We'll get lost in the storm and never find our way home.”

Feeling with their alpenstocks each step they took, they proceeded cautiously. Ben's fingers ached from cold, despite the thick woolen gloves he had on. The snow that struck his face cut like pin-points, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Suddenly he became aware that his alpenstock was slipping through his fingers. Why did n't it stop when it touched the level of his feet? He hesitated. But before he could jump back, his feet began to sink rapidly through the snow. He tried to call out for help. The rumbling and creaking of the ice seemed to get nearer. The monster was gnashing its teeth in his very face! With a jolt, Ben landed. Where was he? He dared not move. He was looking down into the greenish-blue depths of a great crevasse. He must be on a narrow shelf of ice. He awoke from his terrified gazing to hear Frank's frantic voice calling him from above. "Ben! Are you hurt? Ben!"

"Here! I'm not hurt! Throw me that rope you 're carrying!" shouted Ben.

He had fallen only a short distance, but the awful nearness of the yawning cavity below him and the thought of what might have happened made the boy dizzy. As he reached the top, Frank grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the brink. Thankful to be alive, they locked arms and pushed on. "W00-00-00-00!" over the bleak snowfields came the plaintive wail of a puppy. "Pete!" jerked Frank.

"Poor fellow!" murmured his chum. "Shall we go back after him?"

"Impossible! We 'd lose our lives. We can come and get him in the morning. He'll live till then."

As they buffeted the gale, the dismal howl of the dog became fainter. Would the storm never cease? On both sides of them yawned the eager mouths of those terrible monsters.

"Look! Look what we 're heading for! Great Scott!" shrieked Frank.

Ahead stretched a vast labyrinth of gashes in the barren ice.

"On the left! On the right! In front! What 's left for us now?" moaned his companion.

In answer, came the long-drawn-out wail of Pete far behind them over the snow.

"There's one thing left to do. We can turn around and go back the way we came," Ben shivered. "Frank! Are we headed in the wrong direction? Do you suppose that Pete knows the way out?"

"We can try to find him!"

They slowly picked their way back over the treacherous ice. But what if Pete gave out and stopped howling? Would they be left to freeze to death on the mountain?

"No!" Frank cried out aloud, as these thoughts seized him.

Pete's wailing was gradually getting nearer, but it seemed also to be getting feebler. As the minutes passed, the boys became more insensible to their surroundings. Perhaps it would be only a matter of time before one of them dropped. Sheer nerve kept them going on.

"Only a little farther," murmured Ben. "Right! There's the moraine that leads to camp!" Frank made out the outline. Pete heard them coming. Why did n't he run to meet them? Before they knew it, they were almost on top of him. Suddenly Frank stopped. He would have stumbled over the still form at his feet had it not been for Pete. "Baxter!" The hoarse cry came from Frank's cracked lips.

"Dead!" sobbed Ben, as Pete frantically licked the cold face.

But no! As they worked over the man his eyelids twitched and he muttered vaguely. There was a narrow gash on his head from which the blood flowed freely.

"Where in the world did he get this gash?" queried Frank.

"You 've got me!" returned his friend. After they had worked over him a while, Baxter sat up. "Moosmoos, old Indian spirit, threw rock down from top of mountain and hit me. Did n't know any more. Something warm-licked my face. Pete! Old Pete! You would n't let me freeze, would you?"

At the sound of his voice, Pete jumped up against him and barked and cried in a frenzy of joy. As the two helped Baxter down the mountain, there was not one of the three who was not thankful for Baxter's borrowed pup.

CHAPTER I

THE WEEK BEFORE THE RACES AT THE SHINGLE COVE CLUB. THE ELECTION OF A NEW MEMBER AND THE FIRST MUTTERINGS OF TROUBLE

THE Shingle Cove Club of Coquisset Point was in session. Its members reclined at their ease on the sand, with the blue stretch of bay and ocean before them, and at their backs the steep, rocky cliff in whose shelter nestled their club-house, a rough but substantial little structure, beloved of their hearts.

It was a delicious day, still, sunny, serene. The waves broke gently at their feet and ebbed again with that pleasant musical murmur among the stones which gave the cove its alternative and often-used name of the Singing Beach. From time to time a white sail rounded the point, guarded by the lighthouse far to their right, and stood out to sea, joining the flocks of other white sails which gleamed silver against the pale blue of sky and water.

The time was early in August, and the following week was the week of the mid-season yacht-races, always a gala time in the town. of Coquisset and to the summer residents on the Point, a peninsula which ran out for a mile or so parallel to the main shore and was connected with it by a narrow causeway.

