The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach

Title: The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach

How they toured to the shore, what happened on the sand and how they solved the mystery of Rattlesnake Island

Author: Alice Dale Hardy

Illustrator: Walter S. Rogers

Release date: March 19, 2023 [eBook #70321]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Grosset & Dunlap, 1925

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70321

Credits: David Edwards, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

"AND NOW LET'S HAVE SOME BREAKFAST." The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach. Frontispiece—(Page 229)

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH

How They Toured to the Shore What Happened on the Sand And How They Solved the Mystery of Rattlesnake Island

BY

ALICE DALE HARDY

Author of "The Riddle Club at Home," "The Riddle Club Through the Holidays," Etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY

WALTER S. ROGERS

NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

THE RIDDLE CLUB BOOKS

By ALICE DALE HARDY

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

The Riddle Club at Home The Riddle Club in Camp The Riddle Club through the Holidays The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach

GROSSET & DUNLAP

Publishers : : New York

Copyright, 1925, by

GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Riddle Club at Sunrise Beach

CONTENTS

[Pg 1]

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH

CHAPTER I

AN INFORMAL SESSION

"I don't think you ought to be fussing just because it is a little hot," Jess Larue said, scrubbing her chin with a moist and grimy handkerchief.

"A little hot!" cried Margy Williamson. "Why, last night I couldn't sleep a wink. I think last night was the hottest night we ever had in River Bend."

Fred, Margy's twin brother, pretended to fan himself.

"I never knew it to be like this before," he complained, mimicking his sister's tone. "Every year, just before the Fourth, we always have a snowstorm. I remember last year we shot off firecrackers under the snowman we built, and it was so cold not even the heat could melt the snow."

[Pg 2]

Margy sniffed and Artie Marley giggled.

"Oh, of course it's hot! But who cares?" said Polly Marley, the born peacemaker. "Think about the beach and the fun we'll have there. And just as soon as Ward comes, we'll hold our meeting."

"I don't know what can be keeping him." Jess spoke of her brother. "He can't run fast, because he is so fat, but he can hurry when he wants to. Perhaps he stayed to watch the boat come in."

It was a pleasant room in which the five children were gathered, even if it was a loft room of the Larue barn. The window was up and let in plenty of light and as much air as could be expected to circulate on a warm July day. From this window, neat gardens could be seen, and, beyond the gardens, green fields where early haymaking was already in progress.

"I'm going to finish sewing, if we have to wait forever," said Margy, moving over to the table. "Lend me your thimble, Jess?"

The room was so small that a table, a rug, and the six chairs for the members were all that could be squeezed into it. Margy, who was a good needlewoman and a little vain of her accomplishment, had a heap of soft bright green material on the table, and now she bent over this.

[Pg 3]

"What are you making, Margy?" asked Artie Marley curiously.

"Sewing the initials on my bathing suit," Margy returned. "See?"

She held up the Jersey cloth and showed the white letters "R.C." basted in place.

"How lovely!" cried Polly. "We can all have initials. That will be fun."

"But our pins are blue and gold," Artie objected, feeling of the little pin on his blouse.

"Well, this isn't a pin I'm putting on my bathing suit—just initials," said Margy.

"I guess Mother will sew some on for me," Jess announced hopefully. "My bathing suit is red—white letters would look all right, wouldn't they?"

"Of course. I'll have white, too, on my blue suit," decided Polly. "Where did you get your letters, Margy?"

"Mother cut them out for me—white flannel," Margy murmured, absorbed in going around the curve of the "C" with close, even stitches. "She cut out a set for each of you."

As Fred and Artie began to discuss how far it was from the window to the ground, Polly decided to call the meeting to order. Once the boys talked about jumping, it would be only a step to the actual jump.

[Pg 4]

"The Riddle Club will please come to order!" said Polly, thumping the table impressively. "While we are waiting for Mr. Ward Larue to arrive with the fireworks, we'll take up unfinished business—if there is any."

"I collected the dues," Fred contributed, and his manner indicated that his interest in any other club business was of the slightest.

Fred was club treasurer, and every one agreed that he was devoted to his duties.

"Oh, Polly, it's too hot to bother!" said Margy Williamson. "There isn't any unfinished business, anyway."

"What makes you so touchy, Margy?" Jess asked curiously.

To her surprise, Margy did not "flare up." Instead tears came into her eyes.

"I thought we'd have such fun at Sunrise Beach," she explained. "But ever since I heard Mattie Helms' mother had taken a bungalow there, I haven't felt like going. Everything will be spoiled!"

