“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Meg softly.  “How lovely!  See, Dot, millions and millions of daisies.”

“You can pick some while I take a look around,” said Captain Jenks, fastening the boat with an iron chain and hook to a ring sunk in a wooden post.  There was no wharf because no one lived on the island to build one and very few boats came there anyway.

Bobby and Twaddles stuck close to the captain’s heels, but Meg and Dot determined to get some daisies to take home to their mother.  They worked busily, and by the time the others were back from their inspection of the little open shed which was the only shelter on the island, the two girls had large bouquets.

“Were there any smugglers?” asked Dot half-fearfully.

“That’s a silly story, that smuggler stuff,” pronounced Captain Jenks.  “To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a smuggler.  We found the ashes of his campfire and this.”  He held up a pair of bird wings.

“The poor little bird!” exclaimed Meg compassionately.  “How can any one shoot a bird!”

“It’s all right sometimes, isn’t it?” Bobby insisted.  “Jud goes gunning, Meg, you know he does.”

“I’ve nothing to say against it when the season is open,” said the captain.

Captain Jenks seemed saddened by the discovery of the pretty, spotted wings, but when he had put them away in a little box in the cabin he cheered up and admired the daisies.

“You’ll find string in that toolchest,” he directed them.  “Going to make two bunches?  That’s right—­I don’t like to see flowers crowded even after they’re picked.”

The two bunches were tied to the rail as a safe place and one in which they would not be easily crushed.  The motor-boat—­by the way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven’t been told that before, have you?—­was now chugging down the lake toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson in managing the wheel.  Twaddles had found a compass in the toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that.  Dot thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.

“They look wilted,” she told herself, eyeing the daisies with disfavor.  “What they need is water.”

So this mischievous child took a long string and tied it to each bunch of daisies; then she held it in the middle and allowed them to trail in the water.

The Sarah was almost at Greenpier before Meg glanced toward Dot and saw what she was doing.

“Dot Blossom!” she cried, rushing toward her.  “You’ll spoil ’em.  Oh, Bobby, look what Dot’s doing to the daisies!”

In her anxiety to get the daisies wet, Dot had climbed to the top of the rail, and when Meg shouted at her so suddenly she was startled.  She tried to catch the rail, missed it, and tumbled into the water.

Dear, dear, there was a hubbub, you may be sure.  Luckily the boat was in very shallow water and a man sitting on the wharf jumped in and had Dot in his arms almost as soon as she splashed.  He was Mr. Harley and he easily walked ashore.  The water was only as high as his waist.