“What’s that?” demanded Fred, who was the first to speak.
“I give it up,” replied John. “There’s something happened.”
“You talk like a philosopher,” said George impatiently. “As if we didn’t know that! What’s wrong, Mr. Button?” he added in louder tones.
“I’m not sure,” replied Mr. Button, who now turned and joined the boys. “I cannot quite make out whether our gasoline has given out or whether a blade in our propeller is broken.”
“If our gasoline is gone,” said Grant, “we’re likely to be out here on the lake for some time.”
“Yes, and if a storm comes up,” added Fred, “we’re going to have troubles of our own.”
“Don’t begin to borrow troubles,” said Mr. Button in a tone of irritation. “They may come, but it will be time enough to face them when we have to.”
“But what are we going to do?” demanded Fred.
“I’m going to have one of you boys get into the skiff with me and I’m going to try to find out if anything is the matter with the blades.”
“I’ll find out,” said George, “what the supply of gasoline is.”
Taking his place on board the skiff, which was in tow, John seized the oars while Mr. Button seated himself in the bow.
In a brief time the motor-boat was motionless and then pushing the bow of the skiff against the stern of the Gadabout, Mr. Button, who had taken off his coat, rolled back his sleeves and began to investigate the condition of the blades.
“There,” he said abruptly, “it is what I feared. There’s something wrong there.”
“What can we do?” inquired John.
“I don’t think we can do anything until it is light.”
“Then we’ll just drift about over the lake.”
“That’s it exactly.”
“But suppose a storm comes up?”
“But suppose it doesn’t? There isn’t anything we can do to bring it on or to keep it away. We’ll have to take things as they come.”
“It will be a hard job for the Go Ahead Boys to hang out here all night. We aren’t used to that.”
“It will be a good time to learn it,” replied Mr. Button dryly, as pulling himself alongside the motor-boat he directed his companion to step on board, an example which he himself followed a moment later.
“The gasoline is out,” said George.
“Are you sure?” inquired Mr. Button quickly.
“Yes, sir. I am sure.”
“Then we’re in a worse plight than I thought we were,” said Mr. Button, “for there’s something wrong with the blades.”
“I guess it won’t make any difference whether the blades are right or wrong, if there’s no gasoline to drive the engine,” said Fred disconsolately.
“We cannot do anything but wait,” said Mr. Button. “The morning will be here before long.”
“And so won’t breakfast,” said Grant dolefully.
“We’ll have no trouble,” explained Mr. Button, “just as soon as it is light. Somebody will be out here fishing and we’ll get help.”
“But we don’t want to wait until morning,” protested Fred.
“If you really don’t want to wait,” said Mr. Button, “then the only thing you can do is for two of you to take the skiff and row ashore.”
“We might get lost,” suggested Fred.
“Yes, so you might,” acknowledged Mr. Button. “I was following a suggestion, that’s all. It’s the only thing which can be done that occurs to me.”
“I don’t think the suggestion is so bad,” said Fred. “We can keep within hailing distance of the Gadabout and it may be that we shall find some other boat nearby, or it may be that we are not very far from the shore.”
“I know we are not very far from the shore,” declared Mr. Button, “but it isn’t the shore of the mainland.”
“What is it?” demanded George.
“Western Duck Island. I’m sure we cannot be far away from it. Now, if two of you boys want to take the skiff and make some investigations I don’t think there will be any special danger. Don’t go too far away, though your whistle or your voices will carry a long distance over the water.”
“I’m one of the Go Ahead Boys, and I’m for trying it,” said Fred sturdily.
“And I’m with you,” said John.
A moment afterward both boys stepped on board the skiff and with John at the oars and Fred seated in the stern, they speedily left the Gadabout behind them.
“Don’t go very far away,” called George warningly.
“You’re right, we won’t,” called back John, and then silence rested over the waters of Lake Huron.
“We had better row in a circle,” suggested Fred. “I’m the captain of this expedition and I want you to follow my directions.”
“All right, sir,” responded John glibly, “but the main thing is to keep a sharp outlook for a boat coming or going, or for any light that we may see on the shore.”
For a time John rowed forward in silence. Both boys were keenly observant, but they were unable to discover any trace of the shore, nor were any lights of passing vessels seen on the water.
