several saturdays turned out wet, and it was not until the middle of october that mavis and merle were again able to motor with dr. tremayne to chagmouth.

they had made arrangements for a nature ramble, so, after an early lunch at grimbal's farm, they went to the trysting-place by the harbour to meet the other members of the club. beata and romola turned up alone to-day, unencumbered by younger brothers and sisters or the donkey. they had brought businesslike baskets with them, and were armed with note-books to record specimens, some apples and nuts, and a couple of log-lines.

"we might be able to get some fishing!" they explained eagerly. "father went out yesterday in old mr. davis's boat, and he brought home the most lovely mackerel. wouldn't it be a surprise if we could get some for ourselves? i don't see why we shouldn't!"

the idea appealed to the others. fish were undoubtedly a division of zoology and ought to be included in their nature study. specimens would be no less scientifically interesting from the fact that they could be eaten afterwards. fay instantly rushed into helyar's general store to buy a log-line of her own; mavis and merle, after cautiously ascertaining the cost, invested in one between them, while tattle, nan, and lizzie contented themselves with purchasing a few fishhooks and a ball of fine string.

"i suppose we ought really to take some bait with us," remarked romola casually. "there isn't time, though, to go and dig for lob-worms. what's to be done about it?"

"oh, we'll use limpets or anything else we can get," decreed beata. "we'll find something along the rocks, you'll see. mavis, where are we going? you know all the best walks. we elect you leader this afternoon."

"it's beautiful along the cliffs towards st morval's head. there's a path most of the way, and we can scramble where there isn't. i wouldn't have dared to take the children, but i vote we venture it."

"anywhere you like so long as we don't waste any more time; i'm just crazy to start!" agreed fay.

so they went by a narrow alley and up steep flights of steps to the hill above the town, and took the track that led along the edge of the cliffs towards st. morval's head. it was a glorious autumn afternoon, and, though the bracken was brown and withered, there were specimens of wild flowers to be picked and written down in the note-books. summer seemed to have lingered, and had left poppies, honeysuckle, foxgloves, and other blossoms that were certainly out of season. tattie, who was keen on entomology, recorded a red admiral, a clouded yellow butterfly, and a gamma moth, though she did not consider them worth chasing and catching for her collection.

flocks of goldfinches and long-tailed tits were flitting about, and they spied some black-caps and pipits, and even a buzzard falcon poised in the air high above the cliffs. here quite a little excitement occurred, for several sea-gulls attacked the buzzard and with loud cries tried to drive it away, following it as it soared higher and higher into the heavens, and finally routing it altogether and sending it off in the direction of port sennen.

the path along which the girls had been walking was the merest track through the bracken. so far there had been either a low wall or a hedge as a protection at the edge of the cliff, but now these outposts of civilisation vanished and they were at the very brink of the crags. tattie, whose head was not of the strongest, turned giddy and refused to go farther; indeed, she was so overcome that she sank on the ground and buried her face in her hands.

"i daren't look down!" she shuddered. "i know i shall fall if i do. oh! i wish i'd never come! how am i going to get back?"

"there's only about a hundred yards like this," urged mavis. "after that the path is all right again. take my arm."

"no, no! i daren't! i can't go either backwards or forwards. i feel as if

i should faint!" sobbed tattie, waxing quite hysterical.

here was a dilemma! she must certainly be made to move one way or the other. with great difficulty fay and beata between them got her back to the path along which they had come, where she collapsed under the shelter of the wall, and sat down to recover.

"i'll be all right now," she said, wiping her eyes. "i can go home alone.

don't let me keep any of you."

"we'll come with you," said lizzie colville. "nan and i don't like walking so near the edge either. i wouldn't cross that place for worlds."

so it was arranged that the ramsays and the castletons and fay should go on to st. morval's head, while the rest of the company turned back.

"it's a pity, but it's no good taking people who turn giddy," commented mavis. "if they can't manage that piece of cliff, how would they scramble down into the cove?"

"they haven't got tennis shoes on for one thing," remarked merle, "and boots are horribly slippery. you ought to have rubber soles for these rocks. it just makes all the difference. mavis and i always wear them at chagmouth."

"so do we. we learnt that at porthkeverne. we're used to scrambling. as for fay she's a real fairy. i believe she could fly if you gave her a push over the edge to start her off."

"don't try, thanks, or i might turn into a mermaid instead of a fairy or a bird! i often think, though, i'd like a private aeroplane of my own. they're things that are bound to come sooner or later. i only hope i shan't be too old to use one when they do. what a view it is here!"

the difficult piece of cliff had led them round a corner, and they were now facing a magnificent sweep of coast-line. below them, fixed to a buoy that floated on the water, a bell was ringing incessantly, its clanging sound floating over the sea like the knell of a mermaid's funeral.

