ed and saw the figure, too.

"Oh, Wyn!"

Their ejaculations seemed to have attracted Mr. William Goat's attention
to the same reclining figure. Outstretched upon the sward, with a large
handkerchief over his face as a protection from gnats and other insects,
and with his fat fingers interlaced across what Dave Shepard wickedly
termed his chum's "bow-window," lay the quite unconscious Tubby
Blaisdell.

"Tubby!" shrieked the girls in chorus.

The fat boy sat up as though a spring had been released. The
handkerchief was still over his face, and he grunted blindly.

It was a challenge to Mr. Goat. He charged. Amid the screams of the
girls the goat hurtled through the air, all four feet gathered beneath
him, and landed head-and-horns in the middle of poor Tubby's waistcoat!

It wasn't a very big goat. 'Twas lucky for Master Blaisdell that this
was so. Tubby went back with an awful grunt, heels in the air, and the
goat turned a complete somersault. But the latter scrambled to his feet
a whole lot quicker than did Tubby.

"Run--run, Tubby!" shrieked Frank.

"Look out for him, Ralph!" cried Wyn.

Back the goat came. This time he took Master Blaisdell from the rear and
butted him so hard that he actually seemed to lift the fat boy to his
feet.

The youth had scratched the handkerchief from his face, and now could
see the enemy. Tubby had emitted nothing but a series of excruciating
grunts; but now, when he saw the goat making ready for another charge,
he met the animal with a yell, leaping into the air with his legs
a-straddle, so that the Billie ran between them, and then Tubby footed
it up the gully as fast as he could travel.

The goat, headed down hill again, saw his old enemies, the two girls,
and made as though to attack them. Wyn and Frank, almost dead with
laughter, managed to roll down the bank and so get out of the erratic
goat's sight. The other girls had only heard the noise of the conflict,
and did not understand; nor could Wyn and Frankie explain when they
first scrambled into their canoes.

"Poor Tubby! Poor Tubby!" was all Wyn could say. "Let's paddle around to
the boys' camp. He's run for home."

"It was a home run, all right!" gasped Frank.

But three minutes later, when the canoes got into the cove where Polly's
father had met with his accident in the _Bright Eyes_, Wyn suddenly
found something more serious than Tubby Blaisdell's experience to worry
about. There was the big bateau, its sail f