“But come. We must be near the end of the island.”
Red did not ask, “How do you know this?” He merely followed on.
Scarcely a moment had passed when they came out upon a pebbly shore. And there, as he flashed his light about, he discovered a nondescript raft of spruce logs. Dragged half way up on the shore, it seemed for all its crudeness to be a rather substantial affair.
“I suppose,” he said in a low tone, “that this entire affair has been arranged. You knew the raft was here.”
Becoming suspicious, he flashed his light into a pair of very innocent-appearing blue eyes. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “you know why I have been carried away.”
“Don’t you?” The eyes opened wide.
“As I live, no.”
“Then you’ll have to ask some one else. It’s plain enough why they took me. Want my dad’s money. Expect my help in getting it. They’ll have no help from me!
“And now, Mister Man-who-don’t-know-why-he’s-here, let’s thank kind Providence for this raft which some summer fisherman left here, and shove off. Looks like we might go across with nothing more than wet feet. What luck!”
“And what do you think is on the other shore?”