CHAPTER XXII

The "Crusoe Mystery" Deepens

"Now, where have you boys been? Did those men take you away? Where did they take you? Did you escape? How did you escape?"

This rapid-fire succession of questions was hurled by Cub at Hal and Bud as they approached the place where Mr. Baker was quizzing his prisoner under the protection of the boy sentinel against a surprise attack from the prisoner's friends. Some of these questions were encouraged by nods and smiles of assent to preceding interrogatories.

"Yes, yes, but one question at a time," Hal replied. "You're on the right track, Cub, but that isn't the way to get our story out of us. I see you have one of the rascals a prisoner. Keep him. He's the worst of the bunch."

The "rascal" winced at the characterization.

"Who are they, anyway," asked Cub. "What are they doing here? Do they own this island?"

"Now, you've added three more questions," Hal remarked with a smile, for he was much pleased at the opportunity to tease the tall and usually super-wise youth in something of the latter's characteristic manner. "We can't answer all your questions, Cub, but we know there's a mystery about this fellow and his friends, and I suppose we'll have to wait for your father's mathematics to solve it."

"Was it those four men who made prisoners of you?" inquired Cub, who, in his eagerness to get some definite information, resolved to ask one question at a time and pursue his inquiry in an orderly manner.

"Yes," Hal replied.

"They grabbed me first while I was down at the landing," put in Bud, who was almost as impatient to tell the story as Cub was to hear it. "I went down there when I saw a rowboat pulling up and didn't recognize the men in it until they came ashore. I thought they were still on the island, for when they left us a few hours before, they didn't go toward the landing, and we didn't see them go toward it since then. I hollered when they grabbed me, and Hal came rushing to see what was the matter."

"Yes, and then I ran back to the radio table and telegraphed to Max Handy at Rockport," added Hal, taking up the narrative at this point and indicating a disposition to volunteer details more readily. "While I was still in the act of sending, two of the them appeared and seized me. They took me into their rowboat with Bud at the landing and rowed to a yacht almost a duplicate of Mr. Perry's. We were confined in the cabin until after dark and then put ashore on an island half a mile from here. That was the last we saw of them."

"But how did you get away?" asked Cub.

"We flagged a motor boat just a little while ago. There were two men and two boys in it. We told them our story and they volunteered to bring us back here and see if you had returned. Hello, Uncle James," addressing Mr. Baker and seizing the latter by the hand. "I didn't recognize you at first, though I knew you were coming."

"Where is Alvin?" asked Mr. Baker anxiously. "Didn't you see him on the island over there?"

"No," Hal replied with a look and tone of surprise. "That is another desert island—not a person there."

"What does that mean?" demanded Mr. Baker, turning to the prisoner. "You told us all three of the boys that you took away from here were together on that island over there."

"I didn't mean that," the fellow snarled, with something of a look of confusion, however.

"Well, what did you mean?"

"I meant they were on two islands not far apart; the other fellow is on the island a little further on."

"Is that motor boat that brought you here down at the landing yet?" Mr. Baker inquired.

"Yes," Bud replied.

"I wonder if we couldn't induce them to make a run over to the island where this fellow says he left my son and bring him here."

"I think they'd be glad to do it," Bud replied. "They seemed to be very much interested in this affair and offered to do anything they could to help us."

"All right; suppose you go down there and tell them the situation. I suppose we could wait till Mr. Perry gets back, but I can't stand any delay that isn't absolutely necessary."

"Why, where has your father gone, Cub?" asked Hal.

"He started out to get police help," answered the boy addressed. "His first call was to be at Rockport, but no doubt he'll come right back here when he gets the message I sent for him. I telegraphed to our wireless friend, Max Handy, and asked him to go down to the docks and tell father what happened since he left. He's on the way now; maybe he's talking to father this minute."

"What was it that happened?" Bud inquired.

Cub gave a description of the visit of the four "owners" of Friday Island and the dispute that resulted in making a prisoner of one of them and sending the other three away on a mission of restitution.

"I thought when I just saw you come up from the landing that they had released you according to agreement," he added; "but on second thought, I decided they couldn't have had time to do that; besides, when they left us they went in the other direction."

"No, they didn't have anything to do with it," Hal assured his friend.

"You'd better tell the truth about where my son is," warned Mr. Baker, addressing the prisoner. "I won't stand any more trifling from you."

"He's there unless somebody took him off the island, same as these boys were taken off the island we put them on," declared "the captain" in sullen tone and manner.

"Well, it'll be an unhappy circumstance for you if we don't find any evidence of their having been there," Mr. Baker remarked.

"I think we'd better take him along with us," said Hal. "Then there'll be no doubt about our going to the right island. Come on, Bud; let's go down to the boat and tell Mr. Leland and Mr. White what we want to do."

Hal and Bud were soon out of sight on their way to perform the mission they had imposed on themselves, and a few minutes later they returned with one of the motor-boatmen, a clean-cut athletic man of middle age, wearing a tan Palm Beach suit. Hal introduced him as Mr. White.

"The boys have told us all about your trouble," he said, addressing Mr. Baker; "and we'd like to do all we can to help you out. They tell me that your son is believed to be on an island about a mile from here, and that this prisoner of yours knows exactly where that island is. Well take him along with us and make him make good."

"I'm very much obliged to you," said Mr. Baker warmly. "I've promised this fellow that if he returns my son to me, I'll let him go, so the instant you find my son you may turn him loose."

"I don't believe he ought to be turned loose," declared Mr. White energetically. "I believe he ought to be made to pay the penalty of his crime—kidnapping. However, we'll do as you say. Come along, my fine fellow," he added, taking the prisoner by the arm. "We'll keep those hands of yours securely tied behind your back, so you can't get into mischief."

With these words, he led "the captain" toward the landing, followed by Hal and Bud.

Half an hour later they returned, with the prisoner, his hands still shackled with the rope strands. They had been unable to find Mr. Baker's son on the island where the prisoner said he and his companions had left him.

Meanwhile Mr. Perry had returned in the Catwhisker to Friday Island. He was accompanied by Max Handy and a Canadian government officer.



CHAPTER XXIII

"Sweating" the Prisoner

It was now supper time, but nobody except the Canadian officer was hungry enough to think of eating. The latter, being a disinterested party, save as one commissioned with the duty of enforcing the law, had not diverted to a subject of absorbing interest the energies that ordinarily create a human appetite, hence he was normally hungry. Moreover, he was a man of good physical proportions and organic development, and consequently hunger with him meant a good plateful, or dissatisfaction.

This officer, who was introduced by Mr. Perry as Mr. Harrison Buckley, seemed to take no interest in his mission until he saw the evening meal in course of preparation in real kitchen-like manner; then he took the prisoner in charge and proceeded to "sweat" him in the approved style of a police captain's private office. The prisoner squirmed about for a time, successfully evading the inquisitorial probe aimed at him, but at last he "confessed" as to his name and address. He said that his name was Grant Howard and that his residence was at Gananoque, Ontario. Then a call to supper was issued and the composite aggregation of humans gathered around the table, which was never intended to accommodate quite so many guests.

However, with the exercise of due ingenuity, the supper was properly disposed of with the unexpected discovery of more appetite than was originally expected. Max Handy proved to be a healthy eater and the savory smell of juicy broiled steak from the Catwhisker's refrigerator, loosened even the nervous tension of Mr. Baker's worry over the fate of his son, so that he was able to do fair justice to the cooking of Cub, Hal, and Bud, who had full and joint charge of the preparation of the gastronomic spread.

After the meal the four boys cleared the table and washed and wiped the dishes, while the three men joined forces in the continued "sweating" of the prisoner. The latter adhered stubbornly to his earlier "confession" as to what he and his three companions had done with Mr. Baker's son, but failed to make a satisfactory statement as to his own business and the use to which he and his friends had put "their island possession". To the question as to the character of his business, he replied, after some hesitation:

"I work in a store."

"What kind of store?" asked Mr. Buckley.

"A grocery store."

"What do you do there?"

"I clerk."

