Clyde Wendell’s Mission
Madge was washing breakfast dishes the next morning when Clyde Wendell
entered the kitchen. He appeared in a better mood than upon his arrival
and greeted her pleasantly.
“Good morning. I’d like to go for a little row on the lake. Can you let
me have a boat?”
“I’ll see what we have,” she returned, wiping soap suds from her hands.
She walked down to the landing with him although she knew without looking
that all of the boats save one were gone. The skiff had been rented out
earlier that morning to another guest and Bill had taken one of the boats
across the lake to gather stone for a new fireplace Mr. Brady was
building. That left only a heavy, cumbersome craft which leaked rather
badly.
“Perhaps you would prefer to wait until the skiff comes in,” she
suggested doubtfully. “We seldom rent out this boat. It’s rather heavy
and—”
“You keep it in reserve for yourself, eh?” the chemist interrupted with a
knowing laugh. “Well, it looks like a good boat to me and I’ll take it.”
Madge started to protest then changed her mind. Without a word, she went
to the woodshed and brought back a pair of oars which she fitted into the
locks. Carelessly, she dropped a tin bucket into the bottom of the boat.
“What’s that for?” Clyde demanded suspiciously.
“Oh, just in case of a leak.”
The chemist should have been forewarned but the bottom of the boat was
dry and he had implicit faith in his own judgment. Stepping into the
craft he rowed away. Madge smiled as she watched him strike out across
the lake. She returned to her dishes, but a few minutes later, hanging
dish towels on the back porch, she observed that the boat had taken a
direct course for Stewart Island.
“I wonder what he’s up to?” she mused. “I don’t believe he wanted me to
know he was going over there to see Anne. I’d like to follow him over but
of course that wouldn’t do.”
Though somewhat ashamed of her curiosity, Madge kept close watch of
Stewart Island all morning. Toward noon the chemist’s boat was sighted
returning slowly across the lake. She was amused to see that he
frequently dropped his oars to bail water.
Presently, the boat eased to a landing.
“Say, what do you mean by giving me an old leaky tub?” the chemist called
out angrily as he caught sight of Madge on the veranda. “I darn near
drowned!”
“I guess the boat does leak a trifle,” she admitted readily. “I tried to
tell you but you were so determined not to wait for the skiff.”
“You didn’t hurt yourself trying to tell me! Look at my clothes—wet to
the skin. If I hadn’t bailed like all get-out I’d have gone to the
bottom.”
“The boat never entirely fills,” Madge corrected sweetly.
Clyde stalked angrily into the house to change his wet shoes and
garments. Madge tied up the boat, chuckling at his discomfiture.
“Something must have gone wrong over at Stewart Island,” she thought
shrewdly. “I’ll find out when I see Anne again.”
The opportunity was to present itself that very afternoon. Soon after
luncheon, Clyde Wendell went for a walk in the forest and a short time
later, Madge sighted Anne’s familiar red canoe on the lake. As the girl
came toward the lodge, she raced down to the water’s edge to meet her.
Anne looked cautiously about before she beached her canoe.
“Clyde Wendell isn’t anywhere near, is he?” she asked in a low tone. “If
he is, I can’t stay.”
“He left a half hour ago. What’s wrong, Anne? You look worried.”
“I am. Oh, Madge, everything has gone wrong. You were right about Clyde.
He didn’t come here to help at all. He’s the meanest man in the world!”
“What has he done now?”
“He claims I owe him five hundred dollars. Or rather, that Father did. He
insists that several months back wages were due him at the time he left
here. It’s too ridiculous for words! Actually, Father paid him extra
money to be rid of him.”
“Haven’t you a cancelled check or a receipt to prove it?”
“Not a thing. Father wouldn’t bother about a receipt. Clyde knows that he
was more than paid for his services. I’m afraid he thinks I’m
inexperienced about business matters and that he can bluff me into giving
him the money.”
“I’d never do it.”
Anne laughed shortly.
“No danger of that. I couldn’t find five hundred dollars if my life
depended upon it. The only way I can raise money is to borrow from the
bank or sell my island. And in this country islands are as common as pine
trees and about as cheap!”
“Not such islands as yours,” Madge corrected. “Uncle George says you have
an ideal location and the place should bring a tidy sum if sold to the
right party.”
