So, the next Wednesday, once again there was a great stir just about dawn, and the four children hurried to their tasks of picking mushrooms and strawberries. They had made plenty of baskets again, and Jack and Mike set off two or three hours later with the boat, taking the full baskets with them.
For three or four weeks Jack went to market, sold all his goods, and bought a great many stores for the winter. He and Mike decided to store the bags and sacks of goods in the inner cave of the hillside, as there they would be quite dry - and, as the children would probably have to live in the caves in the winter, the stores would be quite handy there.
As the weeks went by there were not so many wild strawberries to be found. Mushrooms stopped growing in the field, and other market goods had to take their place. The children went nutting in the hazel trees and struck down great clusters of ripe nuts, lovely in their ragged green coats and brown shells. The girls picked baskets of big ripe blackberries, and Jack took these to the market instead of mushrooms and strawberries. People soon grew to know him at the market. They wondered where he came from, but Jack never told them anything about himself.
“I just live by the lakeside,” he said, when people asked him where he lived. They thought be meant somewhere by the lake - they did not know he meant by the lakeside on the secret island - and certainly Jack was not going to tell them!
One day, for the first time, Jack saw a policeman in the village. This struck him as strange, for he had never seen one there before, and he knew that the village was too small to have a policeman of its own. It shared one with the village five miles away. Jack’s heart sank - could the policeman have been told that a strange boy was about - and could he be wondering if the boy was one of the lost children! Jack began to edge away, though his baskets of nuts and blackberries were only half sold.
“Hi, you!” called the policeman suddenly. “Where do you come from, boy?”
“From the lakeside, where I’ve been gathering blackberries and nuts to sell,” said Jack, not coming near the policeman.
“Is your name Mike?” said the policeman.
And then Jack knew for certain that the policeman had been told that maybe he, Jack, was one of the four runaway children - and he had come to find out.
“No, that’s not my name,” said Jack, looking very innocent. “Buy some nuts, Mister Policeman?”