A STRANGE DISCOVERY
“Let go of me!”
“Do you want me to be drowned?”
“Brrr! how cold this water is!”
Such were some of the cries that arose as Si and Ike came down in the
water, almost on top of Harry. For a full minute there was a grand
scrambling all around, and then the younger Westmore youth crawled out
on one rock, Si on another, and Ike on a third. All stood up and glared
angrily at each other.
“What do you mean by pulling me into the water?” bawled Si, shaking his
fist at Harry.
“And pulling me down, too?” added Ike.
“I’d like to know what you meant by shoving me down in the first
place,” blazed back Harry.
“We didn’t!” came from the pair.
“You did.”
“You had plenty of room,” grumbled Si. He gave a shiver. “I’ll catch my
death of cold from this.”
“So will I,” added his toady.
“If you do, maybe it will serve you right,” answered Harry. “It was a
mean trick, and both of you know it. You didn’t get any more than you
deserved.”
“Bah! you make me tired, Harry Westmore!” growled Si. “Just you
wait--I’ll fix you for this, see if I don’t!”
“And I’ll get square too,” came from the shivering Ike. “I’m wet to the
skin!”
“Both of you are no more wet than I am,” answered Harry. “And it is
your fault, not mine.” And so speaking he leaped for the nearest
sandbar and waded ashore and up to where he had left his bicycle. Close
at hand were the two bicycles Si and Ike had used in coming to the spot.
“Hi! you leave our wheels alone!” shouted the rich bully, as he saw
Harry start towards them.
But Harry paid no attention to the words. He was angry through and
through and in a mood to do almost anything. At first he thought to
fling the bicycles into the river, where his enemies might go fishing
for them, but then another thought came to him--a thought that almost
made him grin.
On the opposite side of the roadway to that lining the stream was a row
of thorn trees, low and thick. Seizing one of the bicycles, Harry gave
it a swing and sent it up into the branches of one of the trees. Then
he caught up the second wheel and sent that up into the branches of
another thorn tree.
“Now you can climb for your wheels when you want them!” he sang out, as
he leaped on his own bicycle and started to pedal away.
“Come back here! Get those bicycles down!” roared Si, as he made for
the roadway.
“Great Cæsar, look at that!” groaned Ike. “They are both right in the
middle of those thorny trees! How are we to get them out? We’ll be
scratched to pieces!”
“He was bound to get square, I suppose,” muttered the rich bully. “Hang
the luck anyway! Here we are wet to the skin, the wheels in those
stickery trees, and the motor boat stuck in the sand. Say, Ike, what
are we to do anyway?”
“I know what I am going to do first! Try to get myself dry! My, but it
is cold!”
“Don’t say a word! I’m shivering so I can scarcely walk! I--er--I wish
we hadn’t shoved him in, now.”
“Same here. But I didn’t think he’d catch us by the legs.” And thus
speaking the unworthy pair waded ashore and then proceeded to look for
some spot sheltered from observation, where they might dry themselves
in the sun and try to get warm.
In the meantime, Harry lost no time in wheeling up the river road until
he was well out of sight and hearing. Then he, too, sought a sunny
spot, and there proceeded to dry himself and his clothing as best he
could. Fortunately on the back of the bicycle he carried a sweater, and
this he put on next to the skin, which did a great deal towards warming
him up. But he was not as comfortable as he might have been, and his
feelings toward Si and Ike remained anything but pleasant.
“Well, one satisfaction, they are as wet as I am!” he murmured.
It took him the best part of an hour to get even partly dry, and then
he went on along the river road, making numerous turns, until he at
last came to a spot opposite Shag’s Island. Here the stream was very
broad and both shores were lined with trees and bushes. Shag’s Island
lay out in the middle of the watercourse, with several smaller islands
scattered above and below.
Not to be noticed should the men for whom he was seeking be at hand,
Harry secreted his bicycle in the bushes and crept down between the
greenery to the water’s edge. He looked out on the river and towards
the island. Not a soul was in sight and apparently the locality was
deserted.
At this point the sandbars and rocks were even more numerous than where
the motor boat lay stranded, and the Westmore youth saw that by taking
off his shoes and socks, and rolling up his trousers, he could easily
wade to the island.
“I’ll do that,” he told himself. “I don’t think they’ll see me--if they
are around.”
Soon he was out on the rocks, his shoes over his shoulder. As he did
not wish to slip and hurt himself, he advanced with caution, leaping
from rock to rock where he could and otherwise wading along the
sandbars. Once he went down in a small hole and got something of a
splash, but this he did not mind. Then came a long, smooth sandbar,
leading directly to the end of the island, and along this he walked
with ease, and soon found himself ashore.
