With her belt hatchet Harriet selected and cut such boughs as she desired and placed them in a pile, afterward to be carried out to the cabin on the Lonesome Bar.  Later on they were assisted by the other Meadow-Brook Girls.  They covered the floor of the cabin with the fragrant green boughs until Tommy declared that it made her “thleepy” just to smell it.  In the meantime, those of their companions who were not engaged with camp duties were strolling about along the beach near the camp, discussing what Harriet had told them at breakfast that morning.  It was all right to tell them to pick up the trail, but what trail was it, and how were they to find it?  Even the guardians were not beyond curiosity in the matter, and they, too, when they thought themselves unobserved, might have been seen looking eagerly about for the “trail.”  All this amused Harriet Burrell very much.

With her group, Harriet was at the cabin arranging the boughs, when they were summoned to camp by three blasts of the fish horn used for the various signals employed by Camp Wau-Wau.  Something had happened in camp.

“Thomebody hath found it!” cried Tommy, shooting a quick glance of inquiry at Harriet Burrell.  The latter flushed, then burst out laughing after a look toward the miniature forest of spindling pines.

“I hope they have.  But I may tell you, my dear Tommy, that they haven’t found either the trail or my buried treasure.”

“You must know pretty well where it is,” said Miss Elting, eyeing Harriet steadily for a few seconds.  “Come, we must not delay answering that summons.”

They did not delay.  The Meadow-Brook Girls responded promptly, making a run for it in good order.

“There’s a motor car,” shouted Jane, when they came in sight of the camp.  “O darlin’s, maybe it is a new car Daddy has sent down for me to take the place of the one that is drowned.”

Jane leaped on ahead of her companions, intent upon reaching the camp.  Harriet sprinted up beside her, almost as much excited as was Crazy Jane herself.

The two girls easily outdistanced their companions in a very few moments.  It was a race between them to see who should first reach the camp.  Harriet fell behind slightly as her quick eyes made out a figure sitting in front of the Chief Guardian’s tent.  The figure was that of a man and he was conversing with Mrs. Livingston.

Jane uttered a sudden shrill cry.  She, too, had discovered the visitor and recognized him.

“It’s Daddy.  It’s my dear old Daddy!” she screamed, and, forgetful of the lectures she had received on comporting herself with dignity and restraint, Crazy Jane threw herself—­hurled herself, in fact—­into the arms of Contractor McCarthy.  Now, a camp chair is never any too substantial.  The one on which Mr. McCarthy was sitting was no exception to the rule.  It collapsed under the force of Crazy Jane’s projectile-like force.  Mr. McCarthy, in attempting to save himself from going down with it, lurched sideways.  In doing so he bumped heavily against the Chief Guardian, and with a sharp little cry from the latter, the three went down in a confused heap.