“I think we have gone about far enough,” suggested Fred, when a half-hour or more had elapsed.
“So do I,” answered John.
“Better let me row back,” said Fred.
“That’s all right, too,” responded John.
The boys exchanged places and Fred rowed more rapidly on their return than his companion had done on their advance.
Several minutes elapsed and then John said in a low voice, “It’s strange we don’t see anything of the Gadabout. I thought that we were headed right for it.”
“So did I,” answered Fred. “We had better call.”
John placed his hands about his mouth and shouted: “Ahoy, there! Is this the Gadabout?”
He repeated his hail several times, but as no answering shout was heard, he again hailed the invisible motor-boat.
Still no response was given to his call.
“Maybe we had better shout together. Two can make more noise than one,” suggested Fred, rising from his seat as he spoke. “Now, then,” he added, “when I say three, let’s yell together.”
But though the boys united a half-dozen times in their shouts, the silence of the night was still unbroken and no signs of the presence of the Gadabout were seen.
“This is becoming pretty serious,” said Fred in a low voice when both he and John were convinced that they were not near the missing Gadabout.
“You went too far to the right,” retorted John. “I thought you were going in the wrong direction.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, then?”
“If I had, I would have been told my advice was good when it was asked for.”
“Never mind, Jack,” said Fred, his friendliness returning and manifesting itself in the tones of his voice. “Things aren’t so bad, and they might be a good deal worse. I guess the Gadabout is off yonder,” he added, pointing to the East as he spoke. “I’ll row a while in that direction and we’ll try it again.”
Seating himself at the oars Fred pulled in the direction he had suggested. When several minutes had elapsed, once more he ceased rowing and both boys united in a hail. Still there was no response made to their calls and the spirits of the boys drooped accordingly.
“I tell you this is getting serious,” said Fred.
“Are you afraid?” demanded John.
“Some, and I don’t mind saying so. We never ought to have left the Gadabout.”
“That may all be true,” responded John, “but we did leave the Gadabout and we are here on the lake. The only thing for us to do is to go ahead.”
“That’s all right,” said Fred more cheerfully. “I haven’t forgotten our name, but I’m wondering whether we really are going ahead or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, we may be rowing around in a circle, the way a man travels when he is lost in a woods.”
“I guess it is not quite as bad as that,” responded John. “Want me to take the oars?”
“Not yet,” said Fred sturdily, once more seating himself and resuming his task.
A half-dozen times the boys rowed ahead and then stopping, united in a call to their friends.
Their call, however, was unanswered and at last both boys were convinced that they had lost the location of the motor-boat.
“There isn’t anything for us to do except to wait until morning,” said Fred at last.
“Yes, there is, too,” said John. “You let me take those oars. I’m not going to stay here. I’m sure we’ll find the Gadabout or something just as good.”
“That doesn’t trouble me as much as somebody finding us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, suppose some boat runs us down in the dark?”
“We can hear a boat two miles away.”
“If we are awake,” suggested Fred.
“We’ll be awake all right, at least I shall, for I’m going to keep rowing.”
“That wouldn’t be my plan,” said Fred, nevertheless relinquishing his position to his friend. “I think we are just as well off to wait where we are and when the sun rises we’ll know better what to do.”
“I’m not much for waiting,” said John. “I’m going to see if I can’t find that boat.”
Several times John ceased rowing and the boys united in calls and shouts and finally joined in a shrill whistle.
Their efforts, however, were still unavailing and the conviction steadily deepened in their minds that they were lost on Lake Huron.
“If we stay where we are,” suggested Fred at last, “we can get back to Mackinac Island in the morning.”
“In which direction do you think Mackinac Island is?” demanded John.
“It’s off yonder,” said Fred, pointing to his right.
“You’re dead wrong, Fred. It’s right off here,” affirmed John, pointing as he spoke in the direction opposite to that which Fred had selected.
“You’ll have to go around the world,” declared Fred, “before you get to Mackinac Island, if you follow the direction you suggest.”
“Maybe we will, but I have got these oars and I’m going to try it,” declared John.
Fred laughed derisively and did not make any offer to relieve his friend.
John, however, apparently was determined to follow his plan and for a long time rowed steadily forward.
