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Page 27
"Are there smugglers on the island?" Bobby asked the captain, as
the motor-boat churned up the water swiftly, and they left Apple
Tree Island behind.
"Well, no, I wouldn't say that," replied the captain. "But we've
had it reported that people living in Reville, that's a town up
Sunset Lake almost opposite Kidd's Island where we're going, have
seen fires on the beach at night. It's closed season now for the
birds, and if any one is shooting 'em, we want to know it."
"Are you a policeman?" asked Twaddles in awe.
"Something like it," admitted the captain. "Leastways, I'm a
deputy sheriff. Pretty place, isn't it?"
The boat was approaching the island, and it was indeed a pretty
place. It was smaller than Apple Tree Island and had fewer trees,
but it was completely covered with thick green grass brightly
starred over with daisies. And not a single daisy grew on Apple
Tree Island!
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Meg softly. "How lovely! See, Dot, millions
and millions of daisies."
"You can pick some while I take a look around," said Captain
Jenks, fastening the boat with an iron chain and hook to a ring
sunk in a wooden post. There was no wharf because no one lived on
the island to build one and very few boats came there anyway.
Bobby and Twaddles stuck close to the captain's heels, but Meg and
Dot determined to get some daisies to take home to their mother.
They worked busily, and by the time the others were back from
their inspection of the little open shed which was the only
shelter on the island, the two girls had large bouquets.
"Were there any smugglers?" asked Dot half-fearfully.
"That's a silly story, that smuggler stuff," pronounced Captain
Jenks. "To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a
smuggler. We found the ashes of his campfire and this." He held up
a pair of bird wings.
"The poor little bird!" exclaimed Meg compassionately. "How can
any one shoot a bird!"
"It's all right sometimes, isn't it?" Bobby insisted. "Jud goes
gunning, Meg, you know he does."
"I've nothing to say against it when the season is open," said the
captain.
Captain Jenks seemed saddened by the discovery of the pretty,
spotted wings, but when he had put them away in a little box in
the cabin he cheered up and admired the daisies.
"You'll find string in that toolchest," he directed them. "Going
to make two bunches? That's right--I don't like to see flowers
crowded even after they're picked."
The two bunches were tied to the rail as a safe place and one in
which they would not be easily crushed. The motor-boat--by the
way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven't
been told that before, have you?--was now chugging down the lake
toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson
in managing the wheel. Twaddles had found a compass in the
toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that. Dot
thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.
"They look wilted," she told herself, eyeing the daisies with
disfavor. "What they need is water."
So this mischievous child took a long string and tied it to each
bunch of daisies; then she held it in the middle and allowed them
to trail in the water.
The Sarah was almost at Greenpier before Meg glanced toward Dot
and saw what she was doing.
"Dot Blossom!" she cried, rushing toward her. "You'll spoil 'em.
Oh, Bobby, look what Dot's doing to the daisies!"
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