The tide had carried them in closer to Terrapin Island while they talked. As Kitty saw the beautiful pine-clad bluff rising out of the surrounding green marshes she said, “Wouldn’t that make a grand place for a summer home?” “I’ll say. And if the old Hindu your father told us about was right, those pines ought to have enough vitality to make us immortal.” Kitty laughed and picked up her oar. “We’d better go on and see Uncle Mose, or this storm’s going to catch us before we get home.” They didn’t stop at their former landing place, but rowed on along the inlet flowing east of the island. It was indeed a lonely spot. They now had a good view of Mangrove Island beyond a mile strip of marshy flats, which were interlaced with tidewater creeks. A couple of cranes stood knee-deep in water, but took flight at the sound of approaching oars, their long legs trailing behind them like streamers. A line of pelicans moved out toward sea, their wings alternately flapping and poised, as they followed the impulses of their leader. “Don’t you love it here?” exclaimed Kitty. “I’ll say. It’s really God’s country.” They passed the spot where they had found Uncle Mose fishing, and saw his log cabin far back among the trees. “What’ll we do if Beeson won’t let us see Uncle Mose?” asked Kitty a little nervously. “The old negro told us his new house is right back of Beeson’s place.” “Surely he wouldn’t be so rude as to prevent us seeing the old darky.” “You never can tell. Those ‘No trespassing’ signs may apply to callers also.” A half mile farther on they came in sight of the Tradds’ old summer home. No doubt it had once been a fine residence, but even from the water they could see that its tabby walls were crumbling, and the paint had long since worn off the columned porch. Though the grounds were neglected and weed-grown, old azaleas, in full bloom, made gorgeous splashes of color. Wisteria vines had been left to run riotously over several pines, and the lavender blossoms were now hanging far up the brown trunks. “Seems a shame for a man like Beeson to have such a heavenly spot,” said Kitty, when they shipped their oars, and Brad made the boat fast to a rickety dock in front of the house. The tide had just begun to rise, so that their boat was eight or ten feet below the level of the dock. There was a ladder, however, by which they could go up. Brad had just given Kitty a hand to help her up when there came a furious baying of hounds from the direction of the house. A moment later they saw three vicious-looking dogs making for the dock. “We can’t take a chance on them!” exclaimed Brad, realizing at once that this was how Beeson kept intruders away from his house. Kitty tumbled back into the boat, while Brad released their line, so they could push off. He was not a moment too soon, for the dogs dashed along the dock and hung over the edge, their fierce jaws dripping as they barked furiously.