boardwalk attracted their
attention at the same moment.

"If there isn't our boy!" exclaimed Louise. "Now, doesn't that almost
prove him guilty?"

"No, it doesn't," objected his champion, Grace. "He's too far
away--besides----"

"Any one could make letters in the sand," put in Julia. "Think of the
hundreds of children who played here all morning. Come on," and she
started the race again.

But they had scarcely gone a hundred yards when she stopped very
suddenly.

"Oh, mercy!" she screamed. "I stepped on----"

"You bet you did! You stepped on me!"

The answer came from a grotesque figure that had just pulled itself out
of the sand, and it was none other than the girl, still known only as
"Letty."

"I didn't mean to," apologized Julia, for, as a matter of fact, she had
come full weight on the sand hill under which was buried the girl.

"Well, you didn't break any bones," said the girl, with less antagonism
than she had formerly displayed. "But I thought the sky fell--guess I
was dreaming."

She dragged herself up and shook the sand from her unkempt skirt,
although the action seemed unnecessary, then grinned at the girls in the
most comic way.

This was a signal for Grace to howl, and howl she did, to be followed by
the others, every one seeming glad that Letty had not "thrown her head
at them," as was her usual attitude in meeting the scouts.

"And you go swimmin' in there?" she asked, pointing a mocking finger at
the ocean.

"Surely, don't you?" asked Louise.

"Me? Well, I guess not. No more ocean for Kitty," and she turned her
back to the waves, meanwhile pulling a long, wry face.

"Are you Kitty?" asked Cleo.

"Yep, that's me. They call me Kitty Scuttle, but Scuttle ain't my name.
Boys give me that 'cause I shoo them off the island."

Here was an opening. Louise seized it.

"Sit down and tell us about it, Kitty," she said. "You know we really
had no idea of bothering your dove the other day. Did his leg fix up all
right?"

"Guess so, but he ain't my bird," and she did actually flop down in the
sand, much to their surprise.

"Why don't you like the ocean?" asked Grace.

"The ocean is a coward. It fights women and babies," she said, a queer
mocking irony marking her words.

"Yes," agreed Louise, to placate her, "the ocean is treacherous."

"An' cruel," she sort of hissed. "I came from that ocean on a rope once,
and I'll never go back on it while I'm alive."

"Oh, you were shipwrecked,"