Clancy and Hill looked sharp, but they couldn't see anything of the diver.
"Shucks!" grunted Ike. "He come up for another boat afore he got here. But he'll be along after a spell."
Ike rested from his rowing a bit, and filled and, lighted his pipe.
"Up there," said he, waving his hand aloft, "is the towerin' summits o' Black Jack and Orizaba, If you're goin' to be on the island overnight you don't want to miss the coach trip to the top o' the uplifts. It's ten miles up and two miles back, same road all the way," he chuckled as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, "and the round trip is only eight miles. It'll cost you a dollar apiece, and you don't want to miss it."
Clancy and Hill had already discovered that the inhabitants of Avalon had a hand out for tourist money. When one had got all he could of a guileless sight-seer, he passed him on to a brother who had something else to show. But they were a kindly lot, those Avalonians for all that.
"Now, watch!" warned Ike. "Here the diver comes, for sure!"
This time Ike was correct. Clancy and Hill, peering through the glass bottom of the boat, saw a human form glide gracefully to a point directly underneath, turn over on its back, and float face upward, full a dozen feet below the surface.
The diver commenced to throw kisses and to make faces, but he suddenly ceased that pleasing performance. His face abruptly froze as with horror, and his wide eyes looked, up at the two faces staring down through the glass.
A sharp exclamation escaped Clancy's lips. Hill gave a yell, sat up and began tearing off his coat, hat, and vest.
"It's–it's Hank Burton!" he murmured, far gone with wonder. "It's Gerald Wynn's pard, and he helped walk off with your fifteen thousand, Clancy! What's he doin' in the marine gardens, I'd like to know? Wouldn't this put kinks into your intelleck? Say!"