A STARTLING CLEW
There was a streak of light in the western sky, whether caused by the
low-hanging, mist-hidden moon or a freak reflection of the coming dawn.
Against that patch of brightness the northern headland of Lost Island
loomed up high and barren save for its one tall tree. But it was
neither headland nor tree that caught Jerry's attention and caused the
gasp of dismay.
Standing there, bold and menacing, looking like a giant against the
queer light, was a man.
Whether it was the same one who had hailed them earlier in the morning,
the boys could not of course know. But there was no doubt about the
equal unfriendliness of his attitude, for through the crook of one
elbow he carried a shotgun, while even as Jerry turned in his seat, the
other arm was raised and a big fist shaken.
The next instant they were assured that this was the same man as had
warned them away before. There was no mistaking the voice that bellowed
across the water. Neither was there any mistaking the meaning of the
brief sentence:
"Get to thunder out o' here!"
Jerry stood up in the boat and waved a friendly hand in the general
direction of the angry man, and called pleasantly:
"We were just coming over to see about a boy we think landed on _your_
island last night or early this morning. We found his boat down at the
bridge and we figured that he must have----"
As Jerry talked, Dave had been slyly urging the boat closer to shore,
but at a sudden interruption from the island, both he and Jerry paused.
"You come another foot closer, you young idiots, and I'll fill you full
of rock salt. I loaded up especial for you when you raised that rumpus
last night; I knew durned well you'd be coming back."
"Have you seen anything of our friend?" cried Dave anxiously, trying to
smooth things over by being civil.
"If he's anything like you two, I hope I never do."
"You've got no right to keep us off Lost Island," began Jerry hotly.
"I don't need any right; I've got a shotgun. You two just pick up your
paddles and blow back to shore--and be sure you tie up that boat good
and tight or I'll have the law on you. Git, now!"
There didn't seem to be anything else to do. The two boys muttered to
each other, and neither one was willing to admit believing that the man
would really shoot, but somehow they were unwilling to put it to the
test. Reluctantly they took up the oars again and turned the nose of
the boat back toward the east bank.
Facing the man now, Jerry sent one last appeal across the slowly
widening space.
"We didn't mean any harm. A friend of ours was drowned yesterday, we
think. We're looking for him--or his body. All we want is to know if
you've seen anything of him."
"I told you this morning I hadn't."
"But why don't you let us look on the island? We're almost sure our
boat was stranded there a long while. He _might_ have been in it. If
you'd just let us look, we'd be satisfied."
"I guess you'll be satisfied anyway, youngster. Just keep on rowing.
Where was young Fulton drowned, anyway?"
Jerry made no answer. When Dave undertook to shout a reply, Jerry
silenced him with a savage look. Then he stood up on his seat. Making a
megaphone of his hands he yelled derisively:
"Yah! He _wasn't drowned!_"
Then he sat down again and caught up his oar and began lunging
desperately at the water. "Hurry, Dave, hurry!" he commanded excitedly.
"What's got into you?" exclaimed Dave impatiently. "You've been flying
off on about forty different angles lately. What new bug has bitten
you?"
"Bug! Dave, do you mean to tell me you didn't hear what the man said?"
"Course I did--but we're going, aren't we? He didn't say he'd shoot
unless we kept on coming ahead."
"Oh--_that!_ Well, you've been up all night, so no wonder you're half
asleep. Didn't you hear him say: 'Where was young Fulton drowned?'"
"Sure."
"Well?"
"Well what? What in thunder's got into you? Why shouldn't he ask that?"
"He should have. He should have asked it the first time we talked to
him. But, gee whiz, Dave, he shouldn't have known it was _young Fulton_
unless--unless it was young Fulton himself who told him. Dave--Dave!
Don't you see? We never mentioned his name."
"Great guns!" gasped Dave.
That was all he said, and for that matter, all that either one said.
The man stood on the point of Lost Island till he was satisfied that
the boys had tied the boat safely and did not mean to loiter in the
neighborhood. Then he disappeared among the trees of the lower part of
the island. But the boys did not pay much attention to their late
antagonist, save for a bare glance as they topped the high ridge that
followed the river course.
Miles to the north they could see a big square white building that they
knew as Carter's Mills, really only a grain storage elevator. Almost
due west of that was the milldam, which was about the only place they
could hope to be able to cross Plum Run--and Watertown lay on the other
side. Of course, they might follow the river bank on the chance of
meeting some good-hearted fisherman or camper who would row them
across. But the chance was too slim. They decided to cut across country
till they reached the mill.
It was a long, hard drill on an empty stomach. Up hill and down dale,
and every step kept time to by a pang from the inner man.
"Do you think it's a sin to steal?" This from Dave.
"Certainly."
"Apples!"
"Apples? A sin? Not if you know where there are any. Lead me to them."
"Oh, I don't know where any are. I just wondered what you thought of
it."
"Do you think it's wrong to punish criminals?" This from Jerry.
"Put 'em in jail you mean?"
"Well, whatever way seems best."
"No, I can't say as I do. Why, Jerry?"
"I'm going to thump you good and plenty for fooling me about those
apples, that's why."
"Catching comes before thumping!" and Dave was off with all the speed
his weary legs could muster. Fortunately Jerry's legs were in no better
shape, so the race, while exciting enough, was a long, slow one. Before
Jerry was able to overhaul his chum, he was so tired out that anything
so strenuous as thumping was quite out of the question.
"If you'd just kept running straight ahead, instead of ducking and
dodging, we'd be home by now," he complained as he released the puffing
Dave.
