Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island

  CHAPTER VII

  THE FLYING EAGLE SCOUTS

  For a minute or two it was hard for the three boys to understand justwhat had happened. They were pounced upon and hurled roughly to theground, in spite of their violent struggles, and there they werepommeled unmercifully. They fought back, but they were hopelesslyoutnumbered. It was no adventure-story fight where the lone heroengages a dozen husky brutes and by superior science and strength layshis assailants out one by one.

  Too bewildered to be really angry, the three found themselves pinned tothe ground. Then they were able to take stock of their attackers. Sixboys they were, of about the same size and age as Dave, Jerry andFrank, They were dressed in some odd sort of uniform, like brownishcanvas. Just now their faces wore triumphant grins.

  "Here comes Phil," remarked one of the three who were standing, comingover to sit on Jerry's legs, Jerry having seized a favorableopportunity to attempt escape.

  "What's the idea?" inquired the newcomer, a tall but well-knit chapwith a broad, sunburned face and a mop of black hair showing under theforward brim of his wide hat.

  "We caught them trying to sneak up on us, so we fooled them and jumpedon them instead. It's part of that Lost Island gang," volunteeredDave's captor.

  "We're not either," exploded Dave.

  "Shut up!" exclaimed the one astride his stomach. "Didn't we see youslinking along through the bushes?"

  "Well, so were you. But we didn't try any wild Indian game on you juston that account."

  "Good reason why. You didn't see us," crowed the one on top, givingDave a vigorous poke in the ribs to emphasize the point.

  That was too much for Dave. His usual good nature had been oozing outwith every passing second. Now he gave a sudden twist, heaved, turned,heaved again, and in less time than it was told, was on his feet andpresenting a pair of promising looking fists to the two others who hadquickly come to their comrade's assistance.

  "Hold on a minute," suggested the one they had called Phil. "Let's getthe straight of this thing first and fight afterwards. You say youdon't belong on the island?" he asked, turning to Dave.

  "We certainly don't. We were trying to get onto it without being seen.That's why we were skulking along that way."

  "Trying to get onto it? You haven't any boat."

  "We could swim, couldn't we?"

  "But what do you want to get onto the island for? Where are you from,anyhow?"

  "None of your particular business," snapped Dave, but Jerry answered aswell as he could with his shortness of breath--he too was "stomached"by a stout boy of his own size:

  "Watertown."

  "Know anybody there by the name of Tod Fulton? He's a cousin ofmine--why, what's the matter?" for the three boys had cried out indismay.

  "Why--why--he's the boy we're after. He's our chum," stammered Jerry atlast.

  "Then what you after him for--if he's your chum?"

  "Well, he's--he's----" began Jerry, and Dave blurted out:

  "Drowned!"

  "What!" cried the whole crew at that. "Tod Fulton drowned!"

  "We don't know for sure. That's why we're trying to get onto LostIsland."

  Then the story came out, piecemeal, for all three insisted on tellingit. Phil stood as if stunned. At the end he said simply:

  "He's my cousin. I'm Phil Fulton. We live at Chester. That's about tenmiles south of here. We're the Flying Eagle Patrol of Boy Scouts--maybeyou noticed our suits."

  "Thought you were some kind of bushwhackers the way you dropped on us,"complained Frank. "But what was the idea in thumping us because youthought we were from the island?"

  "We had good reasons enough," declared Phil. "We left town at midnightlast night, hiked all the way to our boat-landing two miles up theriver, and made the long pull up the Plum in the dark just for the sakeof getting an early morning chance at the best bass rock you ever heardof--just to get chased out at the point of a shotgun after we'd landedthe first one--a three pounder too. Can you blame us for being sore?"

  "On Lost Island?" asked Jerry eagerly.

  "No, _off_ Lost Island. A big burly ruffian blew down on us, cussing astreak, and wouldn't hardly let us get into our boat. Chucked stones atus all the way across and promised us a mess of birdshot if we cameback. Do you blame us for wanting to lay you out?" It was Dave'sconqueror who spoke.

  "If that's what you do on suspicion, I don't want to be around whenyou're sure of yourself. My ribs'll be sore for a week."

  The boys had been talking excitedly; each one was wrought up over thefate of poor Tod and this was the only way they were willing to showtheir feelings. It was Phil who brought them back to earth.

  "Well, fellows," he suggested, "let's get acquainted first, and thenlet's see if we can't frame up some way of getting across and goingover that island from end to end. Line up, Scouts, and be presented."

  The Scouts lined up in two columns.