At last Fred broke in upon the silence, saying, “I tell you, John, you’re simply taking us farther away from Mackinac Island all the time. Can’t you see that you are?”
“I can’t see much of anything,” replied John, disconsolately. “I guess maybe I am wrong after all.”
“Of course you’re wrong.”
“But that doesn’t mean that you’re right,” retorted John. “If we go in the direction you suggest we may be as far as ever from the Gadabout.”
“Not at all,” said Fred confidently. “You let me take those oars and you’ll soon see for yourself that I am right.”
The exchange of places was made, but after Fred had rowed for an hour or more his confidence also began to wane. “I’m not as sure as I was,” he said.
“Well, I’m just sure of one thing,” responded John.
“What’s that?”
“That we are lost and that neither one of us knows where he is. And what’s more,” he added, “the only thing for us to do is to stay right where we are and wait until the sun rises.”
“How long will that be?”
“I haven’t any idea. I haven’t any matches and I can’t see the face of my watch. If I can judge by my feelings it ought to be about the week after next. It seems to me we have been out here forever.”
Fred did not respond, however, and for a time the boat drifted on in silence.
“What’s that ahead?” demanded John, abruptly pointing as he spoke toward the bow.
Instantly both boys were peering eagerly in the direction indicated by John, and, after a brief silence, Fred said, “That’s land ahead.”
“That’s what I think,” said John. “What do you suppose it is? Do you think it is Mackinac Island?”
“More likely it is Paris, France,” retorted Fred scornfully. “You don’t suppose we’re anywhere near Mackinac Island, do you?”
“I don’t know. I know I wish we were.”
“So do I, but we’re not. Now what shall we do? Shall we go ashore, or shall we keep out here on the lake?”
“We had better go ashore,” said John. “At least we can row in near enough to see what it’s like, anyway.”
Fred required no urging as he renewed his labors and not many minutes had passed before both boys were convinced that they were steadily drawing nearer to land. Whether it was the mainland or an island they were unable to determine at the time.
“It’s all marsh along here,” declared John at last when the boat was not many yards distant from the shore. “I can see the rushes.”
“That’s right, Jack,” acknowledged Fred a moment later after he too had peered intently at the nearby shore. “What shall we do?”
“Why, keep on, and we’ll watch for lights too.”
“You won’t see any lights this time of night,” retorted Fred. “If there is anybody willing to live in this forlorn spot he’s probably in bed four or five hours ago.”
“Well, go ahead anyway,” said John.
Accordingly Fred again grasped the oars and slowly rowed forward. For a long distance they were unable to discern anything but the marsh on their right. There was no place seen where they might make a landing nor was an attempt considered worth while.
“I don’t see any use in this,” said Fred at last. “We aren’t getting anywhere.”
“Try a little longer,” said John. “Maybe we’ll come to something different. There you have it!” he added a few minutes later when apparently they came to the end of the marsh and saw before them the dim outlines of a sloping bank. “We can land here, I guess.”
“Land!” retorted Fred. “What do you want to land for?”
“Why, maybe we can find a house or some place where we can get some gasoline.”
“Gasoline will be a fine thing for us,” laughed Fred, his courage having returned with the knowledge that they were no longer on the open waters of the lake. “You’d better take the oars, Jack, and we’ll row on a little further. Even if we can see no light perhaps we can find a house.”
Once more the boys exchanged places and John rowed slowly along the shore.
Neither of the boys discovered any house, however, nor did they see any indications that the region was inhabited.
“We’re having a fine time here,” Fred said at last. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody living here. We haven’t anything to eat and we haven’t even a gun or a fishing-rod in our skiff.”
“We shan’t need any of them,” said John, “when the sun rises. We’ll be sure to find somebody who will take us back to Mackinac Island, or maybe the Gadabout will be looking for us.”
“My namesake acted as if he liked to spend a good deal of time searching for us,” said Fred scornfully. “I tell you, Jack, he has other business on hand.”
“Maybe we can take him back to the insane asylum and claim the reward,” suggested John.
“Or to state prison.”
“Yes, or he may be something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t make any difference what I mean. I have my own ideas and I’m not going to cast any pearls before swine. What I’m going to do now is to go ashore. The sun will be up in a half an hour. It’s beginning to be light in the east now.”
