andering up and down the beach, but there was no sign of the
toy. Then a coast guard, one of the men who march up and down the
sands, keeping watch for shipwrecks, came along the boardwalk.

"Have you lost something?" asked the guard, as he came down the steps
from the boardwalk to the beach.

"We lost a Bear," said Arthur.

"A bear?" cried the guard, in surprise. "A--a bear?"

"My little boy means a _Plush_ Bear," explained Mrs. Rowe, and then she
told what had happened.

"Oh, a toy, buried in the sand," said the guard, laughing. "Well, that's
too bad. Right around here, was it? Well, I happened to be passing this
afternoon, and I noticed just about the spot where the children were
sitting on the sand. I didn't see the Plush Bear, but I know the
children were digging, and it wasn't at this spot--it was nearer the
ocean. Over here it was," the guard went on, moving away from the place
where Arthur had been sure he had made the cave for the toy. "You see,
we coast guards get in the habit of noticing things and remembering
where they are," he added. "You were looking in the wrong place. I fancy
your Bear must have been covered up in some way. I'll dig here!"

With a stick the guard began digging, and in a little while he uncovered
the Plush Bear.

"Oh, there he is! There he is!" cried Arthur, as he saw his toy again.
"Oh, thank you for finding him for me!" and he took his plaything from
the hands of the coast guard.

"Yes, that's what I say--thanks a whole lot of times!" murmured the
Plush Bear to himself, as once more he was able to breathe. "This was
the most terrible adventure I ever had!"

But the Plush Bear was to have one even worse, as you shall soon hear.

"You must be more careful of your toys, Arthur," said his mother, as,
having thanked the man, she and her children went back to the hotel.

"I'll never put him in a sand hole again," promised the little fat boy.

That night, when Arthur and Nettie were snug in their beds, and the
Plush Bear and the Rag Doll were in a closet by themselves, the Doll
leaned over and said:

"Wasn't it terrible, Mr. Bear?"

"It certainly was," agreed the Plush Bear. "I'm full of grit as it is.
Sand is all over me, even though Arthur did brush me off with a little
broom. I seem to squeak instead of growling as I ought to."

"Oh, well, maybe you'll be better after a while," said the Rag Doll.
Then she and the Plush Bear talked together in the darkness, but the
Bear di