When the boys returned to the shore the motor-boat had disappeared from sight. This strange disappearance, however, was not so confusing to the boys as the discovery they speedily made concerning the skiff which they themselves had left on the shore of the cove.
“Where did that sail come from?” demanded John, as he stopped abruptly and looked in astonishment at the little skiff. Thrown carelessly across it was a sail and small mast.
“Where did they come from?” he repeated.
“I didn’t put them there,” replied Fred.
“Who did then?”
“I don’t know any more about it than you do.”
“Well, somebody has been good to us and tried to help us get away from this deserted island. What did that man say the name of it is?”
“Western Duck Island. There are a half-dozen of these islands, I remember now.”
“I shan’t feel very badly if I never see nor hear of them again.”
“We’re all right now. We have a sail.”
“Perhaps we are, though I haven’t forgotten that that little Jap said we are forty miles from Mackinac.”
“What is forty miles to fellows who have got a boat and a sail?”
While the two boys were talking they had adjusted the mast and rigged the little leg-of-mutton sail. It was plain to both boys that if conditions continued favorable they had found an easier way by which they could return to their hotel than by trying to row.
“Come on,” called Fred cheerily, his courage now having returned in full measure. “Come on. Don’t let’s stay here any longer than we have to.”
“I’m with you,” responded John. “Now who’s going to sail this boat first?”
“You are, by unanimous consent; I think it will be safer for the crew to have you sitting in the stern than it will be to have you crawling around the bow.”
The mystery of the sail had not been explained, but whoever had left it plainly had intended that it should be used.
The wind was light but the little skiff drew rapidly away from the shore of Western Duck Island, and as he glanced behind him Fred said, “I feel almost as Columbus must have felt when he set forth in his three tubs to find a new world.”
“I never knew that Columbus sailed in three boats before,” laughed John.
“I didn’t mean that Columbus himself sailed in three boats, at least at the same time. I used his name as the name of his whole party. I forgot for the minute what kind of material I was dealing with.”
“Never you mind that,” retorted John. “You just watch me while I sail this boat. I’m going to head her up the shore toward Drummond Island. If we can make that I think we’ll be all right for the rest of the way.”
“And if we don’t make it what are you going to do?” said Fred more seriously.
“It’ll be time enough for me to explain to you, my friend, when the occasion arrives. Meanwhile just see how smoothly we are speeding on our way.”
“You’re almost a poet,” laughed Fred, “and there isn’t wind enough to lift a feather. I think I’ll take the oars and row.”
John offered no objection and Fred accordingly seated himself and began to row.
The day was warm and the beams of the sun, which now was high in the eastern sky, were strongly reflected from the smooth waters of Lake Huron. Indeed, it was not long before the wind died away and the boys were nearly becalmed.
“We’re almost as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean, aren’t we, Jack?” demanded Fred.
“No, we are not,” said John. “Not at all, thank you. We’re not idle and we’re not going to be. I’m going to have my crew keep on rowing.”
“I hope you’ll set a good example.”
“That’s just what I intend to do,” said John. “You change places with me and I’ll show you how the thing ought to be done.”
Without expressing the thought in his mind each boy was keeping a sharp outlook over the waters for the swift little Gadabout. Both somehow were expecting that the motor-boat either had not departed from the region or would surely return when morning came.
An hour or more had elapsed, however, and no trace of the Gadabout had been discovered. Far away over the waters the faint trace of smoke left by the passing lake steamers could be seen.
“This is a great job we have been thrown into, isn’t it, Jack?” demanded Fred at last.
“Yes, I think it is,” acknowledged John. “That letter of yours seems to make it worse, though. For the life of me I cannot understand how it came to Western Duck Island.”
“Maybe that man dropped it,” suggested Fred.
“Do you mean the smuggler?”
“I guess that’s what he is all right. I don’t know what his name is yet, but I mean the man that has a house over there on Cockburn Island.”
“That’s the man I mean,” said John. “I think he’s a smuggler. He may be, but the thing that puzzles me most is how he got your letter, if he was the one that dropped it over here on Western Duck Island.”
“Yes, that’s hard to explain,” assented Fred, “but I guess if we knew more about it we wouldn’t find it quite so hard.”
