“Where are you girls going?”

It was Jack who demanded this of his sister and the other Camp Fire devotees as they filed past Stony Point a day or so after the fiasco in the old mill.

“Evidently they’re going to make a day of it,” observed Blake. “They’ve got their lunch,” and he glanced significantly at several baskets the girls carried.

“And their knitting, too,” added Phil.

“Thank you. This isn’t knitting,” responded Natalie, as she waved a string of colored beads, woven into a broad band. “These are going to be our—is it totem poles, girls?” and she appealed to the others.

“Totem poles!” cried Blake. “Say, you’re not Alaska Indians! Totem poles are those telegraph spiles carved with beasts and birds, and colored like a Chinese rainbow, that you see in the museums! Totem Poles! Oh my!” and he doubled up with mirth.

“Well, it’s something on that order, anyhow,” went on Natalie. “These are our head-bands. Mine is almost finished,” and she showed her pretty conventionalized design of a dark-green pine tree on a turquoise-blue background.

“Are you going to weave some of those to-day?” asked Phil. “That’s the way with girls. They go off in the woods for a day’s outing, and trot along a book, or some of that filmy lace stuff, and that’s how they enjoy themselves.”

“Well, it’s just as much fun for us, as it is for you boys to lie around doing nothing, or cutting fish poles or—or—whatever you do,” said Alice, rather at a loss for comparisons.

“But where are you bound for?” persisted Blake.

“Oh, off for a day in the woods,” said Mrs. Bonnell, noncommittally.

“Aren’t we coming?” inquired Phil.

“Not this time, little boy. Run along and finish doing your breakfast dishes,” mocked Marie. “We’re going out riding with some better-looking chaps than you.”

“Meaning those fellows from We-Too camp?” demanded Jack.

“They happen to be going to take us,” said Natalie. “And we’ll be sure of getting there and getting back.”

“Meaning a knock at our faithful old gasoline craft,” put in Blake. “All right, young ladies, if you do get stuck you needn’t signal us for a tow. You can walk home. Come on, fellows, we’re insulted,” and he stalked back into the tent.

“Come on, girls, or we’ll be late,” urged Mabel. “Have we got everything?”

“If we haven’t we can’t carry any more,” declared Natalie. “I wonder if I’ll do any work on my bead head-band now that I’ve toted it along with me, and the loom, too,” and she regarded it rather regretfully.

“Oh, we’ll have lots of time to make bead work,” said Alice. “It won’t take us long to explore the old mill, and then we can pic-nic and do as we please.”

“Then you don’t believe we’ll find anything?” asked Natalie.

“Not a blessed thing, my dear,” answered Alice, “except cobwebs, with big, fat spiders in them——”

“Oh, you horrid thing!” cried Mabel. “I’ll not set foot in the old place!” and she hung back.

“We’ll get a broom and brush them all down,” said Mrs. Bonnell. “There are the boys beckoning to us. Hurry, my dears!”

They had passed along the lake shore beyond the camp of Jack and his chums, and were now approaching the We-Too aggregation of tents, this being the name adopted by the young men who had assisted in the search for Natalie that night. They had been friends with the girls and their brothers since.

“My! you’re equipped for a long stay,” remarked Ford Armstrong, one of the campers, as he saw the well-laden girls and their guardian. “Let me take some of your bundles.”

“And whatever you do, don’t drop that basket!” cautioned Alice. “It’s got eggs in it, and some of them may not be hard-boiled.”

“There are olives in here, so don’t you dare drop this,” added Mabel, surrendering her bundle to Harry Watson.

“And you really want to stay around that old mill all day?” questioned Ford, as he helped them into the waiting launch.

“Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned Mrs. Bonnell. “We don’t want our boys to know about it, but we’re going to bait the ghost there you see.”

“And here is some of the bait,” laughed Mabel, pointing to the baskets of food.

“All right, we’ll keep your secret,” promised Wentworth Jones. “What time shall we come back for you?”

“Before dark; or we’ll never speak to you again,” threate............