body ever thought of a sheet of water--_oh_, no!"

Before their eyes lay the last thing the children had expected to see,
a large piece of water quite calm and smooth, without a sign of a sail
on it, nor were there any bathers or children playing on the narrow
strip of beach directly beneath them. At first it seemed as if it
would be impossible for them to climb down the face of that steep
cliff to the water, but the False Hare had done it, and they
determined that they must manage it somehow. After looking about
carefully, they found a set of rude steps cut in the side of the
cliff. They were very far apart, to be sure, for climbers whose legs
were not of the longest, but Rudolf helped Ann and Ann helped Peter
and at last they were all safely down and standing beside the False
Hare, who was strolling along the edge of the water.

"Hullo," said he, sticking his glass in his eye and looking at Ann.
"What makes the whiskerless one so cheerful?"

Rudolf and Peter were not surprised when they turned to look at Ann to
see that she was ready to cry.

"What's the matter, Ann?" they asked.

"Oh, dear, dear!" sighed Ann. "Whatever will become of us now? We
can't go back. Even if we could climb up the cliff, I'd never pass
that dreadful Goose's house again, no, not for anything! But how are
we going to get any farther without a boat?"

The False Hare pretended to wipe away a tear with the back of his paw.
"No boat," he groaned. "Oh, dear, dear, dear--no boat!"

The faces of the three children brightened immediately, for they were
beginning to understand his ways. "Hurrah!" cried Rudolf, waving his
sword.

Sure enough, coming round a bend in the shore where the bushes had
hidden it from their sight, was a small boat rowed by two white candy
mice.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

REAL LIVE PIRATES

After neatly and carefully turning up the bottoms of his trousers so
that they should not get wet, the False Hare bounded on a rock that
rose out of the water a few feet from shore, and stood ready to direct
the landing of the boat. There was some sense in this, for certainly
neither of the two mice was what could be called good oarsmen. One of
them had just unshipped the little sail, and--not seeming to know what
else to do with it--had cut it loose from the oar that served as a
mast and wrapped it round and round his body, tying himself tightly
with a piece of string.

Rudolf thought he had neve