the others found plenty of fun either
attempting to follow, or originating their own brand of frolic.

What is more alluring than the ocean on the right sort of summer day?
Beyond the bar steamers could just be seen emitting their long, smoky
ribbons over the water, that from the distance seemed so close to the
sky as to be merely a first floor with that blue mottled ceiling. A few
daring swimmers would work their way out in canoes, taking the rollers
at constant risk of submersion, then come sailing in like a shot, never
making a break in the dash until past the bathers, and out on the very
beach each little bark would triumphantly land. This was great sport,
but few girls were brave enough to indulge in it.

The life savers, two stalwart youths, so bronzed as to glisten in the
sun like copper models--sat on the high bench under the big beach
sunshade. They could see above the heads of the crowds, far out past the
danger line, and theirs was the responsibility of keeping track of every
foolish boy, or more foolish girl, who ventured beyond the ropes.

At last the scouts did get together, and made a run through the wet
sand, along the edge toward the fishing pier, and from there it was only
a matter of crossing the street to reach the life saving station.

In a trot, popular as exercise after bathing, all four girls, Louise,
Grace, Cleo and Julia started off. The far end of the bathing beach was
now deserted, the hour approaching lunch or dinner always exacting the
dressing process, hotel guests especially, being obliged to report in
the dining-room on time.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," begged Cleo. "I thought I saw a piece of
pink coral."

"Pink coral doesn't grow around here," protested Grace. "You likely saw
a blushing fish bone. Don't bother with it. You know how we made out
with the pink crabs."

"Yes," put in Julia. "Let's change our color scheme. Here's a lovely
amethyst shell."

The trot was started up again, heads erect, shoulders back, and elbows
in--regular marathon for the beach on this perfect summer's day.

"Look here!" called Cleo. "Here's another message about--fire-bugs. See
it spells: 'L-O-O-K O-U-T'" she figured it out in the sand. "There,
would you ever think one would be so daring?"

They all paused to read the letters so crudely forked in the wet sand.

"Yes," insisted Julia. "There's 'bug.' Guess they didn't dare write the
word 'fire'."

A lone figure on a lone bench up near the