As he put on his socks and shoes again he listened intently, but the
only sounds that broke the stillness were the chirping of the birds and
the croaking of some frogs in a swamp.
“I guess I’ll go along the shore and look for boat-prints and
footprints,” he told himself. “If they landed in a boat I ought to
locate the place with ease.”
Shag’s Island was nearly a quarter of a mile long and not quite half
that in width. At either end was a rocky hill, with a flat, marshy
place in the middle of the island. In the marsh grew huckleberry bushes
of large size, and during the season the boys of Lakeport had often
come there to fill their pails with the fruit.
Harry had passed down the shore almost to the marsh when he saw some
marks in the sand between the rocks. A boat had been beached there, not
once but several times, and many footprints were to be seen.
“Now to follow those marks,” thought the Westmore boy, and turned
inland.
The footmarks led to the west of the marsh, and past a clump of
low-growing bushes. Here there was something of a trail, and the same
marks were to be seen in the soil.
It must be confessed that Harry’s heart beat loudly as he advanced
along this trail. The spot seemed to be particularly lonely, and just
then scarcely a sound broke the stillness. Once he imagined he heard
voices and stopped to listen.
“I must have been mistaken,” he told himself. “Pshaw! I guess I’m
getting nervous. I’m going ahead and see if I can find out anything.
Perhaps I’m only on a wild-goose chase after all.”
Then he realized that he was unarmed, and he paused beside another
clump of bushes, to cut himself a heavy stick. With this in hand he
felt more confident, and on he went once more, around a bend of the
trail.
He was now satisfied that he could hear voices and that they came from
ahead of him. He slackened his pace and strained his ears, and soon
located the sounds. They came from an old hut located beside the trail,
a hut once used by an old hermit named Shag, after whom the island had
been named.
As soon as Harry came in sight of the hut he resolved to change his
course. He stepped from the trail and made a detour, coming up through
the brushwood to a point close to one side of the old structure.
Here there was a window about two feet square, with a sliding wooden
shutter, and, as the shutter was open, the boy could look into the hut
with ease and also hear what was being said.
Two men were talking, and Harry recognized the voices of Thomas Mason
and Lamar Chase, he having seen those individuals several times since
the disappearance of Andrew Akers. The men were talking over business
matters in general,--a conversation that did not interest the youth.
“I wonder if Mr. Akers can be around?” thought the boy. “He must be, or
otherwise what would those two men be doing in such an out-of-the-way
spot as this?”
Watching his chance, he peered into the window of the hut and saw that
the two men were seated on rude benches smoking. He also noted that a
rough board partition divided the hut into two parts.
“Maybe Mr. Akers is in the other room,” reasoned Harry. “If it has a
window I’ll soon find out.”
Cautiously he stepped back from the position he occupied and worked
his way to the other end of the hut. Here was another window, but the
shutter to this was tightly closed.
Harry listened, but if anybody was in the apartment behind the closed
shutter, he made no sound. Then the youth heard Thomas Mason exclaim:
“Well, I’m going. You stay here till I get back.”
“You’ll return before four o’clock?” queried Lamar Chase.
“Yes, unless something detains me.”
“We want to get to see those men by seven, and we’ve got to have
supper.”
“I’ll be here.”
“By the way, did you hear anything more from those two chaps who ran
the motor boat?” questioned Lamar Chase, as he followed his companion
out of doors.
“No.”
“I thought they might demand some money.”
“So did I. But I reckon they were pretty well scared.”
“It’s too bad they belong in Lakeport. Maybe they’ll tell some of those
people of what happened.”
“I don’t think so--for if they do, it will get them into trouble. I am
pretty sure they’ll lay low and say nothing. Besides, they don’t know
the exact truth. They only helped to take care of an insane man, you
know,” and Thomas Mason chuckled.
“That is true. Well, I’m off.”
The manager of the novelty manufacturing company turned and hurried
away from the hut, moving towards the opposite shore of the island from
where Harry had landed. Evidently he was going to row to the other side
of the river.
Left to himself, Lamar Chase stood still for a moment. Then he took up
a bucket that was handy and started off up the rocks.
“He is going for water!” thought Harry, and he remembered that the
spring Shag had used was quite a distance from the hut. It would take
the man all of five minutes to go for the water and get back.
As soon as Lamar Chase disappeared around the rocks the mind of the
younger Westmore boy was made up. Without hesitation he ran around to
the front of the hut and then inside.
A glance showed him a rude door, leading to the second apartment of the
structure. This door was closed and propped fast by means of a stick of
wood. Harry pulled the stick out of place and hauled the door open.
The inner apartment, because of the closed-up window, was almost dark,
and for a moment the boy could see next to nothing. Then, as his eyes
became accustomed to the gloom, he made out the form of a man on a bunk.
It was Andrew Akers.