A RESCUE THAT FAILED
In the excitement of hearing that groan, Jerry forgot every other
thought. Both boys jumped at once to the same conclusion: Tod was in
that cabin! Perhaps he had been hurt, or perhaps, even, that ruffian
was mistreating him. With one accord they broke for the cabin, making
for where a thin pencil of light hinted at a door. They wasted no time
fumbling for the knob, but put all the strength of their shoulders
against the opening.
The door gave, suddenly, and they tumbled over each other into a dimly
lighted room. It was fortunate for them that there was no one there,
for in falling Phil overturned a chair, which in turn managed to become
entangled in Jerry's legs, who came to the floor with a suddenness that
did not give Phil time to get out of the way. Half stunned, they lay
there panting, till a renewal of the moaning aroused them to quick
action.
Phil jumped to his feet and caught up a leg of the chair, that had been
broken loose in the triple fall. It was well to have some sort of
weapon. The sounds seemed to have come from above, where a trap door
indicated a loft or attic of some sort. The boys looked wildly about
for some means of getting up to the trap door, but the light of the
smoky kerosene lamp revealed nothing. The chair might have helped them,
but it was wrecked beyond hope.
"Perhaps if we called to him, he might answer," ventured Jerry huskily.
"First see if you can reach the trap door if you stand on my
shoulders." Phil made a stirrup of his hands and gave Jerry a leg up.
Wabbling uncertainly, but managing to straighten himself, Jerry caught
at the edge of the opening.
"Nailed!" he exclaimed disappointedly as he jumped to the floor. "Shall
we call?" Phil nodded.
"Tod. Oh, Tod!"
Only silence. Again they called.
"Tod--Tod Fulton."
There was an answer this time, but not of the sort nor from the
direction the boys expected. It was more like a whine than a groan this
time, and it came from the far side of the room. For the first time the
boys noticed that there was a door there, partly open. They made a rush
for it, Jerry in the lead. But he got no farther than the threshold. As
he reached it, the door was flung open in his face.
In the doorway stood a sixteen-year-old girl, a slim, black-haired slip
of a thing, her black eyes snapping. One hand was doubled up into a
fist that would have made any boy laugh, but there was no laughter in
the other hand. It brandished a wicked looking hand-axe, and it was
evident from the way she handled it that there was strength in those
scrawny arms.
"You get out of here!" she commanded, advancing a step.
Jerry backed away hastily, but Phil only laughed, trying to balance
himself on the two and a half legs of the wrecked chair.
"I've seen you before, Lizzie, and you don't scare me a bit with that
meat axe."
"It's no meat axe; it's a wood axe--look out for your heads," she
retorted scornfully. "Clear out of here or I'll make kindling of both
of you."
"Put down that cleaver, Lizzie, and let's talk sense. We came here to
get Tod Fulton--he's my cousin, you know----" but that was as far as he
got.
The girl, her face showing a determination that made nonchalant Phil
jump up from his chair and beat a quick retreat, walked up on them, the
axe flashing viciously back and forth before her.
"You're going to get off this island," she exclaimed, "and you're going
to do it quick. No tricks now! The first one who makes a break gets
this axe in the back--and I can throw straight. About face, now. March!"
There was nothing to do but obey. Sheepishly enough the boys turned and
meekly let her drive them out into the dark. As she passed the lamp she
caught it down from the bracket on the wall with one hand.
Thus they marched across the open ground, along the narrow path and out
on the waterfront.
"Our boat is down at the other end of the island" remarked Phil,
turning his head ever so slightly.
"I'll have my father bring it over to you in the morning," answered the
girl relentlessly. "I see your friends waiting for you over on the
other side, so it wouldn't be fair to keep them in suspense."
"You're surely not going to make us try to swim it?" pleaded Phil,
pretending great consternation, hoping that he might delay their
departure till something might happen to give them the advantage.
"That's not all I am going to do." Setting down her lamp on a
convenient rock, and changing her axe to her left hand, she stooped
over and picked up a pebble. With a quick jerk she drew back her arm
and then shot it out, boy-fashion The boys heard the stone hum as it
sailed through the air. An instant, and then a howl of pain arose from
one of the Scouts dancing about the blazing camp fire on the other
shore. It was a good hundred yards away.
"I just did that to show you what'd happen to you if you didn't head
straight for that gang of pirates over there," she said grimly.
"You're _some_--tomboy!" exclaimed Phil, admiringly, Jerry thought, but
the girl only laughed sarcastically.
"You first," she demanded. "You're just watching for a chance to catch
me off my guard. I'm onto you."
