THE CABIN ON THE ISLAND
"Dave, come on out for a row. You haven't been on the river this
year."
It was Gus Plum who spoke. He was out in one of the craft belonging to
Oak Hall, and hailed our hero as the latter was strolling along the
river-bank.
"All right, Gus!" Dave cried, cheerily. "I don't know but that a try
at the oars will do me good, after the hard studying I've been
doing."
"You are bound to get a high-water mark this term, aren't you?" went
on Gus Plum, as he brought the rowboat up to the dock, so that Dave
might get in.
"I'd like to graduate with honor, yes."
"What are you going to do after you leave here, Dave?" went on the big
youth, as the two rowed up the river.
"I don't know yet. Have you made up your mind?"
"Oh, I think I'll go into business, but I am not sure."
"You won't try for college?"
"No. You see, I don't make much of a fist at learning, so what's the
use? But I love business--buying and selling things."
The two boys continued at the oars until the vicinity of Oak Hall was
left far behind.
"If we only had a power-boat we might run up to Squirrel Island,"
remarked Gus.
"Perhaps Nat Poole will lend you his motor-boat," suggested our hero,
with a little grin.
"Humph! I'd not ask him," returned the big youth, promptly. "I am done
with Nat Poole. I want to stick to my new friends." And the former
bully of the school fairly beamed on Dave, who had done so much to
make him reform.
"Have you seen the motor-boat this season, Gus?"
"Yes, Nat got it out two days ago. I think he is on the river now."
The boys rowed on, until they came to a bend where there was something
of a cove. As they rounded the point they heard the steady put-put! of
a gasoline engine not far off.
"There is Nat's craft now!" cried our hero, and pointed ahead.
"He's all alone," was Plum's comment. "He can't have many friends
these days, or he'd have some of them along."
"I'd hate to be without friends, Gus, shouldn't you?"
"Yes, indeed! But it's Nat's own fault. If he'd only drop his
important airs and be more sociable, he'd get along all right."
On and on rowed the two students. It was a clear, balmy day, and they
hated to return to the school until it was absolutely necessary.
"Let us row around Smith Island," suggested our hero, mentioning a
small place in the middle of the stream, so named after a farmer who
owned it. It was a rocky and somewhat barren spot, and seldom visited
by anybody but fishermen.
"All right, but we want to beware of the rocks," cautioned the big
youth.
The rowboat was headed up the stream, and soon they came in sight of
the island. On one side were a number of bushes, overhanging the
river.
"Hello! look there!" cried Dave, a few minutes later, and pointed to
the bushes.
"What do you see?"
"A motor-boat. I think it is Nat Poole's."
"Is that so? What brought him here?" questioned Gus, with interest.
"I am sure I don't know. But it's his boat, I am sure of that," went
on Dave, after another look at the craft.
"See anything of Nat?"
"No, the boat is empty."
"Let us row in a little closer and see what he is doing," suggested
Gus.
"He'll say we were spying on him."
"Humph! Haven't we as much right as he has to visit the island?"
"Of course."
"Then what is the use of keeping away? He may be waiting to play some
trick, or something like that."
"Oh, I think not, Gus. Probably he just visited the island out of
curiosity. But I'll go in if you say so."
Slowly, so as to avoid the many rocks in that vicinity, the two
students brought the rowboat close up to the motor-craft. They looked
into the bushes and along the rocks beyond, but saw nothing of Nat.
"Shall we call to him?" asked Gus.
"What for? I don't want to see him."
"Neither do I. His boat is tied good and fast. He must expect to stay
on the island quite a while."
The two boys rowed on, past the motor-boat. Then, as they turned a
point of rocks, Dave gave a start.
"Well, of all things!"
"What is it, Dave?"
"Look yonder--in between those bushes!"
"Why, it's a rowboat."
"Exactly, Gus, and do you see how it is painted, drab with blue
stripes?"
"Of course--a pretty ugly boat, I think."
"Gus, that is the very rowboat used by that wild man--the one he was
in when he got away from us that day!"
"Do you really mean it?" gasped the big boy, staring hard at the
craft.
"I certainly do--I'd know that boat in a hundred. I never saw another
just like it."
"If that's the case, maybe the wild man is on the island!"
"Just what I was thinking," answered Dave. "And I was thinking, too,
that----" He stopped short.
"What?"
"Don't you remember how Nat was so anxious to know all about the wild
man? And how upset he seemed to be when he heard that the fellow
called himself the King of Sumatra?"
"Yes, I remember that. Do you think he came here to find the man?"
demanded Gus, quickly.
"It looks so to me."
"My gracious, Dave, I think you are right! Say, there is something
mysterious about all this!" cried Gus.
