burn, and the little party made their way into the
garden.

"Now," said Guy; "this summer-house shall be 'home.' You know the rule;
Ida and Naylor shall seek first. Count fifty slowly, to give us time to
hide."

Brian, Guy, and Elsie scuttled away into the darkness, while the two
whose duty it was to search for them began a monotonous chant of
"One--two--three!" ending with a triumphant shriek of "Fifty!" and a
warning cry of "We're coming!"

The game was a great success. There was plenty of fun in finding
hiding-places, and then crouching down watching breathlessly as the
lamps went flashing up and down the paths, now coming dangerously near,
and then moving off again. Nor was it less exciting, when seeking, to
creep about, sending beams of light into dark corners, as a policeman
might when hunting for a burglar. Then would come the shout of "I spy!"
followed by the mad rush back to the summer-house, finder and found not
infrequently arriving at the den at the same moment.

There was no end of critical moments and hair-breadth escapes; with one
searcher it would have been comparatively easy to work round and get to
the den unseen, but with two lamps flashing like miniature search-lights
in the darkness it was more difficult. Once Guy nearly fell into the
pond, while a little later on Brian, blindly attempting to force his way
into the midst of a thick holly bush, gave a yell which discovered his
whereabouts to the enemy.

Warming up with the game, Naylor came out in a manner which surprised
the girls, who had hitherto thought him rather quiet. He rushed about,
and seemed in all parts of the garden at once. No one was safe when he
was seeking, and where he managed to find such secure hiding-places
was a thing only known to himself. Once only did he find himself in
difficulties.

"I spy 'Nails'!" shouted Guy. "Why don't you run?" he added a moment
later, as no one stirred.

"I can't!" was the plaintive reply heard in the darkness.

"Why not?" demanded the searcher, coming back a few paces, and directing
his lamp towards his chum.

The redoubtable Naylor was seen crouching awkwardly in a gap in the
hedge at the bottom of the garden.

"I say," he remarked in accents of distress, "this beastly barbed wire
has hooked my trousers leg and the back of my coat, and I can't stir."

[Illustration]

Guy roared with laughter, and proceeded to set his friend at liberty.
The half-hour would soon be up, and the duty of