"What was the price of butter the last day you worked?" asked the inquisitor so quickly and sharply that the victim of the thrust actually turned pale, in spite of a strong front of bravado. But he made a brave enough effort to get over the hurdle.

"Twenty-nine cents."

"A pound?" asked Mr. Buckley.

"Yes," replied the prisoner.

"What did you sell butter at a loss for?" the inquisitor demanded. "It hasn't been down that low anywhere that I know of since the war."

"I meant butterine," "corrected" the "sweat subject" hurriedly.

"Well, you've hit it about right, by accident, of course. Now, let's see if you know anything more about grocery business. What did you sell eggs and potatoes for the last day you worked?"

"I didn't sell any."

"All you sold was butter?"

"Yes."

"You mean butterine, don't you?"

"No, I sold butter and butterine and a few other things."

"And buttermilk and cheese," the officer amended.

No answer.

"How much did you charge for butter?"

"Fifty cents a pound," the prisoner replied, desperately or doggedly, it was difficult to determine which.

"Do you know that butter is selling now for thirty-nine or forty cents a pound?"

"Then it's come down."

"No, it hasn't. It's been around forty cents a pound for several months."

The prisoner fixed his eyes on the ground and said nothing.

"The trouble is, you haven't done your wife's grocery shopping, or you could tell a more plausible string of lies," Mr. Buckley commented. "Now, let me tell you this: It's been a long time since you saw the inside of a grocery store."

"If you don't want to believe me, it's up to you," snarled the prisoner.

"Now, Mr. Howard," the inquisitor continued, "your friends, I am told, addressed you as Captain. Why was that?"

This query stimulated a little brilliance in the fellow.

"I run a grocery boat on the river," he said. "I don't do much clerking, but supply groceries to several stores from a wholesale house."

"So that is your explanation for not being very familiar with retail prices, is it?" Mr. Buckley inferred.

"Yes."

"Well," the Government "sweater" went on, "your story doesn't hang together very well."

"You don't want it to hang together," the prisoner snapped. "You're here to make me out a liar. You don't want the truth. You haven't got no right to keep me here."

"He claimed the rights of a citizen of the United States and defied us to interfere with him," interposed Mr. Baker, who, together with Mr. Perry, had been listening eagerly to this quizzing process.

"How's that?" Mr. Buckley demanded.

"Why, Mr. Perry's son and I pulled guns on him and his three companions, when they threatened us with clubs, and this fellow pointed out what he said was the international boundary line between them and us and defied us to cross over and capture them. I made my bull-dog look at him squarely in the eye and hypnotized him over onto this side of the boundary line between the United States and Canada and made a prisoner of him."

"Where is that international boundary line?" Mr. Buckley asked.

"Right here," Mr. Baker replied, rising from his camp chair and walking about fifteen feet to the stake that the prisoner had designated as indicating the line beyond which any hostile advance must be regarded as a foreign invasion.

"Who put that stake there?" he inquired, shifting his penetrating glance from one to another of the three men before him.

"I don't know," replied Mr. Perry and Mr. Baker almost in one breath.

The prisoner said nothing, and Mr. Baker spoke for him as follows:

"If this fellow would answer, I presume the only statement he could make is that it was put there by surveyors of the Canadian and United States Governments."

"Humph! Funny surveyor's stake, isn't it?" grunted the Canadian officer, "Methinks we shan't go much farther to prove this fellow a fabricator of fairy tales. So that's the international boundary line, is it?" he asked, eyeing the prisoner keenly.

"I was told it was; that's all I know about it," the latter replied sullenly.

"Well that was a lucky reply if you intend to persist in your policy of evasion," Mr. Buckley declared. "I was about to denounce you as an illustrious liar. The boundary line between the United States and Canada along here, my dear sir, doesn't cut islands in two. If you will examine a map or chart of the Lake of the Thousand Islands, you will see that the boundary line winds like a snake, dodging the islands through its entire course in this part of the St. Lawrence river."

"It was foolish of me to swallow such a yarn as that," said Mr. Baker. "But I called his bluff good and strong. However, I'm much relieved to discover that my credulity was imposed upon; otherwise I might be accused of trying to drag the United States and Canada into war."

All of his auditors, except the prisoner, smiled at this remark. The boys, who had just finished washing the dishes, joined the inquisition group in time to hear Mr. Buckley's last statement and Mr. Baker's "confession of folly."

"I think we have got as much out of this man as we may hope to get at the present time," the officer announced a moment later. "I think I had better take him back with me and you had better come along, Mr. Baker, and swear out a warrant charging him with kidnapping."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do if my son is not returned to me to-night or early in the morning," answered the man thus addressed. "I suppose you have no objection to remaining here over night."

"Oh, no; it'll be easier to take care of the prisoner here over night than to work overtime, going back at night, and jail him. But we'll have to keep careful watch over him to-night and see that he doesn't escape."

"Maybe we'd better lock him up in one of the staterooms of the yacht," Mr. Perry suggested.

"Yes, and keep a good watch over him all night," Cub put in. "We want to make sure those three friends of his don't come back after dark and let 'im out"

"I'll watch with Mr. Buckley," Mr. Baker volunteered. "We're both armed and I don't think there's any chance of our being taken by surprise."

"We'll watch in two-hour shifts," Mr. Buckley proposed. "In that way we'll keep fresh and on the alert, so that there'll be less danger of being taken by surprise."

"Very well, that's agreed upon, if it's satisfactory to Mr. Perry," the officer announced.

Further attempts to get information out of the prisoner, bearing on the whereabouts of the place of concealment of Mr. Baker's son, were unavailing, and at last they separated into two parties for the night, Mr. Buckley and Mr. Baker taking charge of the prisoner on board the Catwhisker and Mr. Perry and the boys distributing the sleeping quarters among themselves in the camp.

But before the latter retired a new radio thrill was added to their adventures.



CHAPTER XXIV

"Something Happens"

"Something's going to happen to-night," Bud remarked to his three boy friends when the four found themselves alone after the departure of the prisoner under guard. Mr. Perry had accompanied the officer and Mr. Baker to the yacht to aid them in arranging comfortable quarters for the night.

"What makes you think that?" Cub inquired, while he and Hal and Max all gathered around the speaker, whose remark afforded stimulus in harmony with the weird twilight shadows around them.

"I bet I said only what you fellows were all thinking about when I spoke," Bud ventured by way of indirect reply.

"I felt it in my bones," Hal declared. "Bud didn't have any more reason to think something is going to happen to-night than all of us have. If something surprising doesn't happen, I shall be—"

"—surprised," finished Max, whereupon there was a chorus of laughter.

"Whatever happens, or doesn't happen, Hal is going to be surprised," Cub concluded facetiously.

"I think we all will be surprised," said Bud.

"Surprise party," shouted Hal.

"Bum surprise party without any girls," Cub added.

"Well, anyway, I think we ought to keep watch here to guard against the kind of surprise party we wouldn't like," Bud declared.

"I agree with you there, old boy," Cub put in quickly. "Whether or not anything happens, it would be jolly to have watches and relieve one another the way they used to do out west among the Indians and outlaws and road agents."

"I bet they do it yet in some places out there," said Max.

"Course they do," Cub concurred. "You can't tell me that the day of outlaws is gone. Think of the automobile bandits we have now-a-days. They'll be raiding with airplanes next."

"No, I don't believe that," Hal objected. "They couldn't use an airplane to any advantage. We won't have any more stage coach robbers or pirates on the high seas, and I don't think there's any chance of much of that sort of thing in the air, but there's a good chance for some bad doings in the air in another way."

"How's that?" asked Max.

"We've all had some experience with it, and you ought to know what I mean."

"Oh, I know," declared Bud. "You mean radio."

"Sure," replied Hal. "There are going to be a lot of con men at work in the air or some way in connection with radio; you see if there are not."

"They've been at work already," said Cub. "There's been a good deal in the papers about the games they work. But I'd like to know the truth about the fellow who tried to keep us from coming on this trip to find Mr. Baker's son."

"I bet he's somethin' more than a college sophomore," said Bud. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's connected in some way with the fellows who kidnapped our Thousand Island Crusoe."

"A big radio plot, eh?" Hal inferred.