Polly swept away the sewing and gave Margy a hug that, despite its warmth, was very comforting.

"You're tired getting ready and the last day of school upset you," she declared. "Just wait till you get to the Beach—you may not see Mattie[Pg 5] all summer. She is at the end where all the new houses are and we're in the unfashionable section. It will take more than Mattie Helms to spoil our fun."

"Ask a riddle, Polly," suggested Jess. "Here we are having a meeting and we haven't done a thing."

"All right, I know a riddle that is just the thing for to-day," said Polly, smiling. "I'll ask you, Margy. Name a wheel that can't be used in any machinery."

Margy thought for a moment. Her face cleared.

"A bicycle!" said she.

"You can use a bicycle in machinery," Polly insisted. "Take it apart and use it for lots of things. Three guesses, Margy, because it isn't thinking weather, as Artie says. Try again."

Margy thought so long that her brother Fred began to shuffle his feet impatiently. Margy looked at him reproachfully.

"How can I think when you are so noisy?" she asked. "Is this right, Polly? A flywheel?"

Fred and Artie hooted, for this was too much for their mechanical minds.

"A flywheel is a part of machinery," Fred explained.

"Then it must be a wheelwright," said Margy.

[Pg 6]

"What's that?" Artie demanded, while Polly looked puzzled.

"It's a man, isn't it?" said Jess slowly.

"Yes. And you can't use a man in any machinery can you?" Margy pointed out. "Daddy told me the other night about a wheelwright."

"But he isn't a wheel," declared Fred. "That isn't the answer, is it, Polly? Anyway, you said it was just the thing for to-day, and I don't see what a wheelwright has to do with to-day."

"The real answer is a pin-wheel," Polly explained. "And it's only two days to Fourth of July, you know, so it fits."

"Isn't it funny I didn't think of that?" said Margy. "But as long as we haven't forfeits, I don't mind. We shan't have forfeits, shall we, Polly, because it is so hot?"

"Margy can't seem to forget the weather for a minute," Jess thought. But then, Margy had often declared that she liked winter better than summer. Unfortunately she liked winter when it was summer and as soon as it began to snow she was heard to sigh for summer! There are a great many people who feel about the weather as she did.

"It's your turn now, Jess," said Polly quietly.

Jess Larue pulled her curly dark hair and thought for as long as two seconds.

[Pg 7]

"Artie," she said, "what kind of crackers are there that no one would care to eat?"

"Graham," Artie responded promptly.

They all laughed, for Artie's dislike for graham crackers was well known. Wherever he went, he was sure to be offered graham crackers—the River Bend mothers thought graham crackers wholesome, and so they are—and Artie had once been heard to say that if he ever kept a grocery store not a graham cracker should be allowed on his shelves.

"No, that's not right," declared Jess. "Try again."

"Nutcrackers?" said Artie brilliantly.

"Say, you're all right!" Fred exclaimed approvingly. "Isn't that the right answer, Jess? No one would care to eat nutcrackers?"

"No, they wouldn't," agreed Jess. "But, you see, I forgot to tell you this is a Fourth of July riddle."

"It's my fault," Polly announced, flushing a little. "I should have said that at this meeting all the riddles must have something to do with the Fourth of July. Thinking about Ward and waiting for him, made me forget."

"He's stopped somewhere," said Jess. "Well, Artie, you have one more guess. What kind of[Pg 8] crackers would no one care to eat—and it has to do with Fourth of July, remember."

"Huh, firecrackers," Artie guessed confidently. "That's easy."

Jess admitted that he was right.

"But if I hadn't told you about the Fourth, you never would have guessed it," she told him.

It was decided that Fred was to ask the next riddle, and he was ready.

"Polly," he said slowly, "what kind of a candle never stands still?"

"A revolving one," Polly answered, speaking before she thought.

Naturally Fred demanded to know what a revolving candle was and Polly had to confess that she didn't know.

"It might be in a lantern," contributed Jess helpfully, but Fred discarded this answer as "silly."

"Well, two more guesses won't help me," Polly declared. "So I'll give up. What kind of a candle never stands still, Fred?"

"A Roman candle," said Fred.

Polly looked a little blank.

"Of course you don't want to say it that way," Fred explained. "Say a roaming candle and you'll get the idea."

[Pg 9]

"Lots of children say a 'roaming candle,'" declared Margy.

"But I don't," replied Polly. "Still, if you say that is the answer to the riddle, all right, it is."

"Now it's my turn!" Artie cried eagerly.

