Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island

  CHAPTER V

  A STARTLING CLEW

  There was a streak of light in the western sky, whether caused by thelow-hanging, mist-hidden moon or a freak reflection of the coming dawn.Against that patch of brightness the northern headland of Lost Islandloomed up high and barren save for its one tall tree. But it wasneither headland nor tree that caught Jerry's attention and caused thegasp of dismay.

  Standing there, bold and menacing, looking like a giant against thequeer light, was a man.

  Whether it was the same one who had hailed them earlier in the morning,the boys could not of course know. But there was no doubt about theequal unfriendliness of his attitude, for through the crook of oneelbow he carried a shotgun, while even as Jerry turned in his seat, theother arm was raised and a big fist shaken.

  The next instant they were assured that this was the same man as hadwarned them away before. There was no mistaking the voice that bellowedacross the water. Neither was there any mistaking the meaning of thebrief sentence:

  "Get to thunder out o' here!"

  Jerry stood up in the boat and waved a friendly hand in the generaldirection of the angry man, and called pleasantly:

  "We were just coming over to see about a boy we think landed on _your_island last night or early this morning. We found his boat down at thebridge and we figured that he must have----"

  As Jerry talked, Dave had been slyly urging the boat closer to shore,but at a sudden interruption from the island, both he and Jerry paused.

  "You come another foot closer, you young idiots, and I'll fill you fullof rock salt. I loaded up especial for you when you raised that rumpuslast night; I knew durned well you'd be coming back."

  "Have you seen anything of our friend?" cried Dave anxiously, trying tosmooth things over by being civil.

  "If he's anything like you two, I hope I never do."

  "You've got no right to keep us off Lost Island," began Jerry hotly.

  "I don't need any right; I've got a shotgun. You two just pick up yourpaddles and blow back to shore--and be sure you tie up that boat goodand tight or I'll have the law on you. Git, now!"

  There didn't seem to be anything else to do. The two boys muttered toeach other, and neither one was willing to admit believing that the manwould really shoot, but somehow they were unwilling to put it to thetest. Reluctantly they took up the oars again and turned the nose ofthe boat back toward the east bank.

  Facing the man now, Jerry sent one last appeal across the slowlywidening space.

  "We didn't mean any harm. A friend of ours was drowned yesterday, wethink. We're looking for him--or his body. All we want is to know ifyou've seen anything of him."

  "I told you this morning I hadn't."

  "But why don't you let us look on the island? We're almost sure ourboat was stranded there a long while. He _might_ have been in it. Ifyou'd just let us look, we'd be satisfied."

  "I guess you'll be satisfied anyway, youngster. Just keep on rowing.Where was young Fulton drowned, anyway?"

  Jerry made no answer. When Dave undertook to shout a reply, Jerrysilenced him with a savage look. Then he stood up on his seat. Making amegaphone of his hands he yelled derisively:

  "Yah! He _wasn't drowned!_"

  Then he sat down again and caught up his oar and began lungingdesperately at the water. "Hurry, Dave, hurry!" he commanded excitedly.

  "What's got into you?" exclaimed Dave impatiently. "You've been flyingoff on about forty different angles lately. What new bug has bittenyou?"

  "Bug! Dave, do you mean to tell me you didn't hear what the man said?"

  "Course I did--but we're going, aren't we? He didn't say he'd shootunless we kept on coming ahead."

  "Oh--_that!_ Well, you've been up all night, so no wonder you're halfasleep. Didn't you hear him say: 'Where was young Fulton drowned?'"

  "Sure."

  "Well?"

  "Well what? What in thunder's got into you? Why shouldn't he ask that?"

  "He should have. He should have asked it the first time we talked tohim. But, gee whiz, Dave, he shouldn't have known it was _young Fulton_unless--unless it was young Fulton himself who told him. Dave--Dave!Don't you see? We never mentioned his name."

  "Great guns!" gasped Dave.

  That was all he said, and for that matter, all that either one said.The man stood on the point of Lost Island till he was satisfied thatthe boys had tied the boat safely and did not mean to loiter in theneighborhood. Then he disappeared among the trees of the lower part ofthe island. But the boys did not pay much attention to their lateantagonist, save for a bare glance as they topped the high ridge thatfollowed the river course.

  Miles to the north they could see a big square white building that theyknew as Carter's Mills, really only a grain storage elevator. Almostdue west of that was the milldam, which was about the only place theycould hope to be able to cross Plum Run--and Watertown lay on the otherside. Of course, they might follow the river bank on the chance ofmeeting some good-hearted fisherman or camper who would row themacross. But the chance was too slim. They decided to cut across countrytill they reached the mill.

  It was a long, hard drill on an empty stomach. Up hill and down dale,and every step kept time to by a pang from the inner man.

  "Do you think it's a sin to steal?" This from Dave.

  "Certainly."

  "Apples!"

  "Apples? A sin? Not if you know where there are any. Lead me to them."

  "Oh, I don't know where any are. I just wondered what you thought ofit."

  "Do you think it's wrong to punish criminals?" This from Jerry.

  "Put 'em in jail you mean?"

  "Well, whatever way seems best."

  "No, I can't say as I do. Why, Jerry?"

  "I'm going to thump you good and plenty for fooling me about thoseapples, that's why."

  "Catching comes before thumping!" and Dave was off with all the speedhis weary legs could muster. Fortunately Jerry's legs were in no bettershape, so the race, while exciting enough, was a long, slow one. BeforeJerry was able to overhaul his chum, he was so tired out that anythingso strenuous as thumping was quite out of the question.

  "If you'd just kept running straight ahead, instead of ducking anddodging, we'd be home by now," he complained as he released the puffingDave.

