"Gee, he's not the only one," cried a big, strapping lad, Frank Haley, by name, throwing himself upon the steps, and looking up at the girls triumphantly. "Just because he can run faster than we can, he gets all the credit." "You, too, Frank?" cried Betty, turning upon him with shining eyes. "And here comes Roy," put in Mollie. "Did he--" "You just bet he did," Roy Anderson, red and perspiring, answered for himself. "Did you ever hear of an Irishman staying out of a fight? I'm aching already to get my hands on Fritz." "What's the matter with Will?" asked Grace a little anxiously, for the young fellow coming slowly toward them with downcast eyes and bent head was her brother. "He looks as if he'd lost his last friend." Seven pairs of eyes were immediately focused upon the apparently despondent figure, while the boys shifted uneasily and looked vaguely troubled. "Hello, folks," Will saluted them, as he sank down upon the lower step, and looked out toward the water. "Why the sudden hush?" For a moment no one spoke. They were all strangely embarrassed by this unusual attitude of Will's. He had always been so frank and outspoken. And now-- "Oh, for Pete's sake, say something!" he burst forth at last, looking up at the silent group defiantly. "You were making enough noise before, but the minute I come along, you just stop short and stare. I didn't know I was so fascinating." "You're not," said Mollie promptly. With an impatient grunt, Will stuffed his hands into his pockets and stalked off into the woods. "Well," said Grace, with a long sigh, "I never saw Will act that way before. Now what's the matter?" "Indigestion, probably," said Allen, trying to pass it off. "He acts just the way I feel when I have it. Which reminds me that I'm getting mighty all-fired hungry." "Well, you don't get anything to eat," said Betty decidedly, "until you tell us all about everything, since the day you left here so mysteriously to the present time." "Seems we've got to sing for our supper--or rather, breakfast," said Frank with a grin. "Go ahead, Allen, but be brief. I want some of Betty's biscuits." "Goodness, do you suppose Betty's going to start in and cook biscuits, now?" cried Mollie. "Why, we just got through our own breakfast." "Well, we didn't," said Roy, nibbling a piece of grass for want of something better. "And you ought to take it as a proof of our devotion, that we didn't stop for any. We were too anxious to get here to tell you our news." "And blow a little," scoffed Mollie, the irrepressible. "Oh, for goodness' sake stop talking," entreated Betty, with her hands to her ears. "If the boys want biscuits they shall have them--if I have to stay up all night to cook some for them. They can have anything in the house, as far as I'm concerned." "Hear, hear!" cried the boys in chorus, looking up admiringly at her flushed face. "If volunteering has that effect," Roy added, "I'm going back and do it all over again."