_The Strange Island_
"Drake! Wake up!"
I routed him out hastily. The signal was still showing. Drake
remembered it, just as I did. We watched it; and after a moment it
ceased. The wisp of smoke went up unbroken; and then presently it
dissipated and vanished.
We stared at each other.
"You think it's Dianne?" I asked.
"Yes. It might be." He was confused. "I don't know what to think,
Frank. We must go there--get over there quickly as we can--see what it
means."
"Yes," I agreed. "I wonder if our dory is down at the boathouse. You
mean, row over? I don't think father will want to say anything at the
village; get a launch? Do you?"
"No." We both felt, as we knew father did, a reticence against
taking the authorities into our confidence. If Dianne came--to have
an official investigation of her, with all the publicity--it was
unthinkable.
"Let's see about the dory," Drake suggested.
"Shall we wake father up?"
"Let's see about the dory first."
We found the dory safe in the boathouse.
We decided to start at once. A row of half an hour. We went to awaken
father.
"Think he'll want to come with us, Drake?"
"He might--I hope he'll stay here. This might just be a
coincidence--not Dianne. We should not all leave here at once, Frank."
"Why not?"
He stopped and faced me. "Because suppose she--appeared while we were
gone?"
Appeared? He said it with a queer hitch in his voice. As though Dianne
might materialize from nothing into solidity before us! Yet we both
felt like that. This whole affair seemed supernatural.
"Yes," I said. "That's true."
And father felt the same. He decided to stay on guard. He made us take
two automatics, and a rifle in the bottom of the dory. He was refreshed
from his sleep. Alert and vigorous.
"I'll be all right, lads." He followed us down to the boathouse. He was
white and grim as he said, "I need not tell you to be cautious. Come
back quickly as you can."
We launched the dory and headed into the cove. He called, "If I don't
see you starting back in two hours I'll bring a launch after you."
Drake and I hardly spoke during the trip. The rifle lay at Drake's
feet; we had our automatics strapped to our belts. We stripped
off our coats for the work of rowing. In the stern we had other
coats--oilskins, which always were kept in the dory.
We approached the island. Drake eased up. "Wait a minute--let's see if
anybody shows."
The smoke had long since vanished. We could not be sure at what part of
the island the fire had been. There was no sign of it now. The little
island stood green in the morning sunlight, with the peak of rock
looming at its center. The beach on this side was empty; there was no
evidence of any living thing there, save a few gulls lazily circling
overhead.
We were armed, and this was broad daylight. But the thought of that
strange midnight visitor swept me. I know Drake felt the same as we
pulled up in the sunlight of the island beach. We were not afraid of
anything human.
Drake carried the rifle. I had my automatic out. We started off down
the silent beach. Rounded its end. All empty. We kept near the water,
away from the trees and underbrush.
No sign of anything. Drake whispered. "Let's cut straight across. Then
up to the rock. Look for the fire embers."
He led us, with the rifle in the hollow of his arm. We walked slowly,
cautiously through the trees as though stalking some hidden animal.
But there seemed no one on the island.
Drake called suddenly, "Dianne! Oh, Dianne!"
It startled me; it echoed through the silent trees. We stood listening.
Nothing.
We went on again. We came to the opposite beach. Drake whispered, "The
fire must have been to the south."
We went that way. Back from the shore, some fifty feet from the beach
we came upon the embers of a small fire. They were still faintly
smoking.
No one here. We stood in this little glade, our gazes roving.
Nothing here. Just a few embers and half-burned sticks. I bent down.
"Water was thrown on the fire to put it out," I said softly. "These
sticks are wet."
I was on one knee. My heart leaped into my throat. There was a patch
of grass and ferns near me. Something stirred in them. A bird moving
through the grass? But it was not that. I stared.
A fern not much higher than my ankle moved and bent aside.
My breath stopped. I stared, unbelieving. And Drake saw it. He muttered
something and took a backward step.
The fern leaf moved further. A tiny figure, no taller than the blades
of grass around it, was disclosed. A human figure an inch or so high!
And there were others, lurking in the grass. One came out. The figure
of a woman the height of my finger. A woman with long golden robe.
Pale-gold hair dangling. The tiny face stared up at me, only a few feet
away as I knelt. A face the size of my finger nail! The sunlight fell
on it. A girl, humanly beautiful. Small and colorful, this living face,
as a miniature painted on ivory.
And I recognized it. I gasped. "Dianne, it's you!"