yanked the
string, and so dislodged the note.

"I knew it," she exclaimed, "a message from the pirates. Listen to
this!"

Grace and Louise hopped back to hear the contents of the rolled slip of
paper.

"Short enough," commented Cleo. "It simply says, 'Beware of the
fire-bug' and it's signed 'The Weasle'. Well, I never! Beware of the
fire-bug," she repeated, "and not a human in sight that fire-bug fires.
And signing himself the Weasle! Must be pretty snappy. Well, I say
girls, as early as we thought we were getting down, before all the other
schools were dismissed, the little old fire-bug got here first. What do
you make of it?"

"Maybe some one comes in by boat from some island, and leaves the fires
to start up with a clock signal, like they do it in the movies,"
suggested Grace.

Louise and Cleo laughed the idea to scorn.

"Can you imagine an island in the ocean?" asked Louise. "And just look
at the writing of this note! It is a perfectly modern school hand. Some
small boy I suppose, who has been reading too much Captain Kidd. At any
rate let us be glad we didn't burn up more skirts, although it is too
bad to spoil that splendid new serge, Grace," she finished,
commiserating with the girl who was just then judging the size of the
hole burnt in her skirt by trying to view the sun through it.

"Oh, perhaps I can fix it," speculated Grace. "It's a very nice round
hole, and I may cover it with a patch pocket, though it would be rather
low down to trust my wealth to it. However, it is all right. And the
fire will finish drying our socks and pumps. And also, we have something
to remember in our first beach fire. I have often read of them. They
usually toast potatoes and things in the fires, don't they?"

"Marshmallows," corrected Louise, quite well informed on beach lore.
"We'll have a marshmallow roast when enough of the girls come down. But
it is nice to get here first and find everything out. When the other
schools close next week I suppose we won't be able to find one another,
with the crowds that will flock to this beach. And just now we have it
all to ourselves," she finished, looking up and down the vast expanse of
territory known as the ocean front, and therefore quite as extensive as
the stretch of the ocean itself.

"All the same," insisted Grace, smoothing again the rolled slip of paper
which Cleo had handed over. "I believe this is written by someone----"

"We all do," interrupted Cleo with a smile.