The mention of pay immediately altered the matter in Max Pooler's eyes.

"I'll do it for another quarter," he said. "Times are hard and one must make his living."

Jack made no reply. The closeness of the man disgusted him, and he paid the amount without a word.

Meg led the way toward the beach. Their backs were scarcely turned before Max Pooler disappeared in the cottage.

"The mean miser," burst out the girl, when they were beyond hearing, "He's itchin' to put that seventy-five cents along with the rest of his money! Hope you don't blame me for what he's done. Wouldn't have cost you a cent if I'd have had my way!"

"We were very thankful to get something," said Mont, "and were perfectly willing to pay for it, too."

Jack was silent. He half wished that Meg, interesting as she was, was not present. He wished to talk with his friend over the odd news that the last half hour had brought them. He was half inclined to question the young girl further, but did not wish to excite her suspicion, and was diplomatic enough not to get at it excepting in the direct way.

Of one thing he was certain; there was a good deal below the surface that did not yet show, and he determined that he would not drop the matter until he had learned what it was.

"Did you ever hear of a wrecked yacht around here?" suddenly asked Mont of Meg.

"Nope--that is," she hesitated. "What makes you ask that?"

"Oh, I only wanted to know," replied the young man, apparently unconcerned.

"Pooler said I was never to speak of it," returned Meg. "He thinks I don't know where it is, but I do."

"Show it to us, will you?" asked Mont, eagerly.

Meg shrank back.

"It's haunted!" she exclaimed. "Besides, Pooler would kill me if he found it out."

"We'll never tell him, will we, Jack?"

"Certainly not," replied the young machinist, to whom this new move was only another mystery.

"Besides, we intend to be your friends, you know," continued Mont.

"Well, then, come on," replied Meg, finally. "I don't care if he likes it or not. 'Taint a very nice place though."

"Never mind. We can't find any worse or more dangerous places than we have already gone through."

Meg picked her way along one bank of the island for nearly a quarter of a mile. Jack and Mont followed closely.

The ground was covered with a rank growth of reeds and rushes, and in many places was damp and slippery.

At last they reached a deep cave that ran directly between a cl.u.s.ter of twisted and bending willows. The spot was at the upper end of the island, and in full view of the falls.

Here, half hidden by the tall, undergrowth, rested the hull of a dismantled yacht, bearing upon her weather-beaten stern the half-obliterated name:

"KITTY."

CHAPTER XVI.

ON BOARD THE "KITTY"

"h.e.l.lo!" exclaimed Jack, in astonishment. "I never knew such large craft came here."

"It's really haunted," replied Meg. "Mustn't go near it."

The young machinist laughed.

"Seems to me everything is haunted around here," he said, "Were you ever on board?"

"Nope, Pooler would kill me if I went. He's terrible when he's mad;"

and Meg shook her head as the memory of past trials arose in her mind.

Meanwhile Mont had gone on ahead, and now, not without some difficulty, reached the deck of the stranded vessel. Jack followed him, leaving the girl behind.

"Don't be long, please," called out Meg; "I don't like to stay here, and besides, I've got to get back, you know."

"We will stay only a few minutes," replied the young machinist.

Mont had walked aft, and picking his way over the odds and ends that littered the deck, Jack joined him.

"Jack, do you know what I believe?" asked the young man, when they were out of Meg's hearing.

"What?"

"I believe that this yacht was once my father's," replied Mont, earnestly. "His was named the Kitty, and was last seen on this river, above Corney. He used it to cruise around the lakes in."

"Yes, but that was above the falls," returned Jack. "You don't mean----" he began.

"Yes, I do. The water was higher years ago, and I'm convinced that his boat was caught in the stream and went over the falls."

Jack stepped back in astonishment.

"But he could never live through it," he cried.

"He was never seen after that," returned the young man, gravely, "Yet we came out alive," he added. "If he was on the boat he might have escaped."

Mont led the way carefully down the half-rotten companion way into the cabin below.

There the air was foul and stifling. It was totally dark, but Jack stumbled around until he found a small window and threw open a shutter.

A curious sight met their gaze. The place looked as if it had been left immediately after a struggle, although this might have been caused by a violent movement of the craft. A big armchair lay upset in one corner, with a pile of books in another. On the table lay a pile of written and printed papers, some of which had been swept to the floor, and were covered with the ink from an upturned bottle, which, however, had dried years before. Dust, mold and cobwebs were everywhere.