They gazed about them at the stretch of lone bay or inlet, the spa.r.s.e scrub gra.s.s and vegetation fringing it on the sh.o.r.e side and wheeling sea-gulls swooping and soaring above the shoal waters.

Then Rob's gaze rested carelessly on a closed and seemingly deserted bungalow, occupying the island above them. As his eyes fell on it they suddenly became riveted and then grew wide with surprise.

A stream of smoke was issuing from the fieldstone chimney roughly constructed at one end of the apparently deserted dwelling.

"There's some one living in that bungalow," he exclaimed, as he made the discovery, "maybe whoever it is can give us some clue to where Joe Digby is."

They all gazed intently at the weather-beaten old house from which the paint was scaling, adding to the note of desertion sounded by its closed shutters and forlorn-looking yard.

As they looked, astonished at the idea that the barren structure should actually house a human being, a sudden thought struck Merritt.

"Suppose Jack Curtiss and his gang are there?" he said.

"Hardly likely," rejoined Rob, "however, we'll get over there and find out just who is making that smoke."

Suddenly the old captain, who had been watching the smoke closely, gave an astonished snort.

"What's the matter, captain?" asked Rob, who was about to walk to the water's edge and get ready to shove off the dinghy.

"Why, there's somethin' queer about that thar smoke," responded the old salt.

"Queer--how do you mean?"

"Well, watch it a minute--there--see! now stops--now it starts ag'in--then it stops--wha, do yer suppose is happenin' to it?"

Rob knitted his brows and watched the phenomenon to which the captain had called attention with narrowed eyes.

There was no question about it the smoke was certainly behaving "queerly" as the captain put it.

The blue vapor emerged from the chimney now in a copious puff and then, for a s.p.a.ce, would cease, only to roll forth once more in larger volume. The boys watched it in some astonishment.

"What can they be doing, do you suppose?" Merritt asked.

"I have no idea. It's past me to say," responded Rob, "it comes out in puffs like--like--by hookey! I've got it!" he broke off with a shout, "like the Morse code!"

"Somebody signaling?" stammered Merritt.

"That's it--watch!"

The smoke, which had not been visible for some seconds, now emerged from the stone chimney once more and the boys, fascinated, watched it closely with burning eyes. There was no doubt whatever about it now.

It was signaling.

Four short puffs.

"Four dots--that's H," exclaimed Rob, trembling with excitement.

The smoke ceased.

"Here comes some more," shouted Merritt.

One short puff from the chimney.

"E, one dot, that's E sure enough," translated Rob.

The others stood like figures carved in stone as their leader read off the strange signals.

Puff! A longer period of smoking by the chimney--then two sharp puffs.

"That's L," interpreted the leader of the Eagles. Before they could say a word the chimney took up its message once more.

Puff--a long puff--another long one, and then a short one.

"Dot--dash--dash--dot," exclaimed Rob.

"That's the letter P," put in Merritt.

"That's right, old man," shouted Rob, slapping him on the back, "and we've found Joe Digby. That smoke signal spelled Help in the Morse code."

"You're right," shouted Merritt, "come on, Cap, come on, boys, we've got to get a move on and get it on quick!"

They dashed toward the dinghy and a few seconds later had once more embarked and were speeding toward the desolate and forsaken bungalow.

Somehow they managed to get ash.o.r.e in the dinghy without anyone being spilled over the side in their desperate hurry and a minute later were pounding at the door.

"Joe--Joe Digby," shouted Rob in a strange, strained voice.

"Here," came back the answer in a feeble tone, "oh, boys, I'm glad you've come."

Furiously Rob shook the door.

"It's locked," came the voice from inside, "I tried to break it down.

Too weak, I guess. Try the shutters."

At each window in turn the Boy Scouts sought to effect an entrance, but in vain. The owner of the place had screwed up the window coverings too tightly for them to be opened without tools.

The rescue party came to a momentary halt.

"I've got it," shouted the captain suddenly, "we'll have him out uv there in two shakes uv a drake's tail."

He produced his formidable old pistol and waved it grimly.

"Come on, boys," he yelled, darting round to the front of the house--the side on which the door was.

"What are you going to do?" demanded Rob, as much mystified as the rest at the old eccentric actions.

"Watch me," grinned the captain as he gained the door.

"Stand clear!" he bawled at the top of his lungs, "stand clear uv the door inside there, Joe!"