"Maybe," Bud replied.

"What for? What could they be up to? Pretty far fetched isn't it?"

"Yes, maybe; but, you know, it's our business to think up every possible solution and then find out which one fits the facts."

"All right, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, but where's the sense in figuring this as a big radio plot unless we can see a sensible answer to it?" Hal demanded.

"Yes, Bud, it's pretty far fetched," ruled the dominating Cub. "You'll have to think up an answer to your conundrum before we can consider it. Why should a college freshman be hazed in the manner that Mr. Baker's son was hazed just so that some men, confederates of the hazers, could kidnap him? And then why should one of the hazers work the kind of game that that mysterious fellow worked to checkmate us in this rescue trip of ours if the purpose was just to kidnap Mr. Baker's son, after all? The sophomores had to kidnap him in the first place. Why go through all that Robinson Crusoe nonsense if the end was to be just a plain kidnapping?"

"Then you think there's no connection between the hazing and the kidnapping," said Bud.

"I don't see how there can be. There's nothing showed up yet that makes it look reasonable."

As Cub was making his last statement Mr. Perry returned to the camp. The speculative subject of discussion was then dropped for others more immediately practical.

"What did you do with the prisoner?" Hal inquired. "Did you lock 'im up in a stateroom?"

"That's what we did, and I don't believe there's much chance of his getting away with an armed guard constantly near his door," Mr. Perry replied.

"Are his hands and feet tied?" asked Cub,

"No, we decided that wasn't necessary. There's no way he could open the door without making a noise; so we thought we'd let him rest easy, and perhaps he'd be in a better humor in the morning and more willing to talk."

"We've been talking the matter over and we're all afraid something's going to happen to-night," said Hal.

"What do you think is going to happen?" asked Mr. Perry.

"We haven't any idea."

"Some more mystery, eh?" smiled the leader of the expedition. "Well, that isn't at all surprising, in view of the gloominess of our surroundings. Suppose we have a light on the subject. Cub, bring out the flash-lights."

The latter went into the tent and soon reappeared with four dry-battery lights. These he laid on the table in fan-like arrangement, so that they threw a flood of light in all directions.

"I don't feel like going to bed yet," said Cub. "Let's stay up a while and—"

"—listen-in," finished Hal.

"Yes, let's do," exclaimed Bud eagerly.

"I wasn't thinking of that," Cub admitted; "but it's better than what I had in mind. All right, Hal, tune 'er up. This is a peach of a night for long distance receiving."

Hal needed no second bidding and soon he was busy with coil and detector. Cub's "weather report" proved to be accurate, for in a few moments he announced:

"Here's Schenectady, New York, with some opera."

Over went the switch and with the move came a hornful of vocal resonance. They listened eagerly to the end of the program and then Hal began to tune about for "something else doing" in the ether. Presently he "straightened up" in an attitude of close attention, and his radio friends all realized that he had found something of more than ordinary interest.

"Here's a Watertown newspaper looking for information about us," he announced excitedly after a few moments of tense listening.

The other boys sprang forward with exclamations of wonder, Bud and Cub donning the other two phone head-pieces.

"Shall I give him the information?" Hal asked a few moments later, turning to Mr. Perry.

"Whom is he talking to?" the latter inquired.

"Some Canadian amateur who's been listening in to us a good deal of the time."

"I don't see why you shouldn't tell him everything, Mr. Perry. He's a reporter, isn't he?"

"Yes, I think he has his own private set and he's looking for a big scoop."

"Give it to him, by all means," Mr. Perry directed heartily. "Now the whole country will be aroused over this affair."

Hal managed to attract the attention of the reporter, although he did not know his call, and pretty soon the ether was alive with a torrent of thrills for the ambitious representative of the Fourth Estate. For half an hour the "radio interview" continued, during which many names and addresses were given and dramatic details were recited in the most approved manner of exciting spontaneity. At last, however, the close came with an announcement from the reporter that he was going to get a motor boat, make a dash to Friday Island, and "scoop the world". Hal gave him a careful description of the location of the island and assured the reporter that they probably would remain there a day or two longer.

"Now, we'd all better go to bed," Mr. Perry announced after Hal had tapped goodnight to the Watertown scribe.

"We ought to arrange some watches first," Bud urged, unforgetful of his prediction that something was going to happen before morning.

"Why do you think something more is going to happen?" inquired Hal. "You're a good forecaster, Bud, for your prediction has been fulfilled already. Something did happen when I caught that reporter and gave him our story."

"I'll say so," Cub "slanged" wisely. "We'll all have to take our hats off to you, tee-hee."

"Hal hasn't tee-heed for twenty-four hours in my hearing," Mr. Perry said reprovingly.

"That's right, Cub," declared Bud. "A little while ago I heard him laugh right down deep from his lungs."

"Out-door exercise is working wonders for him," Cub opined with deductive superiority.

"Well, anyway," said Mr. Perry; "I agree with Bud that we ought to have some watches to-night. I believe in taking warning from Bud's prediction. There are five of us. Who wants the first watch?"

Nobody answered.

"I'll take the watch beginning about 1:30 o'clock," said Bud. "If anything happens, it'll be between then and 2:30."

"Brave boy!" commented Cub solemnly. "I'll take next-best place, immediately following your watch."

"Give me the one just before Bud's," said Hal. "There may be something doing between now and then you know. If anybody invades the camp at 1:30 o'clock sharp, I'll call Bud and go to bed and let him repel the invaders."

"What a methodical bunch of boys!" Mr. Perry exclaimed.

"Due to the mathematical training we've had under you, dad," Cub explained.

"I'll take the first watch, if it suits everybody," Max announced.

"Say, father, you ought to let us have your automatic while we're on watch," Cub suggested.

"Nothing doing," replied the cautious adult, shaking his head vigorously. "I'd rather run the risk of being wiped out by a band of bandits than to run the risk of your shooting one of us if we should happen to walk in our sleep. If any of you boys see or hear anything suspicious, just call me, and I'll do the shooting, if any is to be done. You may arm yourselves with some good stout clubs if you wish to, however."

And so it was thus arranged, and while Max took his post on a camp chair in front of the tent, the other four sought rest on their cots under the canvas shelter.



CHAPTER XXV

Bud Shoots

For nearly half an hour Bud had kept his eyes fixed almost continuously on a certain spot in the dark shadow at the edge of the thicket directly south of the tent, which faced west. His attention had been drawn to this spot thirty or forty times after he relieved Max at 1:30 o'clock, and the cause of his interest was a slight movement in the shadow, suggesting a shifting of position by an animal of considerable size.

The moon was up, but not high enough to shed much light in the open area in which the tent was pitched. The sky was clear, and because of the deep shadows in which this spot was merged, the heavens, to Bud's eyes, were studded with myriads of gem-like brilliants.

In the dim light thus afforded, the boy sentinel was able to make out what appeared to be portions of the form of a man partly hidden in the bushes, which grew at heights varying from three feet to six or seven feet from the ground. Meanwhile he congratulated himself repeatedly for a bit of very ordinary ingenuity he had resorted to in order to prepare himself for any emergency of more or less menacing outlook.

Soon after Mr. Perry announced his intention not to allow any of the boys to have possession of his pistol while on guard, Bud's mind became busy on plans for the contrivance of a substitute. In accord with Mr. Perry's concession, each of the boys cut for himself a stout stick to be used as a weapon of defense if necessary, and to supplement this Bud decided first to gather a few dozen stones about the size of a hen's egg in order that he might exercise his skill at throwing if any suspicious looking objects should appear to his view.

Then he happened to remember that he had a large rubber band in a small and little-used pocket of his coat. He had put it there for no particular reason, perhaps merely to save it. He had found it about three weeks before and the unusual size and strength of elasticity of the band was enough to interest any boy in the habit of seeing the adventurous possibilities of little things.

With the aid of his searchlight, Bud found a small forked limb in a tree at the edge of the open area, immediately after he took charge of the guard post, and cut it off. Then he returned to his seat near the tent and began to whittle. The purpose of this whittling must soon have been evident to an observer, for he held the object up frequently and viewed it, with the calculating eye of a "dead shot," until at last he was satisfied with the length and "grip" of the handle and the symmetry and trim of the prongs of a fork.