But he did not have a chance to ask his riddle. Just as he opened his mouth and the riddle trembled on the tip of his tongue, a loud explosion sounded outside.

Bang!

"A cannon!" screamed Jess. "Some one fired off a cannon!"

Bang! bang! bang!

As one person, the five children raced for the door. Down the loft ladder they tumbled and made for the barn door.

"It was, too, a cannon—half a dozen cannons," Jess argued as she ran. "What else could make a noise like that?"

[Pg 10]

CHAPTER II

WARD'S HARD LUCK

The noise of the explosions had been heard throughout the neighborhood. From the houses near by heads were thrust from the windows and a nervous dog was barking excitedly, trying to tell any one who would listen that he just knew something had happened.

"What was it?" cried Polly, as she and the other members of the Riddle Club ran out. "Where was it? It sounded back of the barn."

Around to the other side of the Larue barn the boys and girls ran and there saw a sight that made them gasp in astonishment. Ward Larue, Jess's brother, sat on the ground, surrounded by the smoking ruins of what had been a large package of fine fireworks. There was nothing left of the treasure but a few smoldering sticks—everything had burned.

"All blew up—everything!" was the way Ward expressed it.

"Are you hurt?" demanded Polly anxiously.

[Pg 11]

"What happened?" Margy cried.

"Where are the fireworks?" This from Artie, though what was left of the fireworks was only too apparent.

Ward got slowly to his feet. He was not seriously hurt, though one or two of his fingers were painfully scorched. He blew upon them to cool them.

"Now we haven't got a blamed thing for the Fourth of July," he remarked sadly. "After I spent two days persuading Fred to let us spend some of the money, too!"

Even Fred had to laugh at this. Ward had been most insistent that some of the dues of the club be expended for fireworks and he had, with some assistance from the others, induced Fred, as treasurer, to let them take a small sum from the bank and expend it for the coming Fourth of July celebration.

"Never mind, as long as you are not hurt," said Polly consolingly. "It is a wonder you didn't blow up with the fireworks."

"I suppose you put a box of matches in with 'em," Fred suggested. "Or were you fooling with the punk?"

Ward glanced at him indignantly. It was bad enough, he thought, to be almost frightened out of his wits by having a package of fireworks go[Pg 12] off in his arms, but to be accused of setting the fire was too much.

"Is any one killed?" asked Mrs. Pepper, peering fearfully over the fence.

Her garden joined the Larue place and she had been weeding her onions when the noise had startled her and made her, so she complained, drop the sharp hoe on her foot.

"I came within an ace of slicing off my toe," she said. "What was that racket?"

"I had some fireworks and they blew up," Ward explained.

"I wish they'd all blow up and get it over with," announced Mrs. Pepper grimly. "The time to have fireworks go off is a week before the Fourth. Then we might enjoy the day in peace."

She looked severely at Ward as though she blamed him for the fireworks that had not blown up.

"Perhaps now you'll be spared to your folks for another year, with all your arms and legs," continued Mrs. Pepper. "You take my advice and don't get any more fireworks, young man."

She went back to her weeding, and Ward complained that there was no hope of getting more fireworks. Not unless Fred resigned as treasurer.

[Pg 13]

"What I want to know," Fred said sternly, ignoring this last remark, "is this: How came the explosions?"

Ward beckoned toward the barn door.

"Come up to the clubroom and I'll tell you," he whispered mysteriously.

Back in the clubroom, the members of the Riddle Club gathered around Ward. He was still carrying the smoking remains of the fireworks and now he put them down on the table and looked at them regretfully.

"They were the best Roman candles you ever saw," he mourned. "Better than last year, a heap. And pinwheels and snakes——"

Margy gave a squeak of anguish. "Snakes" were her pet diversion on the Fourth and she had expressly stipulated that they be included in Ward's purchases.

"But how did they blow up? What happened?" urged Fred.

"Those fireworks," Ward said solemnly, "were blown up!"

The others stared at him. Polly was the first to speak.

"You mean," she almost whispered, "you mean—some one deliberately blew them up?"

Ward nodded. His round face was smudged with smoke and damp with perspiration.

[Pg 14]

"Firecracker!" he told them shortly. "Joe Anderson threw it."

"That mean, hateful boy!" sputtered Margy, but Fred was strangely calm.

"Are you sure?" he demanded.