The Shingle Cove Club hoped another year to enter the junior championship races and so to take an active part in the events of the week, instead of merely cruising about as onlookers. This season they were not eligible on account of some official business connected with their fathers' memberships in the Coquisset Yacht Club. The club had

the privilege of entering a crew of three juniors, under proper conditions, for these races, and each member of the Shingle Cove Club burned with the noble ambition to be one of the three and to win the cup, not only for his own sake, but for the honor of the club.

This esteemed organization, as at present constituted, included five members in good and regular standing, namely: Bert Wainwright, Ted Loring, Billy Bestwick, Rodney Blake, and Stanley Delafield. The captain, having had the misfortune to be named Cuthbert, spent much of his young life trying to live down this handicap, in which attempt he was fairly successful, except when his comrades, to whom he was usually known as Bert, Cap, or Chief, succumbed to the irresistible temptation of addressing him with a lisp. This was not very safe, invariably arousing the captain's temper, never very certain, to a blaze.

Bert, besides being president of the club, was the skipper and more than half owner of the club boat. Ted was the executive member of the society, and its secretary and treasurer as well. Billy, a tall and handsome youth, having spent the early years of his life in France, had acquired a fluent use of the French tongue and certain elegancies of manner which caused him to be considered the aristocrat of the club. Rod, somewhat younger than the others mentioned, was of a literal turn of mind, and kept the club straight by an almost painful attention to matters of form; and Stan, the youngest of all, felt, as indeed he was made to feel, highly privileged in being allowed to belong to so superior an organization, and was humbly and eagerly ready to fill any post

or do any duty required of him. Of the eight original members, one, Dud Evans, had moved to California. The other two, Tony Marston and Bartholomew-better known as Bug-Ellison, had recently ceased to attend the meetings of the club, owing to an unfortunate misunderstanding with their fellows; but neither this nor any other cloud shadowed the spirits of the group on this peaceful and beautiful afternoon.

The club felt a proprietary interest in race week. They were planning to have a celebration-a banquet, perhaps coincident with the big banquet at the Coquisset Yacht Club, and it was this matter which they had met to discuss.

"I don't know why," mused Ted, burrowing luxuriously in the sand, "but a day like this always reminds me of the day we had a chowder-party down here, and Cap tried to make the chowder. Any of you fellows remember that?"

The glare in the captain's eye forbade anybody's indulging in any such recollection. "Chowder would n't chowd, as I recall it," Ted continued.

"Lots of yachts out to-day," observed the captain, in a lofty and impersonal tone.

"Mais oui, mais oui," agreed Ted.

"Tootler-mownd out practising for the races." He received a pebble on his cheek, thrown by Billy, and returned it with interest.

"If Dud Evans was here," said the captain, "we would n't be wasting our time like this. We have n't decided a thing so far." "We miss Dud," observed Ted.

"Sure we do!" declared the captain. "Dud

warned. But Stanley, too apt, alas, to follow the lead of his elders, repeated the jest with relish, and was promptly felled to earth by the irate chief.

The others, springing to his rescue, turned upon their leader, and there was a brief but spirited Revolution. Everybody shouted "Down with the Government! Hurrah for

the People!" except Billy, and he said "A bas le Tribunal!" and "Vive la Revolution!"

"What the chief just remarked about Dud Evans," said Ted, when the scrimmage was over and they were again seated peacefully on the sand, "reminds me of a matter which I wish to bring to the attention of the club. We do miss Dud Evans, and our numbers are likewise decimated-"

port, eh, Billy! That settles it, anyway, about Peggy! She 's mighty good friends with Tony Marston, and Tony-well, you know perfectly well that Tony has a kind of a way with him. If we could get Peggy nailed, as it were, it might mean a whole lot to us, in case anything should come up."

"That 's right," declared the captain; and in five minutes the motion had been made,

"Decimated," repeated Ted, firmly, "by the conduct of others who shall be nameless,' (Groans) "and I think we ought to elect a new member in Dud's place."

"Tiens, tiens!" exclaimed Billy. "Who'd we elect? And what for?"

"Well," Ted began, "now take this banquet. Suppose we had somebody who really knew how to run that as it ought to be runsomebody who could make a chowder that chowds, who—"

"In short," suggested Billy, ominously. "In short," Ted agreed, "Peggy!"

There was a brief but significant silence. Rod, being Peggy's brother, was naturally the first to protest. "We don't have girls in this club," he said shortly.

"We have n't had," Ted corrected him gently. "But we 've often spoken of it, I'm sure, when Cad and Bunny were down here. And Peggy's a perfectly eligible candidate for membership. She's a first-class sailor, swims like a fish, dances like aWhat is yon boat doing in the offing?"

All heads were turned, startled, to inspect a craft that seemed to be bearing down directly upon them in their secluded nook.