Bud was always very methodical in his youthful mechanics. Everything he made must be "just so," hence the results were usually effective, as well as artistic to a degree. In this instance, even the notches that he cut around the extreme ends of the prongs were neatly grooved, in spite of the limitation of the light in which he worked. The only regret he had was the fact that he possessed no good strong cord, about the size of fishline, with which to attach two separate sections of the rubber band to the prongs at the grooves. As substitute for such cord he had provided himself with some strands of the rope with which the hands of their prisoner, "Captain" Howard, had been tied. After all the other details of his mechanical labor had been completed, he took from one of his pockets an old and inexpensive pouch-like pocketbook, emptied the contents into a trouser pocket and proceeded to cut out a section of the pouch to a size and shape suited to his needs. The rubber band he had cut into two equal lengths and in the leather section from his pocketbook he cut two small holes near opposite edges.

The assembling of the parts of his contrivance was now speedily accomplished, resulting in a very neat hand-catapult of a kind with which every boy is familiar. After testing the strength of the connections by stretching the rubbers several times to thrice their ordinary length, Bud looked about him and soon gathered a supply of small stones suitable for missiles.

He was thus engaged when he first observed a movement in the shadow of the thicket to the south of his position. Then, indeed, he congratulated himself on the preparation he had just made to defend himself and his companions against stealthy and hostile movements on the part of the enemy about the camp under cover of the darkness.

Bud was not, by nature, a blood-thirsty boy. All of these preparations for battle were made without the slightest thought of the actual effect of one of his missiles should it hit his mark. His industry was inspired more by the mechanical act than by any picture of human pain that might result. Hence, when the time came for him to make use of his weapon "with deadly intent," he found himself in a hesitant frame of mind. He knew that some animal, human or otherwise, was eyeing the camp with studied interest, and it was difficult to imagine other than a human being capable of such interest.

Bud finally came to the conclusion that the animal half hidden in the shadow of the bushes was a man, and that the latter's interest was centered in "Captain" Howard, whom he doubtless believed to be held prisoner within the four canvas walls of the tent.

"I bet he's one of those four men that took Hal and me and marooned us on that other island," the boy mused. "Of course, he's looking for a chance to set our prisoner free, but he's doomed to disappointment. My goodness!"

Bud whirled around suddenly as a new possibility occurred to him, stimulated by a slight noise like the cautious tread of a man's foot. The next instant a cry of alarm almost escaped him as he saw a human form near the entrance of the tent.

"My goodness!" he repeated aloud, but in subdued tone, as he recognized the approaching youth. "You'd better announce yourself, Max, before you come onto an armed person under such circumstances as these."

"Armed!" echoed the Canadian youth in surprise. "I thought Mr. Perry said—"

"Oh, yes, he said we couldn't have his automatic, but I've been busy making a very effective substitute since I came out here—see?"

Bud exhibited his weapon by drawing back the leather sling, thereby stretching the elastics to their full capacity. His searchlight he had switched off after finishing the work on his catapult, and the only illumination in the open area came from the moon over the tree tops.

"Did you make that out here to-night?" demanded Max in astonishment.

"Sure—why not?" was the other's reply.

"Well, you're some boy, all right. I'd never 'ave thought of it. If anybody means mischief around here, he'd better look out, with a weapon like that in your hands."

"You bet he had," Bud returned with a sturdiness of purpose, indicating to his Canadian friend that he meant business. "And there's at least one prawler around here already. I'm glad you came out here, for I was just about to come in and wake up the whole camp."

"Is that so?" whispered Max. "Why, what's doing?"

"I don't want to let on that I know anybody is prowling about," Bud replied; "but if you'll watch those bushes straight south of here for a while you'll make out the form of a man half hidden there. He moves a little every now and then. Be careful and don't let him know you known he's there."

"I won't," Max replied excitedly. "Why don't you shoot at him?"

"I don't want to do that unless I have to," Bud replied. "Besides, I'd like to know what he's up to. Why did you come out here? Couldn't you sleep?"

"I didn't sleep a wink; I couldn't. My head was in a whirl all the time. I was busy imagining just such things as this. Believe me, it was some spooky job, out here all alone."

"Yes, that's true," Bud agreed. "I'm glad enough to have your company. By the way, you haven't explained how you happened to come here with Mr. Perry. We're mighty glad to have you here, but I was wondering how your folks happened to let you come."

"Mr. Buckley is my uncle," Max replied. "I called him up and told him what was going on out here, and he asked me to come along."

"Oh, that's it," Bud returned. "I was wondering if you Canadian boys are way ahead of us Yankee boys when it comes to doing as you please. My father wouldn't let me come on this trip if Mr. Perry hadn't come along."

"I guess we're not much different from you Yankees," Max replied. "But, talkin' about doing as you please, it seems to me that you went pretty far when you made that slingshot after Mr. Perry said you mustn't have a pistol."

"Oh, that's nothing like a pistol," Bud replied. "You couldn't kill anybody with it."

"I don't know about that," Max answered with a shake of his head. "I wouldn't like to be in front of it when you shot. I bet you could knock a fellow silly with it."

"Maybe I could. Well, anyway, a slingshot's a long way from being a pistol. Have you made that fellow out yet?"

"Yes, you bet I have," answered Max. "I've seen 'im move several times."

"Let's sit down and pretend not to suspect that anybody's watching us," Bud proposed. "Then maybe he'll be a little bolder."

"All right, but we'll have to keep a close watch out of the corner of our eyes."

"Sure. Come on. Here are a couple of chairs."

"Let's sit down facing each other, so that nobody can creep onto us unawares," suggested Max.

"That's a good idea," said Bud.

They seated themselves, face to face and within "whispering distance" of each other and continued their conversation in low tones, but at the same time keeping a sharp lookout for developments.

"This experience has proved one thing," Bud remarked in the course of their continued discussion, "and that is that all our watches ought to be in two's."

"Yes, a single watcher gets pretty lonesome, and, besides, it's too easy for him to be taken by surprise. Now, there's a sample of what I say. Don't look yet; he'll know we see him. He's moved, farther to the east, and now he's creeping up behind the tent."

"We must make sure that he's alone, or else rouse the rest of the camp," said Bud excitedly. "Keep watch in every direction. I'll turn slowly and get a look at him, and then turn back and pretend not to see him."

This program was observed carefully for a minute or two. Meanwhile the spy crept closer and closer, crawling like a serpentine quadruped and making fairly good progress withal. At last, however, Bud decided that it was time for him to do something to put a stop to this proceeding.

Without giving his companion any warning as to his intention, he lifted the catapult eye-line high, pulled back the sling, in which all this time he had held a stone nearly half the size of a hen's egg, and let it fly.

Thud!

That the missile hit the mark hard was indicated, first, by the sound of the blow, itself, and, second, by the muffled cry of agony that followed. The next instant the victim, who seemed to be struggling to retain his "quadruped balance," rolled over with a moan of impotent agony.



CHAPTER XXVI

The Sling Shot Victim

"What's the matter, boys?"

Mr. Perry appeared at the entrance of the tent with this question on his lips. The boys turned quickly, while Cub's father advanced nearer to pursue his inquiry.

"I shot somebody," Bud replied.

"Shot somebody!" Mr. Perry exclaimed. "What with?"

"This," the boy answered, exhibiting his slingshot. "Some fellow was prowling around here and I thought it was time to stop him. He was standing in those bushes over there for a long time, and I suppose he thought he was fully concealed, but I saw him. Then he started to crawl up close to the tent, and I let him have a good solid, heavy stone. It went like a bullet—these rubbers are awful strong, and I pulled them way back."

"He isn't killed; he's crawling away," Max interrupted at this point.

"We mustn't allow that," declared Bud. "We must find out who he is and what he was up to."

Just then Hal and Cub appeared on the scene, and a few words sufficed to explain to them what had occurred. All of the campers on retiring had kept on their day clothes, in order that they might be ready for action in case of trouble in the night.

"Come on, we must stop him," Cub announced.