“You’re right, John,” acknowledged Fred. “It surely is getting light over yonder. I don’t know what you’re going to gain by landing, but I’m willing to try it, if you want to. Be careful that you don’t strike a rock.”
Hardly had Fred spoken before there was a dull thud and a moment later it was evident that the frail little skiff had struck the jagged point of a hidden rock.
Water at once began to pour into the skiff but the boys were so near the land that neither was greatly alarmed. By a few vigorous strokes the little boat was quickly sent ashore. Leaping out upon the dry land both Fred and John seized the gunwale and together brought the skiff far up from the water.
“That’s a pretty kettle of fish,” said Fred. “Just look at it! There is a big leak. You must have stove a hole in the bottom.”
“Turn it over and let’s see,” suggested John.
In a moment the boat was overturned and the fears of the boys were confirmed when they discovered that the blow against the jagged rock, although it had not torn a hole in the bottom of the skiff, had nevertheless sprung it in such a manner that it was leaking badly.
“How are we ever going to get back to Mackinac Island?” said Fred.
“I guess we won’t have to go in this boat,” answered John. “Just now, the thing for us to do is to look around here and find out whether we are really Robinson Crusoes or there are some people living here who can give us some breakfast.”
“That’s all right,” said Fred, more cheerfully at the mention of the possibility of a morning meal. “You run up the shore in one direction and I will go down the other way. We’ll come back in about five or ten minutes and we’ll report.”
Fred’s suggestion was agreed to by his friend and the boys at once started along the banks which were only a few yards back from the shore.
More than the allotted time had passed when the two boys returned. Neither had been able to discover any tokens of the presence of people dwelling or camping on the island.
“It looks pretty dark,” said Fred more disconsolately.
“It’s easy to go back,” said John solemnly, “but it takes some nerve and grit to go ahead. I never yet knew a boat that drifted up the stream. If you leave it alone and don’t do anything it will go down stream every time.”
“You speak like a philosopher, as I told you,” said Fred. “I wonder sometimes how one small head can carry all you know.”
“And that’s not original either, I have heard that before. What’s that yonder?” he suddenly added.
At the question both boys turned and looked out over the waters of the lake. In the distance a tiny speck could be seen, but it was plainly moving toward the place where they were standing. The sun had risen by this time and the quiet waters of the lake were flooded with its beams.
“It’s a a motor-boat,” declared John after a brief silence.
“You’re right once in your life, Jack,” acknowledged Fred. “That’s just what it is and it’s coming straight toward the place where we are.”
“So you had all your crying for nothing. It doesn’t pay to give up when there’s still any chance to go ahead.”
“We’ll wait and see. Perhaps we’ll know more an hour from now than we do just at this minute.”
Eagerly the boys watched the coming of the motor-boat. It steadily became more distinct and not many minutes had elapsed before both boys were convinced that the little boat was nearly of the size of the Gadabout. Then they were able to distinguish two men on board, one at the wheel and one seated in the stern.
“I thought at first it might be the Gadabout,” said Fred in a low voice.
“So did I,” joined in John. “I can see now that it isn’t.”
“So can I. What do you suppose it is?”
“I haven’t the remotest idea. If we wait long enough we’ll find out.”
“What do you suppose that boat is coming here for?” inquired Fred.
“That’s another thing you’ll have to wait to find out. You’re a great lad. You make me think of what the headmaster said the other day.”
“What did he say?” inquired Fred. “He often makes remarks to you that I don’t hear, and some of them I am very glad I don’t.”
“That’s all right, too,” said John. “What he told us the other day was that children and savages are the people that are the most likely to give way to their feelings. They laugh and cry when strong people keep quiet.”
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Fred sharply.
“I don’t mean anything. I’m just telling you what the headmaster said.”
“They are going to land right in here,” said Fred abruptly, as the motor-boat slightly changed its course and apparently was approaching the very place where the boys had made their unfortunate landing.
“Let’s go farther back,” suggested John. “Maybe it is some more of this strange business. It won’t do any harm if they don’t see us and I don’t believe they have yet because they wouldn’t be looking for anybody where we are.”
“Come ahead,” suggested Fred, quickly acting upon the advice of his companion.