  But at that they had made good time through their chase and within avery few minutes the last bend of the river showed them the milldam.The place was deserted.

  "I guess Mr. Aikens persuaded Tod's father to go back home and getbreakfast and rest up a bit," remarked Dave. "If there doesn't happento be a boat on this side of the river we may have to wait some timefor that breakfast you've been promising me the last ninety-eightmiles. We sure can't get across the dam, with all that water rushingover."

  "I'll swim it before I wait," grimly declared Jerry. "Do you supposeMr. Aikens took the mill boat?"

  "Most likely. Where'll you try it, below or above? Swimming, I mean."

  "No chance below, with that current. But I guess we won't need to. Isee Pete Galpin's clam-boat down at his dock. It leaks like sin, but ifone bails while the other rows I guess we can make it."

  No one was astir at Galpin's shanty, a houseboat pulled high and dry onshore, and almost hidden by great piles of driftwood snagged upon thebank to serve as winter fuel. Old Pete Galpin lived there all alone,fishing and clamming and occasionally taking a wood-cutting contract tohelp out through the scant winter months. Once he had been known towork with an ice-cutting gang, but quit because he was afraid he'd makeso much money that it would tempt somebody to rob him.

  The flat-boat that was moored down at Galpin's "dock"--four railroadties roped together--was none too substantial looking, having beenbuilt by Galpin himself from odds and ends picked up from scrap heapsand driftage. As Galpin himself said, the only whole part about theboat was the name, which had been painted in red on a single thin boardsticking a full two feet past the stern--"UPANATUM."

  But the boys did not waste a great
deal of time in admiring thebeautiful lines of their borrowed craft. Jerry made at once for the oarseat, leaving Dave to untie and push off. For all the tremendous leakwhich at once developed, the boat responded easily to the strenuoustugs of Jerry's muscular arms and back.

  They beached the boat and made their way up the bank and across a fieldwhere oats had just been cut, the bundles lying yellow as gold in theearly morning sunlight. Just beyond was a narrow, plum-thicket borderedlane, which in turn led into the newly graveled "county" road. The boysfound the walking much easier in a path that twisted along next to thefence. However, within a mile, along came a farmer, hauling a load ofearly potatoes to town, and the boys gladly accepted his invitation to"hop on."

  Within a quarter of a mile both were sound asleep, nor did they wakenuntil the springless wagon rattled over the interurban tracks less thantwo blocks from Dave's home. Rubbing their eyes in a vain attempt todrive out the sleep, they stumbled along the quiet street.

  "Where will I find you after breakfast?" asked Jerry, as Dave turned inat his gate.

  "In bed. I'll be lucky if I stay awake till after breakfast."

  "But we've got to tell Mr. Fulton."

  "You tell him, Jerry. I just know he won't pay any attention to what wesay--I don't more'n half believe it now myself----" Dave had to stopfor a tremendous yawn.

  "If that's the case, you might just as well sleep." Jerry was out ofpatience, but Dave was too sleepy to care very much.

  "I'll see you--see you--later, Jerry," he said drowsily as he turnedand staggered up the walk.

  Jerry, after an undecided second or two, faced about and began toretrace his steps. He cut through the Ellery back yard and came out onthe cross street at whose corner the Fultons lived. The house was a bigramshackle affair of a dozen rooms or so, far too large a place for theFultons, since there had been only the two of them, Tod's mother havingdied when he was only a little tad. Indeed, as Tod said, they only usedthree rooms, the kitchen and two bedrooms. But that was hardly true;there was a big basement under all the house, the most of it used as aworkroom, and here it was that the two of them spent the better part oftheir waking hours.

  Mr. Fulton was an odd sort of man, a bit inclined to think his businesshis own business. But it was no secret among his neighbors that allsorts of queer contrivances were planned and made in that combinationmachine shop, carpenter shop, forge and foundry below stairs.

  Mr. Fulton was an inventor. True, for the most part he invented uselessthings; he had inherited money and did not need to make any more. Butthe boys, who were allowed to roam through the workshop at will, werewildly enthusiastic over the ingenious devices schemed out by fatherand son, for Tod was a chip off the old block.

  Now, Jerry did not go up to the front door, even though it was standingajar. Instead he hurried to the little side porch and reached high upunder the eaves, where an electric button was concealed. He pushed it,hard, well knowing that if Mr. Fulton were anywhere in the house hewould hear that bell. That was why it had been so well hidden.

  But there was no response. Again Jerry rang; he could hear the shrillbr-r-r-r of the bell. After a long time he heard footsteps, butsomething told him they were not those of Mr. Fulton. The door swungopen. There stood Mr. Aikens.

  "Is Mr. Fulton here," demanded Jerry.

  "Asleep," nodded Mr. Aikens.

  "I've got to see him."

  "All right--if you don't wake him up."

  "I've got to talk to him--I've got big news."

  "Big news? Of--of Tod?" Big Mr. Aikens was not the kind of man tobecome easily excited, but his manner was eager enough.

  "Of Tod--yes!" cried Jerry.

  "What is it? Have you found his--his body?"

  "Better than that, Mr. Aikens--Oh, I'm almost dead sure!"

  Jerry was so excited himself that his voice shook. As for Mr. Aikens,he leaped over and caught Jerry's arm and was shaking it wildly up anddown. Neither one noticed that a white-faced man stood in the oppositedoorway, and that his eyes were simply blazing with expectancy.

  "What do you mean? What _can_ you mean!" demanded Mr. Aikens.

  "I believe that Tod Fulton is----"

  "Not alive?" almost screamed a voice from across the room. "Not alive!"

  "Alive and on Lost Island!"