E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project
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RADIO BOYS IN THE THOUSAND ISLANDS

or, The Yankee-Canadian Wireless Trail

by

J. W. DUFFIELD

Author of

RADIO BOYS IN THE SECRET SERVICE; or, Cast Away on an Iceberg.
RADIO BOYS IN THE FLYING SERVICE; or, Held For Ransom by Mexican Bandits.
RADIO BOYS IN THE ROCKIES; or, The Mystery of the Lost Valley.

1922







CONTENTS


Chapter

     I Vacation Plans

    II Tragedy or Joke

   III Talking it over

    IV The Catwhisker

     V A Baffling Situation

    VI A Mystery and Cub's "Goat"

   VII Returning Cub's "Goat"

  VIII Mathematics or Geography?

    IX The Radio Diagram

     X The Island-Surrounded Island

    XI The Deserted Camp

   XII Hal's Discovery

  XIII "Robinson Crusoe's" Diary

   XIV More Light and More Mystery

    XV The Hook-up on Shore

   XVI Running down a Radio Fake

  XVII Bud's Discovery

 XVIII Unwelcome Visitors

   XIX "S.O.S." from Friday Island

    XX Four Prisoners

   XXI The Hostage

  XXII The "Crusoe Mystery" Deepens

 XXIII "Sweating" the Prisoner

  XXIV "Something Happens"

   XXV Bud Shoots

  XXVI The Slingshot Victim

 XXVII Chased out

XXVIII A Radio Eavesdropper

  XXIX The End of the "Mystery"

   XXX The Result of a Radio Hazing




CHAPTER I

Vacation Plans


"Now, fellows, what are we goin' to do this vacation?" demanded Cub Perry
as he leaned back in his upholstered reed rocker and hoisted his size 8
shoes onto the foot of his bedstead. "School's all over, we've all passed
our exams, and now we've got a long vacation before us with nothing to
do. It's up to yo-uns to map out a program."

"Why can't you help map it out?" asked Bud Taylor with something of a
challenge in his voice. "You always have the last word?"

"Cub's the dictator of our outfit, and we do the work, that's why,"
declared Hal Stone. "We always have to listen to him, you know that, Bud.
So what's the use o' kickin'?"

"Oh, I'm not kickin'," Bud replied. "It's no use. Cub 'u'd drown us out
with his voice if we hollered. You know you made 'im admit once that
noise was the only thing that 'u'd convince him."

"You c'n change that now and call it static instead of noise since we've
all become radio experts," smirked Cub with characteristic superiority.

"Ha, ha," laughed Bud.

"Tee-hee," tittered Hal.

By the way, it was from this peculiar manner of laugh, that Hal got his
nickname, Tee-hee. Cub's given name was Robert, shortened sometimes to
Bob and Bud's was Roy. Cub and Bud were always known by their nicknames,
but Hal was addressed as Tee-hee only on fitting or intermittent
occasions.

The three boys were seated in Cub's room at the Perry home, one of the
largest and most interesting samples of domestic architecture in the City
of Oswego, on the shore of Lake Ontario. Cub was a rich man's son, but he
was constitutionally, almost grotesquely, democratic. There was nothing
that would make him angrier, to all appearance at least, than open
reference in conversation to the wealth of his father. For such offense
he was ever ready to "take off the head" of the offender. However, once
in a while one of the bolder of his friends would beard the lion in his
den more or less successfully. But it was necessary for such venturesome
person to be ever in command of ready wit in order to emerge with a whole
skin, figuratively speaking, and Bud and Tee-hee were the real leaders of
this victorious few. That was the reason why they were chums of Cub.

The fact of the matter, to be perfectly frank, was that Cub was a good
deal of an actor. Whether he was conscious of this fact we will not
venture to say. He is the only one who knows, and we have never broached
the subject to him. The average person on first making his acquaintance
doubtless would set him down as a very domineering youth; some might even
call him a bully, but they would change their minds eventually if the
acquaintance continued. Perhaps the best way one could judge Cub, without
being Cub himself, would be to characterize him as being fond of playing
the bully just for fun. Indeed, it is quite probable that Cub carried a
perpetual laugh in his sleeve.

This dominant youth was tall and lanky. He was only 17 years old, but as
big as a man, so far as altitude and the size of his feet were concerned.
He lacked one inch of being six feet tall, and he wore size 8 shoes. The
hope for his proportion was expansion, and judging from the hereditary
history of his paternal ancestry, there was good prospect for him in this
regard. His father was a large man and well built.

To complete the description of Cub, he was a youth of very wise
countenance. He liked to read "highbrow stuff" and reflect and inflict it
on such victims as were unable to counter his domination.

Bud was a short, quick, snappy, bold fellow, "built on the ground". It
is possible that he might have upset Cub in a surprise wrestle, but
nobody ever dared to "mix" with Cub in such manner; the lanky fellow
seemed to be able to out-countenance any suggestion of physical
hostility. The glower of his face seemed to spell subjection for all the
boy world about him.

But Bud would blurt out something now and then that seemed to startle Cub
into a mood of reflection, and whenever Cub reflected his dominance
wavered. Tee-hee was able to accomplish the same effect without a
"blurt". Tee-hee was sly, "as sly as they make 'em", but it was a kind of
slyness that commands respect. It even gave an air of respectability to
his laugh, for, ordinarily, a "tee-hee" sounds silly. But Hal's "tee-hee"
was constitutional with him, and his sly shrewdness gave it real dignity.

Cub was usually the dominating factor in all the boy arguments of their
"bunch", which varied in numbers from ten to twenty, according to the
motive of interest that drew them together. He seldom started an
argument, unless his disposition to "bawl" somebody out for uttering a,
to him, foolish opinion, he regarded as a starter. He seldom spoke first,
but usually last. One day he "bawled" Tee-hee for the latter's "silly
laugh", telling him that he would never be a man unless he learned to
"laugh from his lungs".

"You seem to like a lot of noise," Hal observed.

"Yes, it's the only thing that convinces me," Cub shot back rashly.

He realized his rashness, but it was too late. Tee-hee "got" him.

"I understand you now," the sly youth announced. "Whenever we have
a dispute, the only way for me to win is to make a bigger noise
than you do."

But Cub was not slow, and he evened matters up by roaring:

"You can't do it; you ain't got the lungs."

However, there was a serious side to this trio of radio boys. They were
not known chiefly for their frivolity, which probably would have
characterized them if they had got into any bad scrapes. Their deportment
was really above reproach, so that their parents reposed a good deal of
confidence in them and allowed them to do pretty much as they wished in
the matter of their recreation and sports. On the occasion with which the
narrative opens we find them very serious minded over a very important
problem, although it seemed well nigh impossible for them, even under
such circumstances, to bar severely all manner of gaieties.

"I don't see where there's anything new for us to do this summer," said
Bud after the merriment over the "static repartee" with Cub had subsided.
"We c'n go camping or fishin', or we c'n stay at home and listen in."

"Oh, you haven't got any invention in that head o' yours, Bud," declared
Cub with tone of disgust. "Tee-hee, take your turn and see if you can't
hand us somethin'."

"Aw, why don't you furnish some brains for us, Cub," Bud objected with
spirit. "I never knew you to yet. You just razz us till we turn up the
thing all of us wants, and then you act as if you'd done all the work."

"Well, what do I pay you for?" Cub demanded, with an air of final
judgment.

Of course, Cub did not pay them anything; that was just a little evidence
of his exasperating domination. Bud saw, as usual, that there was no use
of trying to carry his protest further, so he gave way to Hal, who looked
as if eager to take his turn.

"I tell you what let's do," proposed the latter. "Let's go campin' and
take one of our radio sets with us."

Cub leaped to his feet enthusiastically, bringing his feet down on the
floor with a force that seemed to jar the whole house. Fortunately there
was a substantial rug between his descending number 8's and the floor.

"That's what I call brains, Tee-hee," he declared, reaching over and
planting a hearty slap on the author of this ingenuity. "You deserve a
bonus. The scheme is hereby adopted."

"Without consulting me?" demanded Bud with very good simulation of
hurt dignity.

"Absolutely, Bud, you fell asleep and let Tee-hee get ahead of you."

"And meanwhile, what did you do?" Bud inquired pointedly.

"I sat in judgment over your suggestions," Cub replied readily. "You
fellows needed somebody to decide what your suggestions were worth.
That's my function--get me?--my function."

"Well, I was goin' to vote for Tee-hee's idea," said Bud with slight tone
of resentment. "You might 'ave let me get my vote in."

"It wasn't needed, it wasn't needed," Cub ruled. "Two's a majority
of three."

"I'm going to vote for it anyway. I think his idea is a dandy."

"Your vote is accepted and recorded as surplus noise."

"Static, you mean," Bud suggested with modest sarcasm.

"To be up to date, yes."

"Tee-hee," laughed Tee-hee.




CHAPTER II

Tragedy or Joke?


The three boys discussed vacation plans along the line suggested by Hal
for half an hour, and then Cub said:

"We can't get any further on this subject to-night. It's nearly 8
o'clock; Let's go in the radio room and listen to some opera music
for a while."

He led the way into an adjoining apartment, a veritable radio laboratory.
Two years before, as a wireless amateur, Cub had built for himself in
this room an elaborate sending and receiving set, and he proved to be one
of the first, boy though he was, to appreciate the outlook for the
radiophone, even before "the craze" had gripped the country. He soon had
his father almost as much interested in the subject as himself, so that
the question of financing his latest radio ambition was no serious
obstacle. An early result of this active interest on his part was the
addition of a receiving amplification with which he could listen in to
messages from major-power stations in the remotest parts of the country.
Indeed, under favorable conditions, he had picked up messages from as far
distant points as Edinburgh, Scotland, and Australia.

Cub sat down at the table and tuned to 360 meters. The other boys seated
themselves comfortably and waited with a kind of luxurious contentment
for the beginning of the program, which came in a few minutes. They "sat
through" the entire Westinghouse program and then Cub began to "tune up
and down" to find out what else was going on in the air. The room for
several minutes was resonant with a succession of squeaks, squawks,
whines, growls, dots-and-dashes, whistles, and musical notes. Suddenly he
gave a start that aroused the curiosity of his friends and made them more
attentive to his actions.

"Did you get that?" he shouted.

"No," replied Bud and Hal, in chorus, springing forward.

Cub was tuning excitedly back and forth about a certain, or uncertain,
wave length, which he had lost.

"Put on your 'phones," he said, putting on his own. "You may not get it
through the horn. I'm sure I got an SOS, very faint. I'm going to try to
get it again."

Bud and Hal did as directed and listened with quite as much eagerness as
that which was evident in Cub's manner. Several minutes elapsed before
the search was rewarded. Then at last, in fairly distinct, although
faint, vibrations came the distress signal again. All three heard it, and
this time Cub caught the wave "on the knob" and did not let it go.

The operator sending the distress signal was evidently pleading
desperately for attention, which nobody, it seemed, was willing to give
to him. Several times he repeated his SOS, following each repetition with
his own private call and wave length. Then he broadcast the following
message in explanation of his appeal for help:

"I am marooned on island in Lake of Thousand Isles. I landed here from a
motor boat with wireless outfit. Lake thieves stole my boat and left me
here with outfit and little food. Will starve in few days if I don't get
help. My call is V A X."

"Cracky!" exclaimed Bud excitedly. "Isn't that a thriller! He's an
amateur and in trouble. We're in honor bound to help him."

"How?" demanded Cub derisively. "What can we do here nearly two hundred
miles away from him?"

"We might get word to some police or lake patrol that'll go and take him
off," Hal suggested.

"He's a Canadian," objected Cub. "Didn't you get his Canadian call? We'd
have the time of our life getting a Government station to pay any
attention to us hams. But listen, somebody's calling him."

All three listened-in eagerly, expectantly, wonderingly. Apparently
this fellow also was a Canadian amateur, although he failed to
identify himself.

"Oh, come off, you can't get by with that Robinson Crusoe stuff in this
twentieth century," he "jeered" with all the pep he could put into his
spark. "Some joke you're trying to play. What kind of publicity stunt is
this, anyway?"

"No publicity," was "Crusoe's" reply. "I'll starve if I don't get
help. You're doing your best to kill me. Keep out, I won't talk to you
any more."

"I will not keep out," declared the other. "You're an imposter. I'm
protecting the public."

"Whew!" ejaculated Cub, wiping his brow and snapping over the aerial
switch. "I'm going to find out something about this."

A moment later his right hand was working the sending key with the speed
and skill of an expert, while blue flames leaped over the gap with
spiteful alphabetic spits. Hal and Bud watched him eagerly, and, with a
skill indicating long and studied practice, read the message their lanky
friend shot through the ether.

First he tuned for a few moments and then sent the call which had
accompanied the first Canadian's "SOS". Then he threw back the switch and
received a speedy answer. There seemed to be an almost spasmodic
eagerness in the manner in which he sent his acknowledgment.

"I heard your call for help," was Cub's next cast. "Who was that fellow
that snapped you up so sassy?"

"I don't know," answered the professed castaway. "I've been trying to get
help for more than a day, and he always breaks in and queers my call. He
makes everybody think I'm putting up a prank."

"Where is your island?" asked Cub.

"Somewhere in the Thousand Islands. That's the best I can locate it. I've
never been here before. Where are you?"

"At Oswego, New York."

"What's your call?"

"A V L."

"Can you do anything for me?"

"I don't know what I can do unless I try to interest somebody near you by
wireless. I'll send out a broadcast in any manner you may suggest. But
you can do that just as well as I."

"I have done it over and over, but it does not do any good," said
"Crusoe". "That evil genius of mine always manages to queer me. Finally I
got so desperate that I sent out an SOS."

"And committed a radio crime," broke in the alleged evil genius. "Don't
you know the rules governing that distress signal?"

"There he is again," "Crusoe" dot-and-dashed.

"Who are you?" demanded Cub.

"I am Canadian amateur," was the reply. "That fellow who sent the
distress signal is a Canadian college student trying to put over a
college prank. I am on his trail to prevent him. We have a wager up; if
he induces anybody to go to his rescue, I lose."

"That is not true," interposed the sender of the SOS.

"What is your call?" Cub inquired.

"Yes, give it to him, and tell him what college I am from," proposed the
"fellow on the island".

"One of the conditions of our wager is that I must not reveal my
identity," returned the anonymous amateur. "He's bound by like terms. He
does not dare give you his name and address."

"That fellow is insane or a villain," declared "Crusoe". "I do not know
who he is, but if I starve to death, he'll be a wanton murderer. My name
is Raymond Flood. I am not a college student. I am a high school student
at Kingston."

"Is his name Raymond Flood?" was Cub's next query intended for the
anonymous amateur.

"No," was the latter's reply.

"What is it?"

"Under terms of our wager, I must not reveal his name and he must not
reveal mine."

"Whew!" exclaimed Cub, addressing his two friends, who removed the phones
from their ears, the better to hear him. "Can you beat that?"

"We sure have hit a sensation of some sort," Hal declared.
"What'll we do?"

"I don't know what under the sun to do," Cub replied. "I don't like to
pass him up, for fear he may be telling the truth; and yet, I don't like
to be the victim of a joke."

"I tell you what to do," Bud suggested, without any seriousness of
intent, however. "Make a dash over the lake in your father's motor boat
and rescue this Robinson Crusoe."

