“I can’t make any plans until I reach there,” he decided. “I’ll just have to size things up, and act on the spur of the moment. Jinks! If I only had one of the fellows with me it would be easy, but playing a lone hand isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. However, I’ll do my best.
“Now let’s see. I’ll need a little grub, for I may not be able to get back to-day. And a blanket if I have to stay out in the open all night. I’ll take a little light axe along, and some matches. I guess that’ll be all. And the plan—of course,” he concluded, with a grim smile. “If they come for it again they’ll find it gone.”
Everything being in readiness for what he hoped would be his last visit to the mill to rescue his comrades, Tom got his lonely breakfast. It was not such a gloomy meal as the others had been, for he was very hopeful, and even whistled as he went about the camp, making things as secure as possible until he should return.
“And if I do get the boys, then for a grand final try for that treasure!” he exclaimed, as he pushed off in the clumsy skiff.
It was a perfect day, and as Tom thought of the fine weather his friends were missing he felt a wave of anger against Professor Skeel, the hermit and the two lads of Elmwood Hall.
“If those bullies come back to school in the fall!” exclaimed Tom, with a grim smile, “I’ll make the place too hot to hold them, that’s what I’ll do!”
Rowing with long, even strokes Tom propelled the skiff across the lake. Instinctively he swept his eyes along the shores for a possible sight of his motorboat.
“But it isn’t likely that they’d allow her to get away from them,” he argued. “Though I’ll get her sooner or later.”
He turned the point that hid a view of the river entering Lake Woonset, and, as he did so he uttered a cry.
“By Jove! Is it possible!” he shouted, standing up in the skiff. “It is, as I’m alive!” he added. “Oh, of all the good luck!”