The Go Ahead Boys on Smugglers' Island Part 35

CHAPTER XXIV TWO BOATS

It was late when the party at last arrived at Mackinac Island.

"It's twenty-five minutes past two," said Grant sleepily as he looked at his watch after the party had landed at the dock.

"We've had so much excitement and so many things to do in the last two or three days that I think I shall sleep right through the bed," said John.

The weary boys almost threatened to fulfill the prophecy of John. In spite of the excitement through which they had pa.s.sed they were speedily asleep and it was late the following morning before any one arose.

"What's up to-day?" called Fred as he opened the door between the rooms which the four boys occupied.

"Not very much," responded George, who was already dressed and had been down in the office of the hotel. "I have learned one thing though."

"Good for you," laughed Grant. "You couldn't learn many less, that's one thing sure."

"I have learned that Mr. b.u.t.ton has gone," declared George, ignoring the bantering of his companion.

"Gone?" demanded Grant. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I say."

"Do you mean he has left Mackinac Island for good and all?"

"I didn't say that. I simply said he had gone. He is expected back here at night."

"That's all right," called John, who now entered the room and joined in the conversation. "I'm glad he isn't here. It will give us a chance to rest up. It's ten o'clock in the morning now, but I feel as if I was almost ready to crawl back into bed again."

"We'll feel all right by night," said Fred lightly. "I suggest that we sit around the hotel and not try to do anything very strenuous to-day."

The suggestion was followed by all four boys and save for a walk about the Island they pa.s.sed the hours reading or writing letters.

Darkness had fallen before Mr. b.u.t.ton was seen by any of the four boys.

Approaching him, Fred said, "We have got another letter for you, Mr.

b.u.t.ton. It will match the one that came to me that was intended for you."

Mr. b.u.t.ton glanced keenly at the boy as he spoke and said, "Is the letter intended for me?"

"I think so," said Fred.

"Where did you get it? Did it come to you through the mail as the other one did?"

"No, sir, we picked it up on the sh.o.r.e of Western Duck Island."

"You did!" exclaimed Mr. b.u.t.ton more strongly moved by the statement than the boys ever had seen him before. "Where is it?"

"It's in my pocket," replied Fred. "We wish you would come up to our room, Mr. b.u.t.ton. We'll give you the letter and tell you some other things we have found out besides."

Accepting the invitation Mr. b.u.t.ton accompanied the boys to the room which Fred and John occupied and after he had seated himself in the chair which was offered him by John, Fred at once began his story.

"We found this letter, Mr. b.u.t.ton, as I told you. It must have dropped out of the pocket of that man on the island or else Mr. Halsey lost it.

At any rate we thought it belonged either to me or to you and I guess there's no question now that it is yours."

Fred handed the letter to their visitor, who at once read it through and laughing lightly thrust it into his pocket. "It matches the other one,"

he said, "and sounds very much as if they both were written by the same man."

"We have found the man that wrote them."

"Have you?" inquired Mr. b.u.t.ton quietly.

"Yes, sir. When John and I were taken by that boat which rescued us we couldn't land until we came to Sault St. Marie. It was almost morning and we had a great time, as our clothes were wet and we left them on the boat after we had put on some duds the sailors gave us. We found we didn't have any money when we went up town and tried to get some breakfast, and when we went back to the dock we were horrified to find that the boat had gone on without us. Her next stop probably is Duluth."

"And she took your clothes with her?" inquired Mr. b.u.t.ton, smiling as he spoke.

"She did that," declared Fred ruefully, "and that wasn't all of it either, for in our pockets were all the valuable things we possessed, though I guess money wasn't among them. By and by we found a strange man there who agreed to bring us back to Mackinac in his motor-boat if we would go with him around by c.o.c.kburn Island."

"Was he a red-haired man with big splotches of red on his face? Was he tall and ungainly and did he have a voice that no one could ever forget if he once heard it?"

"That's the very man. He talked almost all the way to c.o.c.kburn Island. He can do one thing well though, let me tell you."

"What is that?"

"He knows how to cook salt pork and potatoes."

"I fancy," said Mr. b.u.t.ton, "that the air and the appet.i.tes of you boys helped you to appreciate the quality of Rufus's cooking."

"Maybe it did, but the strange part of it all was after we stopped at c.o.c.kburn Island."

"What happened then?"

"Why, he wanted us to stay on board the boat while he went up to that old house. He didn't find what he wanted and when he came back he said we would have to wait there for a while. It was almost dark then. It seems he thinks he hasn't been treated just right by this man Halsey, who is probably the smuggler you want to get."

Mr. b.u.t.ton smiled, but did not interrupt the story which Fred was telling.

"While we were waiting, Rufus got to talking about his experiences and he made us think that he was the one that wrote both those letters. He wanted to get even with the man who didn't give him his share, as he believed."

"Is that all he told you?" inquired Mr. b.u.t.ton.

"No, there's another thing he spoke about and that is the barn."

"Ah," said Mr. b.u.t.ton quickly. "What did he say about the barn?"

"It wasn't so much what he said as what he made us believe. He told about two Great Danes they have to guard the barn and another one which they have to protect the house. He said if anybody tried to get into the barn they would have their troubles."

"What did you say then?"

"Why, we asked him what any one would want to go into that old tumbled down barn for and he looked at us in a way that made us sure there was something there worth while. Do you suppose that Mr. Halsey hides in the barn the stuff which he smuggles into the United States?"