Then in the volume directly preceding this, entitled “The Outdoor Girls at Bluff Point” the girls had had perhaps the most exciting adventure of all.

The Hostess House at Camp Liberty having burnt down, the chums found themselves forced to take a much-needed, although not entirely welcome, vacation and had decided to spend it at a romantic spot near the ocean called Bluff Point.  The cottage on the bluff had been loaned to the girls by Grace’s patriotic Aunt Mary, who declared that she owed something to the chums for having worked so hard for the good old Stars and Stripes.  Mrs. Ford, worn out with war work, had gone with the girls to chaperon them.

Bad tidings at first threatened to overwhelm the chums.  The Fords received word that Will was seriously wounded “somewhere in France,” and later Mollie received a telegram from her mother saying that the twins, Dodo and Paul, had disappeared.  Still later, while everything was at its blackest, Betty read Allen Washburn’s name among the missing.  However, everything cleared up later when the twins, who had been kidnapped, were recovered and their kidnapper sent to justice.  Still later Allen proved that the report that he had been missing was an error by writing to Betty himself and in the letter he also spoke of Will Ford and the fact that he was getting over his wound splendidly.  Of course there had been great rejoicing and the vacation had proved a happy one after all.

And now, at the time of this story, the war was over and the first regiments of soldiers had arrived from the other side and the girls were expecting a joyful reunion with the boys at any time.

They had not yet made definite plans for the summer and were just in the position of waiting for something to happen when something had happened with a vengeance—­ but not at all the kind of something which the four girls had expected.

“I think you are right, my dear,” said the man who had saved the lives of at least two of the girls, rubbing his hands fussily together and peering out of small, near-sighted eyes, first at the tree and then at the girls.  “It was a close call—­ a very close call.  I declare, it was very nearly the closest call I ever saw!”

For the first time the girls really looked at him.  He was a rather small man, slenderly built, with long sensitive hands and a very bald head, in the center of which a tuft of hair stood comically upright.  These characteristics, coupled to the squinting eyes, gave the man a very odd appearance.

He was so queer a figure standing there in the center of the road that the girls found themselves staring unduly.  Realizing something of this, Betty jumped down from the running board where she was still standing and held out her hand to the little man, thanking him in a voice that still trembled a little for the great service he had done them.  The other girls followed suit and so overwhelmed their rescuer that he seemed quite embarrassed and looked around nervously as if for some means of escape.