"I wonder where _they_ camp at night?" said Laura thoughtfully one evening as she and Jess were paddling in for supper, being the last of the scattered girls to make camp. She had sighted the strange fishermen off the western end of Acorn Island again.

"Bet they are the fellows who took our food!" exclaimed Jess, suddenly.

"And have hung about here all this time? Nonsense!" returned Laura.

"But don't let Lil and Nellie hear you say that."

"All right. But I bet they are."

"I'm more worried by that cloud yonder," said Laura. "We're going to have a tempest."

"Hope not till supper's over," said the hungry Jess.

"We'll peg down the tents to make sure as soon as we get in," said the careful Laura.

They did so. Half through supper the first drops of the storm fell.

Then the thunder rolled nearer and a tall tree was riven on the mainland, within sight of Camp Acorn.

_That_ pretty well settled the supper for most of the girls. Even the bravest had never experienced a thunder storm under canvas before.

So they all ran into Mrs. Morse's cabin. It did not seem so bad there.

In the midst of the downpour, however, and in a lull between thunder claps, Barnacle, who had been tied to the corner of the hut and had crawled under the floor for protection, suddenly broke out with a terrific salvo of barks. He rushed out into the rain and leaped at the end of his rope, barking and yelping.

"Somebody's about the camp," murmured Mrs. Morse. "The dog's nose--if not his eyes--tells him so."

"It's Liz," ventured Jess, for the maid-of-all-work had not come with them to the cabin.

Laura threw the door open, in spite of the flashing lightning. Lil shrieked and even some of the other girls cowered as the lightning played across the sky. But before the thunder burst forth again, Laura heard another sound--and it was not the Barnacle baying.

Lizzie Bean, in the cook-tent, was screaming in a queer and stifled way.

CHAPTER XVI

WHERE THE BARNACLE'S NOSE LED HIM

The rain descended in torrents before the cabin door. E'er Laura could plunge into it, Jess dragged her back and slammed the door.

"Don't be a goose, Laura!" she cried.

"She--she----Something is the matter with Liz," declared Laura.

"Of course not!"

"I tell you, I heard her. And there's the dog barking again."

"You can't go through that rain----"

"I will!" declared Laura, and she wrenched open the door once more.

Jess could not hold her. Mother Wit plunged out into the storm.

Never having deserted her chum but once--and then involuntarily at a certain occasion long ago--Jess was not going to be behind now. She dove likewise into the storm.

The rain beat upon the two girls in a fashion to almost take their breath away. Never had they been so beaten by the elements.

They staggered, almost fell, clung together, and then bent their heads to the downpour and pressed on. The flickering lantern still illuminated the cook-tent. The awning was dropped and the canvas heaved and slatted against the poles.

The rain made so much noise that they did not hear Liz now. Or else, she had ceased crying out. Laura and Jess pressed forward and--it being but a few yards, after all, to the tent--they burst into the kitchen in a moment more.

"Liz! Liz!" gasped Laura, almost breathless.

There was a noise behind the fluttering canvas part.i.tion. Was it the girl in the sleeping part of the tent?

"Oh! somebody's there!" muttered Jess, clinging to her chum's hand.

Laura sprang forward and jerked apart the flap. She only feared that something was the matter with Liz.

And there was, apparently. She was crouching down, against the far wall of the tent, her hands over her face, and trembling like a leaf.

Afterward Laura thought over this scene with wonder. Lonesome Liz did not seem like a girl who would be so terribly disturbed about a thunder storm. She had shown no fear when the tempest began and the other girls had scampered for the cabin.

But now she was moaning, and rocking herself to and fro, and it was some moments before they could get a sensible word out of her.

"Oh! oh! oh!" wailed Liz. "I want to go back to town. I don't like this place a little bit--no, I don't! Oh, oh!"

"Stop your noise, Liz!" exclaimed Jess, suddenly exasperated. "You can't go back while it is storming so. And when it stops you won't want to."

But Laura was worried. She looked all about the tent. What had the Barnacle barked so about?

Nor was he satisfied now. The storm held up after a time; but the dog kept rushing out and barking as though he had just remembered that there had been a prowler about, and he had not had a chance to chase him.

Laura understood that rain, or wet, killed the scent for dogs and like trailing animals. This that had disturbed the Barnacle must have been a person who had come very close.

They took Liz to the cabin, and left her there after the storm was over and the six Central High girls went to their own tent. But although Laura did not say much about it, she was as dissatisfied as the dog seemed to be.

In the morning she was up earlier than anybody else in the camp. The gra.s.s and brush was drenched with the rain. There were puddles here and there. The sun was not yet up and it would take several hours of his best work to dry up the wet places.

Laura had not won her nickname of "Mother Wit" for nothing. She had inventiveness; likewise she had a sane and sensible way of looking at almost any mysterious happening. She did not get scared as Nellie did, or ignore a surprising thing, as Jess did.

Now she was dissatisfied with the outcome of Liz Bean's "conniption,"

as Bobby had termed it the evening before. The maid-of-all-work had shown no fear of thunder and lightning when the tempest began and the other girls were frightened.

Then, why should she wait until the storm was nearly over before showing all the marks of extreme terror? And, in addition, Liz seemed to be fairly speechless about the matter, whereas she was naturally an extremely garrulous person.

"Why did the Barnacle bark so?" demanded Laura, when she stood, shivering, in the gray light of dawn before the cook-tent. "Not just for the fun of hearing his own voice, I am sure."