"Exactly."
"Let us go ashore by all means and see what Nat is up to," urged the
big youth.
Dave was more than willing, now that he had discovered the rowboat
used by the wild man. Perhaps this island was the home of that
mysterious individual. If so, what was the money-lender's son doing
there? Had he business with the strange creature?
"Maybe we'd better not make any noise," suggested Gus, as the boat was
turned in to a convenient landing-place. To this Dave did not reply,
but they landed as silently as possible. Then the rowboat was hauled
up out of sight between the bushes.
From the craft used by the wild man a rude path ran up from the shore
to the rocks beyond. A short distance from the shore the boys saw the
marks of a wet foot, coming from the direction where lay the
motor-boat.
"That was made by Nat--he got his left foot wet," said Gus.
"I think so myself," answered our hero.
They followed the marks left by the wet foot over the rocks. They
headed for the upper end of the island, where there was a small grove
of straggly cedar trees. Here the marks faded away completely.
"Well, we know he came this way, anyhow," remarked Gus. "He can't be
very far off, for the island isn't very big."
"I see a rude log cabin!" exclaimed Dave, and pointed through the
cedars. "Maybe that is where the wild man lives."
"If it is, we want to go slow, Dave. He may attack us."
"But what of Nat, if he is there?"
"He may know the man and have some influence over him."
"I hardly think anybody could have any influence over that man. He is
as crazy as can be, and not to be trusted."
The two youths approached the old log cabin slowly, keeping as much as
possible in the shelter of the trees. Nobody was in sight, nor did any
sound reach their ears.
Presently the students found themselves within fifty feet of the
cabin, the door of which stood half open. Each looked at the other.
"I'm going ahead," said Dave, resolutely. He and his companion had
provided themselves with sticks, and Gus had also picked up two
stones.
"Oh! oh! oh!" came of a sudden, to their startled ears. "Oh dear me!"
"It's Nat!" ejaculated Dave. "Something has happened to him!"
"Maybe the wild man attacked him," added Gus.
"We'll soon see," cried Dave, and started forward on a run.
Soon our hero was at the door of the cabin, which he pushed wide open.
Inside all was dark, for it was growing late, and the rude structure
boasted of but one small window, stuffed with cedar boughs to keep out
the wind.
"Nat, where are you?" cried Dave, as his eyes sought to pierce the
semi-darkness.
"Who--who is that calling me?" came, in surprise, from the center of
the cabin.
"It is I--Dave Porter! Where are you, and what happened? Where is the
wild man?"
"Oh, I'm caught fast--in a trap!" groaned the money-lender's son. "Oh,
help me out! My ankle is almost broken!"
"But the wild man--?" queried Gus, who was close behind our hero.
"I--I don't know where he is," gasped Nat. "Oh, say, won't you please
help me? My ankle is fast in a trap! Oh, how it hurts!"
"Wasn't the wild man here?" asked Dave, as he got out his match-box to
strike a light.
"No--at least, I haven't seen him."
Dave soon had a match lit, and with it set fire to a cedar bough
placed in the rude fireplace of the cabin. By the glare of this light
he and Gus looked around them and at their fellow-student.
The cabin was unfurnished excepting for a rude bench and a board
placed on some piles of stones for a table. In the fireplace were a
kettle and a frying-pan, and on the table the remains of a scanty meal
of crackers, eggs, and apples. A tin pail, half filled with water, was
also handy.
When Dave and Gus turned their attention to Nat Poole they had to
stare in wonder. Nat sat on the floor, nursing a bruised ankle that
was caught fast between the jaws of an old-fashioned steel
animal-trap. The trap was chained to the floor, and the release chain
ran to a corner of the fireplace, several feet beyond the sufferer's
reach.
"However did this happen?" asked Gus, although he and our hero could
easily guess the answer to the question.
"Help me get loose first," groaned poor Nat. "This thing is sawing
down to the bone."
Dave saw the release chain, which was held firm by a hook. Stepping
over, he unhooked it, and then it was an easy matter to pry the jaws
of the steel-trap apart. As soon as this was done, Nat rose slowly to
his feet, making a wry face as he did so.
"I'll be lame for life--I know I will!" he groaned. "Oh dear, how it
hurts!"
"You take care that you don't get blood-poisoning from it," warned
Gus. "When you get home wash it well, and put some peroxide of
hydrogen, or something like that on it."
"Blood-poisoning! Oh dear!" and Nat gave another groan.
"Shall we help you back to your boat?" asked Dave.
"If you will."
"Where is the wild man?" questioned Gus, looking around.
"I don't know, and I don't care--just now," answered Nat Poole.