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Ebook has 1115 lines and 55405 words, and 23 pages

THE SECRET OF STEEPLE ROCKS

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY

Akron, Ohio :: New York

The Secret of Steeple Rocks

THE SECRET OF STEEPLE ROCKS

STEEPLE ROCKS

"Are you satisfied, Beth?"

"Yes, Beth; I'm not myself at all. Here,--take these and look at those towering rocks with them." Sarita Moore handed her fine glasses, all shining and new, to the older girl, who directed them toward a distant pile of rocks. There two rose high, irregularly decreasing in circumference, and at this distance apparently pointed at their tops. Below them massed the other rocks of the dark headland.

Elizabeth looked long and steadily. "Steeple Rocks!" she murmured. "I wish that I owned them! But I would give them a better name. I'd call them Cathedral Rocks. Doesn't the whole mass make you think of the cathedrals,--the cathedrals that you and I are going to see some day, Leslie?"

"Yes, child. Who could help being happy here? Look at that ocean, stretching out and away--into eternity, I think,--and the clouds--and the pounding of the surf. Think, girls! It's going to put us to sleep to-night!"

"Unless it keeps us awake," suggested Leslie, "but I'm all lifted out of myself, too, Beth. Imagine being here all summer! Look at Dal, Sarita."

Leslie pointed toward a masculine figure standing on the beach not far in advance of them. "It's 'what are the wild waves saying?' to Dal all right!"

Dalton Secrest, who had preceded his two sisters and their friend in their visit to the beach and the tossing waves, stood facing the sea, his hands in his pockets, his tall young body straight before the strong breeze. He heard the girls' voices above the noise of the surf, as they came more closely behind him, and turned with a smile as his sister had done.

"What great thoughts are you thinking Dal?" Sarita queried.

"Sorry that I can't claim any just this minute, Sarita. I was thinking about what fish there are in the sea for me. When I'm not building the shack I'm going to fish, girls, and I was wondering if the bay wouldn't be the best place for that."

"Of course it would, Dal," Leslie replied, "but you can easily find out where the fishermen get their fish. I thought at first that I should never want to eat. It is almost enough to look. But now,--'I dunno,' as the song goes!"

"We'd better be getting back to the tents," said Dalton. "Beth looks as if she had not had enough, but I'll have to gather some wood for a fire and by the time we have our supper it will be dark. We can watch the sunset just as well from above." With this, Dalton Secrest linked arms with the girls, and with one on each side of him ran as rapidly as sand would permit to where Elizabeth had found a seat upon a rock back of the sands.

"Come on, Beth. Time for eats. Les and Sairey Gamp are going to do the cooking while you sit out on the point with your little pencil to sketch."

"Don't you call me 'Sairey Gamp,' Dal Secrest," laughed Sarita.

"Never you mind, Sairey, you can get it back on me. If I have any time left from building, fishing and bringing home the bacon, I shall be the wild pirate of Pirates' Cove!"

"Listen to Dal!" cried Leslie. "You'd think that he had to support the family! But I will admit, Dal, that if 'bacon' is fish, it will certainly help out expenses."

Dalton fell back with his older sister, Beth, while the two others went on, all directing their way to a spot some distance ahead, where the climb to the upper level was not difficult. All four were exhilarated by the new scenes, the beauty and almost mystery of the sea, the beach, the rocks and crags, and the invitation of the singing pines where their tents were pitched.

As anyone might surmise, their arrival was recent. Sensibly they had pitched their tents first, while Dalton could have the assistance of the man who drove them there; but after the necessary things were accomplished they hastened to get as close to the sea as possible, for none of them had ever seen it before.

It was one of the interesting spots on the much indented coast of Maine. There were an obscure little fishing village, a bay, into which a few small streams emptied, and a stretch of real coast, washed by the ocean itself. It was this beach which the newcomers had just visited with such pleasure, at a place varying in its outlines, from curving sands washed by a restless sea to high rocks and half-submerged boulders, where the water boiled and tossed.

As the summer visitors climbed the ascent, they noticed that in the village at their left most of the fishers' cottages lay within easy reach of the beach proper, from which the launching of boats was easy. There was a dock, stout, but small. It was quite evident that no large vessels came in.

The bay lay in the direction of Steeple Rocks, but the climb to reach it would have been impossible from the beach. This was blocked by the high cliff whose rocks reached out into the waves and curved around into one side of the bay's enclosure, though gradually lowering in height. Much farther away, around the curving, rocky, inland shore of the bay, and across its quiet waters from this cliff, loomed the other more bulging headland which reminded Beth of a cathedral in some of its outlines. But Beth was an artist, and an artist had not named Steeple Rocks.