"By Jiminie, Bud!" exclaimed Cub enthusiastically! "You've hit the nail
on the head. Our vacation problem is solved. That's what we'll do, all of
us. I don't care whether it's a joke or a tragedy; we'll make a voyage of
discovery over that way and see if we can't find Crusoe's island. What
say you, fellows?"




CHAPTER III

Talking It Over


What could the fellows say?

They couldn't say anything at first, so astonished were they at the
announcement from Cub. Then so great was their eagerness, following the
recovery from their astonishment that about all they could do was to
"fall over each other" in their efforts to express their approval.

At last, however, the "panic of joy" subsided, and they began to sift out
the obstacles that must naturally obtrude themselves in the way of such a
scheme that involved such departure from the ordinary course of events.

"Do you think your father will let us go?" asked Hal somewhat
apprehensively.

"We've taken trips alone before," Cub reminded.

"Yes, but only for short trips along the shore or up the canal," Hal
replied. "Ontario's a rough lake, you know."

"Yes, but safe enough if you're used to it," Bud reasoned, coming to the
aid of his lanky friend. "If necessary, we could follow the bend of the
shore all the way and never get out of sight of land."

"That would make the trip longer and consequently take so much more time
to get there," reasoned Cub.

"Time's precious in a case like this," Hal averred. "Remember that we
must get up there in time to save a fellow with no food on hand from
getting an empty stomach."

"How long would the trip take?" asked Bud.

"Well, let's see," said Cub, picking up a pencil and beginning to figure
on a tab of paper before him. "The Catwhisker can make twelve miles an
hour under favorable conditions. We could start early in the morning and
reach the Thousand Islands surely by noon, and then have the rest of the
day to hunt for Mr. Robinson Crusoe."

"It might be like hunting for a needle in a haystack," suggested Hal
dubiously.

"Why shouldn't we be able to find him?" Cub demanded.

"It depends on how well Mr. Crusoe can describe his surroundings for us
and how well we can follow directions," Hal argued.

"That's true enough," Cub admitted. "Let's see if I can get 'im again and
what he can tell us."

He had no difficulty in picking up the "desperate Mr. Crusoe" again, for
the latter proved to be "sparking" the ether with frantic calls in search
of the radio boy on whom he believed he had made a serious impression,
but who seemed, for some unhappy reason, to have forgotten him.

"I was just discussing your case with a couple of friends," Cub
explained. "We thought we might make a run down your way in a motor boat
if you could give us a clear idea where your island is located."

"I can't give you any latitude and longitude," was the "islander's"
reply. "I was captured in my motor boat only a mile or two away from
home. Then I was blindfolded and put here on this island by the rascals.
It's a small wooded island surrounded by several other small wooded
islands, making it impossible for me to hail passing boats. I will be
glad to pay your expenses and enough more to make it worth your while if
you will find me and get me away from here."

"I don't know how we'd find you without cruising among the
Thousand Islands a week or two," returned Cub. "Have you a flag of
distress flying?"

"It wouldn't do any good. Nobody would see it."

"Oh, I have an idea!" suddenly exclaimed Hal, for he and Bud had put
their receivers back on their ears when Cub began to communicate with
"Mr. Crusoe" once more.

"Hold the wireless while I talk with my friends," Cub directed to the
fellow "at the other end of the ether". Then he removed the phones from
his ears, and the other boys did likewise.

"Well, what's your idea, Tee-hee?" the operator demanded with something
of a tone of business challenge.

"Why, all we need is a radio compass," Hal replied. "You know I made one
last summer, although I didn't have much use for it. We can install it on
the boat and make a bee line for that fellow's island if he keeps his
spark busy to guide us."

"Good!" exclaimed Bud. "That'll settle the biggest problem before us."

"Yes," Cub agreed. "You're a regular Thomas Edison, Jr., Tee-hee. I think
we'll have to elect you captain of this expedition."

"If we make it," Bud conditioned with a slightly skeptical grin.

"My opinion, if it's worth anything to you guys," said Cub; "is that we'd
better map out our plan thoroughly before we say anything about it to our
fathers. Then we can put our arguments in convincing manner."

"We must finish our plan to-night, for we ought to start not later than
Wednesday morning," Bud argued. "That'll give us one day to get ready
in."

"We'll need all that," said Hal. "Now, let's get busy, boys, and see how
near our plan is finished. It's after 10 o'clock, and I'll have to go
pretty soon. If we go, we'll need--"

"Some food," itemized Bud.

"Yes, enough for us and to feed a starving Robinson Crusoe," amended Cub,
beginning the list on a fresh sheet of paper.

"And drinking water."

"No. 2," commented Cub, as he jotted it down.

"And we ought to have a wireless set on hand," Hal suggested.

"Sure," said Cub. "You bring that and your loop aerial. This set is too
big to transfer on board very well."

"That about completes the list, doesn't it?" asked Bud.

"We'll have to have a permit," said Hal.

"Permit for what?" Bud inquired.

"A permit from Mr. Perry to go."

"You're kidding now," said Bud. "Maybe you think this is all a joke."

"I'm afraid it is, but I'll eat my words--and glad to do it--if Cub's
father and our fathers let us go."

"We've all got some persuading to do, there's no doubt o' that," Cub
admitted; "but I hope we'll succeed. I'll talk to father in the morning
at the breakfast table and call you fellows up an' let you know what he
says. Now I'll call Mr. Robinson Crusoe again and tell 'im I'll call 'im
in the morning and let 'im know what we can do."

He had no difficulty in getting the "island prisoner" again, for the
latter was waiting eagerly for a message of hope. Cub, however, was
cautious in this regard, saying nothing about the plan of himself and his
two radio friends. He merely told "Mr. Crusoe" that he would do the best
he could for him and would call him next day, specifying the hour. Then
Bud and Hal went their separate ways homeward.

At 8:30 next morning Cub called Hal on the telephone and inquired:

"Hello, Hal, did you talk to your folks about our plan?"

"Yes," was the reply; "and I just got through talking with Bud over the
wire before you called up."

"Well, how does it stand?"

"His folks won't let him go and my folks won't let me go unless some
experienced man goes along with us."

"Hooray! we win!" yelled Cub. "Father thinks it's a peach of an adventure
and he's almost as crazy over it as we were last night. He says 'yes'
with a capital Y, and he'll go along with us. He says he's been wanting a
vacation with some pep in it for quite a while, and this scheme of ours
is ninety-nine per cent pep. If you and Bud don't go, father and I are
going anyway. So get busy as fast as you can. We're off this afternoon,
as early as we can get ready. I've already sent a wireless to Crusoe that
we're coming. Good-bye; I'm going to call Bud now. Be over here as soon
as you can and help us get ready."




CHAPTER IV

The Catwhisker


The Catwhisker, a neat gasoline power boat of the cruiser type left the
private dock of the Perry home in Oswego early in the afternoon with the
three radio boys and Mr. Perry on board. This had meant some rapid work
by the members of the "rescue party" in preparation for the trip, for it
was necessary for them to do considerable buying in the line of
provisions and the transportation of a number of articles of incidental
convenience, together with one complete sending and receiving wireless
outfit. The hook-up of this outfit, on the boat, however, was left for a
more leisurely occupation after all other preparations for the cruise
were completed and they were well on their way.

The name Catwhisker harked back to the days when radio, or wireless
telegraphy, was in its infancy in the experience of the three boys whose
adventures are the inspiration of this volume. Mr. Perry bought the motor
boat at a time when his son and the latter's two chums were busy
experimenting with crystal outfits, and the name of the cruiser was
suggested to them by the fine spring-wires used to make contact with the
crystals in their detectors. No doubt, it was the catchiness of the word,
as well as its association with their hobby, that appealed to them in the
general search for a name for the boat.

This vessel was 36 feet long, with a beam of nine feet and with a canopy
covering the after deck. Amidships was a raised bridge deck on which were
mounted and housed the wheel and engine controls. Under this and the
after deck were the engine-room and the galley, and forward of these were
the cabin and two small staterooms. At the bow and in the stern were two
tall slim masts that had been erected solely for the extension of a radio
aerial. The hull was painted white with a blue stripe midway between the
bridge-deck level and the water line.

Cub and his father were real chums in matters of boating. Mr. Perry,
although ordinarily a man of very neat appearance, on the present
occasion had discarded his usual sartorial excellence and appeared on the
Catwhisker in clothes easily associated with cotton waste and oil cans.
Indeed, he could take care of the engine quite as well as his son, who
was an amateur expert, and seemed to enjoy discharging his full share, of
all the "overall and apron tasks" on board.

Mr. Perry took charge of the wheel and engine controls of the yacht at
the beginning of the cruise, so that his son and the other two boys were
left free to perfect the hook-up of the radio set supplied by Hal. First,
two wires, attached to spreaders at both ends, were extended between the
two masts for an aerial, and a lead-in was arranged through one of the
windows of the cabin. On a fixed table near this window they anchored
firmly the various portions of Hal's sending and receiving set, in order
that these might not be thrown down and damaged if the lake should become
rough. As the apparatus was supplied with two steps of amplification, Hal
had brought also a loud-tone horn to facilitate occasional parlor
entertainment should they have leisure to listen-in to programs from
various broadcasting stations within their receiving range in the course
of their cruise.

Hal's outfit was by no means as elaborate or as expensive as was Cub's,
but it was sufficient to receive radiophone programs, under favorable
conditions, from the strongest stations 300 or 400 miles distant, while
the strong spark of his code transmitter had earned for him a wide
acquaintance in amateur circles.

Before they started, Cub had another dot-and-dash tete-a-tete with "Mr.
Crusoe", acquainting the latter with the latest developments of their
plan and requesting him to call the Catwhisker regularly at half-hour
intervals if the more limited set they would take with them proved
insufficient to reach him from the start.

"When we reach the Thousand Islands, we will get busy with our loop
aerial and find you by radio compass," he promised.

The mysterious intermeddler who professed to have a sporting wager with
the "island prisoner," was on hand with a machine-gun stream derisive
waves, but Cub refused to pay any attention to him, not that he regarded
that fellow's version of the affair as utterly unworthy of consideration,
but, for the time being, at least, he did not wish to believe it. He was
eager for the adventure, which might be spoiled if his father became
convinced that "Mr. Crusoe's" SOS was a gambling hoax.

The boys took regular turns at the radio table in the cabin that
afternoon and found the occupation of listening-in much more interesting
than it had been at their homes, not because of any particular difference
in the messages, but because of the more romantic character of their new
motives and surroundings. Even the multitude of static interferences that
swarmed the atmosphere on this, the first oppressively hot day of the
season, were combatted with tuning coil, condenser, and detector, so
confidently, although with poor success, that Mr. Perry pronounced them
all "princes of patience".

In other words, the boys were in the best of spirits, all handicaps
notwithstanding. Cub's father had not taken his first lesson in wireless
telegraphy, and so left the radio field entirely to the three young
amateur experts. In spite of the heat, they were able to get a more or
less broken message now and then from the "island prisoner", but could
get no acknowledgment of receipt of messages sent by them until about
supper time.

"If it weren't for this heat, we probably could 'ave got a message to him
as we were leaving Oswego," Cub remarked to Bud after they had been on
the lake about two hours.

"The atmosphere is the worst I've ever known it to be," returned Bud, who
had been laboring hard with key and spark for some time. "If it don't
clear up, we may not be able to begin our hunt for him before morning."

"Well, we'll go along until half an hour before dark, I suppose, and then
find a place to tie up till morning," said Cub.

He consulted his father on the subject, and the latter indorsed the plan.

The lake was rather choppy, in spite of the calmness of the day;
consequently, the Catwhisker was unable to make a record run to the head
of the St. Lawrence River. Ontario is not a placid lake, although it has
not the heavy roughness that characterizes Lake Huron. A strong current
is driven through its middle by the flood of the upper lakes after its
plunge over Niagara Falls, and along the shores is a back-sweep of eddies
and swirls. Hence the pilots and shippers of small boats on the lake, if
they are wise, keep their weather eyes well peeled for any disturbance
that may augment the natural roughness of this body of water.

Mr. Perry and his three boy companions were all well aware of the wisdom
of weather caution while cruising in the Catwhisker. In the morning
before starting, they had consulted the Government forecast and found the
outlook favorable, but they were well aware of the fact that absolute
dependence should not be put upon even so learned a being as a Great
Lakes weather man.

Bud made the first score in the frequent attempts to get a message to the
"island prisoner". Conditions in the ether became much better toward
evening when a cool wind began to blow. Just before sending the message
that reached its goal, Bud received the following from VAX:

"Where are you? Can't you reach me? Nobody in sight yet. Ate my last
crust of bread an hour ago. Have to drink lake water to keep alive. Try
again to get a message to me."

Bud tried again and received the following reply:

"Got you faintly. Try again. Where are you?"

But fifteen minutes elapsed before the boy at the key was able to score
again. After that, however, they had no difficulty in reaching "Crusoe
island" with key and spark.

Then arose the question as to whether they should attempt to find the
"radio Crusoe's" island that evening or should seek a suitable mooring
place and postpone the search until morning.

"There's one matter to be taken up before we decide to go much further
to-night," said Mr. Perry, who had just turned the wheel over to Hal and
joined the conference in the cabin.

"What's that?" asked Cub.

"The weather. We're right at the beginning of the Thousand Isles now, but
we can have a nasty time of it anywhere in the upper part of the river in
a storm. The wind is getting pretty lively, and you know how much the
temperature has dropped."

"Oh, I can take care of that," Bud declared eagerly. "I've been having a
chat with a 'ham' somewhere along the coast. I'm sure he'll get the
evening forecast for me."

As he spoke, Bud dropped his eye on the log where he had made note of the
shore "ham's" call and then began to tune for his wave length. To his
gratification, he found the fellow busy with his spark and waited till
the message was finished; then he threw his aerial switch into sending
and lettered the call. The "ham" answered and asked what was wanted.

"I want the weather forecast for to-night," Bud replied. "We're out in a
motor boat and want to know if it's safe to stay out till dark."

"I'll get the latest by telephone and call you back in a few minutes,"
was the operator's generous offer.

Ten minutes later the promised call came, thus:

"Clear to-night. Wind brisk, but not violent."

Cub was listening-in and read this message to his father.

"That means we can go on nearly three hours yet before we have to seek a
post for the night," the latter announced.

"Good!" exclaimed Cub. "Now I'm going to test that radio compass and see
what may be expected of it in the morning if we don't find Mr. Crusoe
to-night, which isn't very likely."

Preparation for the test was simple and quickly made. The loop aerial, a
collapsible affair, was set up in the cabin and connected in such manner
that it could be used for receiving simultaneously with the use of the
outside aerial for sending.

While Cub was thus occupied, Mr. Perry set a hasty supper of prepared
foods on the table and "ate a bite". Then he returned to the chart and
wheel house and relieved Hal, sending the latter back to the cabin for
his meal and for further radio consultation with the other boys.




CHAPTER V

A Baffling Situation


The compass worked admirably. Although the principle of the affair was
very simple, Hal must be given credit for having done his work well.

So satisfactory did the device prove from the moment when it began to
take messages from the "island prisoner", that all on board the
Catwhisker became hopeful of success before sun-down. "V A X" kept a
stream of waves leaping from his aerial for their guidance and the motor
boat chug-chugged along like a hunting hound made more and more eager by
the increasing excitement of the hunt.

