Peg told us that the Strickers’ camp was without a guard, but, even so, it was wise for us, we concluded, to approach the island in secrecy. For in a boys’ camp it is not uncommon at night for some wakeful or hungry one to be abroad in search of fun or food. I’ve frequently done it myself. And I could tell of tricks that have been played on me when supposedly every member of the camp was asleep like myself. It would seem from listening ashore that all of the members of this camp were asleep. But, as I say, we took no chances.
It was now close to midnight. The moon, as we drew near to the silent island’s east end, was almost directly over our heads. I was glad from the bottom of my heart that the moon was out. For its fat glistening face gave us a protecting wide range of vision in all directions.
What would the killer do, I wondered, now [[196]]that he had been foiled, sort of, in his intended evil scheme of stealing the piano leg’s greenbacks? Would he, in fear of what we might have to tell about him, get quickly out of the country? Or would he try to run us down, in continued determination to get the money?
One thing in our favor, he didn’t know in which direction we had made our escape, whether to the east, toward Steam Corners, or to the west. So he would have no certain knowledge of where to turn to put his hands on us. And to start searching for us in the canal’s extended wilderness without a clew to our probable whereabouts would be like trying to find the needle that was lost in the haystack.
It was more probable, I told myself, that he would keep close to the lock tender’s dock, in the thought that we would be likely to return to the lock to try and recover our show boat. If he held to that possible plan we were safer still. For we had not the slightest intention of trying to get possession of the scow. That, we had sensibly concluded, was a job for our fathers, particularly my father, the boat’s owner. Our job, instead of scheming and fighting for the boat, was to get back to Tutter with the greenbacks and the bonds. Then the law, as represented by the lock tender [[197]]and his brother, could sort of settle with us through our parents.
At sight of the piano leg in the boat I fell to wondering to whom the greenbacks that we had found belonged. The lock tender had said in our hearing that he had bought the piano at a second-hand sale. As he seemed to know nothing about the hidden greenbacks, the money undoubtedly had been contained in the hollow leg when he had brought the piano home. This led to the logical conclusion that the money belonged to the piano’s former owner. Yet it was puzzling to me to understand why a man, after having secreted a thousand dollars in bills in the leg of his piano, should turn around and sell the instrument for little or nothing. And it was equally puzzling to comprehend how the killer had come into his knowledge of the hidden money.
Suppose the law couldn’t locate the piano’s former owner? Would the money in that event be ours? Hot dog! I said to myself, thinking of the fun we could have with a thousand dollars.
Arriving at the island we placed the boat in charge of the girl, cautioning her not to leave it or to move it. Then we proceeded single file up the rocky slope to the knoll where the enemy was in camp. Coming to the entrance to the hermit’s [[198]]cave, Scoop turned in, signaling to us to wait for him. In a moment or two he returned from the cave with a three-foot length of rope that I remembered seeing on the cave’s sandy floor the preceding day.
“It’s a good thing for my scheme,” he laughed, starting to untwist the rope’s strands, “that the Strickers believe in ghosts.”
“What do you mean?” Peg inquired quickly, plainly puzzled to understand what the other was planning to do with the rope.