Leslie, meanwhile, was explaining to her chum Sarita how their property included the smaller headland and its rocks. "There is right of way, of course, but this is ours."

The girls were standing by this time high on the rocks, from which they could look down and back, along the beach where they had been. At this place the point ran out to its curving, jutting, broken but solid rampart which kept the sea from the bay. Below them a few boats dotted the surface of the bay. Sarita through her glass was watching a vessel which was passing far out on the ocean.

"How did it happen, Leslie, that you never came here?" Sarita asked.

"You see, Father had just bought it the summer before he died. He had been up in Canada and then down on the coast of Maine. He came home to tell us of the place he had bought at a great bargain, where we had an ocean view, a bay to fish in, and a tiny lake of our own. Then came all our troubles and we had almost forgotten about it, except to count it among our assets, pay tax on it and wish that we could raise some money on it. But nobody wanted a place that had no good roads for an automobile and was not right on the railroad, though, for that matter, I don't think it's so terribly far."

"Yes, it is, Les, for anybody that wants to be in touch with civilization, but who wants to be for the summer?"

"Well, as we told you when Beth said I could ask you to come along, it is just what we want to camp in, and there are people near enough for safety, besides the 'Emporium' of modern trade in the village, if that is what one can call this scattered lot of cottages."

"It is more picturesque, Beth says, just as it is, and most of the summer cottages are on the other side of the village, or beyond the Steeple Rocks, in the other direction, so we'll not be bothered with anybody unless we want to be. I like folks, myself, but when you camp you want to camp, and Beth is so tired of kiddies that she says she doesn't want to see anybody under fifteen for the whole three months!"

Sarita laughed at this. "She seemed jolly enough on the way."

"She told me how you wanted to feed her every half hour."

"Yes," laughed Leslie, "and I tried all the good recipes in the cook book, almost."

But the girls walked out on the point a little distance, then returned, while Leslie, from her memory of her father's plan, pointed out the place behind a windbreak of rocks where Elizabeth thought he intended to build the "Eyrie." Strolling back from the Point, across an open space partly grown with straggling weeds and grass, the girls entered the pine woods, which was the thing of beauty upon the Secrest land. There Beth was seated upon a box, watching Dalton build a fire.

"Ever and anon that lad shakes a finger at me, girls, to keep me from doing anything," Beth said, in explanation of her idleness.

"Good for Dal," said Leslie. "Sarita and I are the chief cooks and bottle-washers around here. Just sit there, Beth, and tell us what to do, if we can't think of it ourselves. I see that you brought water, Dal. Shall we boil it before drinking?"

"No; this is from the prettiest spring you ever saw. I opened some boxes and set up the tables, so you can go ahead. I'm going to get a supply of wood handy. We'll fix up our portable stove to-morrow, but I want to have it in good shape, and then I thought that you girls would like a camp fire to-night."

"Oh, we do!" cried Leslie and Sarita almost with one voice. "We'll have hot wieners and open a can of beans. They'll heat in a minute. Dal, that is a fine arrangement, fixing those stones for us to rest our pan on."

It was Leslie who finished these remarks, as she and Sarita busied themselves with the work of supper and Dalton went back into the woods again for more wood. They heard the sound of his hatchet as they put a cloth on the little folding table and set it in a convenient place outside of the tent. "The table will make a good buffet, but I want to take my plate and sit on the pine needles."

"You will be obliged to, for want of chairs at present," said Elizabeth, jumping up and insisting on being allowed to help. What a new atmosphere it was! Here they were, off in the "wilds" and their own wilds at that, with all sorts of happy experiences before them.

Dalton, whistling a popular song went about hither and yon, gathering a supply of wood, lopping off undesirable portions of old limbs here and there. Looking up at a sound, he was surprised to see a rough-looking man approaching him. He was ill-featured, dark, grim, and of stalwart build. Dalton, rather glad of his hatchet, stood his ground, waiting to be addressed.

"What are you folks doing here?" the man demanded.

"This is our land, sir," replied Dalton, "and we have just come to camp here for the summer." He felt like adding, "any objections?" but thought that he would not be the one to start any trouble by impertinence. He did not like the man's tone, however.

"How do we know that you own this land? I'd not heard of its being sold."

"It can easily be proved. Our name is Secrest. My father bought this several years ago."

"Is your father here?"

"Well, excuse me, sir, would you prefer to ask your questions of my father? Are you the mayor of the village?"

"No; but any of us have a right to know what strangers are going to do."

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