"Yes, but it isn't half so nice in winter," said Sally; "though the skating's good when it's cold enough. But I get awfully tired of all this all the time. I'd love to live in New York a while. There's the island," she indicated. "You can see that from most anywhere on the river. It's pretty, but there isn't anything much interesting about it. I think I've explored every inch of this river 'cause I've so little else to do in the summer. Genevieve and I know more about it than the oldest inhabitant here, I reckon." There was something about the way she made this last remark that aroused Doris's curiosity. "Why do you say that?" she demanded. "Of course it's all lovely around here, and up above that bridge it seems rather wild. I went up there yesterday in the canoe. But what is there to 'know' about this river or its shores? There can't be anything very mysterious about a little New Jersey river like this." "You wouldn't think so to look at it," said Sally, darkly. "Especially this lower part with just the Landing and the hotel and the summer bungalows along the shore. But above the bridge there in the wild part, things are different. Genevieve and I have poked about a bit, haven't we, Genevieve?" The baby nodded gravely, though it is doubtful if she understood much of her older sister's remark. "Oh, _do_ tell me what you've found?" cried Doris excitedly. "It all sounds so mysterious. I'm just crazy to hear. Can't you just give me a little hint about it, Sally?" But the acquaintance was too new, and the mystery was evidently too precious for the other to impart just yet. She shook her head emphatically and replied: "No, honestly I somehow don't want to. It's Genevieve's secret and mine. And we've promised each other we'd never tell any one about it Haven't we, Genevieve?" The baby gravely nodded again, and Sally headed her boat for the wagon-bridge that crossed the upper part of the river. CHAPTER II THE ACQUAINTANCE RIPENS Doris said no more on the subject. She was too well-bred to persist in such a demand when it did not seem to be welcome. But though she promptly changed the subject and talked about other things, inwardly she had become transformed into a seething cauldron of curiosity. Sally headed the boat for the draw in the bridge, and in another few moments they had passed from the quiet, well-kept, bungalow-strewn shores of the lower river, to the wild, tawny, uninhabited beauty of the upper. The change was very marked, and the wagon bridge seemed to be the dividing line. "How different the river is up here," remarked Doris. "Not a house or a bungalow, or even a fisherman's shack in sight." "It is," agreed Sally. And then, in an unusual burst of confidence, she added, "Do you know what I always think of when I pass through that bridge into this part of the river? It's from the 'Ancient Mariner': "'We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.'"