“A motor-boat,” shouted Frank, as the low body, gathering speed momentarily, tore off across the moonlit water and vanished in the dark shadows off the end of the island.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MEN OF THE ISLAND.
Once on board the Carrier Dove the mystery was deepened. There was not a trace of Pork Chops, though his blankets lay apparently just as they had been thrown aside when he leaped up at the invasion of the motor-boat intruders. Frank lit a lantern and naturally the first thing the boys hastened to investigate was whether any harm had come to the cases containing the frame of The Golden Eagle II. To their unspeakable relief everything was intact, nor did any of the boxes show traces of having been tampered with.
“The whole thing seems inexplicable,” mused Harry.
“Not at all,” replied Frank, “I suppose that they figured we were asleep ashore and sneaked up in their motor-boat to rifle our possessions.”
“Yes, but why did they carry off Pork Chops?” protested Billy; “for unless they threw him overboard, they must have taken him,—unless he’s been carried off by mosquitoes.”
“They would naturally have carried him off as I figure it,” rejoined Frank, “not wishing to have him meet us and describe the appearance of our visitors.”
“That sounds good horse sense,” put in Ben Stubbs. “And in my opinion them chaps in the motor-boat was the same limpets as stuck around the aerodrome in White Plains,” he continued sagely.
“I don’t think there’s much doubt of that, Ben,” replied Frank, “the thing is how did they get here?”
“Wall, the rate we’ve been coming it would have been mighty easy for them in a light draught motor-boat to have kept track of us from near inshore if they had a good glass,” rejoined Ben.