"
For the great lake, appreciating perhaps
the importance of the occasion, had of its many
moods chosen to wear this afternoon its
sweetest, most beguiling one, and lay, a broad
stretch of sparkling, rippling water, between
its curving shores.
Beyond, the range of mountains rose dark
and somber against the cloud-flecked sky,
their tops softened by the light haze that told
of coming autumn.
And presently, from boat to boat, went the
call, "We're going to Port Edward! Why
didn't we guess?"
"But that's not _in_ Winton," Edna protested.
"Of it, if not in it," Jack Ward assured them.
"Do you reckon you can show us anything
new about that old fort, Paul Shaw?" Tracy
demanded. "Why, I could go all over it
blindfolded."
"Not to show the new--to unfold the old,"
Pauline told him.
"That sounds like a quotation."
"It is--in substance," Pauline looked across
her shoulder to where Mr. Allen sat,
imparting information to Harry Oram.
"So that's why you asked the old fellow,"
Tracy said. "Was that kind?"
They were rounding the slender point on
which the tall, white lighthouse stood, and
entering the little cove where visitors to the fort
usually beached their boats.
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