"You came to look for us?" echoed Betty, wonderingly.
"Yes, miss," was the answer. "He sent me to find you."
"He? Who do you mean?" Betty questioned anxiously.
"Tom—Tom Osborne. He told me to come here and tell you he couldn't come."
"Couldn't come—why?" Betty's voice had a note of fear in it now.
"'Cause they've caught him. He's cotched, Miss."
"Caught? By whom?" It was Mollie who questioned now.
Before answering The Loon, which name seemed to fit the poor creature well, glided forward, glancing back nervously over his shoulder now and then, as though he feared pursuit.
"Oh dear!" murmured Grace. "I don't like this. It's worse than the ghost of the island."
"Be quiet," urged Betty. "It may be all right yet. I'm going to light more lamps."