Drawing farther back and yet still remaining in a position from which they were able to see the approaching boat, the boys were confident that they would not be seen. Both excitedly were watching the coming boat.
In a brief time the power was shut off and the anchor was cast overboard. Then in a small skiff, which the motor-boat had in tow, the man who had been at the wheel quickly rowed toward the shore.
“Do you see who that is?” whispered Fred in great excitement.
“I do,” replied John quickly. “It is that man that we saw on Cockburn Island. It is the same one that came over to Mackinac. What do you suppose he’s coming here for?”
“You know just as much about it as I do. If we keep still we may be able to learn more in a little while.”
The excitement of the watching boys did not decrease when they saw the man, who now they were convinced was indeed their recent reluctant host on Cockburn Island, step quickly ashore and then draw his boat up on the beach.
Apparently the presence of the other skiff had not yet been noted. Indeed, the boys were quite confident it had not been discovered, as the place where they had landed was around a little bend in a small cove.
The actions of the man, however, soon became more mysterious and puzzling. Out of his pocket he took a small package and seating himself upon a rock he proceeded to open it.
There were occasional flashes of light that were reflected in the eyes of the boys, although neither were able to discover the contents.
After carefully refolding the package the man restored it to his pocket and then advancing toward the higher bank stopped for a moment there and peered intently all about him.
Apparently satisfied that he was unobserved the mysterious stranger then advanced rapidly toward some woods in the distance. He had, however, gone only a part of the intervening distance when another man was seen approaching from the midst of the trees and in a brief time the two men met.
There was a hasty consultation which greatly interested the boys, although they were unable to discover its purpose. They were convinced, however, or at least Fred was positive, that there had been an exchange of packages made by the two men and then instead of returning to the shore the man whom they had been watching advanced beside the stranger and soon both were lost to sight within the borders of the woods.
Meanwhile the motor-boat had been left in charge of the man who had come to the island with the mysterious visitor.
Neither of the boys had obtained a clear look at him until Fred suggested, “What’s the use? We’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Come on, let’s go and speak to the man on board the motor-boat.”
John hesitated a moment and then quickly followed his friend, as they advanced openly along the shore.
“Do you see who that is?” whispered Fred, clutching John by the arm.
“Yes, I do,” answered John. “It’s that little Jap that we saw on Cockburn Island.”
“That’s exactly who it is. What do you suppose he’s doing here?”
“He’s not doing much of anything just now. I should guess that he is in charge of the boat until his boss comes back. I’m going to hail him.”
In response to John’s hail the little Japanese quickly turned and glanced in the direction from which the unexpected call had come.
“He doesn’t understand English, don’t you remember?” said Fred.
“I know he pretended that he didn’t, but we’ll see how much he knows now. Got anything to eat on board?” called John, turning once more toward the motor-boat.
The first feeling of alarm or surprise had passed and the little manservant now broke into another of his loud and unmusical laughs.
“Got any breakfast? Got anything on board to eat?” again called John.
It was plain now that the Japanese understood what was said, for in broken English he explained that he had some articles of food on the motor-boat.
“I wonder if you’ll sell us some?” inquired Fred eagerly. “We’ll come aboard and see what you have got.”
Quickly taking the stranger’s skiff the boys rowed out to the motor-boat and after they had made it fast, stepped on board.
The Japanese seldom spoke, but in a brief time he handed each of the boys two sandwiches, which they eagerly took and quickly ate.
“How much do we owe you?” asked John.
Again laughing loudly the Japanese shook his head and it was manifest that they would be unable to pay for the slight repast they had received.
“When did you come from Cockburn Island?” inquired Fred.
The question was not answered and John quickly broke in, “When are you going back? That’s a good deal more to the purpose. Do you suppose your boss would be willing to take us over to Mackinac?”
The Japanese laughed, but still did not answer.
“We’ll pay him well for it,” said John. “How far is this place from Mackinac anyway?”
“’Bout forty mile,” answered the Japanese.
“Whew!” said Fred. “We’re a good ways out of our course, aren’t we?”
“I don’t care much how far we are away if we can only get back,” said John thoughtfully.
It was apparent, however, that extended conversation with the little Japanese would be impossible. He had made no inquiries as to why the boys were on the island and except for his first expression of surprise when he had heard their hail, he did not give any sign of special interest either in them or in their doings.