But at that they had made good time through their chase and within a
very few minutes the last bend of the river showed them the milldam.
The place was deserted.
"I guess Mr. Aikens persuaded Tod's father to go back home and get
breakfast and rest up a bit," remarked Dave. "If there doesn't happen
to be a boat on this side of the river we may have to wait some time
for that breakfast you've been promising me the last ninety-eight
miles. We sure can't get across the dam, with all that water rushing
over."
"I'll swim it before I wait," grimly declared Jerry. "Do you suppose
Mr. Aikens took the mill boat?"
"Most likely. Where'll you try it, below or above? Swimming, I mean."
"No chance below, with that current. But I guess we won't need to. I
see Pete Galpin's clam-boat down at his dock. It leaks like sin, but if
one bails while the other rows I guess we can make it."
No one was astir at Galpin's shanty, a houseboat pulled high and dry on
shore, and almost hidden by great piles of driftwood snagged upon the
bank to serve as winter fuel. Old Pete Galpin lived there all alone,
fishing and clamming and occasionally taking a wood-cutting contract to
help out through the scant winter months. Once he had been known to
work with an ice-cutting gang, but quit because he was afraid he'd make
so much money that it would tempt somebody to rob him.
The flat-boat that was moored down at Galpin's "dock"--four railroad
ties roped together--was none too substantial looking, having been
built by Galpin himself from odds and ends picked up from scrap heaps
and driftage. As Galpin himself said, the only whole part about the
boat was the name, which had been painted in red on a single thin board
sticking a full two feet past the stern--"UPANATUM."
But the boys did not waste a great deal of time in admiring the
beautiful lines of their borrowed craft. Jerry made at once for the oar
seat, leaving Dave to untie and push off. For all the tremendous leak
which at once developed, the boat responded easily to the strenuous
tugs of Jerry's muscular arms and back.
They beached the boat and made their way up the bank and across a field
where oats had just been cut, the bundles lying yellow as gold in the
early morning sunlight. Just beyond was a narrow, plum-thicket bordered
lane, which in turn led into the newly graveled "county" road. The boys
found the walking much easier in a path that twisted along next to the
fence. However, within a mile, along came a farmer, hauling a load of
early potatoes to town, and the boys gladly accepted his invitation to
"hop on."
Within a quarter of a mile both were sound asleep, nor did they waken
until the springless wagon rattled over the interurban tracks less than
two blocks from Dave's home. Rubbing their eyes in a vain attempt to
drive out the sleep, they stumbled along the quiet street.
"Where will I find you after breakfast?" asked Jerry, as Dave turned in
at his gate.
"In bed. I'll be lucky if I stay awake till after breakfast."
"But we've got to tell Mr. Fulton."
"You tell him, Jerry. I just know he won't pay any attention to what we
say--I don't more'n half believe it now myself----" Dave had to stop
for a tremendous yawn.
"If that's the case, you might just as well sleep." Jerry was out of
patience, but Dave was too sleepy to care very much.
"I'll see you--see you--later, Jerry," he said drowsily as he turned
and staggered up the walk.
Jerry, after an undecided second or two, faced about and began to
retrace his steps. He cut through the Ellery back yard and came out on
the cross street at whose corner the Fultons lived. The house was a big
ramshackle affair of a dozen rooms or so, far too large a place for the
Fultons, since there had been only the two of them, Tod's mother having
died when he was only a little tad. Indeed, as Tod said, they only used
three rooms, the kitchen and two bedrooms. But that was hardly true;
there was a big basement under all the house, the most of it used as a
workroom, and here it was that the two of them spent the better part of
their waking hours.
Mr. Fulton was an odd sort of man, a bit inclined to think his business
his own business. But it was no secret among his neighbors that all
sorts of queer contrivances were planned and made in that combination
machine shop, carpenter shop, forge and foundry below stairs.
Mr. Fulton was an inventor. True, for the most part he invented useless
things; he had inherited money and did not need to make any more. But
the boys, who were allowed to roam through the workshop at will, were
wildly enthusiastic over the ingenious devices schemed out by father
and son, for Tod was a chip off the old block.
Now, Jerry did not go up to the front door, even though it was standing
ajar. Instead he hurried to the little side porch and reached high up
under the eaves, where an electric button was concealed. He pushed it,
hard, well knowing that if Mr. Fulton were anywhere in the house he
would hear that bell. That was why it had been so well hidden.
But there was no response. Again Jerry rang; he could hear the shrill
br-r-r-r of the bell. After a long time he heard footsteps, but
something told him they were not those of Mr. Fulton. The door swung
open. There stood Mr. Aikens.
"Is Mr. Fulton here," demanded Jerry.
"Asleep," nodded Mr. Aikens.
"I've got to see him."
"All right--if you don't wake him up."
"I've got to talk to him--I've got big news."
"Big news? Of--of Tod?" Big Mr. Aikens was not the kind of man to
become easily excited, but his manner was eager enough.
"Of Tod--yes!" cried Jerry.
"What is it? Have you found his--his body?"
"Better than that, Mr. Aikens--Oh, I'm almost dead sure!"
Jerry was so excited himself that his voice shook. As for Mr. Aikens,
he leaped over and caught Jerry's arm and was shaking it wildly up and
down. Neither one noticed that a white-faced man stood in the opposite
doorway, and that his eyes were simply blazing with expectancy.
"What do you mean? What _can_ you mean!" demanded Mr. Aikens.
"I believe that Tod Fulton is----"
"Not alive?" almost screamed a voice from across the room. "Not alive!"
"Alive and on Lost Island!"