"I wonder what's become of the fellow who tried to head us off," remarked
Hal as he left the supper table and prepared to relieve Cub at the
wireless. "You haven't heard anything from him, have you?"

"No, not a thing all day," Cub replied. "I guess we've tired him out. Did
you get anything from him, Bud?"

"Not a shiver of the wires," answered the latter.

"Maybe he's given us up as hopeless easy marks," Cub suggested.

"Why, do you think his story is true and 'Bobby Crusoe' is a fake?"
asked Hal.

"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised to find almost anything--or
nothing--as we get near to the end of our hunt."

"But he must be on the island," Bud reasoned. "And he must have a
wireless set, or he couldn't have sent the messages we got. That much
is certain."

"Not all of it," Hal objected.

"Why?" Bud demanded.

"Maybe he isn't on an island."

"You mean, maybe the whole thing's a fake--eh?"

"Maybe."

"If the whole thing's a fake, then that other fellow who tried to head us
off must 'ave been a party to the game," Cub interposed.

"There wouldn't be much sense in that," said Bud.

"I agree with you," Cub continued. "The scrap between those two hams was
genuine enough."

"But they were holding something back from us," Hal declared.

"Both of them?" asked Bud.

"I shouldn't be surprised."

"Nor I, either," said Cub.

"Then they've put one over on us," was Bud's inference. "Are you
sorry we came?"

"I? No, sir!" Cub emphasized. "It's a dandy adventure, whatever the
result. I didn't swallow that Crusoe story whole at any time."

"Neither did I," said Hal.

"I thought there were some funny things about it," Bud announced
reflectively; "but I didn't know how to put them together or take
'em apart."

"That was my fix," said Cub; "and it's my fix yet."

"I guess we all agree that the whole affair is very strange," Hal
concluded. "We really don't believe we've been told the truth, and yet we
get in worse trouble when we try to make something else out of it."

"I wonder what your father thinks about it, Cub," said Bud.

"Oh, he accepts it at its face value for the sake of the adventure," the
tall youth replied. "But he's wise enough to know there may be a lot of
hocus-pocus in the business."

For nearly two hours the motor boat wound its way at a fairly good clip
among the picturesque islands of the upper St. Lawrence, the radio
compass fixing the course as certainly as the hunter's pursuit is
directed by the nose of his hound. They had no way of telling, at any
time, how far ahead was the object of their search, but they had the
satisfaction of knowing that they were constantly approaching it. At last
an unexpected climax threw their hitherto clear prospect into confusion.
This climax grew out of a series of confounding messages from the "lost
islander".

"I see you coming," was the first of these messages.

"Where is he?" asked Cub and Bud in chorus. Hal was at the table and the
other two boys were listening-in.

"I don't know," replied the operator. "One of you boys go on deck and see
what you can see."

Cub dashed up the companionway two steps at a time. In a few moments he
returned with the announcement:

"There's an open stretch of four hundred yards ahead of us. He's probably
on the island at the other end. I'm going back on deck and watch for
developments."

There was a speaking tube communicating between the pilot house and the
cabin and through this Cub kept his boy friends acquainted with the
progress of the search. They reached the island in question, but not a
sign of human life was discoverable on it. The motor boat passed around
it, and meanwhile the radio-compass found the strength of its receiving
directly down stream. Cub communicated this condition to the cabin, and
Hal dot-and-dashed the following to "VAX":

"Where are you? We can't see you."

"I saw you," was the reply. "I climbed a tree and saw you headed right
for this group of islands."

"No, no," objected Hal. "It must be another yacht."

"Aren't you a white cruiser with awning mid and aft, and pilot house on
bridge deck?" asked "VAX".

"Yes," answered Hal.

"There's somebody calling us," remarked Bud at this point.

"Yes, I get 'im," returned Hal. "Why, it's the mysterious guy who tried
to head us off night before last and yesterday."

Both boys read the "mysterious guy's" first send with eager impatience.
It was as follows:

"He's making sport of you. Mark my word, when you reach the island,
he'll be gone."

"Keep out, you pirate," ordered Hal.

"All right, but you'll call yourselves a bunch of fools."

The next instant the "island prisoner" broke in thus:

"Hurry; they are after me. I think they are the ones who marooned me
here. Their boat looks like yours, I guess."

"See!" exclaimed Bud. "This makes things look bad. If those fellows are
robbers they're armed. We haven't a gun on board, and if we had we
wouldn't want to get in a fight over an affair that looks more like a
joke than a tragedy."

"And yet it may be a tragedy," said Hal.

At this moment Cub reappeared in the cabin and the situation was
explained to him.

"It begins to look like a tragedy," he admitted; "and yet if we treat
it as a tragedy and it proves to be a joke, we'll feel like a comedy
of errors."

"Now, you're getting highbrow, Cub," was Hal's mock objection.

"It's common sense, isn't it?" the youthful philosopher reasoned.

"Yes, but you forget one thing," the sly-eyed Hal rejoined: "With so much
Q R M, it's very hard to pick out common sense in an affair like this."

"That's true," replied the other. "We've had more interference in this
trip thus far than anything else."

"And the big question now is, how're we goin' to tune it out?"

"I confess, I'm stumped," said Cub. "Guess we'll have to refer the
whole matter to father, but I bet he'll be up against it just as much
as we are."

Cub turned toward the companionway with the intention of seeking an
interview with Mr. Perry in the wheel house, but Hal delayed him again.

"Wait a minute," said the operator. "Here's our island friend again."

Cub and Bud donned their phones once more. The message received was more
startling than any preceding.

"They are coming ashore," was dot-and-dashed into the three boys' ears.
"I see four bad-looking men. I am going to run before they see me
and--maybe--swim. Good-bye."

"What in the world shall we do?" exclaimed Bud.

"I'm going to find out," declared Cub, as he dashed out of the cabin.

Hal, meanwhile, was busy again. The mysterious amateur who had
persistently attempted to turn the supposed near-tragedy into a joke was
spitting the Catwhisker's call again.

"Fools!" he flashed spitefully. "Goodnight."




CHAPTER VI

A Mystery and Cub's "Goat"


Cub hastened to his father and gave him a rapid narrative of events as
they had been received by wireless.

"Well, that's interesting, to say the least," observed Mr. Perry with a
look of curious amusement.

Cub waited a few moments for further comment, but as it was slow coming,
he asked impulsively:

"What are we going to do?"

"What do you think we ought to do?" inquired the man at the wheel,
looking sharply at his son.

"I don't know; I'm stumped," was the boy's reply.

"That's a frank admission. First time I've known you to admit such
absolute defeat. Do you think we'd better turn about and go back home?"

"No," Cub replied with a revival of decision in his tone of voice.

"Well, shall we stop, turn to the right or left, or go ahead?"

There was a slump to indecision again. Cub looked foolish. His father was
making sport of him and he did not know how to answer intelligently. In
desperation, however, he replied:

"Go ahead."

"What for?" asked Mr. Perry. "Shall we dash to the rescue and face those
four men, who probably are armed with pistols?"

"No, of course not. Anyway, we don't know where they are. They may be
twenty-five miles from here, for all we know."

"Then we'll have to give up the search if you don't get any more messages
from him," declared the boy's father.

"That's so," Cub admitted. "And if those men captured him and took him
away in their boat, this affair will have to remain a mystery in our
lives forever afterward."

"You'd better go back to the cabin and see if Bud and Hal got any more
messages from him," suggested Mr. Perry.

"That's the only hope left," said Cub as he turned to go.

But this "last hope" proved to be vain. Bud and Hal were both still
listening-in, but with little suggestion of expectancy on their
countenances.

"Anything more?" inquired the tall youth, unwilling to put his question
in negative form, in spite of the fact that his better judgment would
have dictated it thus.

Both listeners shook their heads.

"Then that's the end of our search," Cub declared with a crestfallen and
disgusted look.

"Why?" asked Bud.

"Answer the question yourself; it's easy,"

"I don't see why we should give up just because we've run up against an
obstacle a little worse than any we've met before," said Hal.

"All right," Cub challenged. "Let's see what you propose to do."

"Well," Hal responded slowly; "we could go on till we found--"

He stopped and looked foolish.

"Found what?" asked Cub. "The island? How would you do that without
something to guide your radio compass?"

"That's so"; Hal admitted, with another foolish look.

"It's too bad," Bud broke in, with tone well suited to his words.

"I suppose the next thing for us to do is to look for a tie-up for the
night." said Hal indicating his sense of defeat by his change of subject.

"I think father is doing that now," replied Cub. "Guess I'll go and see
what his idea is on that subject."

By this time the Catwhisker was several miles beyond Grindstone Island
and was winding its way through a labyrinthine group to the north of
Grandview. The scenery here was so enchanting that Cub and his father
speedily agreed that the first convenient, unclaimed natural harbor that
they discovered ought to be adopted as theirs for the night.

The season was well opened, and there were many boats on the river, so
many, indeed, that it seemed strange that any live, intelligent person
could be marooned on one of those islands, however vast their number,
without being able to call attention to his distress. However, there were
main highways in this, as in any other, semi-wilderness, and doubtless
some of the by-ways were less accessible, if not less inviting and in the
nature of things, less frequently visited.

This company of "rescue tourists" had motored through the Lake of the
Thousand Islands before, and hence were not at a loss at any time how to
find their way. The spectacle, therefore, of a hit-and-miss, crazy-quilt
arrangement of long, round, high, low, green, bare islands, many of them
decked with a wealth of firs, pines, tamaracks, oaks, maples, bushes and
flowers, was not new to them. However, it was not long after their
decision to look for a mooring place when they found an ideal cove and
tied the Catwhisker to an overhanging bent, gnarled, contorted pine tree.

No camp was made on the shore, as they had no intention of remaining at
this place longer than until the next break of day. All hands were pretty
tired after supper, but Hal decided he must listen-in for a while before
going to bed. So he donned a pair of phones and began to tune for an
evening program, when a call, clear and distinct, addressed to him,
suddenly held his attention.

It was from the now mysterious "V A X", the "Island Crusoe". Hal answered
it and then received the following message:

"Thanks awfully for your good intentions, but I didn't need any help.
Sorry to have troubled you. I did have a wager with that other fellow,
but not the kind he described. It was the first big contest in the
history of radio. I gave odds of four to one and am the winner. We both
went to the island together and each put up an independent receiving and
sending set. My part of the contest was to induce someone to come to the
rescue of me as an island prisoner; his part was to head off any such
rescue. He admitted I won after it was certain you were headed for us,
and then we both lost our nerve and ducked. Good-bye."

Bud and Cub took the hint, from Hal's eager and almost awed manner, that
something unusual was coming in through the ether and donned phones in
time to catch the latter half of the message. This was sufficient to give
them a clear understanding of the situation. After the "good-bye" finish,
Hal made a desperate effort to hold the "Island operator" for further
conversation, but could get no reply. At last he gave it up and they
turned their attention to discussion of the situation.

"Well, I wonder if that's the last well hear from him," said Bud as he
removed the phones from his ears, while the other two boys did likewise.

"More of a puzzle than ever, isn't it?" Cub remarked.

"Why, don't you believe the explanation he telegraphed to us?" Hal
inquired.

"I do not," the tall youth replied positively.

"Why not?" Hal persisted. "Doesn't it satisfy your lordship?"

"Cut it out, Tee-hee," the alleged "lordship" ordered. "You make me
sore."

"Then I'll rub on some salve."

"If you do, you'll get your fingers burnt," Cub retorted.

"I always thought you were a hot one. But that doesn't answer the
question before us."

"No, because we don't know how to settle it," Cub admitted. "If we knew
what we're talkin' about, we wouldn't be batting this nonsense back and
forth. We can't hit the nail on the head, so we just fan the air. By the
way, what did that fellow say before Bud and I began to listen-in?"

Hal reviewed the first half of the statement received by him. Then Mr.
Perry, who had just returned from ashore, where he had been testing the
security of the tie-up, entered the cabin.

"What's the trouble, boys?" he asked, noting the studied expression of
their faces.

"No trouble, exactly," Cub replied. "Just another mystery."

"That's interesting," the yachtsman commented. "Tell me about it."

"You get my goat, dad," Cub declared.

Mr. Perry laughed.

"Why do I get your goat, Bob?" he asked.

"Because the more mystery there is floating around, the better
pleased you are."

"Is that so? Well, what's the mystery now?"

"You tell 'im, Hal," requested the youth of the "goat-got affliction".

Hal did as requested. Quiet of several moments followed.

"Well?" Mr. Perry interrogated.

"Well!". repeated Cub vociferously. "Is that all you can say?"

"I'd like to return your goat, Bob, but I don't see how I can," Mr. Perry
announced provokingly.

"In other words, you don't see anything startling about that fellow's
last performance," Cub inferred.

"No--o, nothing startling," his father replied slowly.

"What do you make out of it, then?"

"I don't know that I make anything out of it, except a lot of nonsense."

"You think it's a joke?"

"I wouldn't call it anything but a lot of nonsense until I know more
about it."

"But doesn't it make you impatient to find out what it all means?"
Cub demanded.

"No, not in the least. I got over that long ago, my son. Don't let any
such habit grip you; it'll wear your nerves out, and then you won't have
any lead-in to connect your antennae with your brains."

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed the man's youthful audience in chorus, even Cub
appreciating the illustration.

"When did you begin to study radio, Mr. Perry?" asked Bud.

"Oh, I've been learning rapidly ever since I was thrown into the company
of you hams," was the reply. "But don't let me get you off the question."

"The question--what was the question?" asked Cub, digging his fingers
into his rather lengthy locks of hair.

"Mystery, wasn't it?" reminded Mr. Perry.

"Yes, that's it," Bud replied. "The mystery of the Radio Robinson Crusoe
in the Lake of the Thousand Isles."

"That sounds interesting, but it's mostly a poetic, or ecstatic, jumble
of words," said Mr. Perry. "And right there is the secret of many a
mystery. It's clothed in a maze of language. Remove the maze, and it
begins to look simple."

"Where is the maze of language in this affair?" Cub challenged.

"From what I've heard, the whole affair seems to have consisted
principally of language. Now, I tell you what we'll do. We'll go to bed
early and have a good sleep. In the morning, we'll shake this affair up
in a sieve and see if we can't get rid of everything but the main lumps
of the facts. Then we'll size them up and see what we can make of them.
In my opinion, we can get at the bottom of what you choose to regard as a
profound mystery."

"If you do, pa, you'll return my goat," said Cub.

"It's up to you, Bob," was his father's reply. "I've no desire to keep
him in my stable."




CHAPTER VII

Returning Cub's "Goat"


In the morning after breakfast Mr. Perry called a conference on deck for
the purpose of discussing "the mystery and Cub's goat", as Hal put it.

"Yes," said Bud, his sense of humor stimulated by this allusion; "all Mr.
Perry has to do to return Cub's goat is to prove there isn't any mystery
about the affair."

"I didn't say I was going to do that," objected the adult member of
the party.

"What--return the goat or disprove the mystery?" asked Bud.

"Now you're getting facetious," broke in Cub.

"Not necessarily," objected Mr. Perry. "I didn't promise, or have in
mind, to do either of those things. The fact of the matter is, a mystery
represents the state or condition of mind of the person mystified. Now, I
am not mystified over this affair at all; hence there is no mystery in
it, so far as I am concerned."

