The slow-moving craft was under sail and there were several men aboard of her, as well as a pack of dogs which now and then gave tongue. Immediately the Barnacle went raving mad. The sigh and sound of so many canines heading toward the island that had been his own domain for a week, quite drove the Barnacle out of such few senses as he possessed.
He barked at the barge from the heights where the camp stood; then he raced down to the shore and emitted a salvo of barks from the landing on that side of the island. Then he raced back again, and so returned to the shore—alternating in his rushes in the craziest possible way.
Meanwhile the barge drew nearer and nearer. The general question at the girls’ camp was: “Why were the men and dogs coming to Acorn Island?”
“They can’t land here without a permit,” Bobby declared. “The Rocky River Lumber Company has posted the island.” 187
“And what sort of game can they hunt with hounds this time of year?” demanded Jess.
“Those are bloodhounds,” said her mother, calmly. “English bloodhounds.”
“Goodness!” squealed Bobby, suddenly. “Bloodhounds? Don’t you all feel just like Eliza crossing the ice, girls?”
“Not much!” cried Dora, laughing. “On a hot day like this?”
The cicadas were filing their saws in the tops of the trees and the promise of one of the hottest days of the season danced in the shimmer of haze over the water.
“Do you really suppose they are coming here with those dogs?” repeated Nell.