“Well, Jake Curtis isn’t the right party. I’m sure of that. He knows it
will be hard for me to pay the debt I owe him and I think he means to
take advantage of me if he can. I’m to see the president of the First
National bank today and ask him for a loan. Jack said he would take me to
town in his car. Won’t you come with us?”
Madge replied that she should not leave but Anne coaxed her until she
gave in. They crossed the lake and found Jack waiting with his car. He
seemed well pleased that Madge was to go along.
At Luxlow he dropped the girls at the bank, promising to call for them in
an hour. They entered the building and Anne was admitted to the private
office of the president. Madge waited outside.
Fifteen minutes elapsed before Anne emerged. The expression of her face
disclosed instantly that the interview had not been successful.
“It’s no use,” she reported when they were outside again. “He listened
politely enough to my story but he wasn’t really interested. When I
finished he said he was sorry he could do nothing for me. It seems the
bank must have sound collateral and I’ve nothing to pledge.”
Madge tried to cheer her companion, and since over a half hour remained
before Jack would return, suggested that they go to a nearby drug store
for ice cream. They walked slowly down the street, gazing at the window
displays.
Suddenly Anne clutched her friend’s arm, gripping it with a hard
pressure. With a quick jerk of her head she indicated a man on the
opposite side of the street.
“There’s Jake Curtis!” she said tensely. “I hope he doesn’t see me!”
No sooner had the words been spoken than the man turned toward the girls.
He was a short, stout individual with ill-fitting, somewhat soiled
clothing and a hard, shrewd face. Before Anne and Madge could dodge into
a store he crossed the street and confronted them.
“Trying to avoid me, eh?”
“Why should I wish to avoid you, Mr. Curtis?” Anne countered.
“Well, there’s a little matter of a note between us, y’know.” He smiled
unpleasantly. “Aiming to pay it off by the first, are you?”
“Why,—I—that is, I expect to,” Anne stammered.
“Better think over that proposition I made you. You’ll not find any other
person in these parts who will take the house off your hands. I must warn
you though, I’ll expect payment of one kind or another on the day my note
falls due.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Anne returned coldly.
The girls turned their backs and walked hurriedly on. Anne was so
agitated by the meeting that she did not care to stop at the drug store
so they returned to the bank there to await Jack.
“Jake Curtis surely deserves his reputation!” Madge declared in disgust.
“Oh, Anne, don’t ever sell him your island!”
“I don’t know what else I can do.”
“Perhaps Uncle George can find a buyer for you. I’ll speak to him tonight
about it. And then we may locate the formula. That would solve
everything.”
Jack soon returned and the three started for Loon Lake. Anne who was
reticent by nature, made no mention of her discouraging bank interview,
and although Madge would have liked to acquaint the ranger with the
situation, she felt it was not her place to bring up the subject.
The sun was low over the lake when the car finally reached the end of the
road. The girls thanked Jack for the ride and took leave of him. They
crossed over to the lodge in Anne’s canoe.
“I mustn’t stop, Madge. It’s getting late.”
“Do come in for just a minute,” her friend pleaded. “I baked a chocolate
cake this morning and I want you to have half of it.”
Anne permitted herself to be led toward the house. Madge quickly wrapped
up the cake but scarcely had she finished than they heard a shout from
the beach. The next instant Old Bill came hurrying toward the house.
“Come quick, folks! An airplane’s landin’ on the lake. You’ll miss it if
you don’t hurry!”
Madge laughed indulgently.
“Don’t pay any attention, Anne. That’s an old trick of his. He thinks
every day is April Fool’s. Think up something better, Bill.”
“Honest, I’m not foolin’ this time,” Bill maintained with a seriousness
which left no room for doubt. “Hear it?”
By this time the girls had caught the unmistakable drone of an airplane
motor. They rushed from the house, following Bill to the beach, and were
in time to see an amphibian spiral down and land smoothly on the water.
“Didn’t I tell you!” Bill chortled proudly. “It was three years last
month that a mail plane landed on Loon Lake. Engine must be out of
whack.”
Madge did not respond though she saw clearly that the plane was not of
the regular mail service. Nor was it one of the “Fire Eagles”
occasionally sent out by the Forest Service to scout for fires. As far as
she could tell the plane was disabled in no way. The steady throb of its
motors carried plainly over the water.
“Well, of all things!” Madge exclaimed. “What do you think of that!”
The amphibian was taxiing slowly through the water, its nose pointed
directly toward the beach.