Four Little Blossoms on Apple Tree Island Part 13

Then they went back to their game, and Twaddles and Dot tried their luck at locating buried treasure.

"Dig here, Bobby!" Twaddles cried. "This place sounds hollow, honest it does."

"You don't tell me!" said another voice, a man's voice. "Why do you suppose that is?"

Twaddles jumped, and Meg turned around, startled.

CHAPTER XIII

A SIGNAL FOR HELP

"Didn't scare you, did I?" said Mr. Harley, walking into the circle and smiling at the perplexed faces.

"We didn't hear you coming," answered Bobby. "Did you row over?"

"Yes, I came over to tell your mother that your father couldn't get back till the afternoon boat," Mr. Harley explained. "Your mother wanted to know if I'd come and fetch you."

"Does she want us?" asked Meg quickly. "Oh! What was that?"

"Thunder," answered Mr. Harley, shortly. "Your mother sent you two umbrellas, but I don't think we'd better start now; the storm is 'most ready to break. Guess you were having such a good time you never heard the rumbling."

It was true. The children had never glanced up, or they would have seen the great white clouds that, mounting higher and higher, gradually darkened and then shut out the sun. They would have heard the angry mutterings of thunder and seen the sharp streaks of lightning, but the game of hunting for treasure had completely absorbed them.

"It will rain on us," remarked Meg nervously. "There isn't any roof, you know."

Then she blushed. She wondered if Mr. Harley thought they were selfish to amuse themselves in his tumble-down home, and whether it was polite of her to mention that the roof was gone.

"We'll have to make a roof," said Mr. Harley capably. "Let's see; if we take that door and put it across these two barrels, that will keep the rain off. Here's a piece of oilcloth we can use for a curtain to shut the lightning out. Now we're as comfy as we would be in a regular house."

While he spoke, he had lifted what had once been the front door of his house, placed it across two barrels and draped across the open side a large square of oilcloth that was cracked and creased in many places but still waterproof. The barrels were against the one wall of the house left standing, so that, when all was fixed, the small shelter was fairly comfortable.

Bobby, feeling in his pocket for a nail to pin the oilcloth more securely, touched the queer object his shovel had unearthed that morning.

"Look what I found," he said eagerly, holding out the little pointed specimen.

"Arrow head," said Mr. Harley. "Indians once lived on this island, and you're likely to turn those things up most anywhere. Will your mother be afraid alone in the bungalow?"

"Mother's never afraid," declared Bobby confidently, putting the arrow head back in his pocket to show his father. "Oh, that lightning went right into the lake!"

"Better get in now," Mr. Harley told them, holding up the oilcloth so that they could creep in under the door-roof. "All in? Then here I come."

The rain was coming down in great, das.h.i.+ng torrents in another moment and the four little Blossoms were thankful for their dry corner.

"It's a good thing we didn't start out," shouted Mr. Harley above the noise of the rain. "We never could have made the bungalow before the rain caught us. This will knock the apples off. That's a pity because they're fine when they're left to ripen."

"Meg said they weren't ripe yet," said Bobby.

"I hope you didn't try to eat any," answered Mr. Harley earnestly.

"Green apples are not good for you."

"Oh, we didn't touch one," Bobby a.s.sured him, trying to punch Twaddles, who was tickling him. "Meg said they belonged to you."

"I want you children to eat 'em, but not till they are ripe," Mr.

Harley shouted back. "Along about the first week in July, you come up here and you'll find the best sweet apples you ever tasted.

That is, if the storms leave any on the tree, and I guess they will. You eat all you want--I never want to taste one of those apples again!"

Twaddles stopped trying to tickle Bobby, and Meg squeezed Dot's hand excitedly. Poor Mr. Harley!

"Then--then you haven't heard about your little boys?" asked Bobby hesitatingly.

"Not a word," groaned Mr. Harley. "It's as though the earth had opened and swallowed 'em. I can't, for the life of me, figure out where they could have gone. Sometimes I get to thinking they're here, and I can't rest till I get a boat and row over. One night I got up at one o'clock and rowed here; but Lou and the boys were just as far away as ever."

The rain was coming more gently now, and the heaviest clouds had pa.s.sed over the island. Mr. Harley lifted the oilcloth flap, and the four little Blossoms felt a refres.h.i.+ng breeze sweep in upon them.

"We can start in a minute or so," announced Mr. Harley, opening the umbrellas.

A few minutes later they started in a fine drizzle of rain. That, however, soon stopped and the sun came out, and by the time they had reached the bungalow, to find Father Blossom just coming up from the wharf and Mother Blossom, not a bit frightened by the storm, on the porch, the only trace of the thunderstorm was the wet gra.s.s and the dripping eaves of the pretty bungalow.

May swept into June and June was nearly gone when one morning Father Blossom announced that he wanted to take Mother Blossom over to Greenpier in the rowboat and that he hoped the children could persuade her that they would be all right if left to themselves for a little while.

"I don't think we'll be gone more than two or three hours," said Father Blossom seriously; "and while I don't suppose this day means anything to you, it does mean a good deal to Mother and to me. And if you children will take care of each other, we'll be back before you have time to miss us."

"I know what day it is," Meg cried proudly. "It's the day you and Mother were married!"

She remembered from the last June, and Mother Blossom had not thought any of the children would remember.

"I do hope they will be all right, Ralph," she said a little anxiously, as Father Blossom handed her into the rowboat and took the oars and the four little Blossoms stood on the wharf and waved to them.

"Of course they will be all right," Father Blossom a.s.serted st.u.r.dily.

"Daddy, oh, Daddy!" called Bobby after the boat, "may we have your field gla.s.ses?"

"All right, only be careful of them," Father Blossom called back.

"What'll we do?" asked Dot, as they left the wharf and walked back to the bungalow.

"Go up to the Harley house and see if we can see the pirates'

haunted s.h.i.+ps," answered Bobby. "We can look 'way off with the gla.s.ses. Where 'bouts are they, Meg?"

"I know. I'll get 'em," said Meg eagerly.

She ran upstairs and found the gla.s.ses hanging on the wall in their leather case. They were a very fine pair, and the children were not often allowed to use them.

The "haunted s.h.i.+ps" that Bobby spoke of, were another "pretend"