“We stove a hole in the bottom of our skiff,” explained John. “Have you got a piece of tin and some tacks or something we can mend it with?”
“You no feex it?” inquired the Japanese.
“We haven’t anything to fix it with,” explained John.
“I go see,” volunteered the little man.
In accordance with his suggestion the boys speedily rowed ashore, the little Japanese accompanying them, and led the way to the cove where their skiff was resting on the beach.
The Japanese made a careful investigation of the injury to the skiff and then said, after he had once more laughed loudly, “I feex her.” Quickly turning he ran back to the skiff and returned to the motor-boat. Only a few minutes elapsed before once more he came back and the very implements John had sought with which to repair the boat were now in his hands.
Deftly he drove caulking into the seams and the cracks and then taking a piece of tin tacked it on the bottom of the skiff over the spot where the break had occurred. Then once more he used the caulking, driving it in all about the place where the skiff had been struck.
“He no sink now,” said the Japanese, at last standing back and with pride viewing his workmanship. “He no sink now. She just as good as new.”
Declining the offer of the boys to pay him for his labor the Japanese seated himself upon a rock and looked steadily at them.
“What for have you come here?” he inquired.
“We had bad luck last evening,” explained John. “We started from Cockburn Island in the Gadabout but we got out of our course. Then the first thing we knew our gasoline was gone and we had an accident in the shaft or the blades of the propeller. We thought that we might be able to get some help, so two of us left the boat and started ashore in our skiff. But we lost our way and that’s why we’re here and not where we want to be.”
“Where other man?” inquired the Japanese.
“What other man? Do you mean Mr. Ferdinand Button?”
“Yah. Where Mr. Button now?”
“That’s the very question that we would like to have you answer for us,” said Fred. “We don’t know whether the Gadabout is lost somewhere or the other fellows think we are lost and have gone back to Mackinac. That’s why we want to go back there ourselves and we’ll pay well if you’ll take us there on board your boat.”
This time the Japanese did not laugh, but there was a peculiar expression that appeared for an instant in his eyes and that alarmed John, although Fred had not seen that which so greatly troubled his companion.
“When are you going back?” demanded John.
“Two hour.”
“Have you got anything more to eat on board your boat?”
Once more the strange laughter was heard but the Japanese did not reply to the question.
“It will be two hours before they start, the Jap says,” said Fred, turning to John as he spoke.
“Well, there isn’t anything to do except to wait for the time to come, is there?”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” observed John. “We’ll wait until that man comes back here and then we’ll tell him of our troubles and I’m sure he will take us on board. If he won’t take us to Mackinac at least he will take us back to his house.”
“Maybe he will,” responded Fred somewhat dubiously.
“Here he comes, anyway,” said John quickly, as glancing toward the woods he discovered the man approaching, who was the subject of their conversation.
The boys waited until the man drew near and when he discovered their presence his remarks were not complimentary to either of his would-be passengers.
“No, sir, I cannot take either one of you,” he said positively. “I have something else to do. In fact I have got to do it. I cannot go to Mackinac to-day under any circumstances. But what are you two boys doing here? You haven’t explained that yet.”
“We don’t know,” said John, “just why we’re here. About all that we know is that we are here and we want to get away.”
“How do you propose to leave?”
“We want you to take us on your motor-boat.”
“And I have already explained to you,” said the stranger, “why I cannot do that.”
“We’ll pay you well for it,” suggested Fred.
“It isn’t a question of pay,” said the man. “It’s simply a question of my not being able to do what you want.”
“But how are we going to get away from this place? Is this the mainland?”
“No, it’s an island. It is commonly called Western Duck Island.”
“Which means that there are other duck islands farther to the east and that we’re not on the mainland shore at all?” said Fred.
“Oh, no. You are several miles from shore. About all the island is good for is for hunting. A little later you might find a good many ducks here.”
“But we don’t want to be here until ‘a little later,’” protested Fred. “We want to leave right away.”
“Then I don’t see anything for you to do except to try to cross in your skiff.”
“Your Jap says it’s about forty miles from here to Mackinac.”
“If he says so then he probably is correct. I haven’t known Mike to be wrong many times.”
“We cannot sail back in our skiff,” explained John.
