"Well," said Allan, who secretly wished he might be going along too; "here's hoping you learn something about the queer men who have been using that island for some purpose or other."
"I hope so, too," replied Thad; "because, somehow, they've aroused a sort of curiosity in me. They seem to hide from us, as if they didn't want anybody to see what kind of fellows they were. Why, all the time we've been here they must have known about us, and could even see our flag flying from the pole in front of the tents; yet they've never as much as said 'good morning' to us."
"Never a peep," Allan went on to say. "And that makes me think there's sure something crooked about 'em. I wish——"
"Now I know what you're going to say," broke in Thad, with a smile; "you feel bad because I didn't fetch my double-barrel gun along on this trip. Well, between you and me, I do, myself. It would have been a whole lot of comfort right now. But you know, Boy Scouts don't want to look too much like soldiers. Some of the town people talked a heap about not wanting their sons to join a military company; and we had trouble convincing them that the scouts didn't have a thing to do with army life. That's why we've only been able to organize one patrol up to now. But the feel of that little twelve bore would be good this morning, even if game laws stood between me and getting a few partridges."
"Please hurry up your stumps, Thad!" called Davy, who was wild with eagerness to get moving; for he had envied those who were allowed to go to the island on the preceding day, and felt anxious to set foot on the enchanted ground, where mysterious strangers seemed to have their abode, yet could not be found.
"That's all I wanted to say, Allan," the scout-master concluded; "and as Davy will have one of his fits soon, if I don't get off, I reckon I'll start. If we fail to show up at noon, why, don't worry. Nothing is going to hurt any of us, that I can see."
The rest of the scouts gathered at the water's edge to see them embark on the exploring expedition; and all sorts of chaffing was indulged in between Davy and some of his camp mates. Bumpus in particular was so pleased over not having been drafted to go in the cranky canoe that he seemed to be just bubbling over with exuberant spirits.
When the boat had gone some fifty yards from the shore he drew out his bugle, kept hidden up to then, and sent the most mournful notes across the water after the departing voyagers. It was so like a funeral dirge that Davy Jones thrust his fingers in his ears; and then shook a fist at the stout bugler; who however kept on with his sad refrain until Allan put a stop to it.
And so the scout-master backed, by his two valiant assistants, set out to learn what the secret of the mysterious island might be; nor did any of the trio suspect right then in the beginning of the voyage what strange results would follow this invasion of the haunt of the unknown prowlers.