“What do you mean? Do you think that man wrote the letter?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, then what do you mean?”
“I guess I don’t mean very much of anything. Fred, do you see how this boat is leaking?”
Startled by the abrupt question, Fred glanced quickly at the spot in the bottom of the boat which the little Japanese had repaired. The water certainly was coming into the boat.
“What do you think, Jack?” demanded Fred quickly. “Shall we try to go back?”
“Is that the direction in which we usually go?” retorted John.
“I would rather go back than go down.”
“But I would rather go ahead than either.”
“But the boat is certainly leaking. We have seen one storm on the lake and we don’t want to be caught in another, especially with a leaking old tub like this.”
“There isn’t any storm and we aren’t caught yet. Besides, I feel a little puff of wind,” John added, as he turned his face in the direction from which the wind appeared to be coming.
John had been rowing for a half-hour or longer, and perspiration was streaming down his face. Close to the water the air was cool, but as there was no breeze it was well-nigh impossible for any one working as hard as John had been to cool himself quickly.
“There’s a little puff,” he added, and once more the sail was hoisted and for a little while the skiff moved steadily forward.
“John,” suggested Fred a little later, “I think the best thing for us to do is to try to get in the course of those lake boats. We can’t see the shore of Duck Island any longer and if we go far enough over to the west and our skiff sinks, it may be that some one of those boats will pick us up.”
Whether or not it was the swifter action of the skiff the leak steadily was becoming more apparent. Indeed, after a brief time Fred said, “Is there anything on board we can use to bail this boat?”
“I haven’t seen anything,” answered John, and a hasty search quickly revealed the fact that there was no implement on board which could be used in the manner indicated by Fred.
The latter, however, taking his cap did his utmost to dip out the water, which was steadily increasing in the bottom of the skiff, into the lake. His efforts were unavailing, however, and in a brief time the boy, now thoroughly alarmed, arose and said, “I tell you, Jack, this boat isn’t going to stay afloat very long.”
John made no reply, but as he turned to look behind him Fred also glanced in that direction, but the island from which they had departed had long since disappeared from sight.
Far away in the west occasional trails of smoke could be seen, although both boys were aware that doubtless such indications of the passing of the steamers came within their vision long after the vessels themselves had disappeared from the region.
It was speedily becoming manifest that the boys would be compelled to struggle desperately in order to keep their sinking craft afloat. They both clearly understood that they were Go Ahead Boys and were not to give up easily, but the water was entering faster now and the peril consequently became more threatening with every passing moment.
Almost in despair John looked toward the low lying streak of dark cloud in the west which he clearly understood indicated the course of a passing lake-boat. The mast meanwhile had been taken down and no attempt was made to sail.
“Let’s throw that thing overboard,” suggested Fred in a voice sounding strangely, even in his own ears.
“What thing?”
“Why, the mast and sail.”
“Cut the sail and throw it overboard,” ordered John, “but save the mast as long as you can.”
“What for?” demanded Fred.
“Hand me your handkerchief and I’ll show you,” answered John. Speedily tying his own handkerchief to Fred’s he then fastened both to the top of the mast. “Somebody may see our signal of distress,” he explained.
“Pull, Fred! Pull for all you’re worth!” he hastily added. “We’ve got to get nearer the boats if we ever make shore.”
While Fred rowed, John was doing his utmost to bail the boat. He was using his hands and his cap, but even with his utmost endeavors the depth of the water in the slowly moving skiff did not decrease. Both boys were toiling desperately now. Their faces were red and streaked with perspiration. There was no evading the fact, however, that in spite of all their efforts their progress still was slow and the peril of sinking was steadily increasing.
At the mast-head floated the signal of distress. Neither of the boys was speaking now and the silence that rested on the great stretch of waters was unbroken.
“We shan’t be able to stay on board much longer,” said Fred in a low voice.
John made no reply, but his colorless face was clearly seen by his companion, who was fully aware of the anxiety in the heart of his friend.
Steadily the little boat was sinking into the waters of Lake Huron. The boys now were wet to their waists and it was manifest that they would not much longer be able to remain in the little skiff.
“Maybe she won’t sink,” called Fred. “Perhaps we can keep afloat if we hang to her after she settles down.”
