"Tut--tut!" exclaimed the good doctor. "Don't let that trouble you.

That's all provided for."

"Oh, no! Really you must let us pay for all that."

"Did it ever occur to you," his eyes were twinkling, "that the O Moo might be insured?"

"In--insured!" Marian's knees gave way. The news was too good to seem true.

"Then, then we can stay?"

"In school, yes, but on the O Moo, probably not. Too much publicity, you see. University people would object and all that, don't you know. But then, cheer up. I fancy the lady dean is telling Florence of something which will interest you all."

"In the meantime," he exclaimed, "we are not getting ash.o.r.e. Yo-ho, Timmie," he cupped his hands and shouted, "bring on the rowboats and tackle. Let's get her brought in."

CHAPTER XVII HOT WATER AND A GHOST

It was night. The crowd that had screamed its welcome to the returning O Moo and her crew was gone. A great truck loaded high with Christmas trees had departed with Marie Neighbor bouncing about on top of it.

The three girls were in the cabin of the O Moo. This, they were sure, was to be their last night on board. The lady dean had told Florence that a flat belonging to the university, three rooms, kitchenette and bath, was at their disposal. The rent seemed terribly high to them, but someway they must meet it, since the dean had looked very sternly adown her nose and said, "Of course this sort of thing cannot be gone on with. The university would be scandalized. Besides, there is no telling what may happen to you if you remain here."

"Of course," Lucile said with a long face as the three of them discussed the matter, "she says it's a very nice apartment but it can't be half as nice as--"

"As the O Moo," Florence put in. "Of course not. Nothing ever can be."

"Oh, well," Marian sighed, "I guess we'll have to do it. But I do think the old O Moo is a dear. I shouldn't like anything better than rambling through a whole summer with her almost anywhere on the Great Lakes."

Since this was to be their last night they determined to make the most of it. They had Mark Pence in for hot chocolate and vanilla wafers. They told him of their adventures and he spoke modestly of his own.

"So you see," he said, going back to the very beginning of the story as he now knew it, "when these Negontisks found out they were going to be deported they hunted out an unscrupulous Chinaman who transformed them into people of his own race. That wasn't hard. They were Orientals anyway. All he had to do was to provide them with black sateen suits and artificial pigtails and the transformation was complete.

"Then the Chinaman saw a chance to make a lot of easy money. He put them to work in his laundry--virtually made slaves of them. Fixed up that old scow for them secretly and made them sneak back and forth to work during the night.

"That lasted for a time, then the greedy old Chinaman suddenly disappeared. Negontisks sacrificed him to the blue G.o.d, like as not.

Served him right too.

"But that was where the police took up the trail. The savages knew there was trouble coming. They thought you were a plant--that you were set here to spy on them. They'd been betrayed by some woman before, it seems. When they couldn't get rid of you by frightening you, they decided to cut you loose in a storm."

"And now--" began Florence.

"Now they've vanished. Not a trace of them has been seen since that night."

"Not a trace?"

"Not one."

"Why then," exclaimed Florence leaping to her feet, "I invite you all to a ghost hunt. A ghost hunt for a blue G.o.d."

"Anything for a last nighter," agreed Lucile.

"For this type of ghost hunt," said Florence, "one needs an ax and two kettles of boiling water."

"I'll provide the ax," volunteered Mark.

"And we the boiling water," chimed in Marian and Lucile in unison.

It was a strange little procession that stole from the shadow of the O Moo a short time later. Florence led the way. She was profoundly silent.

Lucile and Marian followed, each with a tea kettle of boiling water carefully poised at her side. Mark, as a sort of vanguard, brought up the rear with his ax. Now and then Mark let forth a low chuckle.

"Sh!" Marian warned. "You might disturb her serious poise."

Straight away toward the end of the lagoon Florence led them. Once on the surface of the lagoon her course was scarcely less certain until she had reached a point in the center of the broad, glistening surface.

"Should be right about here," she murmured.

Snapping on a flashlight she moved slowly backward and forward, studying the ice beneath the circle of intense light.

"Cold place for a ghost," whispered Mark.

"Ten thousand people have skated over it and cut it down. Can't tell.

Maybe it's gone," Florence said under her breath, but still she kept up the search.

"Water's getting cooled off in the kettles. Ghost won't mind it at all,"

whispered Mark.

Pausing on tiptoe for a moment, Florence fixed her eyes on a certain spot. Then, bending over, she brushed the ice clear of frost.

"There!" she announced. "There! That's it."

"Right here," she pointed, motioning to Mark. "Cut here. No--let me have the ax. You might go too deep."

With measured and cautious swings she began hacking a circle in the ice some two and a half feet in circ.u.mference.

Mark's amus.e.m.e.nt had vanished. Curious as the others, he bent over and watched in awed silence. Eight inches of solid ice had been chipped up and thrown out when they began noticing its peculiar blueness.

"Like a frozen tub of blueing," whispered Marian.

"Sh!" warned Lucile.

"Now, let's have the water."

Florence took one of the teakettles and poured the hot water into the hole she had cut.

As they stood there staring with all their eyes, they thought they made out the outline of something.