; for Evan Tudor was on aquest.

  "Say," said the man, as he and Dalton had reached a spot out of hearingand Dalton stopped, not thinking it necessary to go any farther. "Say,Bill wants to know what this chap is up to. Is he any coast guardfeller?"

  "Bill came to see us when we first came, and I just told Mr. Tudor thatBill was the high ruler of this little village and would very likelywant to know about him. He laughed and said that he had nothing to dowith catching rum-runners, or words to that effect. He is a writerlooking for material and taking a vacation, I suppose. He just came fromNew York.

  "But I'm going to say to Bill sometime that he is going a little toofar. The way he does things around here makes any square peoplesuspicious. I'm too busy right now to spend any time on fellows likeBill Ritter, but I am a good citizen of my country and I'm not_protecting_ that sort of thing, either. Bill had better stick tofishing if he doesn't want to get into trouble some day."

  "I kinda thought you'd feel that way about it," said the man, "butyou'll have to tell Bill that. Some of the rest of us don't like Billany too well, but--well, the kids has to have bread and butter. Billdidn't tell me to ask was he with the coast-guard. That was my put-in.Bill told me to find out what he was up to. See?"

  "Well, now you know, and you can tell Bill from me that I informed Mr.Tudor about unfriendliness shown us and told him to be on the lookout!"

  The man laughed roughly. "I will. Sure he's a writer fellow all right?"

  "That is what he told me, and he talked like one. You noticed that hecarried his little typewriter case, didn't you?"

  "Was that what it was? I noticed that he parked it kinda careful."

  Dalton felt that this conversation had not been in vain. He repeated itto Mr. Tudor, who was setting up a small heater and began to demur inregard to taking supper at the Secrest camp. "It's an imposition," hedeclared. "I have plenty to eat right here."

  "Sure you have, but what will Beth think? Moreover, we caught too manyfish to-day for four people to eat up.
Better not refuse to come,--makeit a celebration of getting into the woods on your vacation."

  Dalton had scarcely stopped speaking when a feminine "Hoo-hoo" soundedfrom the woods across the stream. Leslie and Sarita were calling them."Hoo-hoo," replied Dalton in shrill imitation, and added, "we'll bethere, girls; give us ten minutes longer here."

  Evan Tudor straightened up from his work to look across at the twosmiling girls. Introduction was impossible, but he raised his cap andsmiled, standing "at attention," Sarita said, till they were lost againamong the green spruces and birches.

  The girls reported to Beth what Dalton had said and preparations went onaccordingly. The big fish were baking in the outdoor oven which Daltonhad made. Beth was stirring up some blueberry muffins, to be baked inthe oven of the "portable."

  "We were stunned, Beth," said Sarita, "by the style and bearing of yourlatest conquest. Not to be conceited at all, he looks like our kind offolks. Let's see, what's that sweet poem?

  "'When I behold thy lovely face

  'Neath waves of burnished gold,'--what's the rest of it, Les?"

  "That's all we ever did get, Sarita. Beth found us as we had just begunto read it off, Dal and I."

  Beth, her lips tightly pressed together to keep them from laughter,pretended to be deeply offended. "Such girls! Come, now, Leslie, get outa glass of that jelly we brought from home and finish up the table."

  "It's serious, Sarita," laughed Leslie, still teasing her sister. "Sheis giving him our precious jelly!"

  "Don't you really want to, Leslie?" Beth asked.

  "Of course I do, silly. I know well enough that you are followingMother's rule of the best for guests. Where are the rest of those linennapkins? I suppose you will use those this time."

  "Yes, if we have any. Look in my trunk, top tray. If you can't findthem, we'll just use the paper ones." But Beth kept laughing at thegirls, for when Sarita suggested that Mr. Tudor was probably aboutforty, Leslie corrected her to "I should say thirty, just right forBeth, and poor Jim writes that they can't come yet!"

  "I don't blame him for taking that case, do you, Leslie?"

  "No, Sarita, of course not, but what is it that Shakespeare says aboutopportunity?"

  "Perhaps Mr. Tudor is not as good as Jim."

  "He is much more attractive, though I'd vote for Jim now because he issuch a good friend."

  "Well you can't help whom you fall in love with or don't."

  "Yes, you can. At least you can keep away from people you don't want tofall in love with, like some _fascinating bad_ man; but I suppose thatyou can't very well make yourself fall in love with _everybody_ thatlikes _you_."

  "I'm _so_ glad that I have you girls' wisdom and experience to guideme," demurely said Beth, and Leslie was just thinking up some brilliantreply when they saw Dalton and their guest. But Leslie managed towhisper to Sarita before real introductions took place, "There's whereJim will have to do his best, because Beth doesn't care enough for him,if I'm any judge."

  Courteously Evan Tudor met the two girls, but he actually seemed almostembarrassed about having accepted the invitation to supper. "Really Ithink that it is enough to let me camp here, Miss Secrest," he said.

  "I finally persuaded him," said Dalton, "by telling him that his 'namewas already in the pot' and that it would upset all your arrangements ifhe didn't show up."

  "Of course we would have been disappointed," cordially Beth added. "Nowjust excuse us a moment till we get up this camp meal."

  With her flushed cheeks and pretty smile, Beth made a charming hostessand Sarita whispered to Leslie as they began to do a few last things,"For all Beth says, he sees the 'burnished gold' all right."

  There was gay conversation and exchange of news during the good but veryinformal meal that camping made necessary. The Secrests described thelocality, in which Evan Tudor was so much interested and he, in turn,had bright accounts of his recent experiences in the great city. "I amgoing to forget it all for a few weeks," he said. "If I write here, itwill be because I can't help it. I brought the old typewriter along forfear the 'best seller' might insist on being written; but all that Ireally expect to do toward my future profession is to fill a notebook ortwo for future use. Well, I have one or two sketches to get off atonce."

  "Will you put us all in for 'characters' in your 'best seller,' Mr.Tudor?" Sarita asked.

  "You might all figure in my fiction, but I'll not use you as 'types.'"

  "Thanks. I'd be proud to be in one of your novels, but I'd rather not bea 'character sketch.'"

  "Beth 'sketches' too," said Leslie.

  "Now, Leslie, are you going to play the part of _l'enfant terrible_?"asked Beth. "Please don't mention my efforts!"

  "Your brother has already told me that you are an artist, Miss Secrest.I wish that I might see how you interpret this place."

  Quickly Beth looked at Evan Tudor. He spoke of interpretation. Perhapshe was one who understood. But voices were coming from the woods and Mr.Tudor turned to look in that direction. "Hitch 'em anywhere, Jack," theyheard. It was Peggy Ives with her cousin.