choked up by the fine, sifting sand, the wet "snappers"
clinging to the rocks along the water's edge; the sea itself clear and
blue in the bright afternoon, and the dancing lights where the sunbeams
struck its rippling surface. A light wind blew across the bay. It
stirred in Georgie's curls, and swept about us both as if playing with
us. We grew happier and happier, and when at last we saw "Captain Kidd's
Cave" just before us, we were in the wildest spirits, and almost sorry
that our walk was ended.

There was plenty to be seen in the cave, however, beside the excitement
of searching for the pirate's treasures, which the country people said
were buried there. The high rocks met, forming a wide, arched cavern
with a little crevice in the roof, through which we could just see the
clear sky. The firm floor was full of smaller stones, which we used for
seats, and one high crag almost hid the entrance. It was delicious to
creep through the low door-way, and to sit in the cool twilight that
reigned there, listening to the song of the winds and waters outside, or
to clamber up and down the steep sides of the cave, playing that we were
cast-aways on a desert island. We played, also, that I was a captive
princess, and Georgie killed a score of dragons in my defense. We were
married, too, with the little knight's sword stuck in the sand for the
clergyman. Quite tired out, at last, we went into the cave and sat on
the sand-strewn floor, telling stories and talking of dragons and
fairies, until a drop of rain suddenly fell through the cleft in the
roof. Georgie sprang up.

"We must go home, Allie!" he cried. "What if we were to be caught in a
shower!"

Just as he was speaking, a peal of thunder crashed and boomed right
above us, and I clung to the boy, sobbing for very terror.

"O Georgie!" I cried, "don't go out. We'll be killed! Oh, what shall we
do?"

But Georgie only laughed blithely, saying, "No, we wont go if you don't
want to. Let's play it's a concert and the thunder's a drum. It will be
over in a minute," and he began to whistle "Yankee Doodle," in which
performance I vainly endeavored to join. But as time went on, and the
storm became more violent, we were both frightened, and climbing to a
ledge about half-way up the wall, sat silent, clinging to each other,
and crying a little as the lightning flashed more and more vividly. Yet,
even in his own terror, Georgie was careful for me, and tried to cheer
me and raise m