Jeremy Saxton published the newsletter as he said he would, deflating the rumors and defending the Fisks. They made a renewed effort to enjoy a peaceful, pleasant vacation but the shadow of someone's antipathy still hung over them.
The girls still avoided the businesses on the island that had been rude to them. They found themselves often at Sally's Reach, a diner in the village. Bess liked their milkshakes, and even George could not avoid indulging in their burger and fries a couple of times. A waitress named Alice with curly red hair seemed to always be there to greet them. They got used to the way she always seemed to be chewing bubble-gum when she waited on them.
Bess liked the bulletin board in the diner as well. "It's got so much local color!" she said enthusiastically. "Here's an ad for ikebana lessons."
"The ancient oriental martial art?" inquired George.
"No, silly, it's Japanese flower arranging."
"Jeremy Saxton's wife runs a workshop on past life regression. It's next weekend. Wow, that's a steep price."
"Maybe you'll remember that in another life you left valuable stock certificates under the floorboards."
"Hmm, Thai massage," said Nancy. "That might relieve the stress of a difficult case."
"Why don't you pull off the tab of paper then, Nancy?" suggested Bess. "Look, there's a meeting of the historical society next Tuesday. We might learn something. Too bad it's on Haine Island." Bess made notes on some of the more interesting and strange messages for her journal.
The girls spent some of their time playing tennis in a public park. They didn't bring their tennis rackets but they knew that Jeremy had sports equipment that he let his guests at the bed and breakfast borrow. What struck them as curious was that the park was named after Cyrus Fisk. There was even a bronze plaque with a picture of him at the entrance.
The girls found stretches of sandy beach that were accessible from the road. They could go in the morning and enjoy a stroll with a brisk breeze, or wait and take a refreshing break from the afternoon heat. There were panoramic vistas that swept across in great horizontal bands of brown sand, green intertidal vegetation, and blue Pacific Ocean. The girls swam regularly.
On the Friday that marked the second week of their holiday on the island, Nancy, George, Bess and Ivy took a walk on the inland side of the Fisk property. Beyond the grounds of the house was a trail. Even though it was on Fisk property, islanders were accustomed to using it as a public trail. It was convenient because it began at the road, a few hundred yards from the Fisk house. The trail climbed steadily through dense forest. It was good exercise for the girls but not too strenuous. The forest was dark, with tall, straight, solemn trees. Dappled sunlight fell in unexpected patches on the forest floor. Eventually the trail led past the woods to a rounded ridge. Bright sunlight momentarily dazzled their eyes. Here, brown sandstone rock was exposed. There were patches of thin soil where clumps of grass grew.
Nancy couldn't suppress the urge to climb onto the highest point of rock and look around. Behind her the tall thicket of trees blocked everything else from view, but before her the land tumbled sharply down to the sea.
"I think this is what Horace calls 'Fisk Lookout' but it isn't on any maps," Ivy informed them. The lookout offered a wonderful view of the heavily indented and secluded coastline.
Down below, seemingly just beyond her feet, Nancy could see an oceanfront house with a dock. A large pleasure boat was moored there. "Who's house is that?" Nancy asked idly.
"That belongs to the guy who owns the general store," Ivy answered. "His name is Mr. Podmore. His wife runs the diner."
"He seems to be doing pretty well for himself," marveled George.
"That boat is so white it must hurt to see it up close," said Bess.
When the girls came back from the morning on the ridge they discovered that Ivy's father had left the house. There was a note on the kitchen table that read, "Gone to show a fellow around the property."
Some time later, George and Bess were sitting on lawn chairs, enjoying the late afternoon sun, when they saw Mr. Fisk walking on the road with a teenage boy. He was tall and lanky with short, wavy hair reddish-brown in color. Mr. Fisk waved. They waved back.
"I wish that boy wouldn't stare at us," remarked George. "He's standing there rooted to the spot, like a tall weed growing by the side of the road."
"He's not as ugly as a weed though," said Bess.
"Bess, there's no way you can see what he looks like from here! You're just being hopeful that he isn't ugly."
Mr. Fisk and his guest continued walking. In the evening they returned to the house and Mr. Fisk introduced the young man.
"This is Jesse Dawson. He's studying the birds and animals of this island. I've been showing him around the property. He wants to stay a few days. I hope no one has any objections. After all, we have more than enough land!"
"But, umm, where's he going to sleep, Dad?"
"I've brought a tent. I can camp out on your lawn." Jesse gave them all a big toothy grin. He wore glasses and had the hint of some freckles on his suntanned face.
That night the girls watched from across the lawn as Jesse struggled with his tent. Every time he tried to pull it up the structure collapsed. Jesse flopped about inside the orange and green fabric. His legs were getting tangled up in the lines that were attached to the pegs. Ivy looked chagrined that Bess and George were giggling. Nancy walked over and offered her assistance. In no time at all, with the help of the practical-minded girl detective, the tent was securely in place.
In the next couple of days the girls got used to seeing Jesse in his floppy green canvas hat across open fields or in the forest, carefully scanning the ground. The girls sometimes saw him consulting a map, or looking through his binoculars, or using a compass. He seemed to be indefatigable, his black canvas sneakers stamping on every dusty inch of every trail in that part of the island. He sometimes dropped in around noon and made himself lunch. He always appeared at dinner. At other times he kept pretty much to himself.
"So, Jesse, is this some sort of school project you're doing?" Nancy asked when they were seated at the dinner table. Jesse nodded. "What school do you go to?"
"It's the College of New Caledonia."
"That's not around here is it?" asked a puzzled Nancy.
"Oh, no," was all Jesse had to say.
"But you're not in classes now, are you?"
"No. This is sort of an ongoing school project, I guess you could say. I started it last semester and I'll continue it when I go back to school in fall. It's just that I have to do the research in the summer." Nancy nodded pleasantly.
"Just what kind of birds are you looking for on the ground?" George couldn't help asking.
"Huh?"
"You're always looking downward when we see you."
Jesse looked caught off guard. "Um, I'm looking for animals…"
"That burrow in the dirt," Ivy suggested. "Like moles. And marmots."
"That's right. Oh, and I'm looking for the western burrowing owl."
"Are there any on this island?" asked Nancy.
"I guess they're pretty rare."