"That's right; that's right. Poor chap. And he's so healthy to look at, too! By the way, what's this burlap game?"
Rosalind laughed.
"It's all on account of that stupid Jones boy," she explained. "He started to blurt something about why you had gone to Mr. Davidson's, and he had half of 'burglar' out when Tom bumped him with his elbow. Then I had to finish it somehow, and all I could think of was burlap. You see, it had to be something that couldn't possibly excite Reggy."
"I get you," grinned Mr. Witherbee. "Burlap, eh? I'll have to remember to get some now."
Suddenly his expression changed and he became grave.
"We've organized," he said in guarded tones. "There were seven islands represented. We're going to hire a patrol. Some of them are going to get watchmen, too. And it's high time, Rosalind."
He stepped closer and looked about him cautiously.
"Somebody's been on the island again," he whispered. "But don't say anything yet!"
"Again!"
"To-night, I think. Somebody's stolen the dog!"