Still John made no response. Not very long before he had been the one to try to cheer his companion. He it was who had declared that they had never learned to go backward and that they must be Go Ahead Boys to the end.
“There’s no use, Jack,” called Fred. “We can’t stay here any longer. Get your shoes off, if you can.”
With difficulty each boy removed his shoes and unmindful of his sweater and their other belongings prepared to leap into the lake.
“You take the bow, Jack, and I’ll hang to the stern,” called Fred. “If we each put only one hand on the boat, she may stay afloat long enough to keep us from sinking. Don’t lose your head. Just remember that we aren’t through this fight yet.”
Both boys were expert swimmers, although their skill now was of slight avail. It was impossible for them to see the shore of the island from which they had departed and only the low-lying trails of dark smoke indicated what might be on the water far to the west.
Together the boys leaped into the water. The boat partly righted itself when it was relieved of its burden, but it was so full of water that only a few inches below the gunwale appeared above the surface.
“Come on, Jack,” called Fred as the boys arose to the surface, “let’s turn this tub over so that it will be bottom upward. Maybe it will stay afloat then.”
Fred was peering anxiously at his friend, fearful that his courage had gone and that he would be compelled to exert himself to his utmost in order to force John to any action.
Whether or not it was the effect of the cool water, John’s courage apparently had returned. At all events in response to the call of his friend he swam quickly toward the boat. Acting upon the directions of Fred he placed one hand on the bow while Fred seized the stern.
“Now turn her over,” called Fred and under the united action of the boys the leaking boat speedily reversed its position and lay upon the water, keel upward.
“We can keep afloat here all day,” said Fred, speaking with a confidence he was far from feeling. “We’ll have to be careful, but if we rest only one hand on the boat that will keep us afloat and I don’t believe she’ll sink.”
Both were aware now of the desperate plight in which they found themselves. There were no indications of help within sight and each understood that unless help came before sunset they were likely to become so chilled by their long stay in the cool waters that they would be unable longer to retain their hold. Before the mind of Fred there came a momentary vision of his far away home. For an instant he fancied he could imagine the scene when the report was received there of the loss of their boy. “Jack,” he called, his voice breaking in spite of his efforts at self-control, “if anything happens to either of us it is understood, isn’t it, that the other fellow will send word?”
It was John’s turn now to manifest a strong determination and facing his friend he said, “Don’t give up the ship yet! We have most of the day before us and something will happen.”
“I wish we could get that mast over yonder and rig it on the bottom of the skiff. Perhaps some one might see that when they couldn’t see us. We are so close to the water.”
“That’s a good suggestion,” said John. “We’re going ahead yet.”
Quickly releasing his grasp John swam toward the floating mast, which had been lost when the skiff was overturned.
He easily secured it and swam back to the overturned skiff.
“Can you break a hole in the bottom, Jack?” asked Fred.
“I don’t know; I’ll try it,” responded John. Pounding upon the bottom of the skiff where it had been broken when the boat had struck the rock, he succeeded in making a hole big enough to enable him to thrust the mast into the place.
“Never mind the handkerchiefs,” called Fred; “they will dry out and will be floating in the breeze pretty soon. Now the main thing for us to do is simply to hang on and wait until somebody sees that signal of distress.”
The moments passed slowly and to both boys there came an increasing fear that their plight was not likely to attract the attention of passing boats. Indeed, apparently there were no boats passing nearby. The low clouds of smoke in the distance were tantalizing in their effect upon the minds of the watching boys.
They had no means of estimating the passing of the time. Occasionally they glanced toward the sky into which the sun was steadily mounting, but they were neither in a condition to reflect calmly and so were unable to decide whether they had been in the water an hour or longer.
To their delight the skiff seemed to be easily able to hold them up in the water. Occasionally Fred let go his hold and swam about in the water to ‘start his circulation once more.’ Both were becoming chilled, although it was not yet midday.
At last the sun reached the zenith and slowly began its descent. The boys now were silent, for conversation had ceased long before this time. Each was watching the other, fearful that the strength of his friend was giving out. In such an event he was aware that he would be unable to render any positive assistance, as his own strength was steadily departing.
“Look yonder,” said Fred in a low voice when another hour had elapsed. As he spoke he glanced behind him and John quickly looked in the direction he indicated.