"it's to warn the vessels off the rocks," explained mavis. "they can hear it in a fog when they can't see quite where they are." merle and i always call it 'the inchcape bell.' oh, you know the story?

'the worthy abbot of aberbrothock

had fixed that bell on the inchcape rock.

on a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,

and over the waves its warning rung.'

then the pirate, sir ralph the rover, goes and cuts it off, just out of spite, and sails away. years afterwards his ship comes back to scotland, and there's a thick fog, and he's wrecked on the very inchcape rock from which he stole the warning bell.

'sir ralph the rover tore his hair;

he cursed himself in his wild despair.

the waves poured in on every side,

and the vessel sank beneath the tide.'"

"serve him right too! it was a sneaking rag to play!" commented merle.

"the bell makes me think of an old hermitage," said romola. "i expect to see a monk walking along, telling his beads. who was st. morval? didn't he have a little chapel on the cliffs here?"

"romola always thinks of the middle ages," laughed beata. "that's because she poses so much for dad's pictures. it sounds like a church bell under the sea to me. when we lived at porthkeverne we were close to the lost land of lyonesse, and there was a lovely story about a mermaid. they said she used to come and sit on a broad flat stone outside the church and listen to the singing; and the priest heard of it, so one day he came out and talked to her, and asked her if she wouldn't like to be baptized, and she said she'd think about it. so she swam away; but she came back again and again, and it was decided that she was to be baptized on easter sunday. but on good friday there was a terrible storm, and the waves came up and swallowed the whole of the village, so that when the poor mermaid arrived she found the church sunk under the sea, and the priest and all the people drowned. there was nobody to baptize her, and there never has been since, and she swims about the water weeping and singing any little bits of the service that she can remember. the fishermen said if anybody was at sea and heard her it was bad luck, and a sign he would certainly be drowned before long."

"i love the quaint old legends!" said mavis. "i shall always think of your mermaid now, when i hear the bell. this is our way down to the cove. it's a most frightful scramble. can you manage it?"

the girls went first over grass and gorse, then climbed down a tiny track so narrow and slippery they were obliged to sit and slide, and finally, with some difficulty, scrambled on to the grim rugged rocks beneath. they were on a kind of platform, covered with seaweed and little pools, and with deep swirling water below.

beata decided it would be a good place to fish, so they got out their log-lines. the first and most manifest thing to do was to find bait. there were plenty of limpets on the rocks, and with penknives they managed to dislodge some of them. it was only when a limpet was caught napping that it was possible to secure him: once he sat down tight and excluded the air from his shell, no amount of pulling could move him. the victims thus gathered were sacrificed by beata and merle, who acted as high priestesses, and chopped them up, and placed them upon the hooks, for neither mavis nor romola would touch them, and even fay was not particularly keen upon this part of the fishing operations. they were ready at last, and cast their lines. merle, unfortunately, through lack of experience, had not unreeled hers far enough, and the heavy weight sank deeply in the water and jerked the whole thing out of her hands into the sea.

"oh, what a shame! and we've only just paid two and sixpence for it! what an utter idiot i was! i never thought it would pull like that. see, it's floating about down there!"

"i'll get it for you if i can," said beata. with some manoeuvring she managed to fling her own line over it and drag it slowly in, losing it several times but rescuing it in the end.

after that mishap merle was wiser, and threw with more discretion. fay also tried her luck, and the girls sat waiting for bites. but alas! none came. there were several false alarms, but the lines when hauled in held nothing more exciting than hunks of seaweed. it was really most disappointing.

"i'm afraid they don't like the bait," said beata at last. "if we could find a few lob-worms now, it might tempt them. they're evidently rather dainty."

"and i expect we don't know much about it!" said mavis.

"well, people have to learn some time, i suppose. you can't tumble to fishing by instinct!"

it was decided to go farther along and try to find lob-worms. the difficulty was to scramble down the rocks on to the sand. from above it looked quite easy and possible, but at close quarters the crags were very precipitous. at one point, however, they determined to venture. they sat on the edge of the sloping rock, let go, and then simply slid down, hanging on to pieces of ivy and tufts of grass. the cove, when they thus reached it, was worth the trouble of getting there. sand-gobies were darting about in the pools, and came swimming up to fight for the pieces of limpet which the girls dropped in for them. they found a few lobworms and re-baited their hooks and cast their lines afresh, but met with no better success than before.

"i'm fed up with fishing!" announced romola at last. "let's go home!"

she had voiced the general opinion of the party. all immediately began to wind up their lines.

