“That’s good of you, Hank,” said Joe warmly.
“No, tain’t, but I’m glad you believe. I was afraid that maybe you’dhave me arrested.”
“But you wanted to put yourself right, so you came anyway.”
“Yes, I jes’ had to.”
“Well, that was brave of you, Hank,” declared Joe, “and from now onwe’ll count you as our friend.”
“You sure can do that. I’ll do anything I can for you.”
“You showed that this afternoon. But, as you came over, did you seeanything of a boat leaving the island?”
“A launch?”
“I guess that’s what they came in,” responded Joe, and he then relatedall that had occurred that afternoon. Hank exclaimed angrily and blamedhimself for not stopping the launch as he heard Joe tell of the escapeof the men after locking him in the closet.
“I could have stopped that launch plum easy, if I’d only known,” hesaid, “but I thought that they were just visitors.”
“So they were and very unwelcome ones, too,” laughed Joe, who, now thathis troubles were over, could, as usual, see the humorous side of themas well as the serious.
“There’s something else I want to tell you,” said Hank, as he picked uphis hat and prepared to go.
“What’s that?”
“Well, you remember what old Israel said about you fellows not havingany rights on this island?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“Just this, that if it hadn’t been for that affair of Minory’s, theymeant to attack you.”
“They did!”
“Yes, siree. Old Israel, he allowed he’d drive you off the island evenif he had to drive you into the sea.”
“Well, that’s pleasant.”
“And the first step was to be the wrecking of your wirelesscontraption.”
“Thank goodness, they are where they can’t do us any harm now! I guessthey’ll lie low if they’re wise. There’s a law in California, you know.”
“Old Israel, he never took no account of the law, nohow,” declared Hankwith a sort of grudging admiration, “and if you’re wise you’ll keep agood lookout for him. When he gits sot on a thing, he most generallyalways put it through, and he’s sure determined to drive you off GoatIsland.”
CHAPTER XXI.
IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS.
Joe had plenty to ponder after Hank had left. Of course, he had heardfrom Nat of the mysterious “Nemo” call, and, in view of what he hadheard from the reformed member of the Harley family, it looked to himvery much as if old Israel had had some hand in the affair. Then, too,there was Hank’s remarkable change of front. Joe had at first questionedthe youth’s sincerity but after a time his manner left no room to doubtthat his proffer of friendship was genuine. Joe was very glad that thiswas so, for, in case old Israel returned and tried to make trouble, Hankwould prove a valuable ally.
“I reckon I’ll see if I can raise the _Nomad_ and flash Nat the news ofthe afternoon,” thought Joe, upon whose hands the time was beginning tohang heavily.
If anyone was on board the _Nomad_, this would be an easy thing for Joeto do, for by this time the wireless outfit, that the boys had agreedwould prove a valuable addition to the _Nomad’s_ equipment, had beeninstalled.
But before Joe could reach his instruments the wireless “alarm clock”began ringing loudly, sounding the Goat Island call. Joe hastened to theapparatus and sent out a reply. Then he adjusted the head band and thereceivers and began listening. The message that came made his cheekstingle with pleasure. It was from the Chief of Police of Santa Barbaraand was as follows:
“_Congratulations. Good work. Man on Vesta bank robber badly wanted.Probably a reward case._”
Joe felt a distinct feeling of pleasure over the despatch. Itdemonstrated in no uncertain way the practical utility of their plant.But the boy felt somewhat disappointed that the two miscreants who hadso roughly used him had not been apprehended. He was not a revengefullad but he would certainly have liked to learn of the men’s capture.
Presently he set about the task of raising the _Nomad_ by wireless. But,although he tried for more than an hour to get some response, he failedto do so.
“That’s queer,” thought the boy. “Nat said that he would surely be onhis way back before dark. Well, I suppose I’ve got to make up my mind tospend a solitary evening of it.”
As it grew dark he cooked his supper and ate it with a hearty appetite.Afterward he read for a while and then, feeling drowsy, determined toturn in.
“I guess there’s no chance of Nat’s coming back to-night,” he thought ashe extinguished the light.
How much later it was that he awakened, he did not know, but someimpulse made him go to the window and look over toward the wireless hut.To his astonishment a light was shining in the casement of the structurethat housed the instruments.
Joe’s heart gave a great bound.
“It’s Israel Harley!” he exclaimed under his breath. “What am I to do?He’s sure not to be alone and Nat’s revolver is locked in his trunk.”
The boy was no coward, as those who have followed the Motor Rangers’adventures know, but the situation was one that might have triedstronger nerves than Joe Hartley’s, gritty as he was.
He saw a shadow cross the lighted window as whoever was within thewireless hut moved about.
“I don’t like this a bit,” muttered Joe to himself, as he cast about forthe best means of coping with the situation. “Those fellows are justabout as bad as bad can be and I’ve had one experience with ruffiansalready to-day. I don’t feel like having a second struggle.”
The light burned steadily on, but whoever was within the hut did notpass the window again.
“They may be demolishing the instruments and smashing things upgenerally right now,” said Joe to himself as he watched and waited.