"Then explain it to us," Bud challenged.

"Oh, no; I didn't mean I could do that."

"Then you must be mystified," Bud argued.

"Suppose you have a difficult example to do at school, and finally after
working at it a long time you have to confess you can't do it--does that
mean it's a mystery and you are mystified?"

This was a poser for the boys. They had never looked at a subject of this
kind on any such light.

"Cub, you're the highbrow of our bunch," said Hal after some moments of
puzzled silence.

"Oh, get away with that stuff," Cub protested, but, somehow, a faint
glimmer of satisfaction at the "compliment" shone in his countenance.

"No, I won't, either," Hal insisted. "It's true. This thing is too much
for Bud and me. You've got to settle it for us."

Cub "swelled up" a little with importance at this admission. He was
sitting in a camp chair with his feet resting on the taffrail, it being
a habit of his to rest his feet on something higher than his head, if
possible, whenever seated. Now, however, there seemed to be a demand
for superior head-work, so he lowered his feet, straightened up his
back, and said:

"Well."--speaking slowly--"I don't want to get in bad with my father by
trying to prove I know more than he does, but my argument would be that
all of life is not arithmetic."

"Good!" exclaimed Hal, eager to defend his belief in things mysterious,
and Bud signified his approval in similar manner.

"Yes, that isn't bad at all," admitted Mr. Perry, glad to have stimulated
his son's mind into action. "But if we can't explain this affair with
mathematics, maybe we can explain it by some other element of human
education."

"What, for instance?" asked Cub. "Not by readin', 'ritin', or
'rithmetic."

"No, we'll exclude the three R's for the present, although all of them
may figure in our work before it is finished."

"Well," mused Cub; "the others are history, geography, spelling--"

"Why didn't you stop with geography?" asked his father.

"Geography!" exclaimed Bud. "How can you use that to explain a mystery?"

"It depends on whether geography is involved," Mr. Perry replied. "In
this case it seems to me that geography is a very important element. We
may have to know considerably more about the geography of the Thousand
Islands in order to solve this so-called mystery. Now, mind you, I don't
mean to say that we're going to get at the bottom of this affair, but I
do want to suggest that if it is to be solved by any systematic process,
the first elements to be employed in the process are a little geography
and a little arithmetic. With this in view, I would suggest that you get
busy with your wireless outfit and see what you can find out."

The three boys gazed curiously at Cub's father and then at one another in
a puzzled manner.

"Haven't I given you enough hint?" asked Mr. Perry. "I don't want to do
the work myself--in fact, I couldn't if I wished to, for I can't send a
wireless message; but if I could, I know exactly what I'd do."

"We might send a broadcast to all other amateurs and find out if any of
them can help us," Hal suggested.

"How could they help us?" asked Bud skeptically.

"I'm sure I can't tell you," replied Mr. Perry. "But you have a dandy
field to work on. All you need is a little imagination; then begin to do
a little head-work, and before you know it you'll have a lead to work on.
And let me add something more. There are two things in this world, which,
working together, can knock a mystery into a cocked hat more successfully
than anything else in the world that I know of."

"I bet I know what they are," Cub volunteered, eagerly.

"Mathematics and imagination," almost shouted Hal in a wild scramble of
mind to beat Cub with the answer.

The latter cast a wrathful glance at the saucy youth who had broken in
ahead of him.

"Tee-hee!" laughed Bud with fitting imitation of Hal's characteristic
vocal merriment.

As for Tee-hee, that worthy individual preserved his dignity for
the nonce.

"Well," laughed Mr. Perry; "You've hit the nail on the head, but I
venture to say you can't explain why mathematics and imagination can put
a mystery to rout."

Hal confessed he was unable to explain.

"It's too much highbrow for me," he said. "And I bet it's too much
highbrow for Cub."

The latter said nothing. Evidently he was thinking hard. He leaned back
in his camp chair and hoisted his feet upon the rail again.

"Well, let's quit the highbrow field and get down to business," suggested
Mr. Perry. "If we're able to put this thing through along mathematical
lines, I bet you boys will have enough imagination to tell me why
mathematics and imagination can put any mystery on earth to rout."

"I'm goin' to get busy with the spark gap," Cub announced suddenly, as he
sprang to his feet.

"You've got a big thing ahead of you, boys," announced the owner of the
Catwhisker. "I venture to say there are some big surprises in store for
you. For instance, you're likely to find the newspapers of the United
States and Canada giving considerable space to this affair."

"How are they going to get hold of it?" asked Bud.

"There's where you're short of imagination, my boy. How many amateurs do
you suppose were listening in and got the messages between you and those
two radio contestants?"

"I bet there were a hundred if there was one," declared Hal.

"And were they interested?"

"Were they?" exclaimed Cub. "Every last one of 'em was wild with
curiosity."

"And did they talk about it to anybody?"

"They didn't talk about anything else," Bud opined.

"And didn't you suppose some of those amateurs know some newspaper
reporters?"

"We fellows all know several reporters," said Cub, with an
appreciative grin.

"All right," said Mr. Perry, significantly. "Now, all I have to say to
you boys is, watch the headlines whenever you get near a news stand."

The three radio boys now repaired to the cabin, while the owner of the
yacht busied himself about matters of nautical interest to him on deck.

"You've got to hand it to my father for one thing," Cub declared as he
seated himself near the radio table and hoisted his feet thereupon. "He
sure has some imagination."

"And some mathematics, too, the way he subtracts mist from mystery every
time our brains get lost in a fog," Hal added, with a self-appreciative
"tee-hee."

Cub and Bud also laughed in spite of Hal's excusable self-appreciation.

"Do you know, I don't feel nearly so mystified as I did before that talk
with your father began," Bud announced.

"It's the mathematics and imagination getting their work in," Cub
explained with a wink.

"It sounds funny, and yet, I can't help feeling there's something to it,"
Hal remarked.

"Well," said Cub, bringing his feet down from the table with enough noise
to rivet a conclusion; "you may call it addition, or subtraction, or
multiplication, or division, or algebra, or geometry, or trigonometry, or
calculus--does that complete the list?--I'm going to make my imagination
leap across the spark gap; so here goes."

He snapped the aerial switch into sending, began to "jiggle" the
key alphabetically, and the spark leaped with successive spits
across the gap.

"Cub's got his goat back," Hal remarked with a knowing look at Bud.

The latter grinned and nodded his concurrence.




CHAPTER VIII

Mathematics or Geography?


But the morning proved to be a poor time for communication by radio for
two reasons. First, the atmosphere was warm, a poor condition for the
transmission of ether waves, and after all, night time is the ideal
season for such doings. Second, comparatively few amateurs were sitting
in at this time of the day, although vacation had arrived and closed the
schoolhouse doors.

Cub kept up his efforts for an hour, with virtually no success. Although
he succeeded in communicating with half a dozen "hams", only one of them
had listened-in to any of the messages that passed between the Catwhisker
boys and the two Canadian radio contestants, and he was able to throw no
light on the "mystery". At last he gave it up for the time being, and
joined the other Catwhiskerites on deck for a period of sightseeing
enjoyment.

They cruised about among the islands most of the day, stopping here and
there to inspect some apparently unclaimed scene of enchantment, or
visiting various places exploited for gain by private interests as
centers of entertainment and recreation. They circumnavigated Wellesly
Island, making short stops at several points of interest and at about
4:30 p.m. tied up in a quiet shelter overhung by a low-limbed tamarack
and cast their baited fishhooks into the water for a "brain-food" supper.
This was not more than half a mile from the tie-up where they passed
their first night in the Thousand Islands. The finny fellows bit greedily
and in a short time they had enough black bass and pickerel to feed a
party twice the size of theirs.

After supper all repaired to the cabin, and the boys donned phones, while
Cub started a broadcasting campaign in search of information regarding
the two Canadian wireless contestants, who seemed to have made a trio of
monkeys out of the three radio motor-boat boys.

"I haven't much idea what kind of questions to ask or what kind of
answers to expect," he said to his companions; "but here goes my
best guess."

He had selected an intermission period in the atmosphere when the big
broadcasting stations were quiet, and then gave the general call and sent
out the following:

"I want help to identify and locate an amateur who figured in mysterious
radio affair in last two days. He said his name was Raymond Flood, that
he lived in Kingston, that his call was V A X, and that he was marooned
on island in St. Lawrence River. Can anybody help me? Call A V L."

Immediately three amateurs, two in Canada and one in New York State,
clamored for a hearing. Cub wrote down their calls and then took on the
one in Kingston first.

"There is no such amateur in Kingston," the latter announced. "I know
them all here. V A X is held by somebody in Port Hope. I listened-in to a
lot of that stuff and called up three amateurs in Port Hope. I learned
that A V L is Alvin Baker who is attending Edwards College."

"Why, he's my cousin!"

This exclamation from Hal created a real sensation in the cabin of the
Catwhisker. Meanwhile Bud had been taking the message down longhand in
order to preserve a record of the investigation, so that Mr. Perry, who
read as the boys wrote, got the progress of events about as rapidly as
did the three youthful experts. It is needless to say that he was as much
astonished as were his boy companions.

But there was no time now for a discussion of family relationship. After
a round of gasps and exclamations, they got down again to the business of
their radio investigation.

That was about the extent of the information that the Kingston amateur
was able to communicate to them, except that he had been an interested
listener-in to much of the code conversations between the would-be
rescuers and the two very strange radio contestants. He, however,
promised to make further inquiries and to call them again if he learned
anything that might be of interest to them.

"Well, dad, it looks as if you were right when you told us how to go
about to solve this mystery," Cub remarked as he dash-and-dotted a "G N"
(good night) to the Kingston amateur.

"You mean problem," reminded Mr. Perry with a smile.

"Well, maybe,--I won't dispute your word since your idea has proved so
brilliant thus far--but I can't see the mathematics yet."

"Nor the geography?"

"Well, yes; it took us from Kingston to Port Hope and from there to
Edwards College," Cub admitted. "I suppose there's a little
geography in that."

"Remember this, that mathematics isn't all figures," said the operator's
father. "Keep that in mind, and maybe it'll be worth something to you
before we're through with this affair."

"How does the discovery of my cousin come in?" Hal inquired. "Is that
geography or mathematics?"

"Do you mean that, Hal?" asked Bud wonderingly. "You don't mean that
fellow is really your cousin?"

"I surely do, if he's Alvin Baker. You know my folks used to live in
Canada. And don't you remember that my cousin Al visited us three years
ago with his father and mother? He wrote to me several times from Edwards
College, but I didn't know he had a wireless set, and I suppose he didn't
know I had one."

"Well, it makes the hunt more interesting, anyway," said Cub. "But let's
not waste any more time. Here goes again."

He called the other Canadian amateur on his list of three and learned
from him that many wireless boys had followed the course of the rescue
boat with their receiving outfits. From him Cub got the calls of four of
these interested boys. Then he called the third on his original list, but
all the information the latter was able to give was that a metropolitan
morning newspaper carried a column "story" on the front page about the
Thousand Island Crusoe and the rescue boat from Oswego.

"You're right again, dad," said Cub, with a grim grin of subdued wonder
and eagerness.

"I shouldn't be a bit surprised to find that the Associated Press has
chartered a boat and is following us," declared Mr. Perry.

"Would that be mathematics or geography?" asked Bud.

"It would be imagination," replied Mr. Perry with a keen smile. "But,
say, Cub, don't you think you've grabbed off enough glory for yourself?
Give your friends a chance to win some honors."

"Right you are, dad," returned the boy at the key, rising and removing
the phones from his ears. "Hal, you call half this list and then let Bud
call the rest"

It was well for the sake of a distribution of honors that this course was
taken, for a thrilling surprise was in store for them in response to the
next call.




CHAPTER IX

The Radio Diagram


As good fortune decreed, Hal found Number One in the new list sitting in
and listening for anything interesting in the ether. It required only a
few short sentences to acquaint this amateur with the object of the
Catwhisker's search.

"I can tell you just how to find those fellows," he replied. "I
listened-in to the best line of detective work on that subject you ever
heard of. Sherlock Holmes isn't in it there."

"Hooray!" shouted Bud, as he finished jotting down the last sentence.

"There are three amateurs, one in Clayton, N.Y., one in Rockport and
one in Gananoque, Ontario, who have radio compasses and they worked
together to locate the fellow on the island," continued the informant
with the eagerness of fraternal interest and generosity. "I will give
you their calls--"

The message was interrupted by a strong spark, which could not be
ignored. Sender Number one stopped sending, and Hal gave ear to the
new message.

"I will save you the trouble," read the dots and dashes evidently
addressed to the operator he had just "crowded out," "I am at Rockport
and am one of the three radio compass boys referred to. I can supply the
dope right now."

Hal threw over the aerial switch and flashed the one word "Shoot!" Then
he swung back again and all three boys listened eagerly.

"Have you a good map of the Thousand Island region?" inquired the loop
aerial operator.

"Yes," Hal replied.

"Well, take these directions and then draw the line on the map. Draw one
line from Clayton, N.Y., northeast, 47-1/2 degrees from perpendicular;
another from Rockport, Ontario, southeast, 11 degrees from
perpendicular; another from Gananoque, southeast, 76 degrees from
perpendicular. The intersection of those lines will indicate the island
those messages came from."

"He was on an island, was he?" asked Hal.

"Sure, or on a boat," was the reply. "He could not have been on the
mainland. We were careful and could not have been more than a mile off in
our reckoning. All three of us hit it the same."

"Where was the fellow who tried to head us off?" asked Hal.

"When?"

"At any time."

"We located him at various points along the river. No doubt he was on a
boat up to the very last when the two were very near together."

"Where was the island operator when he sent his last message? Did you get
the one in which he confessed the affair was a hoax?"

"Yes. But he did not send that message. It was sent by the other fellow."

"How do you know?"

"That was plain. Did you not notice his peculiar manner of sending? All
three of us noticed that."

"Did you pick up any more from them since then?"

"Not a dot."

Hal then asked the obliging amateur to indicate as nearly as possible the
location of the island from which the messages came. The latter did as
requested, and Hal marked the point on the chart of the St. Lawrence
River carried by the Catwhisker. This closed the wireless interview. Hal
promised to report back to the Rockport amateur any further developments
of interest and tapped "goodnight" with his key.

"Well, your two main points have been proved, Mr. Perry," Bud announced
as all three boys removed the receivers from their ears.

"What are they?" asked the man thus addressed.

"Mathematics and geography."

Mr. Perry smiled.

"Yes," he said "I could hardly have hoped for so remarkable a
demonstration of my theory. You boys have solved the geography of this
problem with the aid of some very clever mathematics. But what branch of
mathematics is it?"

"We didn't do it ourselves," Hal reminded. "It was those three amateurs
with their loop aerials."

"Wasn't it more mechanical than mathematical?" Cub inquired meditatively.
"Those radio compasses make me think of a surveyor's instrument."

"Oh, pshaw, my boy, don't spoil everything," pleaded the last speaker's
father. "I'm afraid you've missed the big point. Mathematics is the
biggest factor in all mechanics. Bud, I thought from the way you spoke
that you grasped the situation completely. Can't you help Bob and Hal
out? By means of what branch of mathematics was that island of our
Canadian Crusoe located?"

"Geometry," replied Bud confidently.

