A LUCKY QUARREL
Frank stared uncomprehendingly toward the slowly-heaving waters of the
bay.
“I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed. “The _Gull_ must be somewhere else.
We’re at the wrong place.”
“I only wish we were,” spoke Andy dubiously. “But you can see for
yourself that this is where we camped. Here is where our small boat was
pulled up on shore, where we slept under it, and, if you want any better
evidence—here’s grub! Grub, Frank do you hear? We shan’t starve, even if
we are marooned!”
He raced to a clump of scrub bushes some distance up on shore and began
pulling out boxes and tins.
“Good!” shouted Frank. “I never was so hungry before in my life. Now if
we could only make a fire!”
But that was out of the question. Every bit of driftwood, of which there
was a big supply, was soaking wet. The boys had plenty of matches, in
waterproof boxes, but they would be useless until some dry fuel was
available.
“Well, it can’t be helped,” said Andy, as he proceeded to open a tin of
corned beef. “We ought to be thankful for this. Open that tin box of
crackers. Luckily they’re not wet. We can make a meal off this, and
we’ll have a cooked dinner. I wonder—why—blub—ugh—that
man—um—lum—didn’t—”
“Oh, don’t try to talk and eat at the same time,” requested Frank with a
laugh—the first since their adventure in the cave. “Take your time.” For
Andy was fairly devouring the corned beef.
“Hum! I guess you can’t be very hungry, or you wouldn’t take _your_
time,” retorted the younger lad. “Hurry up with those crackers. And
there’s some jam, somewhere. Oh, for a cup of hot coffee.”
“Cheese it!” cried Frank sharply. “Do you want to make me throw
something at you? But what were you trying to say when you had your
mouth full a while ago?”
“I said it was a wonder that man didn’t take this grub with him when he
took our boat and the _Gull_!”
“I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t find the food. But what makes you think
he took our boats?”
“They’re gone; aren’t they?”
“Yes, but I think the tide carried away the small boat. The waves came
up unusually high, as you can see by the marks in the sand. We didn’t
pull the skiff up far enough.”
“What about the _Gull_?”
“Well, I admit he might have taken that, though there is a possibility
that it dragged the anchor. We’ll take a look all around the island
after we get things in shape. If we’ve got to stay here a while we might
as well be comfortable.”
“I don’t believe we’ll stay very long.”
“Why not?”
“Because dad will start out and search for us if we don’t get home
pretty soon, and the first place he’ll head for will be this island.”
“Guess you’re right. Pass the jam. My! but this tastes good!”
“Good! I should say so!” agreed Andy.
They made a rude but substantial breakfast, washing it down with plenty
of spring water which they found a little way inland. Then they talked
matters over.
The first thing to do, they agreed, was to look for the _Gull_, and to
this end they once more ascended the cliff and looked all about. She was
not in sight, nor was there any other craft on the waters that now
sparkled in the sunlight, for the storm had passed away.
“The next thing to do is to make another circuit of the island,” went on
Frank. “We’ll do it as quickly as we can, and perhaps we can come upon
our boat. It may have drifted ashore.”
Together they started off. They planned to keep up the search all day,
taking their lunch with them, and camping out at night, as they had done
before.
“But first we’ll hoist a distress signal, in case dad comes for us, and
we’ll leave a note saying where we have gone and that we’ll come back,”
suggested Frank.
This was done. They tied one of their coats to a tall tree well up on
the cliff, where it could be seen by a boat coming from the direction of
Harbor View. Then, leaving a note, written on a piece of paper from a
cracker box, they set out.
Up to noon they had found nothing, but an hour later Andy, who was in
the lead, suddenly uttered a cry as he turned a little promontory and
started down a level stretch of beach.
“There’s our man!” he cried. “He’s just come ashore, and the wrecked
motor boat is there too! It must have drifted away and he went after it.
He has a man with him!”
Frank saw what his brother indicated. Disembarking from a large rowboat
were two men—one the mysterious stranger who had imprisoned them in the
cave. The other seemed to be a boatman, or fisherman. The two were
pulling up on the beach the battered hull of the wrecked motor boat, now
more dilapidated than ever.
“What shall we do?” asked Andy.
“Let’s go right up to him,” proposed Frank. “He ought to be afraid of us
now, and he may play right into our hands.”
They started forward, but were suddenly stopped by loud voices between
the two men, neither of whom had yet noticed the approach of our heroes.
“I want my pay now!” they heard the boatman declare.
“And you won’t get it until I’m ready to give it to you,” retorted the
mysterious man angrily. “Now you help me get this boat farther up on the
sand.”
“I won’t do another thing! I’m done with you. Give me my money!”
“No!”
“Then take that!”
With a quick motion the boatman drew back his fist and sent it with all
his force into the face of the mysterious man. The latter reeled under
the blow, staggered for a second, and then toppled over backward on the
sand, falling heavily.
“Try to cheat me, will you!” shouted the man. Then he caught sight of
the boys. A change seemed to come over him. He shoved out the big
rowboat, ran out after it, holding to the stern and then leaped in. The
next moment he was pulling away lustily.
The mysterious man lay motionless on the sands.
“Now’s our chance!” cried Frank. “That was a lucky quarrel for us. We
can capture him. That boatman saved us a hard job. Come on, Andy!”
Together the brothers ran forward.