"They grabbed me first while I was down at the landing," put in Bud, who was almost as impatient to tell the story as Cub was to hear it. "I went down there when I saw a rowboat pulling up and didn't recognize the men in it until they came ash.o.r.e. I thought they were still on the island, for when they left us a few hours before, they didn't go toward the landing, and we didn't see them go toward it since then. I hollered when they grabbed me, and Hal came rushing to see what was the matter."

"Yes, and then I ran back to the radio table and telegraphed to Max Handy at Rockport," added Hal, taking up the narrative at this point and indicating a disposition to volunteer details more readily. "While I was still in the act of sending, two of the them appeared and seized me. They took me into their rowboat with Bud at the landing and rowed to a yacht almost a duplicate of Mr. Perry's. We were confined in the cabin until after dark and then put ash.o.r.e on an island half a mile from here. That was the last we saw of them."

"But how did you get away?" asked Cub.

"We flagged a motor boat just a little while ago. There were two men and two boys in it. We told them our story and they volunteered to bring us back here and see if you had returned. h.e.l.lo, Uncle James," addressing Mr. Baker and seizing the latter by the hand. "I didn't recognize you at first, though I knew you were coming."

"Where is Alvin?" asked Mr. Baker anxiously. "Didn't you see him on the island over there?"

"No," Hal replied with a look and tone of surprise. "That is another desert island--not a person there."

"What does that mean?" demanded Mr. Baker, turning to the prisoner. "You told us all three of the boys that you took away from here were together on that island over there."

"I didn't mean that," the fellow snarled, with something of a look of confusion, however.

"Well, what did you mean?"

"I meant they were on two islands not far apart; the other fellow is on the island a little further on."

"Is that motor boat that brought you here down at the landing yet?" Mr.

Baker inquired.

"Yes," Bud replied.

"I wonder if we couldn't induce them to make a run over to the island where this fellow says he left my son and bring him here."

"I think they'd be glad to do it," Bud replied. "They seemed to be very much interested in this affair and offered to do anything they could to help us."

"All right; suppose you go down there and tell them the situation. I suppose we could wait till Mr. Perry gets back, but I can't stand any delay that isn't absolutely necessary."

"Why, where has your father gone, Cub?" asked Hal.

"He started out to get police help," answered the boy addressed. "His first call was to be at Rockport, but no doubt he'll come right back here when he gets the message I sent for him. I telegraphed to our wireless friend, Max Handy, and asked him to go down to the docks and tell father what happened since he left. He's on the way now; maybe he's talking to father this minute."

"What was it that happened?" Bud inquired.

Cub gave a description of the visit of the four "owners" of Friday Island and the dispute that resulted in making a prisoner of one of them and sending the other three away on a mission of rest.i.tution.

"I thought when I just saw you come up from the landing that they had released you according to agreement," he added; "but on second thought, I decided they couldn't have had time to do that; besides, when they left us they went in the other direction."

"No, they didn't have anything to do with it," Hal a.s.sured his friend.

"You'd better tell the truth about where my son is," warned Mr. Baker, addressing the prisoner. "I won't stand any more trifling from you."

"He's there unless somebody took him off the island, same as these boys were taken off the island we put them on," declared "the captain" in sullen tone and manner.

"Well, it'll be an unhappy circ.u.mstance for you if we don't find any evidence of their having been there," Mr. Baker remarked.

"I think we'd better take him along with us," said Hal. "Then there'll be no doubt about our going to the right island. Come on, Bud; let's go down to the boat and tell Mr. Leland and Mr. White what we want to do."

Hal and Bud were soon out of sight on their way to perform the mission they had imposed on themselves, and a few minutes later they returned with one of the motor-boatmen, a clean-cut athletic man of middle age, wearing a tan Palm Beach suit. Hal introduced him as Mr. White.

"The boys have told us all about your trouble," he said, addressing Mr.

Baker; "and we'd like to do all we can to help you out. They tell me that your son is believed to be on an island about a mile from here, and that this prisoner of yours knows exactly where that island is. Well take him along with us and make him make good."

"I'm very much obliged to you," said Mr. Baker warmly. "I've promised this fellow that if he returns my son to me, I'll let him go, so the instant you find my son you may turn him loose."

"I don't believe he ought to be turned loose," declared Mr. White energetically. "I believe he ought to be made to pay the penalty of his crime--kidnapping. However, we'll do as you say. Come along, my fine fellow," he added, taking the prisoner by the arm. "We'll keep those hands of yours securely tied behind your back, so you can't get into mischief."

With these words, he led "the captain" toward the landing, followed by Hal and Bud.

Half an hour later they returned, with the prisoner, his hands still shackled with the rope strands. They had been unable to find Mr.

Baker's son on the island where the prisoner said he and his companions had left him.

Meanwhile Mr. Perry had returned in the Catwhisker to Friday Island. He was accompanied by Max Handy and a Canadian government officer.

CHAPTER XXIII

"Sweating" the Prisoner

It was now supper time, but n.o.body except the Canadian officer was hungry enough to think of eating. The latter, being a disinterested party, save as one commissioned with the duty of enforcing the law, had not diverted to a subject of absorbing interest the energies that ordinarily create a human appet.i.te, hence he was normally hungry. Moreover, he was a man of good physical proportions and organic development, and consequently hunger with him meant a good plateful, or dissatisfaction.

This officer, who was introduced by Mr. Perry as Mr. Harrison Buckley, seemed to take no interest in his mission until he saw the evening meal in course of preparation in real kitchen-like manner; then he took the prisoner in charge and proceeded to "sweat" him in the approved style of a police captain's private office. The prisoner squirmed about for a time, successfully evading the inquisitorial probe aimed at him, but at last he "confessed" as to his name and address. He said that his name was Grant Howard and that his residence was at Gananoque, Ontario. Then a call to supper was issued and the composite aggregation of humans gathered around the table, which was never intended to accommodate quite so many guests.

However, with the exercise of due ingenuity, the supper was properly disposed of with the unexpected discovery of more appet.i.te than was originally expected. Max Handy proved to be a healthy eater and the savory smell of juicy broiled steak from the Catwhisker's refrigerator, loosened even the nervous tension of Mr. Baker's worry over the fate of his son, so that he was able to do fair justice to the cooking of Cub, Hal, and Bud, who had full and joint charge of the preparation of the gastronomic spread.

After the meal the four boys cleared the table and washed and wiped the dishes, while the three men joined forces in the continued "sweating" of the prisoner. The latter adhered stubbornly to his earlier "confession"

as to what he and his three companions had done with Mr. Baker's son, but failed to make a satisfactory statement as to his own business and the use to which he and his friends had put "their island possession". To the question as to the character of his business, he replied, after some hesitation:

"I work in a store."

"What kind of store?" asked Mr. Buckley.

"A grocery store."

"What do you do there?"

"I clerk."

"What was the price of b.u.t.ter the last day you worked?" asked the inquisitor so quickly and sharply that the victim of the thrust actually turned pale, in spite of a strong front of bravado. But he made a brave enough effort to get over the hurdle.

"Twenty-nine cents."

"A pound?" asked Mr. Buckley.