  "This is Sid Walmsly, nicknamed 'the worm,' partly because that's theway we pronounce his name, but mostly because it's a long worm that hasno turn, and Sid says he's always the one to be left out. You canremember him by the wart on his left knuckle. Next is Dick Garrett;he's assistant Patrol Leader. This thin, long-drawn-out morsel of sweettemper is Fred Nelson. We tried to nickname him "Angel" but he lickedeveryone that tried it on him. Now comes our joker, we'd call himTrixie if we dared. His ma calls him Algy Brown. Frank Willis standsfirst in the behind row. He goes by the name of "Budge," chieflybecause he _won't_ unless he wants to. Barney Knowles, the littlestgiant in the world--the one in the red sweater. He wears a sweater inJuly and shirt-sleeves in December. And last of all, but not least--farfrom it--Ted Lewis, the only grouchy fat man in captivity. Smile forus, Teddy." Teddy growled.

  Jerry introduced himself and his two chums, and then turned anxiouslyto Phil. "Got any plan?"

  "Why not just get into our boat and row over? We can tell that chumpover there----"

  "Thought you told us good Scouts were always respectful to our elders?"interrupted Ted, he of the "grouch."

  "Respectful where respect is _due_," came the quick response. "We cantell the gentleman that we have sent the rest of the gang back for thesheriff----"

  "And good Scouts never tell lies----" This from Ted again.

  "Be still or I'll make it the truth by sending you back after him. Weought to make the try, anyway, because that makes our next move easier.If we can't get on the island in the open, we've got to use a littlestrategy. If we just could get our boat around to the other side of theisland----"

  "I've got it!" cried Dave. "Our boat's down the river. While the bunchof us keep up a demonstration along the shore here, two of us couldslip down and get the boat and sneak in at the lower end."

  "Good. We'd best waste no time about it because it's going to be comingon dark before we know it. Who's going along with me?"

  "To the island? I'll go. The man knows _me_," agreed Jerry. "Where'syour boat?"

  The rest waited in the cover of the bushes while Phil and Jerry quietlymade their way down the river bank to where the Scout boat was moored.They sprang in at once, Phil pushing off and hopping lightly to theoars. There was only one pair, but he sent the boat skimming across theripples. No one was in sight on the island, and they were in hopes ofmaking a landing unobserved, but just as their boat touched shore thewillows parted and the man stepped out on the high bank.

  "Back again?" he demanded gruffly.

  "Oh, yes," replied Phil easily. "We came back to see if you'd let uslook for a box of tackle one of the boys thinks he left down where wewere fishing this morning."

  "Oh! And you," said the man sarcastically, turning to Jerry. "I supposeyou came to look for a lock of hair from your drowned friend's head?"

  The man's tone was so unfeeling that Jerry simply gasped, but Philboiled over at once.

  "I'll have you know that that boy was my cousin. We have good reasonfor believing that he's on this island and _we're going to search it_!"

  "Oh, indeed!" and Je
rry could have sworn that there was a twinkle inthe man's eye for all there was no mistaking the threat in his voice."Well, I can promise you a full-sized spanking unless you makeyourselves scarce in just about one half minute. This makes the thirdtime I've had to chase you off--and third time's the charm, you know."

  "But why don't you want us to look for our friend? Surely you've gotnothing against him--or us."

  "Not a thing. Not a thing, sonny. Only I live on this place, and Ican't have a troop of youngsters tracking mud in at my front door. Thatfriend of yours couldn't very well be on my island without my knowingit, could he?"

  "But you've never said out and out that he wasn't on the island,"asserted Jerry boldly. "And you've acted so suspicious that--that wewouldn't believe you now if you did say it."

  The man laughed at that, for Jerry had started out by trying to bediplomatic, but his feelings got the better of him before the end.

  "I'll be careful not to say it then. As for the tackle box--here itis." Jerry opened his eyes wide; he had thought the box a pureinvention on the part of Phil. "Now back water and keep backing."

  "You think you've got us beat," shouted Jerry at his retreating back."Never you worry--I've told Mr. Fulton, and he and Mr. Aikens will becoming down here with a posse. They won't be asking your permission ifthey can investigate an island that doesn't belong to you any more thanit does to me."

  "It belongs to Mr. Fulton, I suppose?" challenged the man, and turningaround for a last laugh. Neither boy answered.

  "You tell your Mr. Fulton that I said he was welcome to come any time."

  "Now what?" asked Jerry, as Phil turned the boat about and headed forthe other shore.

  "What next? Night, mostly. Then I think we'll show your Mr. Billings afew Scout tricks he doesn't know about."

  "I didn't say his name was Billings----"

  "I know--but _I_ did. I've seen him before. That may be the reason he'sso touchy about having us land on the island. The last time I saw himit was down at dad's office. Uncle Ed--that's Mr. Fulton, you know--wasthere, and when I opened the door on them suddenly, he and thisBillings were having the hottest kind of an argument. Dad hustled meout of there in a hurry, but not before Uncle Ed'd called himBillings--and a lot of other things."

  "You think then that Billings is still sore at Mr. Fulton, and thathe's holding Tod there----"

  "Nothing more likely. We'll know to-night. At least we'll know whetherTod is there--and I guess we'll make a good strong try at getting himloose."

  "How can we do it? What's your plan?"

  "Leave it to the Flying Eagle Scouts. I'm not bragging, but we're onelive crew!"