CHAPTER XIV.
OFF ON A LONG CHASE.
"Castle Rock Island!" echoed Tom, in an amazed voice, "why—why—that's Mr. MacTavish's island where we were going camping."
"Aye, it used to belong to a man named MacTavish, a lumber capitalist from Mackinac. It may belong to him yet for all I know, but no one's lived on it for many years, and it's become a sort of roost for a gang of rascals," replied old Sam Wrenchly.
"You are certain of this, Sam?" inquired Obadiah Ironsides.
"As certain as I'm standing here," rejoined the old man indignantly, as if he didn't much like having his word questioned, "wasn't I keeper of the old lighthouse that used to stand there, and didn't I have trouble with this fellow Rangler at that time?"
"So there used to be a lighthouse on it?" asked Tom.
"Yes. I guess the ruins of it are there yet. But that channel isn't used any more, and the lighthouse, if it's still there, must have fallen into ruins. Yes, it was a queer sort of place was that island."
"Queer? In what particular way?"
It was Obadiah Ironsides who put the question.