"Won't you give me the drawing on the back of it for my scrap-book, mamma?" asked Trixy. No objection being made, Trixy tore the Admiral's sketch of the gold placer and vicinity from the sheet, and pasted it into a fearfully and wonderfully made book of pictures, which she had brought from home. She looked at Jermyn's sketch a moment, thought it very like the other, and cast it aside. Her mother picked it up, read the page which she had written, and then she and Fenie devised wildly improbable theories of the history of the letter. The conclusion finally reached, greatly though they regretted it, was that the letter had been lent by the Admiral to someone in the fort, with the impression that there was some fun in it. If army and navy officers saw jokes in such things, of course Jermyn would soon hear of the letter itself, to his great discomfort; for the sisters agreed that he was too much of a gentleman to laugh over such a matter. Suddenly Fenie exclaimed: "There's something more dreadful still. You'll have to return the letter to the Admiral." "Never," Trif replied. "I shall mail it to Phil this very afternoon." Suiting the action to the word she enclosed it in an envelope, addressed it, and affixed a stamp to it. "But," remonstrated Fenie, "when the Admiral returns he will want to know where the letter is, and he will speak to the man to whom he lent it, and the man will say that he sent it back, and the servant will be questioned and say he gave it to Trixy, and then--" "Probably the messenger doesn't know Trixy by sight or name," said Trif. "Oh, he knows me well enough," said Trixy. "He's servant to somebody in the fort, and the somebody's little girls play with me on the beach sometimes, and he comes for 'em at dinnertime and lunch time." "I see nothing to be done, then," said Trif, "but for me to return to New York at once. We certainly owe neither courtesy nor explanation to the Admiral, whom we won't have the embarrassment of meeting if we are not here. Why, Fenie, you're crying. What is the matter, dear?" "I should think you might know, without asking," sobbed the girl, "you, who have been in love, and----" "You poor, dear child. Your sister is a thoughtless, heartless brute. Still, the Trewmans themselves will not remain here long; Kate said they had dropped over here only for a day or two, to see what the place----" "Oh, that reminds me," said Trixy. "Harry gave me a card for Aunt Fee a few minutes ago. Here it is." Fenie read the message on the card, and looked pleased, although she said: "Oh, Harry thinks they too will have to go to New York, this very evening. He--that is, Kate, is waiting for me down stairs. You won't mind my joining her, will you? She does so dislike to be kept waiting." CHAPTER XII. THE SEARCH PARTY.