"Of course I'm sure," and Ward nodded. "I was coming around the back way, to go into the barn, and all of a sudden Joe ran out from behind the old lilac bush. He had a firecracker in his hand and it was sputtering. I yelled at him, but he threw it straight at me and the next thing I knew things started to go off with a bang. Did you hear it?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Yes, we heard it," admitted Fred.

"Of all the mean boys!" Margy said again. "Now I hope the Conundrum Club is happy—we won't have a thing to celebrate with on the Fourth of July."

"Perhaps he didn't know Ward was carrying fireworks," protested Polly, the peacemaker.

"Maybe there is something that will go off yet," her brother Artie suggested, a hopeful hint that had the effect of setting them all to looking over the wreckage to see what might be salvaged.

If this is the first time you have met these girls and boys, you will need to know something[Pg 15] more about them. The history of the Riddle Club, how Polly Marley started it and how it prospered so that a rival organization was formed, is told in the first book of this series, called "The Riddle Club at Home." The story of the first prize riddle contests and how they were won, is also told in that book. A second volume, "The Riddle Club in Camp" follows the adventures of the six chums at beautiful Lake Bassing and tells how they were able to help a kind old hermit find his lost home and friends. Up to that time the Riddle Club had met in the Larue barn, where they had a room to themselves. But cold weather made a heated room desirable, and when Mrs. Marley gave them the use of a room in her house for the winter, the club took possession gratefully. How they enjoyed the winter and what sport they had, is revealed in the third book, "The Riddle Club Through the Holidays." Treasurer Fred Williamson lost the dues and the

bank. But he found them again, and the experience only tended to make him more careful.

As soon as spring came, the children moved back to the clubroom in the Larue barn, for it was a delightful place and had the additional charm of seclusion. No matter how much the boys and girls stamped on the floor, or how[Pg 16] often they might be moved to song, no one would ever be disturbed. No wonder the members of the Conundrum Club, of which Carrie Pepper was president, often envied the Riddle Club its choice of meeting places.

"There isn't a thing left," pronounced Fred, when he had examined the blackened ruins. "Not a thing. I wish I knew whether Joe meant to throw that firecracker at you."

"There wasn't any one else back of the barn except me," Ward declared. "Of course he was throwing it at me."

"Well, he might not have known that you were carrying fireworks," said Fred. "He might have been trying to scare you and tossed the firecracker before he noticed what you had in your arms."

"Yes, that must have been it," Polly chimed in, always ready to find an excuse for every one.

Ward did not seem convinced.

"Then why," he asked slowly, "didn't Joe Anderson stick around when he heard the noise? How did he know I wasn't burned up or something?"

This was a difficult question to answer, so no one attempted to reply. Instead, Polly suggested that they consider the meeting adjourned and go in to supper.

[Pg 17]

Of course, with the Fourth of July two days away and no fireworks on hand, the Riddle Club had something to think about. Urged by Fred and by Polly, who, as the oldest, had considerable influence, they were careful not to accuse Joe Anderson of purposely setting fire to the package in Ward's arms.

"You can't go around saying he did it," Fred declared, "for there is no way to prove it. Anyway, we can show the Conundrum Club that we don't bicker. We'll have some fireworks, anyway, because we each have a dollar to spend."

On hearing the tragic news, the three mothers had generously provided a dollar for each club member, and this, on the advice of Polly, was to be most wisely expended "fifty-fifty" for firecrackers by day and Roman candles and other glittering delights by night.

"We ought to get a lot of stuff," said Fred cheerfully, as they set off for the shop the next morning. "I'm glad now that Ward went early; if he had waited till the last minute and then the things blew up, everything might have been sold out."

Six dollars will, as you doubtless know, buy a quantity of firecrackers, punk and fireworks, even for six children with varying demands and tastes. Mr. Harrison, whose small store was[Pg 18] crammed with Fourth of July supplies, wrapped everything up in one large package and the three boys agreed to take turns carrying it.

"Let's go down by the wharf," suggested Polly, as they left the shop.

Mr. Larue was the head of the steamboat line, and the wharf on which his office was built was of course familiar ground to the Riddle Club. Nearly all the express and freight business in River Bend was done by the boats, as the nearest railroad was some miles away.

"You're just the folks I wanted to see," said Mr. Larue, who was busy on the wharf as the boys and girls came in sight. "There is a package here addressed to the Riddle Club. I thought you might know something about it and where it ought to go."

"A package!" said six voices in chorus. "Who sent it?"

[Pg 19]

CHAPTER III

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH

"Where is it?" cried Artie, in great excitement.

"What is it?" Ward demanded.

Mr. Larue smiled as he continued to write placidly in his consignment book.