“If you have any doubt as to the presence of wreckers,” Clay explained, “just send your ruffians over on the island. The men who did most of the shooting are there. They may also be able to find the ashes of the signal fire the outlaws lighted.”
“That will be good exercise for them,” Jule cut in, “and perhaps they won’t be so brave when they find they haven’t boys to deal with.”
“Do you mean to tell me that the wreckers are now on the island?” asked the captain. “If they are, we may yet be able to make a capture.”
“They were on the island just before you came up,” Clay answered, “and I presume they are there yet. We’ll help you take them.”
The captain laughed and looked critically at the slender, well-dressed youngsters, then his eyes turned to the white bulldog and the bear, now sniffing suspiciously at his legs.
“It seems to me,” he said, “that I have heard of this outfit before! When I came aboard I thought I recognized the name of the Rambler. This menagerie of yours settles the point. You brought Captain Joe, the dog, from Para, on the Amazon and Teddy, the cub, from British Columbia.”
“You’ve got it,” Alex cried, “but how did you come to know so much about us? We rather expected to get away from our damaged reputations up here,” he added with a wink and a grin.
“You have long been famous in these parts,” the captain answered, “Ever since the Rambler came riding up to the Newfoundland coast on a flat car. It is a wonder that my men did not recognize you.”
“I don’t believe they can read,” laughed Alex. “Suppose you send them over on the island to see if they can recognize some of the outlaws.”
One of the sailors approached Captain Morgan, saluted, and pointed to the narrow channel between the island and the mainland. The sun was now shining brightly in the sky, and the whole landscape lay bright under its strong and rosy light. Half way across the channel, its rays glinted on splashing oars, and from the shore came hoarse commands.