Cub snapped his finger with an impatient jerk of his long right arm.

"Of course!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Every branch of mathematics I ever
heard of, except geometry, went buzzing through my head. I was trying to
recall something in algebra that would fit this case."

"Oh, Cub," laughed Hal; "algebra is all x's and y's and z's over z's and
y's and x's,"

"I admit I'm a chump," Cub grinned with a shrug of self-commiseration;
"but say, let's draw those geometrical lines on our chart and see if we
get the same result those radio compass fellows got."

Cub produced the chart and a hand-book diagram of a mariner's compass
about three inches in diameter. Fortunately the chart was made of thin,
vellum-like paper, almost transparent, so that when laid over the
diagram, the minute points of the compass, indicated with clear black
lines, could be seen through. First the dot representing the town of
Clayton was placed over the point at the center of the compass, with the
north and south line of the compass exactly coinciding with the meridian
of the town. Then Cub traced on the chart lightly with a pencil the
47-1/2-degree northeast line of the compass. Next he performed a similar
operation with the center of the diagram over Rockport and next with the
center of the diagram over Gananoque, following instructions in each of
these cases with reference to the direction lines to be drawn. The result
was that the intersection of the three lines was at approximately the
point indicated by the Rockport amateur.

"Now we're ready to continue our search," Cub announced.

"That's pretty good progress, I must say," Bud declared; "but here's a
new question to get us into trouble again."

"Oh, for goodness sake, don't," pleaded Cub. "You've had your example of
what my mathematical dad can do with such foolish creatures."

"Let him express his doubt," suggested Mr. Perry with a smile; "for,
if a man must doubt, he'd better shout than smother his ideas in a
skeptic pout."

"Yes, get it off your chest, Bud, and then take your medicine,"
advised Hal.

"Well, suppose we find the island and nobody there, how are we going to
know it's the right one?"

This hit the other two boys pretty hard. The possibility of such a
situation had not occurred to either of them. However, Cub preferred to
take it in lighter vein, for he replied:

"By his footprints on the sandy beach. You mustn't have a Crusoe Island
without some footprints, you know."

"The trouble is you're anticipating too rapidly, Bud," Mr. Perry advised.
"Columbus would never have discovered America in that frame of mind."

"All right, I'll change the frame," said Bud. "We'll just go ahead and
see what we shall see."

"We've got to go ahead if Hal's cousin is in peril," declared Cub.

"Do you really believe the Crusoe boy is your cousin, Hal?" asked Bud.

"Of course that's hard to believe, but the evidence points in that
direction," Hal replied.

"At least if he is your cousin, we know now that he wasn't making monkeys
out of us, as that last message, supposed to come from him, made it
appear he was doing," Cub admitted.

"Yes," put in Mr. Perry; "it looks now as if he was telling a straight
story all along."

"If that's true, then he's probably in serious trouble right now," said
Hal.

"Probably a prisoner in the hands of robbers, if not worse," Bud
supplemented.

"Let's go to bed at once and get a good night's rest so that we will be
in condition to put forth our best efforts to find him and rescue him in
the morning," proposed Mr. Perry.

This proposal met with indorsement from all, and in a short time they
were in their berths, employing their best skill to induce sleep under
condition of much mental excitement.




CHAPTER X

The Island-Surrounded Island


Early next morning the Catwhisker left its mooring under the tamarack and
started on the new search for the "Canadian Crusoe's" island.

Guided by the "mathematical chart" prepared with the directions given by
the radio-compass amateur, the crew of the motor boat had little
difficulty in finding the approximate location of the island prison; but
when arrived there, they realized that considerable work was still
before them, for they were in the midst of a veritable sea of islands,
varying in size from a few car-loads of stone and earth to several acres
in extent.

"Well, how are we goin' to begin?" asked Hal as Cub stopped the engine in
a pond-like expanse, surrounded by a more or less regular rim of islands.

"The first thing to do, I should say is to make the best possible
reckoning of our bearings and then try to fix the point of intersection
of those three lines indicated by the radio compasses," said Mr. Perry.

"That's right," Cub agreed. "We mustn't forget our mathematics."

"It seems to me that we ought to be able to pick this place on the
chart," Bud suggested.

"Yes, especially if we keep in mind the location of some other landmarks,
or watermarks, that we passed in the last half or three-quarters of an
hour in getting here," said Hal.

Cub produced the chart, and the study of locations and island
arrangements began. As indicated by expectations in the course of their
discussion, they were able to locate a few of the larger islands and with
these as bases for further reckoning, they at last picked out what seemed
to be the point of intersection of the three pencil lines on the chart.
This necessitated a little more cruising about, but within an hour after
their first stop they completed their reckoning.

"There's the island that seems to come nearest to the intersection,"
said Mr. Perry, pointing toward an abrupt elevation, a hundred yards
long and half as wide and covered with bushes and a few small trees;
"but it doesn't seem to answer the description very well. No other
islands near it."

"I don't see how anybody could be marooned on that place with boats
passing back and forth near it every hour of the day," Hal commented
skeptically.

"Neither do I," Bud agreed.

"Well, let's do our work thoroughly anyway," Mr. Perry suggested.

"Shall we go ashore and look that place over?" asked Hal.

"Sure."

"But what do you expect to find?" Cub inquired.

"I don't expect to find anything. I had no expectation when I suggested
that you boys canvass the radio field for information to clear up what
you chose to call a mystery. I had no idea what might turn up as a result
of such canvass, but I know it was about the only thing for you to do to
start a move in the desired direction."

"And something sure did move," Hal remarked appreciatively.

"Well, let's run around this island and find a landing place," Cub
proposed.

The run was made, with Cub in charge of the wheel and engine controls.
They circumnavigated the island with unsatisfactory result.

"That settles it," Bud declared. "If San Salvador had been like that,
Columbus would have made his first landing somewhere else!"

"Robinson Crusoe would never have found any footprints in the sand
there," Hal declared.

"Yes, we'll give it up for the time being," Mr. Perry declared. "We won't
try to scale any perpendicular banks, fifteen or twenty feet high, at
least, not to begin with."

"I tell you what we ought to do," Hal volunteered next. "Let's accept
this island as the center of probability."

"What in thunder is that?" Cub demanded.

"That's a good one on you, son," laughed the latter's father. "I thought
you were the highbrow of your bunch; but here's our subtle Tee-hee
putting a bit of clever phraseology over on you."

"Oh, I know what he means," Cub rejoined with a panicky haste to recover
lost prestige. "I was just giving him a dig. He's forever giving me one,
whenever I come along with anything of that kind."

"It indicates that his mind is maturing rapidly," said Mr. Perry.
"All right, Hal, we'll accept this island as a center of
probability--what next?"

"Why, let's cruise around about half a mile in all directions and pick
out those islands that look as if they might have concealed a prisoner
from view of passing boats."

"That's a good suggestion," said Mr. Perry. "Bob, start the boat again."

The inspection required about an hour, at the end of which they compared
notes and found that their island inventory disclosed the following
conditions:

Three possible places of concealment for the "Canadian Crusoe" had been
discovered. Two were small islands a short distance from each other in a
region of shallows and more or less hidden by rows of long slim islands.
No boat of greater draught than a canoe could make its way through the
intervening passages. In other words, these islands were virtually
isolated from all river traffic. The other possible place of concealment
was an island about five acres in extent, completely hemmed in by a group
of other islands, which were so overrun with rampant vegetation,
including bushes and trees, as to conceal the inner isle from any but the
most scrutinizing vision.

"That is the place we want to explore first," announced Mr. Perry as
reference was made to this retreat in the check-up.

"I agree with you," Bud declared. "If the prisoner left any traces behind
him at all, we're likely to find them on that island in there."

"Is there any way we can get in?" Hal inquired. "Too bad we haven't a
small rowboat or canoe with us."

"We'll investigate and see what we can find in the way of a water passage
into the interior," Mr. Perry announced.

"That means a little more circumnavigating," Bud inferred.

"Right you are," said Cub. "Me to the pilot house again."

Accordingly he resumed his position at the wheel and the boat was put in
motion again. His father followed him and cautioned him against too much
speed in such places.

Slowly the Catwhisker crept around the island-surrounded island until
they discovered a passage somewhat wider and apparently deeper than
others they had seen thus far in the outer rim.

"It looks as if we might get through there," suggested Hal. He and Bud
had followed into the pilot house soon after Cub and his father repaired
to that place.

"It does look a little that way," replied Mr. Perry.

"We might creep in there slowly, and if we find the passage obstructed so
as to block our way, we could back out," Hal continued.

"We have some long fender poles," Cub amended. "We could feel our way
with them and probably keep out of serious trouble."

"All right, let's make the attempt," said Mr. Perry. "I'd very much like
to get in there with this boat."

Cub started the engine and the Catwhisker began slowly to nose its way
through the passage. In a few minutes the little craft was alongside a
ledge of rock that projected as a sort of forehead from the top of a
perpendicular short front, and the pilot brought her to a full stop.




CHAPTER XI

The Deserted Camp


Both the inner island and the surrounding rim of elongated isles were
covered with a thick growth of trees and bushes, a condition that caused
Hal to exclaim:

"I bet this is the place."

"What makes you so certain of that?" inquired Mr. Perry, looking sharply
at the boy.

"Because it's an ideal place for a Crusoe to be hidden so that passing
ships could not see him," Hal replied.

"But might he not swim over to one of these surrounding islands and
attract attention from there?"

"Yes, if there's a place to get ashore after swimming across," said Cub.

"There's nothing but high steep banks all along here, so far as I can
see," Bud remarked.

"That's a good line of observation," was Mr. Perry's commendation. "Now,
let's explore this island and see if your points are well taken."

Even the landing at which the boat now rested was not particularly
attractive as such at first view because of a rather difficult climb
between it and the main level of the island. However, all the members of
the band of "Crusoe hunters" were good climbers and they soon made their
way up the stony steep to the surface land level.

"It's funny somebody hasn't picked this place as a site for a summer
home," Mr. Perry remarked as he took a hurried view of his surroundings.

"The trouble is it doesn't look like a very interesting place from a
view out on the river, and there are hundreds of islands to choose
from," said Cub.

"Yes, I suppose so," his father agreed; "but in my opinion the place
deserves a second look-over. I'm going to keep it in mind as a future
prospect."

"We'll have to put up a radio station here then," said Cub.

"Oh, sure, we can't do without that wherever we go now-a-days," his
father replied.

They skirted the entire shore of the island and found Bud's suggestion
regarding high, steep banks to be true in every quarter. Not another
practical landing place, except with derrick or rope ladder, was
discovered. They estimated the island to be about five acres in extent.

"Well, we haven't found much evidence yet, indicating that this is the
place we were looking for," Cub remarked as they arrived back at the
starting point of their exploration.

"I suppose the next thing for us to do is to explore the interior of the
island, and then perhaps we'll be in a position to form some sort of
conclusion," said Mr. Perry.

"All right, let's finish this job as soon as possible," Bud proposed, as
he started toward a thicket of bushes and small trees a few yards from
the landing place.

All being in harmony with this plan, there was a general move toward the
interior. The thicket, however, proved to be only about twenty feet in
depth, and beyond this was a clear area a quarter of an acre in extent.

"Somebody's had a camp here not many days ago," Cub announced, as he
pressed forward eagerly toward the center of the open area.

"Yes, and a tent has stood right here," said Mr. Perry, indicating
several guy-rope stakes driven in the ground.

"Whoever it was didn't leave more than a day or two ago," Hal declared.
"See how the grass is tramped down around here?"

"What's this?" exclaimed Bud as he ran back toward the thicket through
which they had passed and picked up a pole about ten feet long and two
inches thick.

Mr. Perry and the other two boys rushed forward and made an eager
examination of Bud's discovery.

"This looks interesting," said Bud significantly as he called attention
to several worn places at both ends and the middle of the pole, as if
with iron rings or wire held close around it under a strain.

"There's another just like this one over there," cried Hal, suddenly
darting forward toward a slender pine tree about a hundred feet away and
standing a short distance out from the thicket border of the open area.

Mr. Perry, Cub, and Bud rushed after Hal, who picked up, under the pine
tree, a pole almost the exact duplicate of the one found by Bud. After a
careful examination of them both, Mr. Perry announced:

"It looks to me, boys, as if you had discovered the spreaders of a
demolished aerial."

"No doubt of it," Hal agreed. "Somebody used this tree and that one over
there as masts of an aerial."

"But trees are not supposed to be good for aerial masts," Bud objected.

"They're all right if you have your insulation well out beyond the
branches," said Cub.

"Yes, that's true," Bud admitted. "And look up there--see that wire? The
fellow who took down this aerial didn't do his work very well."

All looked up in the tree and saw a wire hanging down among the branches
and appearing to be attached at the farther end near the top of the pine.

"It was probably done in a hurry," Mr. Perry observed.

"And that is one more point to the argument that this is the island we
were looking for," said Bud.

"Yes, but the fellow we came to rescue is gone and left no trace where
he's gone to," added Cub.

"Still, don't you think the search has been worth while?" the latter's
father inquired.

"I do," put in Hal, who had been noticeably quiet and meditative since
the last very important discovery. "This makes it look as if that last
distress message we got from the island was no fake affair?"

"Why?" asked Bud.

"Why!" flashed Hal. "It's plain enough to me. Those four fellows, he said
were coming to attack him, probably overpowered him and swept away his
camp, radio outfit, and all."

"And what did they do with him?" demanded Cub, eager for the last chapter
of the plot.

Hal seemed about to make answer to this question, but something of the
nature of a "lump in his throat" checked his utterance. His friends read
his mind without difficulty.

"Never mind, Hal," said Cub with his bravest effort at consolation; "if
the prisoner on this island was your cousin, we'll follow those enemies
of his to the end of the world and make them give him up, won't we, dad?"

"Don't you worry too much over this affair, Hal," urged Mr. Perry by way
of response to his son's extravagant assurance. "If the person you got
those messages from was your cousin, I don't believe the fellows who were
after him had reason to do him any serious harm. But you may be sure that
we will not leave a stone unturned in an effort to solve this--this--"

"Mystery," suggested Cub mischievously grasping at the opportunity to
give his father a good-natured dig.

"Call it what you wish," smiled Mr. Perry. "But under any name you may be
pleased to style this problem, we are going to go after it with some more
mathematics--"

"And geography," interposed Cub.

"Yes, and geography, and you boys know what success we have had with
mathematics and geography in this search of ours thus far. Now,
meanwhile, I'm going to make a new suggestion which I hope you boys will
look upon with favor. Let's establish a camp of our own right here on the
spot where the Canadian Crusoe had his camp."




CHAPTER XII

Hal's Discovery


The boys were delighted with the suggestion of Mr. Perry that they
establish a camp on the island and needed no urging to begin work on the
project. With true outing instinct they had come prepared for just such
an emergency as this. They had brought with them a tent large enough for
four and a complete set of camp tools, including spade, shovel, axe,
pickaxe, hatchet, saw, hammer, and nails.

Returning to the Catwhisker, they hauled all these supplies out on deck
preparatory to taking them ashore.

"Let's make a better ascent up this steep bank before we carry these
things up," Mr. Perry proposed. "It's quite a climb, as it is, without a
load in our arms to hamper us."

"Only one person can work at a time to any advantage," Bud suggested.

