Third Warning
CHAPTER XVI WHO RIDES A MOOSE
The small hydroplane was back at the dock. The captain had said, "We havedone what we could. We can only hope for the best." A picture of woe,Jeanne sat on the narrow dock. In an effort to save a good pal she hadsacrificed her beloved Plumdum. She did not regret the sacrifice if onlyit saved her friend. But would it?
At times she felt an all but overpowering desire to dash away over thetrail in the vain hope of passing the fiery barrier. Twice she rose tocarry out the mad plan. Twice she resumed her seat on the dock.
When she rose for the third time the captain said, "Come on. Hop in.We'll fly over and see what's happened."
They did fly. And they did see. Jeanne had marked the spot where Florencehad stood. It was between three great rocks. Already the fire had comethat far. Three times they circled. No trace of their lost comrades didthey find. What had happened? Would they ever know? Jeanne sank back intoher seat.
She did not remain so for long. Of a sudden she sat up to clutch thepilot and to scream in his ear, "Captain Frey please circle back overthat bare knob of rock."
"Right." The captain turned the wheel.
A crimson spot on that bare flat rock had caught Jeanne's attention.This, she reasoned must be the boy in the crimson sweater. He it had beenthat had lured her good friend Florence into the fire trap. Well, heshould pay for that. He should have a warning this very moment. Deftlyforming a bit of string and her handkerchief into a tiny parachute, sheattached a bit of greenstone rock to it, then clutched it between herknees while she scribbled a note. This note read:
"You are suspected of setting these fires. If you are guilty you shall be caught. We are on your trail. _Gypsies never forget._"
Binding this note to the greenstone rock she waited. The plane soaredlower and lower. They would pass over the rock at a hundred feet.Accustomed to judge the speed of planes, she leaned far over and waited.Then, as she found herself all but looking into the eyes of themysterious youth, she allowed the tiny parachute to go drifting away.
Watching, she saw the white spot dropping lower and lower. "Good! He seesit!" she exclaimed, "He can't miss it." Then she whispered low, "Thegypsies' first warning."
It was with trembling fingers that Florence unbound the pocket onPlumdum's collar. Together she and Mike studied the crude map whichCaptain Frey had drawn.
"Let's see," the girl murmured. "That gap between fires must be in thatdirection." She pointed toward a low ridge.
"No," Mike corrected. "This way more." He was looking at his compass. "Webetter scram. Dat note says no time to lose."
"But, Tony? What about him?" the girl protested.
"Oh, Tony," the boy's brow wrinkled. Well enough Florence knew the bondof undying friendship between these two boys.
"Oh, Tony." There was a forced note of cheerfulness in Mike's voice."Tony's a Dago. He's made out of tin cans, old asbestos an' other scrap.He wouldn't burn." The laugh that followed was far from real.
Florence was touched. She swallowed a tear, swayed a little, then saidsimply,
"Al-all right, let's go." And what else was there to do?
"We'll let out a yell now and then," said Mike.
Gathering Plumdum into her ample arms, Florence led the way.
Their way ran across the dried-up bog. The ground was soft. For somedistance their footprints remained plainly marked. At last these printswere lost on the rocky slopes beyond.
Now and again Mike paused to shout, "Yo-ho!"
Only the ridge echoed back faintly, "Yo-ho!" and yet more faintly,"Yo-ho!" Mike's feet seemed to drag but he kept doggedly on.
"If I stay behind," he was thinking, "she'll stay too. An' that won't do.She's worth the two of us."
They came at last to a spot where, near the crest of the ridge, they werebetween two fires. The heat here was intense, almost scorching. Plumdumwhined piteously.
"Come on," Florence urged. "It's our only chance."
"I--I can't," Mike moaned. "It's me pal, Tony. I--I gotta go back."
"You can't," Florence hissed, seizing his arm. "Not now. You're going onif I have to drag you."
"Oh, all right, I'll come," Mike replied miserably.
Fifteen minutes later they were past all danger. On the crest of a higherridge, where there were no trees, only rock, and where a cool breezefanned their parched cheeks, they watched the fire roaring on beneaththem.
"Ton-Tony!" A veritable roar of anguish escaped Mike's lips.
To their unbounded astonishment there came an answer, "Here! Here I am!What you t'ink?"
"I knew it!" Mike broke into a roar of laughter. "It's Tony. My Tony.Didn't I tell you? You can't burn up a Dago like him!"
Unashamed the two boys embraced each other. A moment later, with Plumdumyip-yipping his delight at their heels, the three of them danced a jigatop a great, flat rock.
Once more Mike went into the lead by declaring, "We'd better scram."
And scram they did. Following the ridge until they were well beyond thefire line, they came at last upon an ancient trail leading down. Turningthey went racing down this trail at a speed that must have spelleddisaster to a less hardy trio.
Fifteen minutes later they burst out upon the shores of silent waters.
"Good old Rock Harbor," Florence breathed, almost as a prayer ofthanksgiving.
On the dock at the head of that same harbor a half hour later Jeanne satin the depths of despair. Florence was gone. Plumdum was gone. What couldshe do?
Of a sudden, from the distance she caught a familiar sound, the shrillbarking of a small dog.
"Plumdum!" she exclaimed springing to her feet. "It must be. There is noother such dog on the island."
It was a wild looking Jeanne who burst through the brush to greet herlost friends a short time later. Her dress was torn, her hair was flyingwild, but her eyes shone with a glorious light.
"Plumdum! Florence!" she screamed, gathering the dog in her arms andbeing in turn gathered in by Florence.
It was only over a rich "Mulligan" stew prepared by Captain Frey's cookthat Tony's story was told.
"I saw you go down," he said to Florence. "An' heard yer breath go out. Ithought, 'That moose will get her fer sure.'"
"And so he would have," Captain Frey agreed. "A moose has hoofs that arelike steel chisels."
"So-o," Tony breathed, continuing his story, "I dropped on his back.Swell luck. I grabbed his antlers. Then I ducked down to miss thebranches. And say-ee!" he breathed. "Talk about speed! He was worse'n anairplane.
"And then--" he paused.
"Then what, ye dummie?" Mike demanded.
"It ain't nice. I hate t' tell ye." Tony took in a long breath.
"Did he go toward the dry swamp?" Florence asked. Tony nodded.
"Then I know," the girl said with a shudder, "the moose went into thepeat bog that's on fire."
"An' stuck there fer a minute." Tony agreed. "I swing off on a low limbof a tree. Then I scram. Of course, I don't know but I kin guess whatcome of Mr. Moose." He heaved a heavy sigh.
"But, Tony," Florence said after a moment, "how did you know which waythe gap in the fire wall was?"
"Found yer tracks crossin' t' dry swamp," said Tony with a grin."'They're goin' straight,' I says to meself. 'That means they know whichway t' go.' And you did."
"And I'm glad," Florence put in warmly.
"That was great!" Captain Frey exclaimed.
"Wind has changed," the captain announced a short time later. "That meansRock Harbor shores don't burn, not just yet. We may get a little raintonight.
"You better stay with us," he added, turning to the girls. "We'll run youdown to the lodge first thing in the morning. There's a snug cabin whichMrs. Frey occupies when she is here. You will have it all to yourselves."
So it was agreed. And Florence was not sorry. Surely she had seen quiteenough of life for one day. Sleep would be sweet after such wildadventure.
"W
hat of the boy in the crimson sweater?" she asked herself dreamily asshe drifted off to sleep. Then, "I'll get him yet."