The thought was like a tonic to him. He determined to delay no longerbut, come what might of it, to surprise the intruders and trust to luckfor the outcome. He selected a short, heavy oar from some that layoutside the shanty. It made quite a formidable weapon when wielded by amuscular lad like Joe, and as his fingers closed on it he felt ready togive battle to a whole tribe of Harleys.
In a quiver of excitement and suspense, he crept forward almostnoiselessly over the soft sand. What the outcome of the affair would behe did not know nor did he dare to think. But he was determined at allhazards to guard the valuable equipment of the wireless station.
“At any rate, I’ll give a good account of myself,” he thought as headvanced toward the lighted hut.
Nevertheless he caught himself wishing more than once that his chumswere with him. About twenty feet from the hut he paused and listenedintently. He fully expected to hear the noise of breakage as the vandalsdestroyed the instruments.
But to his astonishment all was utter silence. The only sound to beheard was the breaking of the waves on the sandy beach below.
“Funny I don’t hear any voices, either,” he muttered. “There must bemore than one of them. Old Israel’s not the sort of man to come alone onan enterprise of this kind.”
Once more he paused after advancing a few steps, but as before nosuspicious sounds broke the stillness.
“It can’t be spooks,” he thought, and the next minute had to smile athimself for entertaining such a silly notion.
“No, it’s human beings all right, and ones who have no good intentionstoward us or they wouldn’t come sneaking around here like thieves in thenight. I suppose that they saw that the _Nomad_ had gone from hermoorings and that the shanty was dark and assumed that there was no onehere.”
He advanced still further and was now quite close up to the hut. Stillall was silence within. Had it not been for the light in the window hewould have deemed that he was the victim of a delusion. But there was nomistaking the fact of the light, and no mistaking, also, that it was ahuman agency that had kindled it.
“Thought ther
e was no one here, eh?” muttered Joe, gritting his teeth.“Well, Harley and Co., here’s where you get the surprise of your younglives.”
He stepped forward with brisk determination and prepared to thrust theclosed door open.
But the next instant he stopped dead.
“Well!” he ejaculated in startled amazement.
From within the hut had come the last sound in the world he expected tohear. It was the whine and crackle of the spark. Somebody was sending amessage!
CHAPTER XXII.
AN UNEXPECTED STUDENT.
“Open the door!”
Joe spoke in an authoritative voice as he rattled the portal of the hut.It was locked inside, and at the first turn of the handle the cracklingand sputtering of the spark had ceased.
“Hurry up, now,” hailed Joe again as a scuffling sound followed hisfirst order, but no audible reply issued from within.
“It can’t be old Israel and his crowd,” thought the boy as he listened,“and it can’t be those two rascals who were here this afternoon. Eitherone of those lots would have flung the door open long ago and rushed outon me. Who in the world can it be, then? Somebody trying to play a joke?They’ll find it a pretty unpleasant one.”
Joe waited a minute or two and then as no move was made by whoever waswithin to open the hut door, he hailed again in an angry voice.
“You’d better obey. It will be all the worse for you if you don’t.”
Footsteps sounded inside and Joe gripped his oar, prepared to bring itdown with a crash on the head of whoever appeared. He was not going totake any chances. There followed the sounds of fumbling with a lock andthe next minute the door opened. Out stepped a figure so utterly unlikeany one that Joe had expected to see that he almost dropped his oar inhis astonishment.
The intruder who had caused Joe so much disquietude was a slenderstripling of a youth of not more than fifteen. He had a pale, studiousface, big, frightened eyes and walked with a limp.
“Don’t hit me! Don’t!” he begged as he saw Joe standing there with lipsgrimly compressed and the oar raised ready to strike.
“Caught you right in the act, haven’t I?” spoke Joe, as fiercely as hecould.
“Yes, sir,” said the lad in a thin, wavering voice.
“What do you mean by trespassing here?” demanded Joe.
The lad stammered something and Joe, touched in spite of himself by theyouth’s wan, pale look, spoke more kindly.
“I’m not an officer or a judge,” he said, “but I’m in charge here, andyou are trespassing on private property.”
The boy looked alarmed.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, “I suppose I’d better get out.”
“Tell me what you came here for before you do that,” said Joe. “I’minterested in knowing.”
“I didn’t think there’d be any harm. I came over in my sailboat.”
A sudden thought struck Joe.
“Is this the first time that you’ve been here?” he demanded.
“No,” confessed the lad, hanging his head; “I’ve often come over herewhen you were all away.”
“And you thought that was the case to-night?”
The lad nodded.
“But what object brought you?”
The boy’s eyes kindled and his pale cheeks flushed.
“I love the wireless,” he said, speaking more firmly; “I wanted to useit and I had no other opportunity.”
“You can operate?”
The boy nodded and once more his eyes brightened.
“Yes, a little bit. I’m not very good at it yet.”
“You’re good enough to sign your name ‘_Nemo_,’ though, aren’t you?”shot out Joe on a hazard. A conviction had been growing in his mind thatthis sickly-looking lad must be the “Nemo” who had so mystified them.The stranger’s face turned crimson. He hung his head and lookedembarrassed.
