“Go up to the Harley house and see if we can see the pirates’ haunted ships,” answered Bobby.  “We can look ’way off with the glasses.  Where ’bouts are they, Meg?”

“I know.  I’ll get ’em,” said Meg eagerly.

She ran upstairs and found the glasses hanging on the wall in their leather case.  They were a very fine pair, and the children were not often allowed to use them.

The “haunted ships” that Bobby spoke of, were another “pretend” the children enjoyed.  Mother Blossom, reading to them one night, had found a poem that told how the ships of the pirates were condemned forever to sail the seas.  The poem went on to say that sometimes people saw these ghostly ships and that when they did some of the buried treasure, part of the ill-gotten gains they had once carried on their decks, was sure to be unearthed.

“I can’t see a single ship,” reported Bobby, when, after the four children had walked to the north end of the island, he adjusted the glasses and took a long look.

“Let me try,” begged Meg.

She stared so long that Twaddles grew impatient for his turn.

“Hurry up, Meg,” he urged.  “I want to see.  Bobby, can’t I have ’em now?”

“Don’t bother me,” said Meg impatiently.  “I see something.  Look, Bobby, isn’t that something moving on Kidd’s island?”

“Let me look, Meg.  Why, it’s somebody waving a rag tied on a pole.”

Sure enough, it was.  Neither Bobby nor Meg could make out what it was that held the pole, but it certainly was a pole with a bit of cloth dipping crazily about from one end of it.

“Isn’t that funny?” puzzled Meg, staring at Bobby.  “No one lives on Kidd’s Island.”

Dot’s mind was full of pirates; and no wonder, for the four children had talked and played pirate games for weeks.

“I’ll bet a pirate is there and he wants you to come so he can kidnap you,” said Dot solemnly.

Twaddles was staring through the glasses, his “turn” having come at last.

“Maybe he’s a sick pirate,” he ventured.

“Meg,” said Bobby suddenly, “I’ll bet that’s a signal for help; or if it isn’t, some one ought to go to see what it is.  It’s almost time for Captain Jenks—­let’s run down to the wharf and tell him.”

It lacked ten minutes of the time the captain’s boat was due, and the four little Blossoms started pell-mell on a run for the wharf.  Meg carried the glasses, remembering even in her hurry that they had promised to take care of them.

“Captain Jenks!  Oh, Captain Jenks!” cried Bobby, hailing the skipper of The Sarah before it had even begun to turn toward the shore.

“Oh, Captain Jenks!” quavered Meg.

“Captain Jenks!” squeaked Dot.  “Listen, Captain Jenks!”

“What do you suppose—­” began Twaddles as The Sarah grated against the wharf and Captain Jenks surveyed the waving arms brandished before him.

“House afire?” asked the captain placidly.