This seemed to be the opinion of all, including Mr. Perry, and a general move was made in the direction of the slowly retreating injured spy. They soon overtook him and threw a flood of illumination about him with their search-lights, which they had picked up in the dark almost as instinctively as a grandmother picks up her glasses in the morning.

"Why, he's a boy!"

Bud was the only one present who gave utterance to this discovery aloud, but the "exclamation" flashed mentally in the head of every other youthful investigator in the group. As Mr. Perry was not easily mystified, we must take it for granted that he was not easily astonished, so that probably he did not feel like giving vent to anything of the nature of an exclamation.

"Well," said the latter quietly; "we must take this youngster back to the camp and give him some hospital treatment. Can you walk?" he added, addressing the victim of Bud's slingshot.

"You don't think I'd be down here if I could, do you?" moaned the fellow sarcastically. "But just wait till I get over this and I'll fix the fellow that hit me."

"Let's not waste any time with him here," urged Mr. Perry. "Some of you boys pick him up carefully, so as not to hurt him, and carry him into the tent. We'll give him a quizzing there."

All the young members of the Catwhisker party had had first aid instruction, so that they knew how to lift the injured boy and carry him with a minimum of pain to the sufferer. A minute later the victim was lying on one of the cots in the tent, with his captors gathered around him, undoubtedly more concerned about the mystery of his presence than in the extent of his injuries.

"No, boys, we mustn't try to get his story from him until we take care of his wound and see to it that he is resting easy"; Mr. Perry interposed.

Accordingly the wound was examined and found to consist of a very bad bruise on the side of the right hip. Bud's missile had struck the intruder at a point where there was little flesh, right on a protruding ridge of the hip bone, and it was easy to see that the blow must have been very painful.

"I don't think it's very serious," Mr. Perry remarked after examining the wound; "but I doubt if this boy will want to be running around very much for several days. About all we can do is to apply some liniment to the wound and encourage it, by careful treatment, to heal as rapidly as possible."

A bottle of liniment was accordingly produced and an application administered by Mr. Perry. This seemed to ease the prisoner-patient somewhat, although he made no effort to stand up, or even to sit up.

"He may have a bone fracture," Mr. Perry remarked, after he had finished his first-aid ministration, "It's a pretty bad wound, after all. We'll have to take him to the nearest physician in the morning if he doesn't show decided improvement by that time. I didn't dare rub the liniment in because the slightest touch was so painful."

"The skin isn't broken," Bud observed, with a tone of real concern, for, in spite of the fact that the fellow was there on no friendly mission, the catapult "dead shot" now felt no exultation over his deed.

"No, or I could not have used the liniment," Mr. Perry replied. "His clothing protected him against a broken wound. By the way," he continued, turning to the victim, who lay on one of the camp cots that formed a part of the regular equipment of the Catwhisker; "who are you and what were you doing here?"

"Never you mind who I am or what I was doing here," snapped the youth, who appeared to be a few years older than the boy Catwhiskerites and their Canadian friend, Max. "You wait till my father gets after you. He'll clean you all up."

"And who may your father be?" inquired Mr. Perry with provoking calmness.

"You'll find out who my father is, just you wait. You haven't any right here. These islands belong to my father and—"

"Oh—ho!" interrupted Mr. Perry in tone of sudden discovery. "So that's the way the wind blows, is it? I get you now. You're the son of one of those kidnappers."

The boy's face twitched, possibly with pain, more likely with alarm at his having betrayed his identity so foolishly.

"We'll get down to the bottom of this mystery yet," Cub declared confidently.

"Yes, all we need is a little mathematics, Mr. Perry, and we'll soon solve the problem."

"We've had some mathematics already," Mr. Perry smiled.

"I didn't see it," returned Cub. "Maybe I'm slow."

"No, you haven't got farther than your One's in the addition table. You can add 1 to any other number, but you can't tell how much 2 plus 2 are."

"All right, I'm foolish," admitted Cub. "Spring your joke."

"This is a rather serious situation in which to spring a joke," reminded the "foolish boy's" father. "But didn't you hear me put two and two together when this fellow declared that this island belonged to his father?"

Laughter greeted this sally, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

"By the way, I wonder if we haven't got this youngster's father a prisoner on the Catwhisker," Mr. Perry continued. Then he turned toward the youth on the cot and inquired:

"Is your father a tall, angular fellow with a smart, flip way of talking, and do his friends call him captain?"

The catapult victim did not answer, but the expression on his face was all the evidence that was needed to indicate what an honest reply would have been.

"I thought so," said Mr. Perry. "Now, would you like to make a trip down to the landing and occupy a stateroom in the Catwhisker with your father? The Catwhisker, by the way, is a yacht in which we made a trip from Oswego, New York, to rescue a boy marooned by some young scamps on this island. After he was marooned, your father and his friends kidnapped him and took him away. Now, what we want to know is, where is he?"

Still the wounded prisoner made no reply.

"There's going to be some awful serious trouble for your outfit if that boy isn't returned," Mr. Perry went on, waxing fiercer and more fierce in his manner as he purposely worked up a towering rage for the sake of its effect on the boy on the cot. "Would you like me to turn you over to the father of the boy whom your scoundrel gang kidnapped? What do you think would happen to you if he got hold of you? Well, he's on the boat down at the landing, and your father is there too, under lock and key. And before long we're going to have the whole gang of you under lock and key. Now, don't you think it is best for you to give up your secret and tell where that boy is?"

The prisoner was now thoroughly frightened. He shrunk away from the glowering owner of the Catwhisker as if he feared the man's clenched fists were about to rain blows on his wounded body. At last he gasped in trembling tones:

"I don't know, I don't know."

"Don't know what?" thundered Mr. Perry.

"I don't know—I don't know—where he is," stuttered the terrified boy.

"And I don't believe you, young sir. Do you understand me? You're not telling the truth. Come on, boys, we'll turn him over to the father of the boy they kidnapped."

"Oh, no, no; don't, please don't, mister," pleaded the scared youngster. "I don't know where that boy is; please sir, I don't. But I'll ask my father to tell if you'll take me to him."

"There, I thought we'd get something out of you," said Mr. Perry in tone of satisfaction.

"But you didn't do it with mathematics this time, dad," Cub declared in a voice that indicated full confidence of victory.

"Oh, yes, I did, my youthful minus quality," his father flashed back. "I multiplied my wrath very righteously, and this fellow is going to have his woes multiplied and his joys subtracted and his peace of mind divided into a thousand more pieces if he doesn't get busy on the square and see to it that young Alvin Baker is returned to his father."

"He isn't hurt nearly as bad as he pretends to be, Mr. Perry," Hal put in as the "mathematical man" indicated that he had "spoken his speech". "He moved his leg several times. You better watch out or he'll be jumping up and making a dash for liberty."

"I'd been noticing that," Mr. Perry replied. "I wouldn't insult Bud's catapulting powers by intimating that this fellow wasn't pretty badly hurt; but I do think we've overestimated the extent of the injury. He was completely knocked out by the blow, but he's been recovering here pretty rapidly. Come on, now, Master Howard—what's your first name—won't tell, eh?—all right; we'll find out in due time—come on, let's talk a walk down to papa and that terrible man whose claws are just aching for revenge for the loss of his son. What—you can't get up? Well, boys, pick him up again and carry him. Be careful, of course, for he's in some pain yet. Now, we'll march. Bud, you bring up the rear with your mediaeval rubber pistol, and I'll march beside you. If anybody, tries to interfere with us there'll be some crack-shot shooting."

Hal, Cub, Bud, and Max picked up the wounded boy in approved relief-ambulance-corps style and carried him, with a few groans and moans from their burden, across the open area, through the narrow belt of bushes, to the top of the hill that overlooked the landing. There Mr. Perry called a halt and then hailed the yacht thus:

"Ahoy, the Catwhisker."

All listened breathlessly, but no answer came. Then the owner of the boat put greater volume in his voice and repeated the hail:

"Ahoy, the Catwhisker! Ahoy, the Catwhisker!"

This time an answer came, but hardly in the manner expected.

