THE SEARCH OF THE ISLAND
Laura dressed in a hurry and ran out with the flags. She took a slip of paper with her on which Chet had marked down the code, to refresh her memory, and at once stood out upon a high boulder and began to wave the “call flag.”
Without the glasses she could not see what the boys were doing about their camp; but Jess came with the best pair of binoculars, and soon told her that the boys were evidently in much excitement. Chet appeared with his flags, and brother and sister carried on a silent conversation for some ten minutes.
“No, girls,” Laura said, seriously, when she came down from the rock and led the way to the breakfast table. “Chet assures me none of the boys have been over here. They were coming right after breakfast, anyway, and will come in the powerboats.”
“They know nothing about our loss, and Chet is impressed with the seriousness of the affair. I wouldn’t let him think we were scared at all, but 122 asked to borrow a boat so as to get more provisions.”
“No! I should say not!” exclaimed Jess. “After what they said about our calling them, when they left us the other night, we don’t want to give then a chance to laugh at us.”
“Who’ll go for the provisions to this Crossing you speak of?” asked Nellie.
“Oh, a couple of the boys. The others will help us search the island,” Laura said, cheerfully.
“Make out a list of what is needed, Laura,” advised Mrs. Morse, as she retired to her typewriter. “And be sure to get a bottle of peroxide. It’s good for cuts, or mosquito bites, or any poison.”
Not long after breakfast the two powerboats, the Duchess and the Bonnie Lass, were seen approaching. All the boys had come, and they were all very curious as to the raid that had been made upon the girls’ pantry.
Purt Sweet had seemingly been transformed in the two days he had been “roughing it” in camp. He still wore the green knickerbockers, and the long stockings. The belt with its hunting-knife scabbard, was about his waist. And there was a suspicious bunch under his waistband that announced the presence of the ancient revolver.
However, Purt’s mother would not have known 123 his clothing, so stained, torn and bedraggled did his garments appear. The boys had made him do his share of the camp work. Chopping wood had made his palms blister, sparks had snapped out of the fires he had made and burned holes in his clothes, and hot fat snapping from the skillet had left red marks on his hands and face.
Having fun in camp was the hardest work Purt Sweet had ever done; but he was ashamed to “kick” about it before the girls. He came ashore to assure Lil Pendleton that he would do his best to find and punish the marauders who had raided the camp on the island.
“Whether the fellow paid for what he got, or not,” Chet said, seriously, when he had heard the particulars, “we want to know if he is still here, and what he means by such actions.”
“We must know that he isn’t here, or I sha’n’t want to stay,” declared Nellie Agnew, who was really very timid.
“Leave it to us,” said Billy Long, grandly. “We’ll comb this island with a fine tooth comb––”
“You don’t suppose we girls are going to let you fellows do it all, do you?” demanded Laura. “Of course we shall help, Short and Long.”
“Aw! you’ll tear your frocks and scratch yourself on the vines, and stub your toes and fall 124 down, and make a mess generally,” declared Short and Long, loftily. “Better stay here in camp and do your squealing.”
“Well! I like that!” quoth Jess, making a dive for the short boy. She was considerably bigger than he, and catching him from the rear she wound her long arms about him and so held him tight.
“Take that back, Short and Long,” she commanded, “or I shall hold you prisoner.”
Short and Long found he could not get away from Jess, and finally stopped struggling. “I didn’t know you thought so much of me, Jess,” he said, grinning. “But it embarrasses me dreadfully, to have you hug me in public.”
“Why!” laughed the big girl, “I’d think no more of hugging you, than I would your brother, Tommy—and he’s a dear!”
“You’d think so if you had that kid around all the time,” grunted Short and Long, as Jess finally allowed him to wriggle loose. “I think he’s more of a terror than he is a dear.”
“He takes it from you, then,” laughed Bobby.
“Yep,” said Lance, grinning, “it runs in Billy’s family to be a cut-up—like wooden legs!”
“What’s Tommy been doing now?” asked Dorothy Lockwood.
“Why, he is great chums with the kid next 125 door, and they got into mischief of some kind the other day. The other kid’s mother told them that if they did such things ‘the bad man would get them.’ ‘Who’s the bad man, Tommy?’ our Sue asked him, and Tommy says:
“‘Don’t know. You’ll hafter ask Charlie’s mother. She’s well acquainted with him.’”
“Come on, now!” exclaimed Lance. “Who’s going to take the Duchess and go to Elberon Crossing for this bill of goods? We can’t all go hunting for robbers.”
“I shall stay here to help defend the girls, doncher know,” stated Purt, swaggering about the camp. “But any of you fellows can take my boat.”
“Spoken like a nobleman, Purt!” declared Chet, laughing. “Come on, now! Let’s arrange how we shall sweep the island, from shore to shore.”
But first it was agreed that Lance and Reddy should go with the Duchess for the new supply of food for the girls. They set off at once.
The island was a quarter of a mile across at its widest point. Even if the whole party entered on the search they would have difficulty in making so strong a human barrier across the isle that a fugitive in the covert could not escape through the line. 126
But Chet occasionally had a bright idea as well as his sister. He sent Short and Long—who could climb like a squirrel—to the top of a tall tree on the knoll. From that height he could see every opening in the wood, to the upper point of the island—which was nearly two miles long.
“Now we’ll all go and beat up the brush and see if we can start anything bigger than a rabbit,” Chet declared. “Spread out and try to push through the woods as straight as possible.”
“We girls, too?” cried Nellie.
“Be a sport, Nell, and come along,” urged Jess Morse. “We’ll be in sight and call of each other all the time.”
Which was true enough, as they soon discovered. Lil said it was her turn to help do the camp work. And of course neither Mrs. Morse nor Liz could go.
“Don’t you think,” Purt asked, seriously, “that one of us ought to remain here and defend—er—the camp?”
“Sure,” said Chet, quickly. “We’ll leave Art, if you say so. He rather admires Lil, too, Purt.”
This made the dude keep still; but he did dislike this “manhunt” in the thick brush of Acorn Island.
After they had gone half a mile or so, and found nothing—not even a trace of anybody else 127 having camped on the island—they all took the situation more cheerfully. They believed whoever had stolen the girls’ food had already departed.
“Some of these fancy city fishermen, like enough,” Chet declared, when they all came together at the western point of the island. “See yonder! there are two men in a boat, fishing, now.”
“If they were the robbers they would not boldly anchor off there,” his sister said.
“True enough, Laura,” said Bobby. “I believe that whoever stole from us, is far away now. And everybody who comes to the lake knows that it is forbidden to camp on Acorn Island. The guides all know it.”
“How about what Liz says about the man she saw last evening?” demanded Jess. “She says he was a man she knew in Albany.”
“She had been talking to me about him,” laughed Laura, “and I guess he was in her mind. Why should such a man come and rob our camp?”
“Well! it’s a mystery,” Chet said. “But I reckon you’ll not be bothered again; the island seems empty save for ourselves.”
But later they thought that they might have been a little more careful in searching the upper end of Acorn Island.