dash.

"I'll slow down so you can get a good look," Neal told them, and he
understood enough about the interest in Luna Land to do his part.

All eyes were strained toward the shore.

"There's the pretty, rocky ledge Neal told us about," remarked Isabel.
"Just see! It's like a movie rock. What a pretty arch it forms."

But even the natural beauty of the rocky alcove did not furnish the
point of interest they searched for.

"Would you imagine that place hid human life?" said Cleo, a little
disappointed. "Not even a tree branch moves."

"Dense foliage," added Grace. "It would be pretty hard to see anything
through those trees."

The launch was covering the last strip of water that lapped the island.
Every one seemed tense with an anxious sort of interest.

Suddenly Helen jumped up.

"Look," she called. "Over by the arch!"

"The white duck lady!" cried Cleo. "See, she is looking at us through
glasses."

"Sit down Helen," ordered Grace. "Don't pretend we are interested, or
she will know this launch."

They were not far from the shore, and it was easy to discern the figure
on the rock, who evidently used the glasses to make sure of the faces in
the launch.

"Maybe she's looking for her wireless," said Isabel.

"Well, I am doubly sorry for Kitty if that's Aunt Hannah," declared
Julia, and then the Treddie left Luna Land behind.

CHAPTER XXI

ON LUNA LAND

GRACE tapped at the side window of the Log Cabin; she had climbed over
the little stile-steps that mounted the fence between Rosabell and
Cleo's cottage, and now she waited at the window for a sign of life
within, for it was early, and summer folks could sleep late. Her round
dimpled face was pressed to the pane with a rather serious look, and
anyone might know to see her, that Grace was troubled.

Cleo answered the call, throwing open the latticed window, and almost
kissing Grace in the act.

"Come in, Grazia. Why so early? Looking for the story book worm?" Cleo
greeted.

"I'm glad you are not out--on the lake I mean," answered Grace. "I'll
come around to the side porch, Cleo, I must talk with you."

On the big swing made of interlaced white birchwood, the two chums
perched, and Grace promptly undertook to unburden her mind.

"Cleo dear," she said, "I am so worried about Kitty. How do we know but
that woman may have locked her up, or something?"

"Strange, Grazia, I have been thinking just that myself. But how are we
to find out witho