"That's true," replied the director of the expedition. "But we can work
in rapid shifts and finish this job quickly. I'll take the first trick
and make things fly for about fifteen minutes, and then one of you can
take my place."

With these words, he stripped off his coat, seized the pickaxe and shovel
and stepped over the side of the boat onto the landing ledge. Then he
began a vigorous attack on the steep incline between the ledge and the
land level above.

The task consumed a little more than an hour of speed labor, and by that
time it was after one o'clock and each of the hillside stairway builders
had worked up a very healthy appetite. So they prepared and ate luncheon
on board the yacht, and then began the work of moving tent and other
supplies to the site selected for their camp. By the time this was done
and the tent pitched, it was 3 o'clock.

"Now, what next?" asked Cub as he sat down on a camp chair after the last
guy rope had been drawn taut and fastened securely to its peg. "It seems
to me that it's about time for another pow-wow of the Catwhiskerites."

"I agree with you, Bob," said his father, also unfolding a camp
chair and sitting down, followed by similar action on the part of
the other two boys.

"Well, what's the question?" asked Bud.

"I'll offer a question if somebody'll take the chair and preside," Hal
volunteered.

"All right," Bud agreed. "You act as chairman, Mr. Perry."

"I am elected by Bud, there being no opposition," announced the owner of
the Catwhisker. "Now, what is the question, Hal?"

"I'll put it this way," the latter replied: "Resolved, that mathematics
is more useful to a detective than a flashlight or a skeleton key."

"That isn't half-bad at all," declared Cub in the midst of general
laughter and applause. "The main trouble is that we can't find anybody on
this island to take the other side of the question."

"Very well," ruled the chair; "this question being decided in favor of
the affirmative, we will now proceed to the next."

"Which is as follows," Bud announced; "to-wit, why have we established
our camp on this island, how long are we going to remain here, and what
shall we do while here?"

"Now, we're getting down to business," said Cub. "But that's a composite
question. First, why are we here?"

"We're here because we're here," Hal replied solemnly.

"The chair is willing to accept that as a good and valid reason provided
other collateral questions are answered satisfactorily," Mr. Perry
announced.

"Next question, how long are we going to stay here?" Cub continued.

"I should say we will stay here until we find a reason for moving on to
the next place," said Bud.

"Another excellent answer and fully supporting answer number one," Mr.
Perry announced. "Now, for an answer to question number three--What shall
we do while here?"

"I'll answer that," said Cub; "well fish, cook, eat, sleep, explore and
keep our eyes peeled."

"Peeled for what?" asked Hal.

"More mathematical evidence."

"Good!" exclaimed Bud. "We mustn't lose sight of the purpose of this
expedition. If our radio Crusoe is really Hal's cousin, we're bound by
the ties of friendship to stick to our task till it's finished."

"Very well," said the chair. "Having settled the question of general
policy, let's get down to some more detail. What shall we do next?"

"Complete our exploration of the islands," said Cub. "There's no telling
what we may find."

"Now, you're beginning to look at things the way your father does," put
in Hal shrewdly.

"How's that?" Cub inquired.

"Why you're willing to look for a trail. I'm not saying you were any
worse than Bud and I were before we got started on this hunt. We just
stumbled on a trail to begin with, but when we lost it we didn't know
what to do next until your father told us it was up to us to scout around
and find it again."

"Yes, that's right," Cub admitted. "We scouted around in the air and
found the trail that brought us here."

"Moral: Whenever at a loss, do some broadcasting," suggested Mr. Perry.

"Right," declared Bud; "Now the thing for us to do is some physical
broadcasting on this island."

"In other words, we'll all go in different directions and examine every
square foot of this island," Cub inferred.

"Exactly," assented Mr. Perry. "It ought not to take very long. There are
only about five acres here, although the place is pretty well covered
with bushes and trees."

Without further ado they separated toward different points of the
compass. It was indeed a random exploration, well characterized as
something of a "broadcast," but the task was well executed by all. They
had no definite expectation in view, and hence they had to content
themselves with examining every physical feature as a naturalist or a
topographer, perchance, would look for the feature demands of his
specialty, and in about half an hour reconvened in front of their tent.
Hal was the only person present with a look of excitement or eagerness on
his face, and consequently the general interest of the others was
directed toward him.

"You've found something, I know, Hal," Bud declared. "You came running
through the bushes as if you were chased by a catamount or else you had
something on your mind that threatened to burst your cranium."

"I didn't meet a catamount," replied the boy to whom these remarks were
addressed; "but I did find something that excited me very much. I've
learned two important things."

"What are they?" Cub demanded.

"I've learned the name of this island and made sure of the name of the
person we came here to find."

"You don't say!" Cub exclaimed. "I don't see how the name of this island
can mean anything to us, but we should be very glad to know who the
fellow is that we came here to find."

"Well, the name of this island is important, or at least interesting,"
Hal returned; "and I am going to give you that first. It is Friday Island
and was given that name by the Robinson Crusoe who was marooned here
because he landed here last Friday. Now, I'll tell you the other
important item. The fellow who was marooned with a wireless outfit was no
other person than my cousin as I suspected. And I have learned why he was
marooned here."

"Why?" demanded Hal's three companions in chorus.

"Because he was a college freshman and some of the upper classmen had it
in for him and they simply strong-armed him, captured him, and brought
him here to haze him."

Every one of Hal's three companions gasped with astonishment. The
possibilities of such an explanation of this strange "radio-island
affair" had never occurred to one of them.




CHAPTER XIII

"Robinson Crusoe's" Diary


"How in the world did you find that out?"

"Who told you all o' that?"

"Where is your cousin now?"

These questions and others of like character were fired at Hal in rapid
succession, indicating the eagerness of all the members of his audience
for more light on the subject. As for Hal, he was moved by conflicting
emotions, which puzzled his friends considerably at first. He did not
burst forth with a storm of replies, a thing that he might well have done
consistently with boy nature. He seemed to be meditating how to begin, as
if there was so much on his mind he did not know what to say first.

In reality, although this confusion of ideas probably had something to do
with his momentary silence following the storm of questions rained at
him, Hal was much elated with the good fortune that had thrown some
remarkable information into his possession; still, he was deeply
concerned over the possible fate of his cousin. It was the latter
concern, no doubt, that tempered and held in check his jubilation over
his discovery.

"I think, Mr. Perry, you will admit now that there is such a thing as a
mystery," he said.

"Why?" inquired the individual at whom this remark was directed.

"No, I am merely very curious," replied Mr. Perry, with a smile.

"Oh, hurry up, Hal, and tell us what this means," urged Cub impatiently.
"What's the use o' keepin' us guessing all this time. Bud and I'll
admit we're mystified."

"Yes," grinned Mr. Perry; "you'd better hurry up and enlighten us, or
I'll have to drag the secret out of you with mathematics."

"Addition or subtraction," asked Hal.

"Extraction," replied "the man who couldn't be mystified" with
significant emphasis on the "ex".

Laughter followed this quip, the levity of which caused Hal to feel more
like "loosening up".

"Well," said the latter, producing a small leather-back notebook from one
of his pockets; "here is the secret of my information."

"Where did you get that?" Cub demanded.

"I found it."

"Where--not here?"

"Yes, on this island. It's a diary of my cousin, beginning with the time
he was left here by a bunch of college hazers."

"Does it give any hint where he is now, Hal?" inquired Mr. Perry.

"I don't think so," replied the boy with the notebook. "I ran my eye
through it hurriedly, but didn't have time to read it all. If you'll sit
down and listen, I'll read it to you from the beginning."

All being agreeable to this proposition, they seated themselves on camp
chairs in front of the tent and Hal began as follows:

"First, I'll begin by telling you where I found this book. I'll take you
back to the spot after I've finished reading. Before I found this book, I
discovered a sign, or notice, written on a piece of paper and pinned to
the trunk of a tree about four feet from the ground. On that paper was
written with lead pencil these words under date of last Friday:

"'I Alvin Baker, a student at Edwards College, hereby name this island
Friday island, because I was marooned here alone, like Robinson Crusoe,
on Friday, June 9, 1922.'"

"I'd like to make the acquaintance of that boy," said Mr. Perry warmly.
"He has both imagination and a sense of humor in the midst of adversity."

"Naturally I began to look about me for some trace of the person who had
pinned the notice on the tree," Hal continued. "I was standing in an open
space about thirty feet in diameter. The tree on which this notice was
pinned is at the edge of that space. There are a few small bushes here
and there in the open, but the ground there is covered with long coarse
grass. The first thing that attracted my attention, as I began to look
about me was the fact that the grass was trampled down over a
considerable area. I examined it carefully and while doing so found this
notebook in the grass. It didn't take me long after that to reach the
conclusion that Cousin Alvin had been attacked by somebody and in the
struggle lost this notebook out of his pocket."

"It was probably the four ugly looking men he said were coming ashore
when he sent his last distress message to us," Cub inferred.

"I wonder why he didn't tell us the truth," Bud put in. "Why didn't he
tell us he was being hazed by some college boys?"

"He explains that in his diary," Hal replied. "Now listen and I'll read
the first entry."

Hal's injunction being met with quiet, eager attention, he read as
follows:

"Friday, June 9, 1922. Last night while I was walking through the grove
of trees near the campus of Edwards College, I was attacked and
overpowered by several sophomores, who slipped a bag over my head and
carried me to a motor-boat moored a short distance away. They tried to
conceal their identity, but I recognized the voices of Jerry Kerry and
Buck Hardmaster. They kept me a helpless prisoner, with arms and legs
bound and eyes bandaged, in the cabin for several hours, during which I
could feel the boat constantly on the move. About 3 o'clock in the
morning I was carried ashore on this island. My hands were untied, and
then I could hear my captors hurrying away. I removed the bandage from my
eyes and with my pocket-knife cut the rope around my ankles. It was too
dark yet to see anything distinctly, so I had to wait for break of day
before doing anything. An hour later I discovered near the landing place
a considerable layout of supplies and equipment most of which I
recognized as my own property. Then I recalled that one of my captors had
thrust something into one of my pockets just before they took me ashore
and I put my hand into that pocket and drew out an envelope that I knew I
had not put there. In the envelope I found a typewritten note, which read
as follows:

"'Alvin Baker, you have succeeded during all of your freshman year to
date in frustrating every attempt to haze you and have boasted that there
was no "gang" of boys at Edwards smart enough to do the trick. We are now
performing the trick in a manner that ought to convince you that such a
boast is the freshest of freshman folly. We raided your room and took
therefrom your radio sending and receiving outfit, and have added thereto
necessary equipment for erecting an aerial. This we leave with you in
order that you may summon help through the atmosphere. Meanwhile, you may
comfort yourself with the distinction of being the first college freshman
ever given a radio hazing. Now, put up your aerial and send out a message
for help. Radio is your only hope. Nobody ever stops at this island and
it is impossible for passing vessels to see any signal of distress you
may devise. If you are too proud to admit defeat and refuse to send out a
broadcast for help, you must remain here two weeks, at the end of which
time you will be captured again after dark, bound and blindfolded, and
taken back to the mainland and released. The identity of the persons
responsible for your defeat you will never be able to discover. Enough
canned food has been left with you to keep body and soul together a week.
At the end of that time, if you have failed to effect your own rescue by
radio, more canned food will be left here for you. We are leaving also a
tent, a few camp utensils, matches, and fishing tackle. You must drink
river water. Now prove yourself as big as your boast.'

"I decided to defeat those fellows, if possible, by getting away from the
island without broadcasting an admission that I had been marooned by
sophomore hazers. So I pitched the tent and then constructed an aerial
out of material supplied by them and began to broadcast messages of
distress, saying that I had been marooned by river thieves who had stolen
my boat. But soon I found that there was someone 'in the air' who was
determined to defeat this purpose. It is now 11 p.m., and he seems to
have been successful in his attempts to make it appear that I am a faker.
Nobody has offered to come to my rescue."

Saturday's entry in the diary opened as follows:

"Last night, between 2 and 3 a.m., I was awakened by a slight noise
outside near the tent. I stole cautiously to the entrance and peered
out. It was a bright moonlight night and in front of the tent I saw two
men apparently examining the camp with much curiosity or evil intent,
perhaps both. Evidently they saw me watching them, for they suddenly
turned and fled. I followed them cautiously and saw them get into a
power boat and motor away. I called to them, explaining my situation and
offering to pay them if they would take me away from the island, but
they gave me no answer. Probably they were river thieves and the boat
they had was stolen."




CHAPTER XIV

More Light and More Mystery


The next two days, Saturday and Sunday, were devoted by the island
prisoner to the sending out of further calls, for help, and these calls
were met by a campaign of ridicule, similar to that begun by his nemesis
on the first day of his imprisonment, according to the diary read by Hal
to his companions. A few listeners-in indicated a willingness to come to
his rescue, in spite of the plausible ridicule from anonymous source, but
when asked where he was imprisoned, ignorance on that subject frustrated
all good intentions along that line until his S O S reached Cub at the
latter's home on the following Monday.

"I tried to make this mysterious enemy of mine identify himself," wrote
the diarist under Saturday date; "but he professed to have a wager posted
against me which bound us both to secrecy. This caught me in the solar
plexus of my conscience, for I was broadcasting my appeals for help under
a false identity. Two or three amateurs looked me up under the name,
call, and address that I gave and then broadcast a denunciation of me. It
begins to look as if my hazers are going to win a full revenge for the
way I laughed at them at college. This day's experience has convinced me
that I am in bad throughout the radio atmosphere. It begins to look as if
I am up against it and will have to stay here the full two weeks to which
those hazing kidnappers of mine sentenced one. I wonder if they will make
the term longer because I resorted to the method I have pursued thus far
in order to avoid admitting that I had been hazed. Well, I have this
consolation, anyway, that they have to pay for my food as long as I am
here. They had to furnish me a tent also."

"Caught half a dozen fish today and named this place Friday island
because of the day, or night, I was brought here and my subsequent
Robinson Crusoe experiences," began the entry for Monday.

Then followed a gleeful memorandum of his apparent success in interesting
Cub Perry with an account of his predicament, in spite of the efforts of
his radio nemesis to prove him a trifler with the truth. Tuesday's entry
closed with a notation of the announcement from Cub that the Catwhisker
was about to start on a rescue trip from Oswego to the Lake of the
Thousand Islands and would endeavor to find him by radio compass.

"The situation is cleared up very much," Mr. Perry remarked after Hal had
finished reading the diary. "The chief problem now remaining to be solved
is, what became of your cousin?"

"In other words, that's the mystery before us," said Bud, with a twinkle
of fun in his eyes.

"Call it what you will," smiled Mr. Perry. "But it doesn't strike me as
in the least mysterious. Evidently he was taken away from this island by
the fellows who put him here."

"And what did they do with him?" was the query with which Cub
supplemented his father's observation.

"That, of course, we don't know," the latter replied. "They may have
taken him over to the Canadian shore and released him for reasons of
their own."

"Then it's up to us to find out," Cub inferred.

"Surely. We've had remarkable success thus far. It would be a pity for us
to meet with failure. That would spoil our story."

"Story!" exclaimed Bud. "What story?"

"Our story--the one we've been enacting thus far. Look back over our
experiences in the last two days and see if you can make anything but a
very fascinating yarn out of them."

"It's a radio-college story, isn't it?" Hal suggested.

"Yes," Mr. Perry agreed; "that would be one good way to put it."

