orgeous!" sighed Phyllis, thrilled beyond description
by the narrative. "Do you suppose it's _haunted?_ I've heard of haunted
houses, but never of a haunted _bungalow!_ Now don't laugh at me,--that's
what Ted and Father do when I speak of such things," for Leslie could not
repress a giggle at this suggestion.

"Phyllis, you _know_ there are no such things as haunted houses--really!"
she remonstrated.

"Well, I'm not so sure of it, and anyway, I've always _longed_ to come
across one! And what other explanation can there be for this thing,
anyway? But do me one favor, won't you, Leslie? Let's keep this thing to
ourselves and do a little investigating on our own account. If I tell
Father and Ted and let them know what I think, they'll simply hoot at me
and go and spoil it all by breaking the place open and tramping around it
themselves and scaring away any possible ghost there might be. Let's just
see if we can make anything out of it ourselves, will you?"

"Why of course I will," agreed Leslie heartily. "I wouldn't dare to let
Aunt Marcia know there was anything queer about the place. She'd be
scared to death and it would upset all the doctor's plans for her. I
don't believe in the ghost theory, but I _do_ think there may have been
something mysterious about it, and it will be no end of a lark to track
it down if we can. But I must be going now."

"I'm coming with you!" announced the impetuous Phyllis. "I want to go up
there right away and do a little looking about myself. I simply can't
wait."

So they set off together, trudging through the sand at the edge of the
ocean, where the walking was easiest. All the way, Leslie was wondering
what had become of Rags. It was not often that he deserted her even for
five minutes, but she had not seen him since her encounter with Phyllis.
It was not till their arrival at Curlew's Nest that she discovered his
whereabouts.

Directly in front of this bungalow's veranda, and about fifty feet away
from it, lay the remains of a huge old tree-trunk, half buried in the
sand. Almost under this trunk, only his rear quarters visible, was the
form of Rags, digging frantically at a great hole in the wet sand. So
deep now was the hole that the dog was more than half buried.

"There's Rags! He's after another hermit-crab!" cried Leslie. "I was
wondering where he could be." They both raced up to him and reached him
just as he had apparently attained the end of his quest and backed out of
th