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“My little boy means a Plush Bear,” explained Mrs. Rowe, and then she told what had happened.

“Oh, a toy, buried in the sand,” said the guard, laughing. “Well, that’s too bad. Right around here, was it? Well, I happened to be passing this afternoon, and I noticed just about the spot where the children were sitting on the sand. I didn’t see the Plush Bear, but I know the children were digging, and it wasn’t at this spot–it was nearer the ocean. Over here it was,” the guard went on, moving away from the place where Arthur had been sure he had made the cave for the toy. “You see, we coast guards get in the habit of noticing things and remembering where they are,” he added. “You were looking in the wrong place. I fancy your Bear must have been covered up in some way. I’ll dig here!”

With a stick the guard began digging, and in a little while he uncovered the Plush Bear.

“Oh, there he is! There he is!” cried Arthur, as he saw his toy again. “Oh, thank you for finding him for me!” and he took his plaything from the hands of the coast guard.

“Yes, that’s what I say–thanks a whole lot of times!” murmured the Plush Bear to himself, as once more he was able to breathe. “This was the most terrible adventure I ever had!”

But the Plush Bear was to have one even worse, as you shall soon hear.

“You must be more careful of your toys, Arthur,” said his mother, as, having thanked the man, she and her children went back to the hotel.

“I’ll never put him in a sand hole again,” promised the little fat boy.

That night, when Arthur and Nettie were snug in their beds, and the Plush Bear and the Rag Doll were in a closet by themselves, the Doll leaned over and said:

“Wasn’t it terrible, Mr. Bear?”

“It certainly was,” agreed the Plush Bear. “I’m full of grit as it is. Sand is all over me, even though Arthur did brush me off with a little broom. I seem to squeak instead of growling as I ought to.”

“Oh, well, maybe you’ll be better after a while,” said the Rag Doll. Then she and the Plush Bear talked together in the darkness, but the Bear did not feel like playing. He was too much shocked by having been buried in the sand.

“Now we’re going to have some fun, Plush Bear!” cried Arthur the next morning, as he took his toy from the closet. “We’re going in swimming!”

“Swimming? Swimming?” repeated the Plush Bear to himself. “I wonder what that means?”

If he had been a real bear he would have known, for real bears, that live in the woods, are very fond of playing in the water. But, being only a Santa Claus toy, the Plush Bear knew nothing of this.

A little later Arthur and Nettie were down on the sand in their bathing suits. All along the beach were many other children and grown folk, too, in their bathing suits. Nettie carried her Rag Doll and Arthur had his Plush Bear.

“Oh, Arthur! you aren’t going to take your toy into the water with you, are you?” asked his mother.

“No’m,” the little fat boy answered. “I’m just going to play with him on the sand till Daddy comes to teach me to swim. And I’m not going to put my Bear in a hole, either!”

“I’m glad of that, anyhow,” thought the Plush Bear, who heard all that was said. “Once in a sand hole is enough for me.”

Arthur’s father was going to teach the little fat boy to swim, and while waiting for Daddy, Arthur played about on the sand with the Plush Bear, as Nettie played with her Rag Doll.

Now and then Arthur, with the Plush Bear in his arms, would wade out a little way into the water, and he would laugh, and run back, as the incoming tide would send a wave over his bare toes.