“How did you guess it?” he asked, after a considerable pause. And thenhe went on, “It’s no use beating about the bush. My name is JimDolliver; I come from Powell’s Cove. My dad is a small rancher andhasn’t much use for me because with this game foot I’m not able to domuch work. I begged him to let me take up wireless telegraphy and make afuture for myself, but he says that it’s ‘all foolish rot.’ I heardabout you boys building this plant out here, and one night when I knewyou weren’t here I sneaked over in my boat and began practice on a realkey. You see I’d learned the Morse alphabet and the theory of wirelessat home and practiced with a home-made key. I found it came easier thanI expected, and the habit of coming over here kind of grew on me. Thatnight when I got the call for Goat Island, I just couldn’t helpanswering it, but I got scared and cut off. It was wrong of me, I know,to sneak in and use your apparatus this way, but I just couldn’t helpit.”
“And what are you going to do now?” asked Joe, watching the lad keenly.
“Say good-bye, I guess; that is, if you don’t arrest me for trespassing.I’ve always been very careful with your instruments, and I know Ihaven’t injured them, but I see now that I ought never to have come hereat all.”
He was starting toward the beach, but Joe detained him.
“Look here, sonny,” he said, “I don’t see why there should be anyobjection to your using our plant for practice if you want to. Ofcourse, I’d have to consult my chums and——”
“Then you’re not angry?”
“Not a bit. I think you’ve shown a whole lot of grit and pluck in takingall the pains you have to get real practice on a real wireless set. Imean to tell Nat and Ding-dong—those are my chums—about you, and we’llsee what can be done.”
“Oh, that’s awfully good of you!”
“Not a bit, and now you’d better be getting back home. It’s quite a sailfrom here to Powell’s Cove, and your folks will be wondering where youare.”
“I haven’t got any folks, only just my dad,” was the pathetic reply;“and dad, he don’t take no account of where I go. He’s got a friendstopping with him, though, that’s powerfully interested in you fellowsover here.”
“Is that so?” asked Joe rather indifferently.
“Yes, he’s always talking about you and about the wireless. From whatI’ve heard him telling dad, he hasn’t got much use for you, either.”
“How is that, Jim?”
“Why, he says that you are interfering busybodies, and that if it wasn’tfor you, he’d be out of the country by this time instead of having tohide his head.”
Joe grew suddenly interested.
“What sort of a looking fellow is this friend of your father’s, and whendid he come to stop with him?” he asked.
“Oh, about two weeks ago. I don’t like him a bit. He’s got a big, blackbeard and looks at you ever so fiercely. He don’t go out much, andwhenever there’s a rig or anything coming along the road, he beats itfor the cellar. ’Pears to me like he’s scared of something, and——Why!what’s the matter?”
There was reason for the question, for Joe had suddenly developed a wildfit of excitement and was clasping Jim Dolliver’s hand.
“Your coming here to-night was the best thing that ever happened, Jim,”he cried. “Gracious,” he added to himself, “there isn’t a doubt in theworld but that Jim’s father’s friend is Miles Minory.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
A CALL FROM THE SHORE.
It was early the next morning that the “wireless alarm” summoned Joefrom his couch. Sleepily he made his way to the wireless hut and wassoon in communication with Nat. Something had gone wrong with the_Nomad’s_ wireless, it appeared, and Ding-dong’s new station was not inworking order. This was the reason that Joe had not been called up thenight before.
“_Anything happened?_” asked Nat.
“_Lots_,” tapped out Joe sententiously, “_but you’ll have to wait tohear all about it till you get over here_.”
Nat rejoined that he would be ov
er about noon, and then Joe, in order tokeep his mind occupied, set about a general cleaning up of the wirelessinstruments and a thorough “spring cleaning” of the shanty.
This work occupied him so busily that he had little time to notice theweather, and it was not till a sudden downpour of rain beat a tattoo onthe roof of the wireless hut that he looked out. The sky was overcastand quite a brisk sea was running. The wind, too, was blowing prettystrong.
“Nasty weather,” thought Joe, “but that won’t worry the _Nomad_.”
Just then came another call from Nat. The _Nomad_ was about half an houraway from the island and making good time despite the big seas.
“_Will be home to dinner_,” flashed Nat, and Joe flashed back “_M-M-M_,”which, in telegrapher’s language, signifies “laughter.”
The _Nomad_ came into the cove on schedule time. Her white sides werewet and glistening with spray, and Nat and Nate Spencer in theiroilskins looked every inch the young seamen when they came ashore in thedinghy, the same one, by-the-way, that had been recovered from WhaleCreek.
Over the meal that followed their arrival, Joe told his story amidfrequent interruptions. When he came to the narrative of young Dolliverand the mysterious man who was dwelling in the elder Dolliver’s ranchhouse, Nat agreed with him that in all probability they had, by anextraordinary coincidence, crossed Minory’s trail once more. Of courseit might be a mistaken supposition, but Nat agreed with Joe that it wasat least worth while investigating.