“Really, Mr. Lagg, is there—­ er—­ anything really there?” asked Mollie, seriously.

“Well, now, far be it from me to cause you young ladies any alarm,” said Mr. Lagg, “but I only repeat what I heard.  There is something on that island that none of the men or boys who have seen and heard it cannot account for.”

“Just what is it?” asked Betty,

“Do you want me to tell you?”

“Certainly—­ we are not afraid.  Though we mustn’t let Aunt Kate know,” said Betty, quickly.

“Well, it’s white and it rattles,” said Mr. Lagg.

“Sounds like a riddle,” commented Amy.  “Let’s see who can guess the answer.”

“White—­ and rattles,” murmured Betty.  “I have it—­ it’s a pan full of white dishes.  Some lone camper goes down to wash his dishes in the lake every night, and that accounts for it.”

“Then we’ll ask the lone camper—­ to scamper!” cried Grace with a laugh.  “We want peace and quietness.”

“And you are really going to camp on Elm Island?” asked Mr. Lagg, as he put the purchases aboard.

“We are,” said Betty, solenmly.  “And if you hear us call for help in the middle of the night——­ "

“Betty Nelson!” protested Amy.

  “And if for help you call on I—­
    I’ll come exceeding quick and spry!”

Thus spouted Mr. Lagg.

“I am painfully aware,” he said, quickly, “that my poem on this occasion needs much polishing, but I sometimes make them that way, just to show what can be done—­ on the spur of the moment.  Howsomever, I wish you luck.  And if you do need help, just holler, or light a fire on shore, or fire a gun.  I can see you or hear you from the end of my dock.”  Indeed, Elm Island was in sight.

The girls went back with their supplies, and soon were in camp.  The hard part of the work had been done for them by those of whom they had hired the tent and the outfit.  All that remained to do was to light the patent oil stove, and cook.  They could prepare their meals aboard the boat if they desired, and take them to the dining tent.  In short they could take their choice of many methods of out-door life.

Their supplies were put away, the camp gotten in “ship-shape,” cots were made up, and mosquito bars suspended to insure a night of comfort.  A little tour was made of the island in the vicinity of the camp, and, as far as the girls could see, occasional picnic parties were the only visitors.  There were no other campers there.

“We’ll have a marshmallow roast to-night,” decided Betty, as evening came on.  They had gathered wood for a fire on the shore of the lake, and the candy had been provided by Grace, as might have been guessed.

“I hope the ghost doesn’t come and want some,” murmured Mollie.

“Hush!” exclaimed Betty.  A noise in the woods made them all jump.  Then they laughed, as a bird flew out.

“Our nerves are not what they should be,” said Betty.  “We must calm down.  I wonder did we get any pickles?”