near, the
most insinuating of dogs.

And so successfully did Patience manage
it, that when the last boat-load pushed off
from shore, Towser sat erect on the narrow
bow seat, blandly surveying his fellow
voyagers. "He does so love picnics," Patience
explained to Mr. Dayre, "and this is
the last particular one for the season. I kind
of thought he'd go along and I slipped in a
little paper of bones."

From the boat ahead came the chorus.
"We're out on the wide ocean sailing."

"Not much!" Bob declared. "I wish we
were--the water's quiet as a mill-pond this afternoon."

For the great lake, appreciating perhaps
the importance of the occasion, had of its many
moods chosen to wear this afternoon its
sweetest, most beguiling one, and lay, a broad
stretch of sparkling, rippling water, between
its curving shores.

Beyond, the range of mountains rose dark
and somber against the cloud-flecked sky,
their tops softened by the light haze that told
of coming autumn.

And presently, from boat to boat, went the
call, "We're going to Port Edward! Why
didn't we guess?"

"But that's not _in_ Winton," Edna protested.

"Of it, if not in it," Jack Ward assured them.

"Do you reckon you can show us anything
new about that old fort, Paul Shaw?" Tracy
demanded. "Why, I could go all over it
blindfolded."

"Not to show the new--to unfold the old,"
Pauline told him.

"That sounds like a quotation."

"It is--in substance," Pauline looked across
her shoulder to where Mr. Allen sat,
imparting information to Harry Oram.

"So that's why you asked the old fellow,"
Tracy said. "Was that kind?"

They were rounding the slender point on
which the tall, white lighthouse stood, and
entering the little cove where visitors to the fort
usually beached their boats.

A few rods farther inland, rose the tall,
grass-covered, circular embankment,
surrounding the crumbling, gray walls, the outer
shells of the old barracks.

At the entrance to the enclosure, Tom
suddenly stepped ahead, barring the way. "No
passing within this fort without the
counter-sign," he declared. "Martial law, this afternoon."

It was Bell who discovered it. "'It's a
habit to be happy,'" she suggested, and Tom
drew back for her to enter. But one by one,
he exacted the password from each.

Inside, within the shade of those old, gray
walls, a camp-fire had been built and
camp-kettle swung, hammocks had been hung under
the trees and when cushions we