It was hard work poling the boat along, as the bottom of the lake was for the most part rocky, and the poles slipped. Once Frank nearly went overboard, but Bob caught him by the arm in time to save him.
They had now come within a hundred feet of the islands, and still nobody made his appearance, nor did they see a single sign of hostilities.
“Maybe he’s skipped,” said Frank.
“I don’t see how he could. Come on, we will run in this inlet and jump ashore. Got your pistol handy?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on till I take a good look ahead.”
Bob stood up in the bow and parted the bushes. At the moment that he did so there reached them a most agonizing scream.
“Help me! Oh, save me!”
The cry came from behind a grove of willow trees, close to the shore.
“That isn’t Casco’s voice!” exclaimed Frank. “What can it mean?”