Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island Part 11

"Leave that to me. I kind of want to try out a little signaling stunt that d.i.c.k and I have been figuring on. Here's a good sandy stretch; let's beach her here."

The boat grated on the pebbly sh.o.r.e; Phil sprang lightly out, and Jerry was left alone. He could hear Phil scrunching over the rocks and through the brush; then all was still. Jerry strained his eyes to see if he could make out the figure of d.i.c.k, who must be almost directly opposite, but only the dense black of the wood met his gaze. He waited patiently for the gleam of the flashlight, but minute after minute slipped by, and no signal appeared.

So he was somewhat surprised when after perhaps fifteen minutes he heard a footstep on the beach and he realized that Phil was returning.

"Our scheme worked fine," announced the Scout leader. "Bet you never even saw d.i.c.k's signal."

"No, I didn't," confessed Jerry.

"Good reason why. You see, I figured out that if you shoot a flash straight out in front of you very long everybody can see it. A quick flash--well, anyone who saw it might think it was just lightning or the interurban. So I just snapped about a dozen straight up into the air, until I got a return flash from d.i.c.k. Then I used this." He pulled out a little pocket mirror. "I pointed my light straight at the ground, and gave him a dot and dash message by holding the mirror in the light.

Some scheme, eh?"

Jerry merely grunted, but way down in his heart a deep respect was forming for these Boy Scouts and their resourcefulness.

"Just flash a few signals to those oars," he advised, taking his place in the stern. "And be careful with that left oar--she squeaks if you pull her too hard."

But Phil soon showed that he needed no advice about handling a boat.

Without a sound--without a ripple, almost--they moved away from sh.o.r.e and cut out into the current.

"Safe to get out into line with the island, I guess. If they're watching, it's the sh.o.r.e they'll be most suspicious of."

"They? We've only seen one out there."

"Maybe. But I'm betting on a pair of them at least. It's about time for the boys to--listen to those Indians, would you? I'm afraid they're overdoing it a bit."

From the far sh.o.r.e, out of sight behind Lost Island, rose a hubbub of cries that sounded as if the island were about to be attacked by a war party of Sioux. A Boy Scout yell sounded out, the voices of Dave and Frank heard above the rest.

"Guess your two must have deserted your banner and joined the Eagles,"

teased Phil.

The island lay dead ahead of them, dark and still. Both boys had a s.h.i.+very feeling of being watched, but no sign was apparent as they floated in behind the point of the island and noiselessly beached the boat.

"We'd best stay close together," suggested Jerry in a whisper.

"And by all means don't whisper--talk in an undertone. A whisper carries twice as far," countered Phil. Jerry marked down one more to the score of the Boy Scouts.

But there was little need for talk. The brush was heavy, broken by thickets of plum trees and an occasional sapling of hickory; the ground was boggy in spots, and once Jerry sank almost to his knees in oozy mud. A screech owl hooted in a tree close by, and cold s.h.i.+vers ran up and down their backbones. Unbroken by path or opening, the island wilderness lay before them.

They walked hours it seemed, trying their best not to advertise their coming in breaking limbs and rustling leaves, for the night was uncannily still. It was a great relief, therefore, when the underbrush suddenly gave way to a few low trees and after that open ground. Jerry was for plunging right ahead, relying on the darkness, but Phil caught his arm.

"Circle it," he commanded, and Jerry, little used to obeying orders as he was, at once saw the wisdom of the idea and agreed. They were nearly halfway around the open plot when they struck a path, evidently leading to the river. But the other end must go somewhere, and they strained their eyes into the darkness.

"A house, I do believe," mumbled Phil.

"Shall we risk going closer?"

"Got to. Not a sound now. Let's take off our shoes."

In their stocking feet they stealthily drew nearer the dark blot against the background. When they were within twenty feet they saw it was not a cabin, but one end of a long, narrow, shed-like structure, perhaps twenty feet wide and running far back into the darkness. They approached it cautiously and began feeling carefully along the higher side for some sort of door or opening. They had gone a good thirty feet, their nerves tingling with the hope of next-instant discovery, when Phil broke the silence with a low-toned sentence.

"There's a house or cabin of some kind less than twenty feet away."

Jerry did not look. His groping fingers had found something that felt like a door-edge. His hand closed over a k.n.o.b.

"Here's the door!" he exclaimed eagerly, and then felt his heart almost stop beating. The k.n.o.b had been turned in his hand! But before he could say a word, a sudden "s.h.!.+" sounded from his companion.

"Did you hear it?" gasped Phil.

"What?" asked Jerry, his voice trembling in spite of him.

But Phil did not answer--there was no need. From the cabin came a sound that set every nerve on edge. It was a groan--the groan of someone in great agony.

CHAPTER IX

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 k.n.o.b, 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."