Not very far distant was a lake boat which apparently was passing far out of the usual course of the steamers.
“Do you suppose,” inquired Fred, “if we should shout together we might make them hear?”
“We can try it,” answered John.
Accordingly both boys united in a loud and prolonged call. For a time it seemed to both of them that their efforts were unavailing. The ungainly boat was so far away that it was well-nigh impossible for either to determine whether or not it had veered slightly in its course.
Convinced that their cry had not been heard both again lapsed into silence though each was still eagerly watching the movements of the distant vessel.
Several minutes had passed when John said eagerly, “Fred, I believe that boat is coming this way.”
For a moment Fred was silent as he peered still more eagerly at the lake boat. “I don’t see it,” he said disconsolately. “I cannot find that she’s any nearer than she was.”
“Well, I think it is,” affirmed John sturdily. “Hang on and we’ll see if she doesn’t come to us.”
John’s confident statement, however, was not fulfilled. As if it was unmindful of the peril or the presence of the two boys in their plight, the boat continued steadily on its way until it disappeared from sight.
Neither of the boys spoke, but their feeling of depression was steadily deepening.
“There’s a loaded boat coming from the other direction,” said John after another hour had elapsed. “That’s out of its course, too. Let’s try it again.”
As soon as Fred had looked eagerly in the direction indicated by John he saw another lake boat standing high in the water and evidently bound northward. It was plain that it was not loaded as heavily as the boat which had disappeared in the opposite direction and it also was moving much more rapidly.
“Let’s try another yell,” suggested John when at last the boat was on a line parallel with their own.
The call of the boys was hoarse and not so loud as the one in which they had united in their former effort.
After several attempts the boys waited breathlessly, while in an anxiety they could not express they watched the ungainly craft as it sped over the lake.
“John,” called Fred suddenly, “I believe that tub is changing its course and is coming in our direction.”
John made no response, but when a few moments had elapsed it was plain that for some reason the boat had veered in its course and swinging to the right was plainly coming nearer to the place where the boys were clinging to the skiff.
On and still on came the noisy steamer until the strokes of its blades in the water could be distinctly heard.
Several times the boys united in shouts, but at last it was plainly manifest that their signal of distress had been discovered and that the lake boat had turned to rescue the victims of the sinking skiff. Not long afterward a yawl was lowered from the boat and two men took their places at the oars. With strong and steady sweeps they drew near the boys and not many minutes afterward quickly dragged both on board the yawl.
The reaction had come to both John and Fred and neither was able to sit erect. Their teeth were chattering as if both were suffering from an ague. Indeed, neither boy was fully aware of the events which were occurring until at last they were somehow brought on board the lake boat. There were willing hands to assist them there and speedily they were taken below, where their wet clothing was removed and after a thorough rub-down by rough but friendly hands they were placed in bunks and covered with blankets.
Meanwhile on the Gadabout George and Grant were having experiences that by no means added to their peace of mind.
For a time they had waited with such patience as they could command for the return of their friends. But when the minutes became hours and there still was no sign of the coming of Fred and John both boys began to be anxious.
The little Gadabout had been steadily drifting with the slowly moving current and in the dim light it was no longer possible to discern the outline of the shore which Fred and John had been seeking.
The feeling of uneasiness steadily increased.
“What do you suppose has happened to those boys?” inquired Grant of his friend.
“I don’t believe anything has happened to them,” replied George. “I think that’s just the trouble. They haven’t found the shore, or any one to help.”
“Well, then why don’t they come back?”
“I can’t tell you. You know as much about that as I do.”
“Well, I’m afraid they’re lost,” said Grant disconsolately.
“I don’t believe anything very serious can happen to them even if they have lost their way,” said George, striving to speak with an assurance he did not fully share. “Even if they stay out there until morning,” he continued, “they wouldn’t have anything to be afraid of. And then they would be able to find somebody that would pick them up and take them back to Mackinac. Very likely we’ll find them there when we get back ourselves.”
“But suppose a storm comes up,” suggested Grant.
“Well, don’t begin to worry until the wind begins to blow,” said George testily. The fear of the same event was in his own mind, but he resented the suggestion of his companion.