"If it didn't involve my cousin in a critical situation, I'd hope the
story wouldn't end yet," said Hal. "I'd like to see it run thirty or
forty chapters."

"How many chapters do you figure it would make thus far?" asked the
director-general of the expedition with a look of keen interest.

"Oh, about ten or fifteen," Hal replied.

"Then, to suit your taste, it ought to be only about half finished."

"Yes, but for my cousin's sake, I wish it were finished right now and
Alvin were safe with us or at home."

"But wishes won't produce results nor cut off chapters," Cub
philosophised.

"No, the denouement will work itself out along natural lines under
natural laws," Mr. Perry predicted.

"I don't think this story is going to amount to anything as a yarn," Cub
announced with a look of superior wisdom.

"Why not?" asked his father.

"Because there's no villain in it. I never did like a story with a tame
ending, and the worst kind of a story on earth is one that starts with a
thrill and ends with a nap in a sunparlor."

Laughter greeted this grotesque contrast.

"I don't think you need expect any such up-shot in this affair," Mr.
Perry advised.

"Do you expect a villain to show his hand?" Bud inquired.

"It seems to me that we have some villains in the plot already."

"Who are they?" asked Hal.

"How about those sophomores who kidnapped your cousin and marooned
him here?"

"Oh, they're only play villains," Cub put in disdainfully.

"How do you know they wouldn't do something worse than haze freshmen?"

"I don't; but until they do they're just play villains, and that doesn't
interest me."

"I see," Mr. Perry observed; "you want people to be either very good or
very bad."

"No," Cub returned slowly. "I wouldn't put it that way; I don't want
anybody to be bad at all; but the fact of the matter is there are lots of
good people in the world and a good many bad."

"And to make a good story you think it is necessary to bring good people
and bad people together, eh?"

"Well, that's what makes fireworks, isn't it?"

"Oh, ho, I get you now," said Mr. Perry. "You're fond of
spectacular things."

"No, I wouldn't put it that way," Cub replied; "but I don't like to see
anybody make a bluff at anything and not make good. Now, we've started
out with a glorious bluff at some very clever rascality, and it looks as
if it's going to prove to be just an ordinary hazing affair."

"It looks to me like a very extraordinary affair, whether it was hazing
or not," returned his father.

"And you think we'll find a villain if we investigate it to the end?"

"Why, sure," Mr. Perry smiled. "I shouldn't be surprised if we'd find
Captain Kidd's treasure buried on this island."

"Now you're joking," Bud put in.

"What kind of mathematics would you use to locate that treasure?" Hal
inquired with a kind of jovial challenge.

"Cube root," was the reply.

"That means dig at the roots of a four-cornered tree and you'll find a
box of pieces of eight shaped like a gambler's dice," Cub inferred.

"That's pretty good imagination, and, I think ought to put us in a frame
of mind well suited for further investigation," said Mr. Perry. "Now
let's go to the spot where Hal found that diary of his cousin and see if
we can't discover something more of significant interest."




CHAPTER XV

The Hook-Up on Shore


Arrived at the open area where Hal had found his cousin's "Crusoe diary",
the three boys and Mr. Perry began a careful examination of the
surroundings for further evidence that might throw light on the strange
affair, which, for the time at least, appeared to defy the mystery
scoffer's "mathematics".

First they scrutinized every foot of ground where the grass had been
trampled so violently, it seemed, as to suggest a physical combat. But
they were not sufficiently skilled in the arts and subtleties of the
aborigines to work out the "code" of footprints and twists, tears, and
breaks in the grass, twigs and foliage. So the result of the inspection
of an apparently recent battle ground was nil.

"I believe we've exhausted every possibility of a clew to the mystery in
this spot," declared Cub at the end of half an hour's search. "Let's not
waste any more time here."

"What'll we do next, then?" asked Bud.

"Go fishin'" Cub replied.

"I think that's a good suggestion," said Mr. Perry. "We've concentrated
our minds and efforts on this problem all day thus far, and a little
relaxation probably will do us good."

"Where's the best place to fish?" Hal inquired.

"I think I know," Bud replied. "I found a place where we can climb down
the bank to a dandy little beach while I was looking over my section of
the island. A little spur of land runs out at that point, so as to form a
small bay, and the water there is quiet and looks deep."

They returned to the camp and got their fishing tackle and soon were
casting baited hooks into the bay. Bud's prediction as to the hopeful
appearance of this place, from an angler's point of view, proved well
founded. In less than an hour they caught more fish than they could eat
at supper and breakfast.

After supper they formed a campfire circle in front of the tent--without
a fire, however, for the normal heat of the atmosphere was all that
comfort could demand--and held a further discussion of the situation and
the problem with which they were confronted.

"I don't know, boys, but we ought to make a trip somewhere in the
Catwhisker and get police help to solve this problem," Mr. Perry remarked
with a reflection of years and judgment in his countenance. "Hal's cousin
may be in serious trouble, for all we know, and it's our duty to enlist
every agency at our command to aid him."

"But while we're gone something might develop here that would throw light
on the mystery," said Bud. "Excuse me, Mr. Perry, for insisting on
calling it a mystery. I can't think of it as anything else."

"Oh, goodness me!" returned the one thus addressed. "I'm afraid you boys
failed to get what I was driving at. I didn't mean there was no such
thing as mystery. That depends on your point of view. It is only people
who are easily startled or confused by unusual things who are easily
mystified. I don't mean to say that it would be impossible to mystify me
under any circumstances. For instance, if the man in the moon should
suddenly jump down on the earth and give me a brick of green cheese, and
then jump back again before I could say 'thank you' I presume I'd be
greatly mystified."

"Your illustration won't stand a test of reason, dad," Cub objected. "To
test whether it is possible for you to be mystified you must offer a test
that is possible."

"That's precisely why I offered that impossible illustration," Mr. Perry
smiled. "I wanted to see if any of you boys would catch the
inconsistency. You just call this affair a mystery as long as you think
it is one, but after it is cleared up, I fancy you'll have difficulty in
looking back and picturing it as a mystery in your minds. But I didn't
intend to take us off our subject. I was going to answer Bud's argument
that something of importance might develop while we were gone. Yes, that
is true, but it wouldn't be necessary for all of us to go. Two of us
might make the trip and the other two remain here."

"That's a good idea," declared Hal. "Suppose you and Cub go and leave Bud
and me here to look after the camp and watch for developments?"

Mr. Perry did not reply at once. Something new seemed to have slipped
into his mind and appeared to be giving him some concern.

"On second thought," he said after a few moments of silence; "I'm
inclined to withdraw my suggestion."

"What's up now, dad?" Cub inquired.

"I was just recalling a portion of Hal's cousin's diary," his father
replied. "According to that, it seems that rough characters visit this
place sometimes."

"Oh, we're not afraid," Hal protested. "Besides, you could make the trip
there and back in a few hours."

"Well, we'll think it over and decide in the morning what we'll do," said
Mr. Perry.

"Meanwhile, I tell you what we ought to do," Bud proposed. "It's an hour
before dark and we'd have time to bring Hal's wireless outfit up here and
hook it up before the sun sets."

"That's a peach of an idea," declared Cub, jumping to his feet in his
eagerness. "I've got two hundred and fifty feet of extra wire and some
insulators on the boat and we can put up an aerial here without taking
down the one on the Catwhisker. Then we can shift the radio outfit back
and forth to the island and to the boat as we please."

"Good!" exclaimed Hal. "I'm with you on that. Let's get busy and not
waste a minute of daylight."

They worked rapidly, and as they were well supplied with material and
tools the progress made by them measured up to expectations. They
fashioned a two-wire antenna with the spreaders left on the island by
Hal's cousin; connected a lead-in to this, and then Cub and Bud climbed
the two trees and, with the aid of ropes tied around their waists and the
guiding assistance of their companions below, drew the "ether-wave
feeler" up to a lofty elevation and fastened it as nearly taut as they
could stretch and hold it. In this work they took due consideration of
the professional objection to tree entanglements in aerials so that the
insulators were well beyond the reach of the longest limbs.

"It's a simple matter now to bring the outfit ashore and hook it up with
the aerial," said Hal. "Let's do it."

Enthused by the novelty of their enterprise, they continued the work,
even though dusk was rapidly gathering. Several electric-battery
flash-lights were produced, so that the twilight did not seriously hinder
them. By the time the stars had become a billion glittering gems in the
sky, the hook-up had been completed with Hal's sending and receiving set
on a table that had been transported from the yacht to a convenient
position directly under the aerial and near the opening of the tent.

"Now, let's see what's going on in the air," said Cub. "Hal, you take the
first whirl through the atmosphere."

Hal sat down by the table and put a pair of phones to his ears. Then he
began to tune. First there came to him a discordant confusion of static
and other noises, including an admixture of "ham impudence".

"W H Q's on," announced Hal presently, pushing over the horn switch,
whereupon the clear tones of a quartet from the Rochester station was
thrown with amplified resonance out upon the reamplifying atmosphere of a
land-and-water wilderness.

They "sat through" the program with a degree of enjoyment never before
experienced by them under a radio spell. They could almost imagine
themselves on an enchanted isle with a band of fairy songsters teasing
harmonious echoes out of their surroundings.

"My! I didn't suppose such weird beauty of sound could be produced under
any possible conditions," exclaimed Mr. Perry at the close of the last
number on the program.

"Now the air will be free for all for a short time," said Hal, putting on
the phones and throwing back the horn switch, while the other boys also
donned their phones. "I'm going to see if I can get any of those fellows
we talked with on the way up here."

"Get that amateur with the radio compass who proved Mr. Perry's
mathematical theory," suggested Bud.

"All right I remember his call and wave length; so here goes."

Hal tuned for several moments and sent the call of the Canadian amateur
in question. Then suddenly he gave a little gasp of surprise. Only Mr.
Perry felt a curiosity as to what it meant, for the other two boys knew
as soon did the boy at the transmitting key. Someone was calling them and
the call he gave as his own was the Canadian V A X. Then came the
following message:

"Have you not given it up yet, boys? I did not mean to carry the joke so
far. Better go back home."

Mr. Perry was waiting patiently for an explanation of the tense interest
manifest in the attitudes of the three boys. Presently Cub gave it to
him, thus:

"We're on the trail again, dad. This fellow we've got is posing as Hal's
cousin and he's advising us to go back home."




CHAPTER XVI

Running Down a Radio Fake


"You say you are V A X?" dot-and-dashed Hal to the amateur who had thus
represented himself.

"Yes," was the reply.

"What is your name?"

"Alvin Baker."

"Where do you live?"

"At Port Hope."

"Where are you now?"

"On the river with some friends."

"Have you any relatives in the United States?"

"Yes."

"Where do they live?"

"In New York."

"New York City?"

"No--State."

"What city?"

"I have forgotten."

"Is it Rochester?"

"I do not know."

"Is it Oswego?"

"I am not certain."

"Have you a cousin named Hal?"

"Yes."

"What is his last name?"

"Baker."

"Have you any relatives named Stone?"

"I think so."

"Is the name Hal Stone familiar to you?"

"Never met the gentleman."

"Then your name is not Alvin Baker?"

"Maybe you know my name better than I do."

"No, but I know just as well as you do that you are not Alvin Baker."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Alvin Baker is my cousin. I am Hal Stone, and I live in Oswego,
New York."

"I do not believe you. You are an impostor."

"Let me tell you a secret. I have penetrated your plot. You are an enemy
of my cousin. There was no wager between him and you, but you don't want
us to find him. You had better keep out of the atmosphere or I will have
you arrested on a charge of disorderly conduct in the air."

No answer.

"V A X, V A X, V A X," called Hal.

Still no reply.

"I cornered him, proved he was an impostor, and now he won't talk to me
any more," said Hal, addressing his companions. Then he translated the
code conversation, just completed, for the benefit of Mr. Perry.

"Well, that disposes of him for the time being, at least," was the
latter's comment.

"But leaves a mystery as to his identity," put in Bud with a
"mystery smile".

"No, I don't think there's any question as to his identity."

"Have you worked it out by mathematics, dad?" Cub inquired.

"Yes, by sines and cosines."

"What are sines and cosines?" asked Hal.

"You'll find out when you go to college and study trigonometry," Mr.
Perry replied.

"Oh, I've seen those words," Cub answered, with some of his alleged
characteristic "highbrow eagerness". "You spell sine, s-i-n-e, and
cosine, c-o-s-i-n-e."

"Exactly," smiled Mr. Perry. "Those are terms used in higher mathematics.
But, in order that you youthful minds may not work too hard over my
trick, I'll admit that in my mind I spelled sine s-i-g-n, and cosine,
c-o-s-i-g-n."

"No use to try to get ahead of my father," Cub declared, shaking his
head. "He could prove that water runs uphill by mathematics. He means the
signs and cosigns indicate that--. What do they indicate, dad? We got off
the question just because you wanted to carry your point with a pun."

"I meant to say that this fellow whom you cornered and chased out of the
air is one of the fellows who hazed Hal's cousin by marooning him on this
island," Mr. Perry answered.

"Gee! that never occurred to me," exclaimed Cub, swinging his long arm
with a snap of his finger like the crack of a whip. "I bet anything
you're right."

"We get one step nearer every time we make a move," said Bud eagerly.

"Yes, but the question is, how many steps do we have to take before we
settle this--this--mystery?" Cub demanded.

"Don't look ahead so far," Mr. Perry warned. "Here's a rule in such
matters that applies to all men--and boys--of small or large capability.
Be careful never to look ahead so far you can't see the step you are in
the act of taking."

"All right," Cub assented. "What is the next step for us to take?"

"Find out who the fellows are that hazed Hal's cousin." Bud replied.

"Yes, that's a good suggestion, though it'll probably require several
steps to gain that information. Still, you're not looking so far ahead,
when you propose that move, as to be unable to see your first step."

"Why not try to get in touch with some amateur in Cousin Alvin's home
town by wireless?" Hal suggested.

"That's the very thing I was in hope one of you would propose," Mr. Perry
replied. "You boys haven't by any means exhausted the possibilities of
your radio outfit."

"We have no Canadian call book," said Hal, "but perhaps I can induce one
of the amateurs we've been talking with to look up the call of one or
more amateurs in Port Hope and give them to me."

Without more ado, he swung the switch into sending position and began to
call the amateur who had given them the information that had enabled them
to locate Friday Island. Success rewarded his efforts almost immediately.
The curiosity of the Rockport amateur, however, had to be satisfied
before further service could be had from him. This Hal did with due
patience and speed, reciting their experiences since their arrival at the
island. Meanwhile the Canadian consulted his call book, and was ready
with the desired information by the time his very excusable curiosity had
been satisfied. He supplied Hal with two Port Hope calls, together with
their wave lengths.

Then began the task of getting into communication with the Port Hope
amateurs. Hal sent the call of each of them a score or more of times, but
got no answer from either. At last, however, another Port Hope amateur,
who chanced to be listening in, answered for them. He informed Hal that
the sending outfit of one of these Port Hope boys was out of working
order and the other amateur was out of town. Then the operator on Friday
Island put the following questions to him:

"Do you know Alvin Baker?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"Is he at home?" Hal continued.

"I think not. He is at college."

