So vivid was the dream and so real the cry that he awoke trembling, and listened intently while peering out through the tent flap.

There was no sound, however, but the ripple of the waves on the beach and the "hoot hoot" of an owl somewhere back in the woods on the island.

"Funny," mused the boy, as he turned over and dozed off again, "that certainly sounded loud enough to have been a real, sure enough call for help."

CHAPTER XVIII

JOE DIGBY MISSING

"Merritt! Merritt, wake up!"

The boy sleepily opened his eyes and saw bending over him the pale features of Rob, whose voice quivered with suppressed excitement as he shook the other's shoulder.

"I didn't hear reveille blow yet. What's up? Have I overslept?"

murmured the young corporal.

"No, it's not six-thirty yet--barely after half past four, in fact.

But young Digby--he had the night watch, you know--and was to have been relieved at three o'clock. Well, Ernest Thompson, his relief, roused out at that hour, but not a trace of Digby was to be found!"

"What!" The sleepy boy was drowsy no longer. "Digby gone?"

"Hush! We don't know yet. Don't wake any of the others. Thompson and I have skirmished around ever since it began to get light, and we have not been able to find a trace of him."

Merritt was out of his cot while his leader was still speaking, and ten minutes later, during which time the boys exchanged excited questions and answers, he was in his uniform and outside the tent.

The sun was just poking his rim above the western horizon and the chilly damp of early dawn lay over the island. The sea, as calm almost as a lake, lay sullen and gray, scarcely heaving. Behind the sleeping camp a few shreds of mist--the ghosts of the vapors of the night were arising like smoke among the dim trees. At the further end of the a.s.semblage of tents, and beyond the smoldering fire, stood a silent figure, that of Ernest Thompson.

"Have you explored the island thoroughly?" asked Merritt under his breath. Somehow the dim hour and the situation seemed to preclude the idea of loud talking.

"Of course not. Not yet," breathed the other in the same tones. "We will break the news to the rest of the Patrol after breakfast. It's no use alarming them yet."

"It isn't possible that he went off on an early fishing expedition?"

For answer, Rob waved his hand toward the water, where the Flying Fish lay rocking gently at her anchor. Ash.o.r.e the dingy lay as Merritt and his companions had left it the night before.

"But what can have happened to him?" burst out Merritt, as they made their way over to Ernest Thompson's side.

"I cannot think. It is absolutely mystifying. I am going to start for the captain's place now. He may be able to throw some light on the affair."

Merritt shook his head.

"Hardly likely. If there is no trace of Joe Digby on this side of the island, it is improbable that Captain Hudgins knows anything about him."

"Well," rejoined Rob in a troubled voice, "we've got to try everything.

I am responsible for his safe keeping while he is in camp. I blame myself for allowing the kid to go on sentry duty at all."

"No use doing that," comforted Merritt; "there's one thing sure, he can't have melted away. He must be somewhere on the island. There are no wild beasts or anything like that here to carry him off, so if we keep up the search we must come upon him sooner or later."

"That's what makes the whole affair the more mystifying," rejoined Rob.

"What can have become of him?"

"Well, if he's on the island, we'll find him," he continued; "and if he isn't--"

"We'll find him anyway," declared Merritt in a determined voice.

"That's the stuff!" warmly exclaimed the other. "And now I'm going to take a cruise round to the other side of the island, and see if I can find out anything there."

A few seconds later he was in the dinghy and sculling out over the water to the speedy Flying Fish. In a short time he was off.

As the "chug chug" of the motor grew fainter, Merritt turned to young Thompson.

"Don't breathe a word of this to the others till we know for certain that Digby has vanished," he said.

The other boy nodded.

"I understand," he said, and the look with which he accompanied the words rendered Merritt perfectly confident that he would be obeyed.

"And now let's rouse out Andy Bowles and get him busy with that tin horn of his," cheerfully went on Merritt, walking toward Andy's tent.

That youth was much surprised to find that it was morning, but tumbled out of his cot in double-quick time, and soon the cheerful notes of reveille were ringing out over the camp, on which the sun's rays were now streaming down in that luminary's cheerful morning way.

The soldier who immortalized himself by sing the words: "We can't get 'em up, We can't get 'em up, We can't get 'em up in the morning--, We can't get 'em up, We can't get 'em up, We can't get'em up at a-a-l-l-l!" to the stirring notes of the army's morning call had never been in a camp of Boy Scouts. If he had he wouldn't have written them, for before the last notes had died away the camp was alive and astir, with hurrying lads filling tin washbasins and cleaning up.

The cook and "cookee" for the day--Jim Jeffords and Martin Green--soon had their cooking fire going, and presently the appetizing aroma of coffee and fried ham and eggs filled the camp.

"Give the breakfast call, Andy," ordered Merritt, as the proud if flush-faced cooks announced their labors complete, and with a clatter and bang of tin dishes and cups the Boy Scouts sat down to breakfast.

"Where's Rob and Digby?" demanded Andy Bowles, as he dug his spoon into an island of oatmeal completely surrounded by an ocean of condensed milk thinned down with warm water.

The moment that Merritt had dreaded had arrived.

"Why, he and Rob went off early to see the captain," he said. "I guess they'll be back soon."

"Pretty early for paying social calls," commented Andy, too busy with his breakfast, however, to give the matter more attention, for which Merritt was duly thankful.

After breakfast Merritt ordered a general airing of bedding, and the side walls of the tents were raised to let the fresh air blow through them. Still there was no sign of Rob. Merritt grew so anxious that he could hardly keep from pacing up and down to conceal his nervous state of mind. However, he stuck to his duties and oversaw the first routine of the morning without betraying his anxiety to any of the lads under his charge. At last there came the awaited chug chug of the returning boat, for which he had been so eagerly listening, and Rob appeared rounding the little point below the camp. In the craft was another figure, that of the captain himself.

Merritt's first hope when he saw the two persons in the boat--namely, that one of them might be the missing boy--was promptly dashed, and he instinctively guessed by Rob's silence as he dropped the anchor and he and the captain tumbled into the dinghy that there had been no news.

"No," said Rob, shaking his head dejectedly as they reached the sh.o.r.e, "there isn't anything to tell. The captain is as much in the dark as we."

"Well, you'd better have some breakfast," said Merritt, after he and the captain had exchanged greetings, "then we can go ahead and notify the others and inst.i.tute a thorough search."

"That's the stuff, my boy," agreed the veteran. "Overhaul ship from bilge ter royals, and if not found, then take a cruise in search uv."