Phil had no choice, so without more ado, he plunged in and began
cutting the water neatly in the direction of the camp fire.
"He swims well, doesn't he?" remarked the girl, so easily that Jerry
could have sworn she was about ready to laugh.
"He sure does!" he agreed. "He's got me beat a mile. Say," he coaxed,
"we didn't mean any harm. We were just looking for a boy who was
supposed to have got drowned up the river a piece but we believe landed
here on Lost Island. Just tell me whether he's alive or not, and we
won't bother you any more."
"Oh, you're no bother. In fact, I rather enjoyed your little
visit--though I will admit you scared me a bit when you held the knob
of the door to the hangar----"
"Hangar? What's that?"
"It's--it's French for--woodshed," the girl stammered. "It's your turn
now," motioning toward the water.
"But won't you tell me about Tod?"
"Did you ask my father about him?"
"If it _was_ your father, yes."
"And he didn't tell you!"
"No, and he wouldn't let us search the island."
"Well, I'm my father's daughter. So into the briny deep with you. I
hope the fish don't bite you."
"But, look here," began Jerry, then fell silent and moved toward the
waters edge, for the girl had picked up a handful of large pebbles and
stood plumping them meaningly into the river.
The water was warm, and aside from his clothes, Jerry did not mind the
swim. After he had stroked along perhaps a third of the way, he turned
on his back. The light had disappeared from shore. He had a moment's
impulse to turn back, but was afraid she might be waiting in the
darkness to greet him with a laugh and an invitation to take to the
water again.
He turned once more and swam steadily across the current. But after a
little, once more he turned on his back, only kicking occasionally to
keep himself afloat. He fancied he had heard some noise that did not
belong with the night.
There it was again, that regular beat as of wood striking against wood.
He listened intently, trying to place the sound. Finally, it dawned on
him that it was a boat, rowed by means of a pair of loose oars.
His mind worked quickly. It could not be the Boy Scout boat, for the
sound was not right for that. It could only be the man of the island,
"Lizzie's" father--she had as much as said he was away. At any rate,
Jerry decided, he would wait there and find out. If the worst came to
the worst he could always dive out of sight.
Nearer and nearer came the boat. Jerry lay in the water with only his
nose showing. He was too heavy-boned to be very good at floating, but
the barest movement of hands or feet kept him from going under. At
first he could make out nothing, but as his eyes focused more sharply
he distinguished a slow-moving shape against the gray of the sky. It
was barely twenty feet away, headed almost directly at him.
A few noiseless strokes put him inside the boat's path, but when he
stopped paddling he realized to his horror that the boat had changed
direction and was cutting in toward the island. It was almost upon him
when he dived.
He was not quick enough. The landward oar caught him a flat blow across
his eyes. Blinded, dazed, his mouth full of water, he flung up his
arms. He had a vague sense of having caught hold of something, and he
held on. Through a sort of mist he heard a voice saying laughingly:
"Hit a snag, John. Better be careful or you'll wreck the ship in sight
of harbor."
Little by little Jerry's head cleared and he realized that he had
caught hold of the stern of the boat. He could not see over the edge,
but he could tell that there were two people in the boat, both men.
They talked fitfully, but for the most part their voices came to Jerry
only as meaningless mumbles. Once more the dark outline of Lost Island
lay before him, and in Jerry's heart arose a new hope that perhaps this
time he would not come away empty-handed. The boat grounded on the
beach where he and Phil had stood only a few minutes before. The man
who had been at the oars jumped out and pulled the boat well up on
shore. Jerry, finding that he could touch bottom, had let go and now
stood well hidden in the water.
"You might as well wait here in the boat," said the one who had gone
ashore. "I won't be gone but a minute."
He moved up the bank. It was the same man Jerry had encountered twice
before on his island visits. But who was the man in the boat? Jerry
wished he dared come closer.
The minutes passed slowly, and the water did not feel as warm as it had
at first. He was greatly relieved when once more he heard the rustle of
someone coming through the tall grass. But though the sound came nearer
and nearer, Jerry, his nerves literally on end, found the wait a long
one. Would the man never get there?
But the delay was quickly explained. There were two instead of one
crunching across the beach, and the other stumbled as he walked and
would have fallen more than once had it not been for the supporting arm
of his companion. Jerry could have shouted from joy had he dared, for
some instinct told him that that swaying form belonged to no one but
his chum, Tod Fulton.
And then, in an instant, the mystery was all made clear--at least for
the instant. The man in the boat rose and struck a match so that the
other could see to help wobbly Tod to a seat. As the light flared up
full, Jerry had a good sight of the face of the man who stood waiting.
It was Mr. Fulton!