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is safe, if they don’t go exploring! Hope she doesn’t moo!”

    The Trippers Come to the Island

    Nora sat crouched against the entrance of the little cave. She could hear the six hens inside, clucking softly as they scratched about. Jack knelt near her, peering through the bracken, trying to see what the boat was doing.
    “Mike has rowed our own boat to where the brambles fall over the water, and has pushed it under them,” said Jack, in a low voice. “I don’t know where he is now. I can’t see him.”
    “Where’s Peggy?” whispered Nora.
    “Here I am,” said a low voice, and Peggy’s head popped above the bracken a little way down the hill. “I say - isn’t this horrid? I do wish those people would go away.”
    The sound of voices came up the hillside from the lake below.
    “Here’s a fine landing-place!” said one voice.
    “They’ve found our beach,” whispered Jack.
    “Pull the boat in,” said a woman’s voice. “We’ll have our supper here. It’s lovely!”
    There was the sound of a boat being pulled a little way up the beach. Then the trippers got out.
    “I’ll bring the gramophone,” said someone. “You bring the supper things, Eddie.”
    “Do you suppose anyone has ever been on this little island before?” said a man’s voice.
    “No!” said someone else. “The countryside round about is quite deserted - no one ever comes here, I should think.”
    The three children crouched down in the bracken and listened. The trippers were setting out their supper. One of the hens in the cave began to cluck loudly. Nora thought it must have laid an egg.
    “Do you hear that noise?” said one of the trippers. “Sounds like a hen to me!”
    “Don’t be silly, Eddie,” said a woman’s voice scornfully. “How could a hen be on an island like this i That must have been a blackbird or something.”
    Jack giggled. It seemed very funny to him that a hen’s cluck should be thought like a blackbird’s clear song.
    “Pass the salt,” said someone. “Thanks. I say! Isn’t this a fine little island! Sort of secret and mysterious. What about exploring it after supper?”
    “That’s a good idea,” said Eddie’s voice. “We will!”
    The children looked at one another in dismay. Just the one thing they had hoped the trippers wouldn’t do!
    “Where’s Mike, do you suppose?” said Peggy, in a low voice. “Do you think he’s hiding in our boat?”
    “I expect so,” whispered Jack. “Don’t worry about him. He can look after himself all right.”
    “Oh, my goodness! There’s Daisy beginning to moo!” groaned Peggy, as a dismal moo reached her ears. “She knows it is time she was milked.”
    “And just wouldn’t I like a cup of milk!” said Jack, who was feeling very thirsty.
    “Can you hear that cow mooing somewhere?” said one of the trippers, in surprise.
    “I expect it’s a cow in a field on the mainland,” said another lazily. “You don’t suppose there is a cow wandering loose on this tiny island, do you, Eddie?”
    “Well, I don’t know,” said Eddie, in a puzzled voice. “Look over there. Doesn’t that look like a footprint in the sand to you?”
    The children held their breath. Could it be true that they had left a footprint on the sand?
    “And see here,” went on the tripper, holding up something. “Here’s a piece of string I found on this beach. String doesn’t grow, you know.”
    “You are making a great mystery about nothing,” said one of the women crossly. “Other trippers have been here, that’s all.”
    “Perhaps you are right,” said Eddie. “But all the same, I’m going to explore the island after supper!”
    “Oh, put on the gramophone, Eddie.” said someone. “I’m tired of hearing you talk so much.”
    Soon the gramophone blared through the air, and the children were glad, for they knew it would drown any sound of Daisy’s mooing or the hens’ clucking. They sat in the bracken, looking scared and miserable. They did not like anyone else sharing their secret island. And what would happen if the trippers did explore the island and found the