A muffled, rattling, rackety noise came from within the cabin, the door of which seemed to be closed. It sounded as if someone were pounding and kicking the walls like an insane patient in an unpadded room.

"What in the world does that mean?" Cub demanded, giving utterance to the apprehension that thrilled every other member of the party.

"I don't know," his father replied; "but I'm going to find out pretty quick. You boys stay here with the prisoner. I'm going down there to investigate."

With this announcement, he drew his automatic for ready use and began to descend the steps they had fashioned in the stony hill before establishing their camp on Friday Island.



CHAPTER XXVII

Chased Out

The investigation did not take long. The boys watched Mr. Perry as he crossed the moonlit deck of the Catwhisker and entered the cabin. A few minutes later he returned on the deck and with him were two men, whom the observers on shore recognized as Mr. Baker and the Canadian officer. Then Mr. Perry called out:

"Come on down here, boys."

A minute later they were on board the yacht with their prisoner. Cub, the most impatient of their number, was first to speak.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Matter enough," growled the officer. "Those scoundrels outwitted us, locked us in the stateroom, and our prisoner is gone."

The boys were so astonished that not one of them uttered a sound.

"I haven't heard their story yet," Mr. Perry interposed. "We'll all get it together."

"It won't take long to tell how they did it," Mr. Buckley began. Then he seemed to hesitate, glancing in some embarrassment at Mr. Baker.

"I'll take all the blame," the latter confessed at this juncture. "In fact, there's nobody to blame but me. I wasn't asleep at my post, but my wits must have been slumbering, for one of those fellows stole up behind me and gave me a rap on the head that put me to sleep sure enough. When I woke up I was in a pitch dark stateroom, with the door locked. Luckily my searchlight had not been taken out of my pocket, and soon I had the place well enough lighted to determine where I was. I also found something else; I found Mr. Buckley in the same condition that I had been in—unconscious. Mr. Buckley can tell you the rest."

"There's absolutely nothing for me to tell," Mr. Buckley replied, "I went to sleep on the cot in the cabin and woke up with a headache in the stateroom. Mr. Baker was working over me as if I'd been shell-shocked on the battlefield. I think we both were sandbagged, for there were no bruises on our heads. We were locked in and probably would have been driven to the necessity of breaking the door open if Mr. Perry hadn't come when he did and let us out."

"I found both the stateroom door and the cabin door locked with the keys on the outside," Mr. Perry explained. "Well, we have this consolation at least: While we were losing one prisoner, we were capturing another."

"What do you mean by that?" Mr. Buckley; demanded quickly.

"Here's the new prisoner right here," was the other's reply, indicating the catapult victim who had suddenly found himself able to stand with his weight on his uninjured leg and aided by two of the Catwhisker boys.

"Who is he—one of that gang?" asked the officer.

"He's a son of one of them, probably the one who was rescued from you."

"Lock him up in that stateroom at once, and I'll have something more to tell you," Mr. Buckley ordered.

The order was speedily obeyed; then all gathered eagerly about the government officer.

"The situation is this," the latter began. "When those rascals raided this boat they robbed me of my gun and I suppose they got yours, too, didn't they, Mr. Baker?"

The father of the missing freshman slapped his hand on his "pistol pocket" and then gasped:

"Yes, it's gone."

"I thought so," continued the officer. "Now, we have an armed enemy to contend with. If they get wind of the fact that we have the son of one of them a prisoner on this yacht, you can expect a fusillade of bullets popping through your portholes any time. My advice is to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Where'll we go?" asked Mr. Perry.

"We'll decide that after we get away. If you want to keep your prisoner, don't stay here."

"Dad's got his automatic yet," Cub reminded with youthful confidence in a chamber full of shells.

"And I've got my slingshot," chimed in Bud.

"Tee-hee," laughed Hal.

"Oh you can laugh all you want to, Tee-hee, but if it hadn't been for my slingshot, we wouldn't have any prisoner at all right now," Bud flung back with a suggestion of resentment.

"Yes, we must give Bud credit for all he's done," Mr. Perry agreed. "We owe a good deal to his ingenuity."

"We ought to take our prisoner over to Rockport and put him in jail," suggested Mr. Baker.

"On what ground?" asked Mr. Buckley. "What would you charge him with? He hasn't done anything except spy around your camp here. You couldn't put him in jail for that and keep him there any time. Besides, his father claims to own these islands—maybe he does."

"Well, what are you in favor of doing?" asked Mr. Baker.

"I think we ought to move your entire camp outfit to this boat and then stand off from the shore for a while and keep our eyes on this place with spyglasses—have you got a pair?"

"Yes," Mr. Perry replied; "two good strong pair."

"Then we'd better get busy at once before they suspect what has become of this boy we have here."

"All right, let's get busy at once," said Mr. Perry. "The boys, however, must stay here on the boat. We don't want to run any risk of their falling into the hands of the enemy."

"Oh, Mr. Perry, let me go along with you and get my radio outfit," Hal begged.

The yachtsman looked at the pleading youth for a few moments in hesitating manner.

"I don't know," he replied slowly. "Still, I suppose we could protect one of you if anything happened. Well, inasmuch as we men don't know anything about disconnecting a radio hook-up. I guess we'll take you for one trip. Come on; no more delay. Keep a good lookout, Cub and Bud, and set up a holler if anything goes wrong. And, Bud, be careful not to mistake us for the enemy when we return; we don't want to be hit by that sling of yours."

"We ought to have a signal, so we could be sure to recognize each other," Bud suggested.

"All right, what'll it be?"

"The Catwhisker ought to have an official signal," said Hal. "Why not make it 'meow'?"

"Very good; it's adopted."

The first trip was made without incident worthy of special note. Hal and Mr. Baker brought all of the radio set except the aerial, and Mr. Perry and Mr. Buckley each carried a load of camp equipment on their return trip. Then Mr. Perry insisted that Hal remain on the yacht, and the three men went ashore again for another load.

But from this trip they came back sooner than looked for, and the manner of their return alarmed the boys, who expected momentarily to hear pistol shots fired at them from the shore. The three men came down the hill to the landing almost at a run, and as they reached the deck, Mr. Perry announced in cautious tones:

"Boys, we'll have to leave that camp as it is for a while. Those men are up there watching for us. We don't want to get into a gun battle with them; so we're going to back out of here as fast as we can."



CHAPTER XXVIII

A Radio Eavesdropper

The Catwhisker was backed out of the narrow inlet or strait, in which she had been moored, without interference on the part of the hostile men on Friday Island. Whether or not the latter knew of the departure of the yacht, the men and boys on board had no way to determine. It is probable, however, that they heard the coughing and sputtering of the gasoline engine and that they watched proceedings from any of the numerous places of concealment afforded by rocks, bushes, and trees along the shore elevations.

At any rate, the most careful scrutiny of the deep shadows revealed nothing to the Catwhiskerites and their guests as the yacht worked its way out of the inclosure, and presently they exchanged congratulations one with another on the assurance that they were well out of pistol-shot range from the group of islands.

"How far do you think we had better go?" asked Mr. Perry addressing the Canadian officer after this matter of concern had been well taken care of.

"Oh, I think we ought to find a mooring place at some island about a mile from here and try to get a little sleep before daybreak," Mr. Buckley replied. "I'm sure Mr. Baker and I need some brain rest after the slams we got on our craniums. I've got the worst headache right now that I ever had in my life."

"So have I," Mr. Baker chimed in.

"All right, let's not discuss this affair any more to-night," Mr. Perry proposed. "Boys, you may as well get your wits together to arrange the most comfortable sleeping quarters possible under the circumstances. I guess about all our bedding is at the camp."

The boys set about to do as suggested, but it was not long before they realized that wits could do little for them regarding rest convenience for the remainder of the night. Presently they reported back the following results to Mr. Perry:

One lounge in the cabin, bedding enough for one of the berths and enough other bedding and articles of clothing to be rolled into pillow substitutes for half a dozen sleepers.