“I think it is about time for us to be getting worried about ourselves,” said George at last, when the first faint streaks of the dawn were seen in the eastern sky. “Fred and John at least can be moving while we are here as helpless as a rat in a trap.”
“What do you make of him?” inquired Grant in a whisper, nodding toward Mr. Button as he spoke.
He was still seated near the wheel and had given but slight attention to his companions. Evidently he was anxious concerning something, though what it was that disturbed him was still not clear to his two young companions.
“What do you think, Mr. Button?” called George. “What’s become of the boys?”
“Huh! What’s that you say?” inquired Mr. Button, sitting quickly erect.
“What do you think has become of Jack and Fred?”
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Button vaguely. “Where did they go?”
“Why, they left in the skiff,” explained Grant. “They have been gone three or four hours anyway.”
“Why don’t they come back?” inquired Mr. Button.
“That’s what we want to know. We’re afraid they are lost.”
“Well, they won’t be lost very long,” said Mr. Button. “Somebody will pick them up and take them back to Mackinac Island. That isn’t more than forty miles away anyhow.”
“Well, we’re afraid somebody may not find them,” said Grant. “We don’t see any boats anywhere around here.”
As he spoke the boy stood erect and looked in all directions over the smooth waters of Lake Huron. As was the case with Fred and John the only indications of boats anywhere in the vicinity were the long low trails of smoke that could be seen far in the west.
“How are we going to get back, Mr. Button?” inquired George.
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Button. “I think we’ll have to wait for somebody to pick us up.”
“But there isn’t any boat anywhere around here,” protested Grant.
“There may be before night,” said Mr. Button quietly. “And besides we cannot do anything to call any one.”
“We might try yelling together,” suggested George.
Mr. Button smiled, but made no response.
“If we had some oars or a little sail we might do something,” suggested Grant. “I’m going to look around and see if there isn’t a sail on board anywhere.”
His search was unrewarded, however, and at last when Grant returned it was agreed that their only hope was in being recognized by some passing vessel.
The anxiety of the two boys for the safety of their missing comrades was not relieved when later in the afternoon a lake boat changing its course approached the place where they were lying.
Evidently they had been discovered by the captain, who was still holding his glasses in his hand as the boat drew near.
“I found a megaphone under the seat,” suggested Grant.
“Where is it? Go get it,” suggested George.
In a moment Grant was again on deck and handed the megaphone to Mr. Button.
“Ahoy, there!” he called. “Will you give us a tow?”
“Who are you?” came back the answer from the deck of the huge boat.
“There are three of us and our motor-boat broke down last night.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Why, since midnight anyway. You are the first boat that has come anywhere near us.”
“And it’s just by luck that we saw you. What will you do, come aboard?”
“No,” answered Mr. Button, “if you’ll give us a line we would rather have you tow us. Are you going anywhere near Mackinac Island?”
“Yes,” answered the captain. “We’re bound straight for there. I don’t know that we shall stop, but we’ll fix it so that you can get ashore if you want to.”
“That will do splendidly,” called Mr. Button.
In a brief time the two boats were near enough to enable a sailor to cast a rope to the Gadabout. After one or two attempts this was successfully seized and then made fast. As the lake boat swung around to resume its course, the Gadabout, one hundred feet or more astern, followed.
“I hate to go back and leave the other fellows out here,” said George when they began to move swiftly over the waters.
“You don’t need to worry about them,” said Mr. Button. “If we could see them anywhere that would be one thing, but they have disappeared from sight. They have a good skiff and I think I heard you say that they both were Go Ahead Boys. If they are, they will get out of their trouble all right.”
“I’m sure I hope so,” said George dubiously.
The conversation, however, ceased, and for a time all three were silent. The clear waters of Lake Huron bubbled and seethed as they were cut by the bow of the swift little motor-boat.
The huge lake boat evidently was not carrying a load and its speed accordingly was unhampered. Doubtless the giant boat was returning to Duluth for another cargo of wheat or iron.
The progress was uninterrupted so that by the middle of the afternoon the high, rocky shores of Mackinac Island became visible in the distance.
At that moment the captain appeared at the stern of the lake boat and raising his megaphone to his mouth, called, “Do you want us to land you?”