"It's the Sylph!" cried Ted. "With Tony and Bug aboard!"

This apparition effectually stopped all discussion. As the Sylph came nearer, the two figures crouching under the rail rose fully into sight and emitted what was unquestionably a yell of triumph. Not content with this demonstration, they danced, laughed, showed every sign of joy and exultation; then, with a shout which sent a shiver down the spines of the hearers, they turned and were borne gracefully away past the southern end of the cove, their white sail gleaming in the sun, their final shout still ringing on the air.

"Now what in thunder do they mean by that?" muttered the captain, staring after them.

Ted recovered himself. "It's just a piece of Tony's impertinence," he declared. "Nam

a member of the club, and that body had leaped to its feet and marched merrily away to inform her of the fact.

CHAPTER II

PEGGY JOINS THE CLUB AND THE TROUBLE IS CONFIRMED

A REFERENCE to the map here given will show the location of the club and the relative positions of various other places concerned in the tale. Notable among these is Topcliff, this being the name carved on the stone gate-posts of the big house at the top of the rocky cliff in whose shelter nestled the Shingle Cove Club-house.

Topcliff had been vacant for years; and while the boys were enjoying themselves below, season after season the mansion above had stood closed and silent, like the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. Its lawns were neglected, its gardens were a tangle of weeds, its paint was fading in wind and sun. But nothing could disguise the beauty of its lines, the warm color of its mellow brick, the gracious curves of its doorways, and the long line of its windows looking out to sea.

To Peggy Blake, this was a place of dreams. She peopled its hidden rooms with lovely beings, and dazzling scenes of joy and splendor took place for her within its vacant walls. But then, as Rod, her brother, would have said, Peggy was a bit nutty about Topcliff, so perhaps it is not fair to view it through her eyes.

On the map, besides Topcliff, the Spouting Horn, and other important places, there may be seen the Blake cottage down on the rocks near the lighthouse.

In one of the little rooms of this cottage Peggy Blake, that same afternoon, tied a hasty, but becoming, blue band about her bobbed brown hair, glanced at herself in the glass, and ran down the steep little stairs after Nannie and the children.

These cherubs were three in numberLucy, a fair-haired little girl of seven, Howard, aged five, and Bobby, just turned three.

Mr. Travers looked at them, swinging lazily in his hammock on the porch. Mr. Travers was a long, lean young man, with a sunburned face and twinkling, though rather sleepy, blue eyes. As he was going to be married very soon to Aunt Eleanor, Mother's youngest sister, he was already known to the young fry as Uncle Dick.

"Are they really going to the beach in all that splendor?" he asked, as Nannie and the

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children set forth, accompanied by Tarlie, a capable little fox-terrier, who considered himself the guardian of the family. His real name was Charlie, of course, but everybody called him Tarlie because Bobby did.

"No." Peggy sat down on the step and fanned her hot face with her pocket-handkerchief. "They're going to a little party down at the Inn. I 've had a gay time getting them ready! You 'd have thought Howard was being murdered, would n't you? And I was only trying to tie his tie."

"The kids are a handful, are n't they," observed Uncle Dick. "Where 's Rod?"

"Off with the boys," said Peggy. "And why are n't you off with the girls?" pursued Uncle Dick.

"We-ell," said Peggy, thoughtfully, "there are n't any girls, you see. I supposed of course Cad and Bunny would be down here this summer; and then Cad had to go up and visit her aunt in Canada, and Bunny's mother decided to go to the White Mountains this year, and then just as we had it all

It was a very tiny kitchen. In fact, the cottage itself was so small that it was a wonder how the family managed to pack them

selves into it at all.

This summer Aunt Eleanor was staying there till she was married, and Uncle Dick, having a room at the Inn at the other end of the Point, naturally spent most of his time at the cottage too.

The wedding was to take place there late in August. "I'd like to know what kind of a time we 're going to have," Rod had said

when he first heard of this plan.

"Why, it won't hurt us," said Peggy. "Won't it!" returned Rod. "If Aunt Eleanor stays with us, Dick Travers 'll be there the whole blessed time and nobody 'll talk about anything but clothes and bridesmaids and wedding-cakes and things, and the happy pair will want the boat all the time, and nobody 'll give a whoop for what becomes of us. I ask you as man to man, Peggy, what chance shall we have?"

"Oh, it won't be so bad as that, Roddy dear," said Peggy.

"I foresee the worst," said Rod.

As it turned out, he was off with the club most of the time, and so did not suffer from the situation as he had feared. But it had been a very busy summer for Peggy.

Nannie, the old nurse who had taken care of her and Rod when they were babies, still looked after the little ones; but as there was no other servant, she helped as well with the housework, and Mother and Aunt Nell being up to their ears in wedding prepara