"the tide's coming in fast, and we're close to the blow-hole," said

mavis. "it seems a pity not to stop and watch it."

the blow-hole was a curious natural phenomenon. the sea, pouring into a narrow gully, forced air and water to spurt through an opening at certain intervals. first a low groaning noise was heard, which waxed louder and louder until—so beata declared—it resembled the snoring of father neptune. then suddenly a shower of spray spurted from the aperture, the sunshine lighting it with all the prismatic colours of the rainbow. for a few seconds it played like a fountain, then died down as the wave receded. the girls were so interested in watching it that they quite forgot the sea behind them. while their backs were turned to it, the great strong tide was lapping and swelling in, moving higher and higher up the rocks, and covering the pools, and creeping into the cove, and changing the sand and seaweed into a lake. when mavis happened to look round she found her basket floating. she started up with a cry. the one accessible spot where they had climbed down now had a deep pool under it.

"we must wade!" gasped beata, and hurriedly pulling off her shoes and stockings she plunged as pioneer into the water.

she soon realised it was too dangerous a venture. the slimy seaweed underneath caused her to slip, and the strong swirl of the tide nearly swept her from her feet. with difficulty she splashed back again.

"we might swim it!" she suggested. "but what about our clothes?"

mavis shook her head.

"we can't cross there till the tide goes down."

"are we going to be drowned?" asked romola, in a tremulous little voice.

"certainly not!"—mavis sounded quite calm and sensible—"we're safe enough here, but we're in a jolly nasty fix. we can sit above high-water mark, but it means staying till the tide goes down and that won't be for hours, and then it will be dark and how can we see to scramble up the cliffs?"

"i suppose we've got to wait till morning!" groaned fay. "this is some adventure at any rate!"

"rather more than most of us bargained for!" agreed beata.

"i wouldn't care a nickel, only mother'll be in such a state of mind when

i don't turn up!"

"and uncle david will be waiting to go home in the car. i wonder what he'll do?"

"they'll have the fright of their lives!"

"and we shall have the colds of ours!" shivered poor romola. "october isn't exactly the month you'd choose for camping out. i wish we'd brought some more biscuits with us. i'm hungry!"

"don't talk of biscuits or eating! i'm just ravenous."

five very disconsolate girls found a sheltered corner under the cliff and squatted down to watch the sunset. there was a glorious effect of gold and orange and great purple clouds tipped with crimson, but they were none of them quite in the mood to appreciate the beauties of nature, and would much have preferred the sight of a tea-table. it was beginning to grow very cold. they buttoned their sports coats about their throats, and huddled close together for warmth. the sun sank into the sea like a great fiery ball, and the darkness crept on. presently the moon rose, shining over the sea in a broad spreading pathway of silver, that looked like a gleaming fairy track across the water to the far horizon, where a distant lighthouse glinted at intervals like a fiery eye. the waiting seemed interminable. romola, who felt the cold most, had a little private weep.

"i've always been crazy on stories of shipwrecks and desert islands," said fay, "but when you go through it yourself somehow it seems to take the edge off the romance. i don't want any more to be a robinson crusoe girl! i'd rather stay warm with pussie by the fire."

"if we'd had a box of matches with us we might have lighted a fire!" sighed beata. "why didn't we bring some?"

"why didn't we look at the tide and get home in decent time? it's no good crying over spilt milk!" grunted merle rather crossly.

after that they all subsided into silence for a while. there was no sound except the monotonous lap of the waves. the sea-gulls and cormorants had flown past at sunset and gone to roost. the absolute quiet, and the dark shadows, and the silver light of the moon gave such an eerie atmosphere to the scene that presently fay could stand it no longer.

"i guess i'll stir up the spooks!" she remarked, and scrambling to her feet she made a trumpet of her hands and called out a loud "coo-o-ee."

to the immense astonishment of everybody an answering shout came from somewhere across the water. instantly all sprang up and woke the echoes with their loudest possible lung-power. before long came a splash of oars, and a boat, with a lantern fastened to its bow, entered the cove. it advanced cautiously to the rocks, and a tall boyish figure sprang out and held it steady, while some one in a fisherman's jersey stretched out a strong hand to help the girls to enter. only when they were safely seated and the moonlight shone on their faces did mavis recognise their rescuers.

"mr. penruddock—and surely not bevis!" she exclaimed.

he enjoyed her amazement.

"i've got the week-end. there's been 'flu' at school, so they've sent some of us off while matron fumigates the rooms. i thought i'd find you at the farm. there was a pretty to-do when it grew dark and you didn't turn up. the doctor went to the vicarage to ask if you were there, and they said you'd gone along the rocks fishing. so we took the boat and came to look for you. i say, you were in a jolly old mess, weren't you? rather cold for sleeping out?"

"if we'd known you were coming over we wouldn't have started."

"i didn't know myself till the last minute. i'll bike over to durracombe to-morrow afternoon if i may? i haven't seen you and merle for ages. you've given chagmouth people an excitement! i should think half the town's waiting on the quay for you! we'd rather a business to find you. but 'all's well that ends well,' isn't it?"