“No,” replied Mr. Button also speaking through a megaphone, “we’ll find somebody that will take us in. If you’re not going to land there you needn’t stop on our account. How much do we owe you?”
“You don’t owe us anything,” called the captain. “We’re glad to lend a hand. Whenever you say the word you can cast off and we’ll haul in.”
A half-hour later Mr. Button announced through his megaphone that the time had arrived when there was no longer need for them to be towed. They could plainly see the yachts in the harbor and the people moving along the streets. To enter the harbor would compel the huge boat to change its course, an act which no one desired.
Accordingly after hailing the crew and expressing the thanks of himself and his companions for the aid they had received, Mr. Button gave the word and the little Gadabout was set free from the great steamer.
Another motor-boat near by, the occupants of which were deeply interested spectators of what was occurring, at once took the Gadabout in tow and noisily proceeded toward the wharf which was not more than two hundred yards away.
There were many questions asked of the rescued party, all of which were promptly answered, but as soon as the boys landed they at once began to make inquiries for a boat which could be chartered for a search for their missing friends.
At last, however, they listened to the persuasions of Mr. Button and went up to the hotel where they obtained a dinner, which satisfied them after their long fast.
Then, quickly returning to the dock they found their boat awaiting them and at once stepped on board.
Already they had explained to the owner the peril of the friends and the reason why they had chartered the swiftest boat which could be obtained.
“We’ll be there before long,” said the captain confidently. “Have you brought anything for your friends to eat?”
“Yes, we have a basket full here,” explained George, pointing to a hamper which one of the waiters from the hotel had placed on board. “We thought they would be hungry so we got it ready.”
“That’s all right, they will be,” said the captain.
“You don’t suppose anything has happened to them, do you?” inquired George anxiously.
“That’s something no man knows,” replied the captain not unkindly, “but we’ll soon find out.”
The impatience of the boys was manifest when the swift little boat set forth on its voyage. Already they had made thorough investigations about the island, but not a word concerning their missing friends had been heard.
The anxiety of both George and Grant was well-nigh overpowering, although both did their utmost to heed the comforting words of the captain of the little yacht.
“Don’t you worry none,” he said cheerily. “Them boys will take care of themselves. It was a ca’m night and the only way those fellows could git into trouble would be by trying to run into it.”
“That’s what Fred may have done,” said George dryly. “If there’s anything of that kind around he usually finds it.”
“I guess you’ll find the boys all right,” affirmed the captain.
Striving to calm their fears the boys gazed out over the smooth waters. For two days now the surface of Lake Huron had been almost unruffled. Such gentle breezes as were blowing produced only the slightest ripple on the surface. In the clear waters, objects on the shore were reflected almost as in a mirror.
None of these things, however, was in the thoughts of the two boys as they watched the bluffs of Mackinac Island fade away in the distance.
They had done their utmost to describe to their captain the location in which they had left their friends the preceding night. That bluff individual had heartily declared that he understood just where the accident had occurred, but somehow his confidence was not fully shared by either of his passengers.
“He tries to make up for what he doesn’t know by stating with all his might the things he does know,” said George in a low voice to Grant when the boys had taken their seats near the stern of the boat.
“That’s what some people say,” answered Grant. “‘A lie well stuck to is as good as the truth.’”
“I don’t believe that,” said George.
“Don’t believe what?”
“That a lie ever is as good as the truth.”
“I didn’t say that. I said a lie well stuck to was as good as the truth.”
“I don’t believe it is ever right to lie.”
“Well, I do,” said Grant positively.
“When?”
“Why, if you were dreadfully sick and it would be a shock to you to know that you were likely to die I think it would be all right to lie and tell you that you looked well.”
“I would know that was a lie just as soon as you said it,” laughed George, “but I wouldn’t lie even then.”
“What would you do?”
“I would do nothing.”
“Well, suppose you had to say something.”
“I would say what I thought was true.”
“Wouldn’t you lie if the doctor told you to?”
“No. I tell you I don’t believe a lie is ever right.”
“I don’t believe in lieing in general, but I can see times when I think it might be all right.”
“The trouble is, when a fellow begins he goes ahead. He doesn’t stop with lies that may not be so bad, but he keeps on and tries it in a good many other ways. No, sir, I haven’t any use for a liar. If I give my word I intend to keep it.”
