The other three exchanged glances.
"I guess that's about right," admitted Tom.
"It's certainly quiet enough to suit anybody; and chances are they wouldn't be disturbed in a coon's age," declared Jack. "Our coming here was a freak. It mightn't happen again in many years."
"And this old island's already got a bad name; hasn't it?"
Bobolink went on.
"That would help keep people away," admitted Paul. "I've heard of men coming up in this region winters, trapping the muskrats that swarm in the marshes; but up to cranberry picking time it's almost deserted."
"Jack, you must have had an idea, too?" remarked Bobolink.
"Well, I did; but perhaps the rest of you'll only give me the laugh if I mention it," replied Jack.
"All the same, it isn't fair to keep anything back," Tom declared. "My guess didn't pan out much, and you couldn't have worse luck than that. So tell us."
"Yes, go on, Jack, and give us the benefit of your think-box. I've known you to get away up head more'n a few times, when it came to a live race. And mebbe some of the rest of us mightn't think so badly of your idea as you do yourself," and as he said this Bobolink sat down on the sand to listen, all the while eyeing those mysterious tracks as though he half expected them to give tongue, and tell the true story of their origin.
"Oh! well, that seems only fair, so here goes," Jack began. "Somehow I happened to remember that once on a time I read about some counterfeiters who had their nest in an old haunted mill, away up in the country."