“Cling to the trees!  Never mind saving anything now!” cried Mrs. Livingston, whose tent had shared the same fate as those of her charges.  “Take care of yourselves first.  The squall is blowing itself out.  It will soon pass.”

Almost before the words were uttered, the gale subsided.  A sudden hush fell over the camp.  “There!” called Mrs. Livingston.  “What did I tell you?  Now, hurry and get the things together.  Never mind sorting out your belongings.  We must get some cover over us as soon as possible, for we are going to have rain.”

The rain began in a spattering of heavy drops.  The thunder of the surf was becoming louder and louder, for the sea had been lashed into foamy billows by the brief, though heavy, blow.  The waves were now mounting the bluff back of the beach, leaving a white coating of creamy foam over a considerable part of the ground below the camp.

“Do you think it ith going to rain?” questioned Tommy.

“It is, my dear,” answered Mrs. Livingston.  “You had better prepare yourself for it.”

“Yeth, I think tho, too.  I think I will.  I told the girlth what I would do.  Here goeth.”  Tommy turned and ran toward the beach at full speed.

“Come back, Tommy!  Where are you going!” called Miss Elting.

“I’m going to fool the rain.  I’m going to get wet before the rain cometh.”

“Maybe she is going to do as she said—­jump into the ocean,” suggested Margery Brown.

Harriet suddenly dropped the piece of canvas at which she had been tugging, and started after Tommy, who had already headed for the bluff, and was running with all her might, apparently to get into the water before the rain came down hard enough to soak her.  The little lisping girl had no intention of getting into the water, knowing full well that by standing on the edge of the bluff a moment she could get a drenching that would be perfectly satisfactory so far as a thorough wetting was concerned.  But even in this Harriet Burrell saw danger.

“Don’t go near the edge, Tommy!” she shouted.

Tommy Thompson merely waved her hand and continued on.  Nor did she halt until she had reached the edge of the bluff, having waded through the white foam with which the ground had been covered.  She stood there, faintly outlined in the night, and with both hands thrown above her head as if she were about to dive, uttered a shrill little yell.

“Stop!  Come back!” begged Harriet.

“I’m going to take a thwim,” replied Tommy.

A great, dark roller came thundering in.  It leaped up into the air, hovered an instant, then descended in an overwhelming flood right over the shivering figure of the little Meadow-Brook Girl standing on the edge of the bluff.  Harriet had reached the scene just in time to get the full force of the downpour.  Neither girl could speak, both were choking, when suddenly the ground gave way beneath their feet and they felt themselves slipping down and down until it seemed to Harriet as if they were going to the very bottom of the sea.