“There’s a sloop coming to anchor just outside,” he said. “Perhaps they know something about him. Just keep close, now. There’s a skiff coming in, with two in it. I’m a justice of the peace. I reckon this revolver will be a good argument for them to stop. I’ll hold them until that chap, Jenkins, is able to sit up again. If he identifies them as the ones that brought him in here, I’ll put them under arrest. Have you got a weapon?”
Harvey produced Haley’s revolver.
“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Stanton, “keep it handy and stand by. When I step out, you follow.”
Peering through the doorway, they saw the skiff come in to shore and two persons step out—one a large, powerfully built man, the other a youth of about Harvey’s age. The two came up a path leading from the shore, toward the cabin. Their boots crunched the ice just outside the door when Mr. Stanton, motioning to Harvey, stepped quickly outside. Harvey followed.
“Hold up there,” cried Mr. Stanton, “I put you two under arrest till I find out—”
He stopped abruptly and jumped with surprise when Jack Harvey, uttering a whoop and a yell, darted past him.
“George Warren!” bawled Harvey, rushing up to the astounded youth; “where did you come from? How in the world did you ever get here? Any more of the fellows with you? Is Henry Burns out aboard? I was right. I saw you weeks ago through Haley’s telescope. Tom, come on out. They’ve come for us. Hooray!”
Mr. Stanton, wide-eyed with wonder, lowered his weapon and bowed to the man with George Warren.
“The arrest is off,” he said. “I apologize, sir. Come inside and I’ll explain.”
George Warren, embracing his friend Harvey, was almost too dumfounded to speak. But Harvey continued to ply him with questions.