THE MISER OF THE ISLAND
Meg's conjecture was correct. It was Mr. Max Pooler who was the sole occupant of the rowboat that was fast approaching the island.
He pulled a quick stroke, and two minutes brought him to the shore, where, beaching his craft, he jumped out, and walked rapidly toward the cottage.
He was a thin, sallow-complexioned man, with a low forehead and sunken gray eyes. The expression upon his face, especially around his mouth, was a pinched and hard one.
He viewed Jack and Mont in surprise, not unmixed with disapproval, and turned to the girl for an explanation.
"How is this, Meg?" he asked, in a shrill, disagreeable tone of voice. "Whom have you here?"
"Two young men that drifted over the falls," replied the girl, who was somewhat startled by his sudden coming. "I found 'em down by the spring, all tuckered out."
"Over the falls!" Max Pooler's face showed his incredulity. "Never heard of it afore! When did it happen?"
"We can't tell exactly," replied Jack. "We became unconscious, and came to about an hour or so ago."
"Humph!" The master of the island glanced at the table, where a good portion of the food still remained. "Pretty good dinner you're givin' 'em, Meg," he continued.