Presently Mr. Buckley, who had been keeping a sharp lookout ahead in the moonlight, supplemented by the strong headlight of the Catwhisker, pointed out what seemed to be a suitable mooring place for the yacht for the rest of the night, and a careful run-in was made, accompanied by pole-soundings to prevent running aground. The depth proved to be O.K., and in a short time the yacht was tied up to a small tree which leaned over almost far enough to dip some of its branches into the water. As all were eager to waste no time belonging to nature's nocturnal period of rest, the pillow substitutes were soon rolled and the various sleeping quarters assigned according to varying degrees of necessity. Because of their "sand-bag headaches," Mr. Baker and Mr. Buckley were given the cabin lounge and the available stateroom berth. Although they felt reasonably safe against further intrusion in their new quarters, nevertheless it was deemed wise to maintain a series of one-hour watches, the first of which fell to Mr. Perry by his own choice. Before the general retirement of all but the first watch, an inspection was made of the stateroom prison, and the boy prisoner was found to be fast asleep on the floor with one arm for a pillow.

Hal was given the last watch, beginning shortly before the break of day. Bud who had preceded him, handed over his slingshot together with a supply of stones which he had brought in one of his pockets from Friday Island. Hal accepted the catapult with profound respect, expressing full confidence in his ability to repel a formidable array of would-be boarders with a weapon of such knock-out record.

After it was light enough for him to see what he was doing, Hal occupied his time by connecting his radio set for service on the yacht once more. When this task was completed, he set about to prepare breakfast, deciding that he would let the sleepers get another hour's rest, as he could prepare the morning meal alone almost as quickly as with the aid of one or two others. He had already learned the truth of the housewife's axiom that "two are a crowd in a kitchen, and three are a throng."

At 7 o'clock he called all the sleepers to breakfast. The two "sand-bag headaches" were no more, and everybody was as cheerful as could have been expected under the circumstances.

"What are we going to do about Bud's prisoner?" Hal inquired as they were about to gather around the cabin table, which was well loaded with appetizing dishes, some of them steaming hot.

"Oh, we'll have to give him some breakfast," replied Mr. Perry, starting for the prison-stateroom. "I'd quite forgotten him."

Without more ado, the prisoner was produced and supplied with conveniences to prepare for the morning meal. After he had washed and combed his tousled hair, he presented a fairly respectable appearance and was given a place at the table. He sat through the meal without as much as a "thank you" for dishes passed to him, and the other breakfasters, observing that he was in anything but a cheerful mood, did not attempt to draw him into conversation.

After breakfast the three men on board held a conference, the result of which was an agreement to run back to the Friday Island group and make an inspection of it with glasses from every possible angle. In this way they hoped to be able to obtain a clew relative to the headquarters and activities of the men who had ordered them to move their camp from Friday Island. Then the engine was started, and the course of the Catwhisker directed up stream.

"Now, my friend," remarked Mr. Buckley, addressing the young Canadian; "you'd be perfectly welcome to the freedom of the deck under ordinary circumstances, but the present are extraordinary circumstances, so we'll have to ask you to resort to the pleasures and comforts of the cabin. Boys," he added, addressing the three young Catwhiskerites, "you may go into the cabin, too, and get acquainted with him." Then in lower tone to Cub, who stood near the officer, he suggested: "Maybe he'll be more talkative with you boys than he has been with us men. See if you can't get something out of him."

Cub "tipped" Hal and Bud as to the purpose communicated to him by the Canadian officer, and the three conducted "Bud's prisoner" into the cabin.

But the latter proved to be about as uncommunicative as he had been when the older members of the yacht's company tried to get something out of him. He appeared to be bright enough and not especially coarse grained, so that from the standpoint of quality qualifications, there seemed to be no reason for his sullenness. Hal frankly made a statement to him to this effect, but it produced no result of the kind desired and intended. They got only short, surly returns in response to their most friendly advances.

At last they gave it up and returned on deck. Before leaving the cabin, however, Cub said to the prisoner:

"Now, if you'll promise to stay here and not make any attempt to escape, we won't lock you up. Otherwise we'll have to lock you up in a stateroom."

"I'll promise," was the fellow's laconic response.

"By the way," Bud remarked, as they were about to leave the cabin, "would you mind telling us the handle of your name? We know your father's surname, but we'd like to know how to address you. You're too young for us to call you Mr. Howard."

"You c'n call me Bill, if you want to," the slingshot victim replied.

Hal was particularly impressed with a sly, cunning look in the eyes of the prisoner and told himself that the fellow would bear watching to keep him out of mischief.

"I tell you what I'd like to do," he said to his two friends as they reached the deck. "I'd like to hide in the closet in the cabin and watch that fellow. I bet he'd do something that would help us break his mysterious silence."

"You could steal down into that little alcove near the entrance of the cabin and watch him there through the crack in the door," Bud suggested.

"That's second best choice," said Hal, "I think I'll make use of it at once."

Accordingly he descended the companionway with the greatest caution and succeeded in ensconcing himself in the position suggested by Bud. He had not been there long when he was amply rewarded for his diligence.

He could hear the prisoner moving about in the cabin and a peep through the long narrow aperture along the hinge side of the door acquainted him with the object of the Canadian boy's interest. The latter, apparently, had just seated himself at the table, and with phones to his ears, was in the act of tuning the instrument.

Presently he appeared to be satisfied with this preliminary and put his hand on the sending key. The fellow seemed to be perfectly at home with the outfit. Now the key was tapping and the spark was leaping across the gap. The secret watcher leaned forward eagerly to catch every sound. Yes, it came in genuine enough dots and dashes, and he read them with ever increasing astonishment.

First the operator repeated a Canadian call several times. Then, apparently, the call was acknowledged, and he sent the following message:

"I am prisoner on yacht, Catwhisker, in hands of the fellows I tried to hold back, with radio, as they were leaving Oswego, N.Y. They are determined to solve mystery of your doings. Don't bother about me, but tell pa to clean out his place as soon as possible and then let his prisoner go. They have government officer with them on his trail and will soon find his hiding place and raid it."

"My goodness!" Hal breathed excitedly. "Now I'm getting at the bottom of this affair. That boy is the anonymous amateur who pretended to have a radio wager with Hal's cousin and tried to make us think his SOS was a joke."



CHAPTER XXIX

The End of the "Mystery"

Hal almost held his breath in his eagerness to maintain perfect silence in order that he might "listen-in" to this radio transmission until the sender had telegraphed all that he had in mind to send.

"My, if I only had an extension receiver," he thought. "How I would like to hear what the fellow he's talking with has to say."

Even as this longing came to his mind, "Bill" ceased to send and listened attentively to something that was coming to him "over the wireless." Presently he swung the aerial switch over and began to send again.

"I tell you you are in danger," he dot-and-dashed. "That hiding place is not safe any more. They will have a revenue cutter down on you, before you know what has happened. The government officer suspects the truth, I am dead sure."

A few more sentences of similar purport were sent in reply to other messages received. Then "Bill" cut the radio conversation short with a warning that he did not dare continue it longer and left the table. As he got up from his seat, Hal stepped into the cabin and remarked:

"Congratulations, 'Bill'; I didn't know you were a radio fan. But really, I'm glad to recognize you as an old acquaintance."

"Bill" turned as white as the proverbial sheet and trembled like the aspen of similar associations. Then he blurted out:

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you deny that you were just telegraphing a message to a friend of yours?" Hal demanded.

"No, not at all," replied "Bill". "I guess that ought to convince you I'm not the criminal you're trying to make me out to be."

"I'm not trying to make you out a criminal. I surely hope you're not. No, I don't believe there are many criminals among radio fans and college students."

"College students!"

"Say, 'Bill Howard', don't try to play the innocent to a fellow who's been listening-in to your unconscious confessions ever since you began to talk in your sleep," Hal scoffed with well simulated disgust. "I know well enough who you are. You're one of the sophomores of Edward's College who hazed Alvin Baker by marooning him on that island where his cousin shot you with a slingshot."

"Bill's" lower jaw dropped, and there was some more aspen trembling in his frame.

"You don't need to be so badly scared," Hal went on with a tone of reassurance inspired by a purpose. "Of course that was a pretty raw hazing, but you can get by with it yet if you don't carry your prank any farther. Tell us where your victim is."

