hat had been built especially for the company's use were
comfortable, even if they did smell of new pine boards. The men of the
company lived in khaki tents. There were several old fish-houses that were
likewise being utilized by the members of the company.

Beach Plum Point was the easterly barrier of sand and rock that defended
the beautiful harbor from the Atlantic breakers. It was a wind-blown
place, and the moan of the surf on the outer reef was continually in the
ears of the campers on the Point.

The tang of salt in the air could always be tasted on the lips when one
was out of doors. And the younger folks were out on the sands most of the
time when they were not working, sleeping, or eating.

"We are going to have some fun here," promised Tom Cameron to Ruth, after
their party had got established with its baggage. "See that hard strip of
beach? That's no clamflat. I am going to race my car on that sand. Palm
Beach has nothing on this. Jackman, the property man (you remember Jacks,
don't you, Ruth?), says the blackfish and bass are biting off the Point.
You girls can act in movies if you like, but _I_ am going fishing."

"Don't talk movies to me," sighed the girl. "I almost wish we had not
come, Tom."

"Nonsense! You shall go fishing with me. Put on your oldest duds
and--well, maybe you will have to strip off your shoes and stockings. It
is both wet and slippery on the rocks."

"Pooh! I'll put on my bathing suit and a sweater. I never was afraid of
water yet," Ruth declared.

This was the morning after their arrival. Tom had been up to the port and
brought down Aunt Kate for the day. Aunt Kate sat under an umbrella near
where the company was working on location, and she scribbled all day in a
notebook. Jennie whispered that she, too, was bitten by the scenario bug!

"I feel it coming over me," announced Helen. "I've got what I think is a
dandy idea."

"Oh, there's too much to do," Jennie Stone said. "I couldn't find time to
dabble in literature."

"My, oh, my!" gasped Helen, with scorn. "How busy we are! You and Henri
spend all your time making eyes at each other."

"But just think, Nell!" cried the plump girl. "He's got to go back to
France and fight----"

"And so has my Tom."

"But Tom is only your brother."

"And Henri is nothing at all to you," rejoined Helen cruelly. "A fiance is
only an expectation. You may change your mind about Henri."

"Never!" cried Jennie, with horror.

"Well, he ke