“Then I don’t see anything for you to do except to stay here and wait until you hail some boat that is passing.”
“How long will that be?” inquired Fred.
“Not knowing, I cannot say. But on a day like this, which promises to be very clear and pleasant, there ought to be a good many boats passing.”
“I hope we’ll have better luck with them than we had with you,” said John.
“So do I,” responded the man, “and with all my heart. All I can say is this, that if you don’t get any one to take you away before six o’clock this afternoon I will stop here on my way back and take you aboard.”
“How are we going to get anything to eat?” asked John.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said the man. “I will tell Mike to give you some sandwiches.”
“He has done that already,” said John. “Isn’t there some place where we can get something to eat?”
“I don’t know of any.”
“We thought perhaps that man you met out here might be living here and he or his wife would be willing to sell us some food.”
“What man are you talking about?” demanded the stranger, quickly turning to the boys as he spoke.
“Why, the one that met you out here between the shore and the woods yonder,” explained John.
“Did you see any one?”
“We certainly did,” said John. “We saw you meet a man out here and hand him something.”
Fred was convinced that there was a momentary gleam of anger or alarm in the expression of the stranger’s face, but if so the feeling quickly departed. In a low voice the man said, “There are some great stories told about this island. My advice to you is not to stay any longer than you are compelled to.”
“And our feeling is,” laughed Fred somewhat ruefully, “that any time we spend here is wasted.”
“I think you’ll have to stay,” said the man as he went back and stepped on board his skiff. He then pushed out from the shore and speedily resumed his place on board the motor-boat.
The anchor was hauled in and in a brief time the fleet little craft had resumed its voyage, headed now for the southern point of Western Duck Island.
“That beats anything I have ever seen. I tell you, Fred, there’s something wrong here. Don’t you think we had better go back in the woods and see if we cannot find that man who came out of there a little while ago?”
“We might as well do that as anything,” assented Fred, and quickly climbing the bank once more, they started across the field which intervened between them and the woods. As nearly as possible they were following the path taken by the others some time before.
They had not gone far, however, before John suddenly stopped and picked up an envelope which he saw lying on the ground.
“Of all things in the world!” he exclaimed. “What do you think of this?”
Handing the envelope to Fred he called his attention to the name typewritten on the outside: “Mr. Button.”
“That’s for you, Fred,” laughed John.
“If it is,” said Fred, “then somebody had the pleasure of reading my letter before I did.”
“The envelope has been opened,” suggested John; “suppose you read the letter. It may be for you. Very likely some of the people here heard you were coming and they are getting ready to welcome us. This is the royal proclamation for you. That man told us we’re on an island and if we are I guess Robinson Crusoe didn’t have very much on us.”
Fred meanwhile was reading the letter and it was manifest from his expression that he was startled or puzzled by what he read. At last he handed the letter to John, simply saying, “Our patriotic and mysterious friend has made another mistake. This letter is not for me but for Mr. Ferdinand Button.”
“What do you suppose it is doing here?”
“I don’t know,” replied Fred, “unless the man dropped it.”
“But he’s not Mr. Ferdinand Button,” protested John.
“No more he isn’t,” acknowledged Fred, “but that isn’t the only strange thing about it. Read the letter, John, anyway.”
Thus bidden, John read the following letter,—
Dear Sir:
I enclose you an envelope with my address. Send my your answer as soon as you possible this afternoon. I will get it in Macinac tonight or tomorrow morning and will immediately come to see you.
To deliver you this gang which rob United States of thousands of dollars each year. I only want two things. 1st. My ticket to Montreal and back. 2nd. My passage to Europe by way of the Azores Isles. I do not want money. You will pay me when the gang is in your hands. You will get it this afternoonday. Do not fail to send me your answer quick. If you do so I will have the gang in your lands in 2 weeks. They are 2 men and 1 woman and they smuggle by ways you are not at all suspicious.
Truly yours,
“Mr. Button certainly has a good many friends and they are trying to keep him well informed. What do you make of this anyway, Fred?”
“I don’t make much of anything,” said Fred thoughtfully. “What’s the use of going any farther? Let’s go back and take our skiff and see if we can’t get somewhere. The lake is smooth this morning and we may be able to get back as far as Drummond or Cockburn Island.”