"Well, if it is his boat, at least we don't need to worry about running onto him over there on the island."

"You're going to swim over, aren't you, Jerry? If the man came along and found his boat gone, he'd know _we_ were over there and----"

"And he'd be stranded on this side until we were so kind as to bring back his boat. You can bet _he_ isn't going to swim over, and I bet you I don't either."

The boat proved to be a c.u.mbersome flat-boat of the type used by clam-fishers. In fact the smell that simply swirled up from its oozy bottom left no doubt that the boat had been used for that purpose. A pair of unbelievably heavy oars, cut from a sapling with a hand-axe, trailed in the water from "loose oarlocks." Dave gave a gasp of dismay as he "hefted" the rough implements.

"Let's swim it, Jerry," he said disgustedly. "The boat'll never hold up the oars and us too. They weigh a ton."

"Pile in," answered Jerry, with the first laugh since that tragic moment when he had seen a different boat swept over the dam many weary miles up the river. "We'll each take an oar and try some two-handed rowing. This craft was built for ocean-going service. Hold tight; we're off."

But they weren't. Jerry's mighty push ended in a grunt. "Come on; get out here and shove."

"Maybe if we took the oars out we could start her," Dave jibed. "I hope you've got a freight-hauling license."

"Get out and push. Your witty remarks are about as light as those young tree-trunks we have for paddles. All together now!" as Dave bent over beside him. A lurch, a grinding, thumping slide, and the flat-boat slid free of sh.o.r.e.

"It's a mighty good thing if that man isn't on the island," remarked Dave as he took up his half of the propelling mechanism. "Because when our craft took the water she certainly did 'wake the echoes of yon wooded glen,' as the poet says."

"Poetry's got nothing to do with this boat. It doesn't rhyme with anything but blisters. Let's see if we can move her."

Thanks to some tremendous tugging, the flat-boat moved slowly out from sh.o.r.e. Inch by inch, it seemed, they gained on the current.

"The old tub's got speed in her," grunted Jerry, between sweeps of his oar.

"Ought to have it _in_ her," returned Dave. "I'll bet you n.o.body ever got it _out_ of her. Ugh!"

"Always grunt out toward the back of the boat--keep your head turned.

It helps us along."

"I've only got one grunt left; I'm saving it. How far have we gone?"

"All of ten feet. I'll tell you when we hit the island. Lift your oar out of water when you bring it back. The idea is to move the boat, not merely to stir up the water."

So they joked each other, but their hearts were heavy enough, for always in the back of their minds was the thought of their friend, who, in spite of the wild hope that Jerry had built up, might--_must_, Dave was sure--be lying at the bottom of treacherous Plum Run somewhere, drowned.

At last they seemed to be nearly halfway across, and they rested a brief spell, for every inch of their progress had to be fought for.

"All right," said Jerry, taking up his oar, "let's give her another tussle."

But Dave did not move, although he still hunched over his oar.

"Come on, Dave," urged his friend. "We don't want to lose any time. The sun ought to be up almost any minute now."

"Look behind you, old man. Right where we're headed, and tell me what you see."

Jerry turned in his seat. He took one quick glance toward Lost Island, now less than a hundred feet away, and then gave a low cry of dismay.

CHAPTER V

A STARTLING CLEW

There was a streak of light in the western sky, whether caused by the low-hanging, mist-hidden moon or a freak reflection of the coming dawn.

Against that patch of brightness the northern headland of Lost Island loomed up high and barren save for its one tall tree. But it was neither headland nor tree that caught Jerry's attention and caused the gasp of dismay.

Standing there, bold and menacing, looking like a giant against the queer light, was a man.

Whether it was the same one who had hailed them earlier in the morning, the boys could not of course know. But there was no doubt about the equal unfriendliness of his att.i.tude, for through the crook of one elbow he carried a shotgun, while even as Jerry turned in his seat, the other arm was raised and a big fist shaken.

The next instant they were a.s.sured that this was the same man as had warned them away before. There was no mistaking the voice that bellowed across the water. Neither was there any mistaking the meaning of the brief sentence:

"Get to thunder out o' here!"

Jerry stood up in the boat and waved a friendly hand in the general direction of the angry man, and called pleasantly:

"We were just coming over to see about a boy we think landed on _your_ island last night or early this morning. We found his boat down at the bridge and we figured that he must have----"

As Jerry talked, Dave had been slyly urging the boat closer to sh.o.r.e, but at a sudden interruption from the island, both he and Jerry paused.

"You come another foot closer, you young idiots, and I'll fill you full of rock salt. I loaded up especial for you when you raised that rumpus last night; I knew durned well you'd be coming back."

"Have you seen anything of our friend?" cried Dave anxiously, trying to smooth things over by being civil.

"If he's anything like you two, I hope I never do."

"You've got no right to keep us off Lost Island," began Jerry hotly.

"I don't need any right; I've got a shotgun. You two just pick up your paddles and blow back to sh.o.r.e--and be sure you tie up that boat good and tight or I'll have the law on you. Git, now!"

There didn't seem to be anything else to do. The two boys muttered to each other, and neither one was willing to admit believing that the man would really shoot, but somehow they were unwilling to put it to the test. Reluctantly they took up the oars again and turned the nose of the boat back toward the east bank.

Facing the man now, Jerry sent one last appeal across the slowly widening s.p.a.ce.

"We didn't mean any harm. A friend of ours was drowned yesterday, we think. We're looking for him--or his body. All we want is to know if you've seen anything of him."

"I told you this morning I hadn't."

"But why don't you let us look on the island? We're almost sure our boat was stranded there a long while. He _might_ have been in it. If you'd just let us look, we'd be satisfied."

"I guess you'll be satisfied anyway, youngster. Just keep on rowing.

Where was young Fulton drowned, anyway?"

Jerry made no answer. When Dave undertook to shout a reply, Jerry silenced him with a savage look. Then he stood up on his seat. Making a megaphone of his hands he yelled derisively: