It was quickly decided Grace should run for her sister Leonore, to get their car out, as Rosabell was the nearest cottage, and while she hurried off with Helen, Cleo and Louise assisted the old man to his feet. Meanwhile Mary and Julia gathered up his fishing outfit.

He was old and feeble at best, but now, after his fright and shock from the lightning, he seemed leaden, as he leaned on Cleo from one side, with Louise at the other.

Up the pier they led him, and at every step he either sighed because he had lost his power or blessed "the little girls who gave him a hand." It seemed to the scouts rather odd that no one had discovered his plight until they had found him, but after all, it was not hard to understand how an old fisherman could be overlooked in the excitement.

Leonore had driven up with the car, and before the stragglers around the pier could question them, the girls had their charge in the comfortable seat, where he lay back in very apparent relief.

"Which way?" inquired the young girl driving.

"To the river dock," called Grace; and all crowded in the roomy car, they started off with their strange passenger.

CHAPTER X

PLANNING FOR ACTION

"NOW, don't trouble another bit," protested the old man when Leonore pulled into the little boat landing. "I'll take the next boat across, and be all right, thank you for helping me. You're a fine set of girls."

From the time they had left Borden's pier the girls had been tactfully trying to find out where he lived, and why they couldn't drive him directly to his place. But to all their inquiries he answered evasively, and was most positive in declaring they could not fetch him home.

"But you are scarcely able to walk," protested Helen. "Why won't you let us drive around there with you? You know this car can easily cover that distance in a few minutes."

"I'm sorry to seem ungrateful," he replied, and the girls noticed his voice was almost sobbing. "But I can't let you do it."

"And you live on that Luna Island?" queried Grace gently.

"I do, worse luck," he answered. "But we must take things as they come.

There's Jenning's boat. He'll bring me across."

They reluctantly assisted the aged passenger to alight and watched him climb into the rain-soaked launch. He stumbled and almost fell into the seat under the dripping canopy. Captain Jennings propped the leather cushions under his sagging arms, and as the girls turned away from the landing they heard the motor of the River Queen chug out.

"No wonder they call that place over there Looney Land," remarked Julia.

"It seems to me we are all meeting more of its loons every day."

"We have come across quite a few," admitted Cleo. "But this old man was nice; I liked him."

"Why didn't you ask him for a pass to the island then?" remarked Louise.

"That still seems to be forbidden territory."

"Yes, something like 'No Man's Land'. But did any one ever hear of 'No Scout's Land?' That's the beauty of belonging to a privileged organization."

"Queer thing how every one warns us to keep away from there," said Julia. "Every one but Bentley. Wonder what he would say if we asked him for a pass!"

"That's a brilliant idea, Julie," declared Margaret. "The very thing to do is to ask Ben."

"I knew that boy's name ought to be something with Ben in it," remarked Grace. "I seemed to outline it in his face when he reminded me of my own wild, but adorable little brother Ben. Of course, we never see our own boys down here except at meals, or we might get them to help us."

"We don't even get ours at meals," said Helen. "Mother says we might better all be in a hotel or boarding house, for all the home life we get out of our cottage."

"Let's stop at our place and finish up our scout meeting," suggested Cleo. "The storm sort of broke up our session."

So Leonore accommodatingly let them down in front of the Log Cabin, and on the spacious rustic porch there the interrupted meeting was again convened.

"Grace, if you are going to act as secretary, I think you should keep records. When our summer is over we shall enjoy looking back at them."

"All right," agreed Grace, preparing pencil and pad for notes.

"We must remember," cautioned Margaret, "that we are pledged to protect ourselves as well as others. Now, how do we know it is safe to go to that island? Suppose there is some disease there?"

"We must find out more definitely about that, of course," spoke up Mary, who was now a professed Tenderfoot. "It would be rash to run into some dreadful sickness."

"Also, we must question our motives and make sure we are not doing this out of rank curiosity," declared Louise sagely. "That would be silly, even if pardonable, and I don't think we could make a very creditable report to headquarters on such a pretense."

"Oh, that is clear enough," insisted Cleo. "It is just this way. We were confronted by this fire-bug thing, directly we struck the place, and its evidence has been piling up ever since. Every few nights a fire breaks out--and no one is able to discover the culprit."

"And that note we found was a challenge. It was written for who ever might pick it up, and we happened to be the 'whoevers'" said Louise. "So it plainly seems like our duty to run down the Weasle."

"But just why would you think the writer was on the island?" asked Helen, who, having come down late was not entirely familiar with all the details of the situation.

"We haven't any positive reason for that supposition," admitted Margaret; "but things point that way, and we must run down that clue first. Besides, it is very strange how every one warns us to keep away from Luna Land. It makes it fascinating, to say the least."

"Almost a good reason for going," remarked Mary. "And now girls, will you come over to the hotel this evening, if you are free from other engagements? We are going to have a children's entertainment in the ball room, and I would love to have every one come."

"But our dresses?" asked Grace. "What should we wear?"

"It's a novelty thing, and you can wear whatever you please," answered Mary.

"How about all going as a troop? We would advertise the scouts, and it's lovely and cool now after that shower."

"Oh, that would be splendid!" enthused Mary. "Since all the war work has moved off the earth nothing seems to have really taken the uniform's place. And as you say, it will be wonderfully cool to-night."

"And another positive advantage to uniform is that one can't out-do the other in togs. I love that," declared Helen, "although we all have pretty party dresses."

So the True Treds scattered, keen with the anticipation of novelty night at the Colonade.

It is safe to guess that in the short time intervening there was much activity in each scout's home, in the matter of pressing uniforms, for even "going as a troop" would mean public inspection. Yet this amount of work was comparatively small compared with what might have been their task had dancing dresses been demanded.

Into the gold and white ball-room of the Colonade the True Treds were ushered with quite an imposing ceremony a few hours later; and if Grace and Cleo wanted to giggle, the pomposity of the uniformed functionaries forbade any such frivolity.

Mary was there to welcome them, and with her was her fashionable aunt, Miss Constance Hastings, who was also distantly related to Cleo, through the marriage of Cleo's aunt to Mary's father's brother--remote but definite, just the same.

A perceptible stir was occasioned by the entrance of the girls; and since they were really quite a small troop, they walked in in pairs.

Grace and Cleo led, then came Margaret and Louise, Julia and Helen, besides Isabel Gantor and Elizabeth Bissell, two True Treds who had come down that very afternoon, and altogether they made a fine showing for the scouts.

After the first flush of excitement the usual exchange of compliments occupied the girls. Cleo had grown so much taller, every one thought so, and her gray eyes and fair hair were really "a lot prettier." Grace had better be careful or she would get stout, why not roll on the beach every day? Elizabeth suggested this, while the tables were then turned on Elizabeth herself, who was declared to be far from thin.