"Say, it went right through me," he observed. "I just seemed to have a cold feeling run up and down my spine, like you'd emptied a cup of ice-water down my neck. Think we've seen enough of the old island by now, Thad? Hadn't we better be turning around, and heading back for camp?"
"Well, I should say not, Bumpus, bless your timid soul," replied Thad, laughingly. "Why, that only makes Bob here and myself the more anxious to land, and look the island over. If there's anything queer around, we ought to find out all about it. Am I right, Bob?"
The answer the Southern lad made was very suggestive. He simply dipped his paddle into the water again, and with several sturdy movements of his arms sent the boat forward once more, headed directly for the shore of the island. Bumpus drew up his plump shoulders, but he made no protest. It would not have done him much good if he did try to say anything. No doubt they would have told him that the walking back to camp was good, and no dust blowing, if he wanted to return.
He simply gripped both sides of the boat, and held on, while keeping his eyes fastened on the shore they were now fast approaching.
No further sounds were heard, save the water lapping among the rocks, and giving out a musical gurgling in the rising wind.
"There's a good landing where that little sandy beach runs along," Thad remarked, as they drew in closer.
"So it is, suh," replied the paddler. "I was just making up my mind to head foh it when you spoke. Here she goes, now."
Thad was half standing, and as the prow of the boat grated on the sand he made a flying leap for the shore. Bumpus looked as though he half expected to see some terrible monster dart out of the brushwood, and seize upon the scout-master. He heaved a sigh of relief when nothing of the sort came about; and even condescended to waddle ashore himself—that is the only word capable of doing justice to the clumsy actions of Bumpus when in a narrow boat like a canoe.
So the three scouts now stood on the sandy beach. Bumpus scanned the bushes, but Thad was observing certain marks on the little sandy beach that told him others had drawn a boat up in that same place before now. In fact, to judge from the freshness of the signs, it had not been very long ago since men or boys were here.
Now, there is something in the makeup of certain lads calculated to draw them on, when there is an element of uncertainty in the air. Thad had been curious to explore this island before; and now that he had seen signs of others having landed, he began to feel doubly anxious. Perhaps it was the "call of the wild" in his composition; or possibly he had inherited some trait bordering on a love of adventure, handed down from some remote ancestor who may have roamed the world seeking excitement.