"Give me a few days and I'll produce him," the frightened boy pleaded. "He isn't hurt, and nobody's goin' to hurt 'im."

"Well, I'm glad to get that much out of you," Hal declared with profound gratification. "But I don't see why in the world you have to be so mysterious about it. Why not tell me now where he is?"

"I—I—can't," faltered the other.

"Don't you know?"

"No, but I can find out."

Hal was sure the fellow was lying, and he looked at him with accusing penetration.

"You'll have to let me do it my own way," the Canadian youth added stubbornly.

Realizing that he could make no further progress with the prisoner at present, and fearing that it might not be wise to disclose what more he had learned by listening to the wireless messages the hazer had just sent, Hal returned to the deck and recounted his experience in the cabin to his companions. All were assembled at the pilot house when he gave his recital.

"This is important," said Mr. Buckley when the account was finished. "I'm glad you didn't disclose to him the fact that you suspect anything is going on of interest to the Canadian government. He won't be on his guard so much perhaps as he would be if you had put all your cards on the table. By the way, everything seems to be happening in our favor right now. There's a Canadian revenue boat over there. Let's run over that way and hail it."

The boat in question was somewhat larger than the Catwhisker and looked as if it might give the yacht a merry race if the two were matched for a test of speed. She was 300 yards distant and in a few minutes the evicted Friday Islanders had run up within short hailing distance of her. Then Buckley gave a signal, which was recognized, and the two boats were brought close together. A short conversation between Buckley and the commander of the revenue boat was sufficient to acquaint the latter with the situation, and he promised to remain in the vicinity in order that he might come speedily to the aid of the Catwhisker when needed.

Then began the work of careful examination of the Friday Island group with binoculars. The yacht was only a few hundred yards from these islands when the Canadian revenue cutter was sighted. After arrangements for co-operation had been made with the commander of this boat, the Catwhisker began to move slowly around the group, while Mr. Perry and Mr. Buckley examined every detail of their littoral features with strong glasses. Cub was at the wheel, and Mr. Baker, Bud, Hal and Max stood near the two men with the glasses, eagerly waiting for significant results.

"I wonder if this is to be the finishing stroke," said Bud, addressing the two boys near him.

Mr. Perry overheard the "wonder" and replied:

"I am confident that we will solve the whole problem very shortly."

"With mathematics?" asked Hal.

"You see we are moving in a geometric circle, do you not?" Mr. Perry returned with a smile.

"Oh, look there!" suddenly exclaimed Max. "A motor boat."

But there was no need of calling attention to so conspicuous an appearance. All saw it at the same time. It darted out from a narrow passage between two of the smaller islands surrounding the one that Alvin Baker had denominated "Friday." It was a small cabin runabout, very neatly designed and constructed; and apparently with a draft measured only by inches. She made directly for the yacht.

"Catwhisker, ahoy!" called out a youthful voice, and a wide-awake red-haired boy put his head out of one of the port windows of the cabin. "I want to come aboard with important information."

Of course, everybody aboard the Catwhisker was astonished, but Mr. Perry signaled Cub to reverse the engine. This was done, and the yacht soon lost all headway. Then the runabout glided close up to the larger power boat, and the boy who had hailed her sprang over the two adjacent rails. Another boy could be seen in the pilot seat of the smaller craft.

"My name is Halstone," announced the visitor. "I am from—"

His announcement was drowned with exclamations of surprise from his audience.

"Hal Stone!" repeated several in chorus, including the Catwhisker's Hal Stone himself.

"Yes, Halstone," reiterated the challenged youth; Frederick Halstone. "Anything funny about that? I'm the reporter from Watertown who was dot-and-dashing with you folks last night. I got in touch with a friend of mine right away who owns that motor boat, and he was crazy to make the trip here after this big scoop. I'm here representing not only my paper, but the Associated Press. We located Friday Island here without any difficulty. But I brought my radio outfit and loop antenna along and listened in just a short time ago to some messages between somebody who said he was a prisoner on the Catwhisker and another fellow on a boat in the cove I just came out of. You'd hardly think a boat of its size could get in there. It's about the same size as the Catwhisker, and is built and painted like it. I think you'll find the solution of your big mystery is right there. They're loading a lot of stuff in boxes from a cave in the steep bank of that small island next to the big one. The cove is between these two small islands, which, you see, have high banks and are covered with bushes and trees, so that their boat could rest there and be invisible to anybody out on the river or on the shore of the larger island that you call 'Friday'. They're making a big hustle to get away."

"Is there a boy in there?" asked Mr. Baker eagerly.

"Yes, several of them and four men. The men were pretty sore at me for running in there, and they ordered me out. I don't think, however, that there's much love lost between the men and the boys. I suspect the men are smugglers, and the boys have got into a scrape they don't like. There was an exchange of hot words going on just as I ran into their hiding place."

No more time was wasted in the making of explanations. The little revenue cutter was signaled and in less than fifteen minutes half a dozen men, including Mr. Buckley and Mr. Baker, were on the cabin-runabout which again saucily invaded the retreat of the Catwhisker's "double."



CHAPTER XXX

The Result of a Radio Hazing

The raid was a speedy success. "Captain" Howard and his crew of lawbreakers offered no resistance when they saw the odds against them, for each of the men from the revenue cutter was armed and promised to shoot to kill if a hostile hand was raised against them.

Then they made an inspection of the cave, which was of considerable size and lighted with an oil lamp, and there the lost victim of a radio college hazing was found chained to a post that had been driven into the ground floor. He had not suffered from malicious mistreatment in any way, but was chafing under restraint and confinement. He was a little older than the Catwhisker boys, but he had no "college airs" and was soon telling his story as one boy to a group of chums, while the men stood around and drank it all in as eagerly as if they themselves were boys again.

"Bill Howard made the biggest mistake of his life when he confederated with three other sophomores to haze me," Alvin began. "He didn't know his father had a hide-out here when they marooned me on Friday Island. His father owns several motor boats that are used for pleasure excursions, but, I suspect, he wasn't making money fast enough and fell for a scheme put up to him from the other men who are now his companions in crime. They were in touch with a gang of burglars and hold-up men who wanted a means of disposing of their loot. They induced Mr. Howard to consent to the use of one of his boats to convey stolen property of various kinds to this cave as a hiding place, and from here, occasionally, to places of disposal, principally in the United States. Well, Bill's band of hazers unwittingly brought me to these islands, and before long there was a pretty mix-up. The operators of this burglars' 'fence' found me on Friday Island and got the idea, I suppose, that I was spying on them. At first I hoped they would let me go, but I made some foolish remarks, based merely on suspicion, about the character of their business, and they concluded the jig was up and brought me right to this cave, and, of course, after that I could see everything that was going on. Then the hazers appeared on the scene. I suppose they became a little nervous about me. I gathered from conversation I overheard that they stumbled into this place while searching for me and then they were taken partly into the confidence of the lawbreakers. But they're pretty smart boys, if they are sophomores and if their leader is a son of a smuggler of stolen goods, and soon were putting two and two together—"

"More mathematics," interrupted Mr. Perry gravely.

Alvin looked at him curiously, but this was no time for academic digression, and the veiled quip had to await later explanation.

Of course there was more discussion of the strange tangle of events, which now seemed to be about to be cleared up. Indeed, it took many days for them to thrash the subject out completely, but it would hardly do to write another book on matters now essentially explained so we must leave those details to the diversion of Friday Island camp.

The camp was rehabitated, Hal's radio outfit was hooked up again with the island aerial, and all of the Catwhiskerites and their newly discovered radio friends enjoyed a week's undisturbed outing in the midst of recent personal romantic associations.

As for the "radio hazers," they went back home with no spirit of "brag" over their achievements, and the members of the band of smugglers of stolen goods were held in custody and eventually punished under sentences returned in a Canadian court.

Meanwhile Mr. Perry took steps looking toward the purchase of the Friday Island group from the Canadian government as a summer camping place for the Catwhiskerites and their friends.

The next volume of this series will be RADIO BOYS AND THE SKY PLOT or BOTTLING THE BOREALIS.

THE END