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  CHAPTER III BEAUTY AND A THREAT

  Slipping away from the main dock, the _Wanderer_ moved down the moonlitharbor to find a berth close to the brightly lighted lodge.

  After a hasty meal of boiled potatoes and trout fried in deep fat, toppedoff with coffee and apple pie, Florence felt much better.

  The little party went ashore. Dave and Rufus soon settled down in a darkcorner to talk with fishermen about boats, motors and the latest catch offish.

  Florence stole off alone to wander down the narrow path that leads to themain dock. Hanging high, the moon shining between the birch trees paintedpatches of gold on the path. The strong smell of damp earth, mingled withthe heavy odor of thimbleberries in bloom, greeted her at every turn. Thecool damp of the night made her shiver with sheer joy.

  "After all that stifling heat," she whispered.

  Arrived at a spot close to the dock, she turned to one side, climbed asteep slope, scrambled up the side of a great rock, then with handsclasped about her knees, sat looking away at the moonlit harbor that,stretching away and away in that darkness, seemed never to end.

  "Glorious!" Suddenly she sprang to her feet to swing her arms wide and todrink in the cool air of night as some famished one fresh from the desertmight drink cold water.

  "How perfect to live here," she breathed. "Never too hot nor too cold,and always, always, so beautiful!" And it was beautiful--jagged rockshere, primeval forest there and, far as eye could see, the deep, dark,mysterious waters of Superior.

  Yet, even as she stood there, she saw, as in an evil dream, the threat.For, from the far-off shores of Siskowit just then a distant red gleamcaught her eye.

  "The fire!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

  It was true, even as she watched, like the flash of a distant lighthouse,there came a flare that increased in intensity for an instant, then wentblack.

  All too well she knew the meaning of that; those boys had worked hard,but had not entirely won their battle.

  A moment passed, then came a second flash. And after that another.

  Then, of a sudden, the girl started. She had spied a movement in thebushes close to her rock.

  "Who--who's there?" she demanded.

  For the space of a second there came no answer. Then a voice said:

  "Them is spruce trees. Dey go up in fire like dat--you have beendere--you have seen. Dey is burning yet. And dey will burn. Dey will burnde whole island. Oh, ya. Dese fires dey is bein' set by somebody. Oh ya,dey iss."

  "Why?" the girl asked, almost in a whisper. "Why would anyone wish to seta forest fire on this beautiful island?"

  There came no answer, only a movement in the brush. The speaker, whoeverhe might have been, was gone. A strange thrill ran up her spine.

  But now the sound of distant music reached her ear, and, as she strainedher eyes, she caught the gleam of a moving light. It was over the water.

  "The yacht," she thought. "It is coming." Once again she settled herselfcomfortably on her rock to watch the boat's light grow brighter andbrighter, to catch the rise and fall of music that appeared to sway withthe boat and at last to hear the deep, mysterious sound, the call of aboat in the night.

  "How often," she thought, "that haunting sound has come drifting in outof the night, the voice of a ship lost in the fog, or in distress on therocks. But tonight," once again she stood up to fling her arms wide,"Tonight it is a call of pure joy, a call to a grand good time on thedeck of a beautiful yacht. But then I wonder," she dropped back to herrock, to wonder some more.

  It was true that once a boat docked anywhere on this friendly island, thecottagers and lodge guests swarmed aboard. They were always welcome. Butshe was not dressed for such an occasion. All her party clothes were onshore. She looked at her smoke-browned slacks, at her blouse torn at thesleeve, then murmured with a low laugh, "Invitation to the dance. But notfor me. I'll be a spectator. They won't even know I am here."

  It was a large white yacht that at last tied up at the dock.

  Sounding out in the silent night and across the dark, mysterious bay thatlay beneath the stars, the music was enchanting.

  The wail of violins, the tum-tum-tum of the bases, the organ-like roll ofa piano accordion all seemed to blend with the beauty of the night.

  "It's glorious!" Florence whispered.

  At that instant once again her eyes caught and were held by that faintred threat against the sky.

  "The fire!" she exclaimed softly. "Must all this beauty vanish? No!" Herhands were tight clinched now. "No! It must not. At all cost we must savethe island."

  But now there was a stir on the deck of the yacht. Something unusual wasabout to happen. What that was, for the moment, she could not tell.

  She gave herself over to speculation regarding the people on that boat.Were they rich? Some of them must be. The yacht was magnificent in itsburnished brass and polished mahogany.

  "Not all are rich," she told herself. "Some are guests of honor, famouspeople perhaps, artists, writers, musicians, dancers--"

  Scarcely had she whispered this last word when the orchestra began thelow rhythmic notes of a gypsy song she knew all too well, and at once aslim, spirit-like figure, clad in a gown that shone like silver in themoonlight, glided out upon the deck and began to dance.

  "Jeanne!" The sound that escaped Florence's lips was almost a cry."Petite Jeanne! It can be no one else. No one can do those gypsy dancesso divinely."

  As she sat there entranced, listening to the enchanting music, watchingeach gliding movement of the dancer, she became more and more convincedthat her good pal of other days, the little French girl, Petite Jeanne,was really there within a stone's throw of her, dancing as she had neverdanced before.

  "But why?" she asked herself. "Why?"

  Jeanne, who had been adopted by gypsies, had at last found true kinfolksin France. She had inherited an ancient castle. Florence believed herrich. And yet here she was, dancing as in those old golden days when theywere all very poor and happy together.

  Involuntarily Florence allowed her mind to drift back over days that weregone. She saw Jeanne dancing with a bear, before the hedges of France,saw her in the wilds of this very northland, and then in a poor tenementof Chicago. She rejoiced with her again as she recalled her success andtriumph as a dancer in light opera.

  "And now?" she whispered. She was unable to answer her own question, buther heart yearned to know.

  "Perhaps she is still rich," she thought. "This may be her own yacht. Shemay be dancing for her guests." Of this she could not be sure. Oneresolve she made at once, Jeanne should not be disturbed by an old friendin soiled slacks.

  "Very soon," she thought, "the yacht will leave the dock, the music growfaint in the distance, and Jeanne, like a spirit, will float away intothe night."

  "Like a spirit," she repeated musingly. "Jeanne was always like that,always kind, a great friend, but never quite like other humans."

  The dance went on. Again and again, in response to applause, the swayingfigure returned to the deck.

  There came at last a time when neither applause nor bewitching musiccould lure her from her retreat.

  "She is gone," Florence thought, in a dreamy mood, "disappeared down amoonbeam."

  How true this was she was to know soon enough. The deck of the boat wasall aglow, but the broad dock was in the shadows. Hidden by these shadowswas a little group of onlookers--a cook from the lodge, two roustabouts,a sailor or two. With them were Dave and Rufus. Gliding along in theshadows a slender figure approached this group, whispered a question ortwo, received her answers, then vanished into the night.

  Two minutes later, to her great astonishment, Florence heard her namecalled ever so softly:

  "Florence! Florence! Where are you?"

  The big girl thrilled to her fingertips, but did not answer at once.

  "Florence!" again the low silvery voice called. "Where are you? It is I,Petite Jeanne. I have come all this way to fi
nd you!"

  "Here!" The big girl's voice was husky. She was on her feet now. Tears ofjoy were in her eyes. "Here. On the rock!"

  "Ah!" Jeanne murmured, quoting from a very old book, "Lead me to a rockthat is higher than I." And then they who had had so many adventurestogether were in each other's arms.