Conversation ceased and both boys anxiously were peering before them. The captain already had explained that they were doubtless near the shore of Western Duck Island where their accident had occurred and their companions had been lost. He had explained also that in his judgment it was wisest to go again to the same spot as nearly as possible and there begin their search for the missing boys. He sturdily maintained his feeling that the boys were not “lost,” a confidence, however, that was not shared by his passengers as the boat swiftly sped across the surface of the shining waters.
“I sometimes think the captain is right,” said George thoughtfully. “Last night was as calm as a night could well be and, as he said, if the fellows got into trouble they must have tried to look it up.”
“I agree with you,” said Grant, although the tones of his voice failed to show any strong conviction.
“Don’t you worry none about them boys,” called the captain again as he saw George and Grant anxiously conferring. “If they are any kind of boys they will take care of themselves. Why, I wouldn’t give much for a lad that couldn’t protect himself in such a night as last night was. Up on Mackinac Island I have known people who lived for months on fried snowballs. They are not very good as a diet, but they help to keep people from thinking too much about their troubles.”
Neither of the boys responded to the flippant words of their captain, although both were aware that he was speaking out of the kindness of his heart.
When nearly three hours had elapsed after they had departed from Mackinac the captain, once more turning to his passengers, said, “Yonder lie the shores of Western Duck Island.” As he spoke he pointed to a low lying strip of land that could be seen far in advance of them. “My opinion is,” he continued, “that those boys didn’t stay out in their boat all night. Maybe they landed.”
“Is anybody living on the island?” said George quickly.
“Not regular. This time of the year though there may be parties camping out. A bit later in the fall there are plenty of people there shooting ducks.”
“That doesn’t do us any good,” retorted George. “What we want is to find out where those fellows are now and if they got any help on the island.”
“You wait a bit,” rejoined the captain, “and we’ll find out.”
Swiftly the little motor-boat approached the shores of the island they were seeking. It too passed the long strip of rushes which had been seen the preceding night by John and Fred in their attempts to find a landing place.
The motor-boat at last came to anchor off a rocky shore and at the suggestion of the captain George and Grant climbed into the skiff and hastily casting off at once rowed ashore.
“I’ll wait for you here,” called the captain as the boys clambered up on the bank. “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour. Come back and we’ll try it farther down the shore.”
The boys agreed to return within the specified time and then after peering eagerly all about them together started toward the woods they could see in the distance.
Just why they walked in this direction neither could explain, but there was somehow a thought in the mind of each that possibly within its shelter a camp or a house might be found.
The hour passed and all the efforts of the searching boys were unrewarded. Not a trace of their missing friends had they discovered. “It’s plain enough they aren’t here,” said George dejectedly.
“That’s right,” answered Grant, “we’ve called and shouted and whistled and looked and walked and waited, but we haven’t anything for all our pains. I’m beginning to believe the boys aren’t here.”
“I agree with you as far as this spot is concerned,” said George, “but we ought to go on farther down the island before we go back to Mackinac.”
“That’s right,” agreed Grant. “Let’s go back to the motor-boat now.”
Quickly the two boys started to return to the place where the captain was awaiting their coming. They had gone but a short distance, however, before at George’s suggestion they turned to their left and moved toward a sandy stretch of shore which they saw in the distance. “Maybe we’ll find a footprint the same as Robinson Crusoe found on his island,” suggested George striving to speak lightly.
The suggestion was followed and great was the surprise of both boys when they drew near the winding sandy shore of a large cove to see swiftly approaching from the south a motor-boat in the distance.
“Look yonder!” said Grant excitedly seizing his friend by his shoulder as he spoke, and pointing in the direction in which he had discovered the approaching boat. “That isn’t our boat, is it?”
“No,” answered George positively after a brief silence. “Our boat is up the shore farther.”
“Maybe Fred and John are on board.”
“That’s something nobody knows. We’ll soon find out.”
Quickening the pace at which they were walking the two boys soon arrived at the place they were seeking. Save for an occasional comment the silence was unbroken while they both anxiously watched the motor-boat which could be seen swiftly approaching. Indeed the little boat was marvelously swift and in a brief time the boys were aware that there was only one person on board.