“Now, Tommy, you first,” nodded Harriet.

Tommy took her place on the canvas with great care, gathering her skirts about her, turning around and around as if in search of the softest possible place on which to lie.

“You are thure Buthter ithn’t going to thleep near me?” persisted Miss Tommy.

“Yes, yes.  Please get in,” urged Miss Elting.

“I jutht wanted to know, that ith all.”  She lay down, then one by one her companions took their places on the canvas.  Harriet was the last to turn in.  Before doing so she drew the unoccupied half of the canvas over the girls, leaving Tommy at the fold, as had been promised.  There were no pillows.  It was a case of lying stretched out flat or using one’s arm for a pillow.  The latter plan was adopted by most of the girls, though Harriet lay flat on her back after tucking herself in, gazing up at the stars and listening to the surf beating on the shore as the tide came rolling in.  Now and then a roller showed a white ridge at its top, the white plainly visible even in the darkness, for the moon had not yet risen.

The campfire burned low, the camp itself being as silent as if deserted.  Now and then twitterings in the tree tops might have been heard; were heard, in fact, by Harriet Burrell, but not heeded, for her gaze was fixed, as it had been for some moments, on two tiny specks of light far out on the dark sea.  One of the specks was green, the other red.  They rose and fell in unison, now and then disappearing for a few seconds, then rising, high in the air, as it appeared.  The two lights were the side lights of a boat, red on the port and green on the starboard, and above them was a single white light at the masthead.

“According to those lights the boat is heading directly toward the beach,” mused Harriet reflectively.  “I wonder if I ought to show a light?  No.  They know where they are going.  Besides, they can see the light of the campfire.  The wind is increasing, too.”

Harriet dozed.  She awakened half an hour later and gazed sleepily out to sea.  The same lights were there, though they now appeared to be much nearer.  All of a sudden they blinked out and were seen no more.

The girl sat up, rubbing her eyes wonderingly.

“Could they have sunk?  No, of course not.  How silly of me!  The boat has turned about, and the lights are not visible from behind.”  But she did not lie down at once.  Instead, she rested her chin in the palms of her hands and gazed dreamily out over the water.  A fresh, salty breeze was now blowing in.  She could hear the flap, flap of the canvas of the tents off in the camp, a thin veil of mist was obscuring the stars, the pound of the surf was growing louder and the swish of the water on the beach more surly.

All at once what looked to her to be a huge cloud suddenly loomed close at hand, then began moving along the beach.

“Mercy! what is it?” exclaimed the girl under her breath.  She crept from beneath the canvas and ran down to the beach.  “It’s a ship!  How close to the shore they are running, and they have no lights out.”