"I am his cousin, Hal Stone, from Oswego, New York. I am with some
friends on an island in the St. Lawrence River. I have learned that Alvin
is in trouble. He was hazed by some sophomores, who left him alone on an
island in the river. We found the island, but Alvin had been spirited
away and is probably being held prisoner by them. This hazing gang seems
to consist of some pretty rough characters. I want to get in touch with
my uncle, Alvin's father."

"I will call your uncle on the telephone and tell him what you say," the
Port Hope amateur dot-and-dashed in reply.

"Ask him to come over to your house, and tell him I will explain
everything to him through you, and then perhaps he can form a plan for
his son's rescue."

These and subsequent proceedings, in furtherance of the plan outlined
"over the wireless" by Hal, took considerable time, but at last the
situation was made clear to Mr. Baker, who announced his intention to
start on a search for his son at once. Meanwhile Bud and Cub listened-in
eagerly and translated the code messages for Mr. Perry.

"I tell you what we'll do," the latter said after the communication of
events had been completed for the benefit of Mr. Baker. "Tell him to take
a train to some river port, the nearest possible to this island, and
we'll meet him with the motor boat."

Hal did as requested, and presently Mr. Baker caused this message
to be sent:

"I will meet you at Rockport about noon to-morrow."

"Step number one proved to be well worth while," observed Mr. Perry. "Now
let's go to bed and in the morning we'll take step number two."




CHAPTER XVII

Bud's Discovery


Next morning the day's program was discussed at the breakfast table, the
latter being a light collapsible affair carried as an item of equipment
of the Catwhisker. Hal introduced the subject by saying:

"Mr. Perry, don't you think two of us ought to stay here while the other
two of us make the trip to bring Uncle John over here?"

"What's the use?" Mr. Perry returned. "Nobody's going to run away with
the island."

"No, but we've established a camp here, pitched a tent, and brought
ashore a lot of camp material and supplies. If we all go we'll have to
strike the tent and take all these things back on the boat."

"Well, I don't know that it makes any particular difference to me," the
owner of the yacht replied. "It'll be broad daylight and we'll be gone
only a few hours. It isn't at all likely that anything will happen during
that time."

"I'll stay here with Hal, if he wants to stay," Bud volunteered.

"That would be about the only way to arrange it," said Mr. Perry. "I
don't like to have any of you boys make the trip without my being along,
and as Cub knows the engine of the Catwhisker better than any other
member of our party, I think I'd better take him with me."

"That's the best arrangement," said Hal. "And while you're gone, Bud and
I'll play Robinson Crusoe and Friday."

"Who'll be Crusoe and who'll be Friday?" Cub inquired.

"Oh, we won't quarrel about that," Bud replied. "Hal may have his choice
and I'll take what's left."

"This plan will simplify matters, to say the least," Mr. Perry announced.
"About all we'll have to do when we decide to start is start."

"You don't need to wash any dishes before you go," said Bud.
"Friday'll do that."

"There you go already," laughed Mr. Perry. "I predict a revolution on
this island before we return."

"No, nothing of the kind," Bud returned. "I was assuming that the lot of
Friday would fall to me. In other words, I volunteer to wash the dishes."

"I think you'll both have to be Fridays," Cub advised. "The real Crusoe
of this place has disappeared and we don't want anybody usurping his
honors in his absence. It is our duty to find him, reinstate him here,
and then rescue him."

"And make prisoners of the buccaneers who marooned him," suggested
Mr. Perry.

"Yes, and make them walk the plank," added Bud.

"We're not exactly right in calling Hal's cousin a Robinson Crusoe, are
we?" asked Cub reflectively. "You know Crusoe wasn't marooned; he was
shipwrecked on his island."

"Yes, but Crusoe was just a hero in fiction, you know," Mr. Perry
replied. "Alexander Selkirk, the real Crusoe, was marooned on an island
in the south Pacific."

"Too bad he didn't have a wireless outfit," said Hal.

"Well, boys, my portion of the breakfast is stowed away, and I must
remind you that the moments are fleeting rapidly," announced the director
of the expedition presently. "Cub, are you ready to start?"

"All ready," the latter replied, rising from his chair and turning the
"finish" of a cup of coffee down his throat.

"I would suggest that you boys try to raise some amateur over in Rockport
and probably you can stir up some local interest there in this affair,"
Mr. Perry suggested. "I'm always in favor of all the publicity that can
be had in cases of rascality, and this looks to me like something more
than a mere hazing."

"Why, dad, I haven't heard you say anything like that before," said
Cub, with a curiously inquiring look at his father. "What do you
mean by that?"

"I don't know," was the reply. "Maybe it's our remarks about Crusoe,
buccaneers, marooning, and walking the plank that worked on my mind and
set me to thinking about outlaws. I've just got a feeling that this
affair isn't going to be explained along any play lines."

"But Hal's cousin didn't have any suspicion that it was anything more
than a hazing affair, according to his diary," Cub reminded.

"I'm not so sure about that, either. You know he explained his
distress messages by saying that he had been marooned by some river
thieves or bandits."

"But he said in his diary he didn't want to tell the truth," said Hal.

"True, but he may have had a suspicion, nevertheless, that he felt was
not tangible enough to incorporate in his diary. However, that will all
be explained in due time, let us hope. Now, let's hurry. Good-bye, Hal,
Bud. We'll be back as soon as possible."

A few minutes later that Catwhisker was backing out of the narrow harbor
with Cub and his father aboard and Bud and Hal on shore watching their
departure. Presently the yacht was out of sight from their hemmed-in
position, the view being obstructed by trees and tall bushes on an
intervening isle, which constituted a link of the insular chain that
surrounded Friday Island.

"Now, let's wash the dishes," said Bud, turning back toward the camp.

"I thought Friday was going to do that work," Hal reminded with a broad
grin on his face.

"Wasn't it ordered that both of us should be Fridays?" Bud
demanded smartly.

"You win," laughed Hal. "But here's a better way to handle the subject in
view of another duty before us. You know we're supposed to try to get in
touch with somebody by radio at Rockport and we haven't much time to
spare before the Catwhisker arrives there. You get busy on the job and
I'll take care of the dishes."

"Not on your lightning switch," returned Bud emphatically. "I volunteered
to be Friday, and I'm not going to slip out of my promise through your
generosity. You get busy with the key and the phones and I'll get busy
with the dishrag."

As no reasonable argument could be adduced to defeat this proposition,
the two boys were soon busy as prescribed by the last speaker. Bud's task
required only about fifteen minutes, and after it was finished he
rejoined his companion at the radio table.

"Well, what luck?" he inquired.

"Nothing doing," Hal replied. "I've managed to get the calls and waves of
two amateurs at Rockport, but neither of them answers."

"Keep it up anyway," Bud urged, "and I'll take a tackle and go over to
the place where we took in our haul of fish yesterday, and see what I can
do this morning. Call me if you get anything interesting."

Hal promised to do as requested and then Bud hurried away. The former
continued his efforts unsuccessfully with the sending key for nearly
half an hour, hearing no sound from his friend in the meantime. Then he
was about to take the receivers from his ears and go in search of the
fisher-boy to find out what success he had had, when the latter appeared
on the scene with a look in his face that startled the youth at the
radio table.

"What's the matter, Bud?" Hal inquired, as he literally tore the phones
from his ears. "Has anything happened?"

"Not exactly," the other replied. "But I've made a discovery that
may mean trouble for us. At least, we'll have to be on the lookout
from now on."

"Why--what do you mean? Hurry up; don't keep me in suspense. What kind of
discovery have you made?"

"I've discovered that we're not the only persons on this island," was
Bud's chilling response.




CHAPTER XVIII

Unwelcome Visitors


"Why, Bud, what do you mean?" Hal demanded, in astonishment. "Who else is
on this island?"

"Some men. I don't know how many," Bud replied in cautious tone. "I heard
them talking about us. But keep your voice low, for this island is small
and they may hear you."

"I was going to remark that this is a small island to contain much of a
hiding place for anybody."

"Yes, but it's wild with bushes. And these men are bad fellows, I could
tell from the way they talked about us. They're as mad as hops 'cause
we're here. They're studying how to get rid of us without making more
trouble for themselves."

"That's funny," Hal remarked. "Why should they care if we're here? Do
they claim they own this island?"

"I don't know whether they do or not. I didn't hear them say anything
about that."

"Where are they now?"

"Over near our fishing place, if they haven't left. They were hidden in
some bushes, and I might 'ave run right into them if it hadn't been for
their voices. After I heard them I kept myself under cover and crept
closer till I could get what they said."

"Were you listening to them all the time you were gone?"

"Just about."

"And didn't you find out anything more specific than what you've told
me?"

"No, I don't think I did."

"Why did you leave them?"

"They seemed to 've talked the subject dry and turned to other matters,
and I thought I'd better come and tell you about it."

"And they're there yet?"

"So far as I know."

"After they'd talked their subject dry, what did they find to discuss?"
asked Hal.

"Something wet," Bud answered with a grin.

"I get you; you mean they had some moonshine with them."

"Or some Canadian whisky."

"Probably that. But this makes the situation look a little better for us.
If they're just a bunch of fellows out for a liquor outing, maybe we
don't need to be much concerned about them if we keep shy of them."

"I don't think that's all there is to it," Bud replied, with a note of
warning in his voice. "I heard one of them say we were likely to make
trouble for them and we ought to be chased away and scared so badly we'd
never come around here again, and the others seemed to agree with him."

"That sounds like a mystery," said Hal.

"I don't believe Mr. Perry would talk mathematics to explain such
conversation," Bud declared.

"If he did, he'd probably make another pun about sines and cosines. But,
say, don't you think we'd better make further investigation?"

"I don't know what we could do unless we did some more eavesdropping,
and that might cause them to get ugly if they caught us in the act,"
Bud reasoned.

"Yes," Hal agreed; "I suppose we'd better wait as quietly as we can till
Mr. Perry and Cub get back; then we can decide better what to do."

"I don't see that there's anything for us to do but get away from here as
soon as possible," said Bud. "Mr. Perry won't want to get into trouble
with four men."

"He'll probably have a talk with them to find out what's on their minds,"
was Hal's conclusion.

"And then get out rather than have a fight," Bud added.

"Oh, I hope there won't be anything as bad as that."

"Why not, if we insist on staying? If these fellows are the rough
characters we suspect them of being, that's the very sort of thing
they'd resort to, provided, of course, that they thought they could get
the best of us."

"Here they come now!" suddenly gasped Hal, indicating, with his gaze, the
direction from which "they" were approaching.

Bud turned quickly and saw four men emerge from the thicket some fifteen
feet to the rear of the tent. They did not look like rowdies, for they
were fairly well dressed, but there was nothing reassuring in the
countenance of any of them. One was tall and angular, another was heavy
and of medium height, another was very broad-shouldered and deep-chested
and had long arms and short legs, a sort of powerful monstrosity, he
seemed, and the fourth was fairly well proportioned, but small. There was
not a reassuring cast of countenance among them.

"We'll just have to stand our ground and hear what they have to say," Hal
whispered: "Maybe they'll be reasonable if we don't provoke them. Be
careful and don't say anything sassy."

"I won't," was the other's reassurance.

The four men approached to a point a few feet from the radio table and
halted, and the tall angular man, assuming the role of spokesman,
demanded in deep tones:

"What're you kids doin' here?"

"We're just waiting for some of our friends to come back," Hal replied.

"Where'd your friends go?" continued the spokesman with a leer that
caused the two boys to shrink back a step or two.

"They just took a trip in the motor boat," replied Hal cautiously.
"They'll be back soon."

"Oh, they will, eh," leered the man as if he penetrated the weakness of
the warning in the boy's answer. "How many are they of your friends?"

"More than we are," replied Hal, having reference to physical size of Mr.
Perry and Cub.

"Oh, come now, kids, tell us the truth," ordered the leering spokesman,
advancing a pace nearer. "Tell us how many went away in your boat and how
soon they'll be back."

"There was a large man and a big boy," Bud interposed with more assurance
that he felt.

Sly grins crept over the countenances of the four men.

"Oh," grunted the spokesman; "you hope by that kind o' talk to scare us
away. Well, nothin' doing along that line. This here island belongs to
us, and we don't allow no trespassin."

"Is the island for sale?" inquired Hal, who thought he saw an opening
through which he might work up the interest of the three men without
arousing their antagonism.

"Fer sale?" repeated the spokesman of the quartet, all four of whom
seemed to exchange among themselves a round of sinister glances. "Well, I
guess nit. They ain't enough money this side o' the United States
treasury to buy this island from us."

"We might be able to scrape up a handsome sum, if necessary," Hal
reasoned.

A suggestion of covetous greed shone in the eyes of all four men, but the
spokesman belied his own looks by saying:

"Nothin' doing. We want you guys to git out o' here. This is our summer
resort, eh, Spike"--turning to the long-armed, deep chested man.

"Spike" nodded grimly and replied:

"You bet it is, cap'n. We're gen'lemen of leisure an' don't care fer
money. All we want is our own, and they's sure to be trouble if anybody
tries to take it away from us."

"Well, we don't want anything that doesn't belong to us," was Bud's
reassuring answer; "and if this island is yours, we surely don't want to
stay here. But we thought that maybe you'd be glad to sell, for a member
of our party said he'd like to buy all of the islands of this group if he
could find the owner."

"Who is he?" asked the quartet's spokesman.

"His name is Perry and he lives at Oswego, New York," Bud replied.

"Well, you all go somewheres else to talk that matter over and then take
it up with my real estate agent. Meanwhile I don't allow no trespassers
on this ground."

"But we can't go until our friends come back with their boat," said Hal.
"They promised to return soon."

"Where did they go?"

"To the Canadian Coast."

"What fer?"

"To get another friend who will join us."

"Well, they'd better hurry up or they won't find you when they get back."

"What's that you got there?" asked the man who had been addressed as
"Spike", indicating the radio table and outfit thereon.

"That's a wireless outfit, you goof," replied the tall, angular
spokesman.

"I tell you what we'll do," Hal announced, taking inspiration from the
attention thus called to his radio apparatus. "We'll call our friends by
wireless and have them return at once and take us away. How's that?"

"All right," was the assenting response. "Go ahead, but be careful, no
tricks, or our revenge will be speedy, and that's no name fer it."

With this warning the four men walked away and Hall got busy with a
diligence inspired by a sense of danger and, at the same time, a sense of
the opportunity afforded by the possibilities of the world's latest great
invention, radio.




CHAPTER XIX

"S O S" from Friday Island


Max Handy, the Canadian youth at Rockport, who gave the crew of the
Catwhisker, by wireless, directions whereby the latter were able to
locate "mathematically" the whereabouts of the "Canadian Crusoe's Friday
Island" listened in much of the time thereafter, in the hope of being
able to keep in touch with developments to the end of this interesting
radio affair.

And this hope was realized in a degree that could hardly have been
expected with moderation. But he was well equipped, and, being
mechanically inclined, and industrious, he was able to get a maximum of
results with his sending and receiving outfit.

He had traced the rescue yacht all the way from Oswego to Friday Island,
and the last message he had picked up from the three young radio
Americans was the one that completed the agreement under which the yacht
was to proceed to Rockport next day and meet the father of the "missing
Crusoe". Then he attempted to get in communication with the island
operator, but Mr. Perry had just announced that the next number on the
program would be "everybody to bed at once", and there was no more
listening-in before the next morning.

Max stayed up late that night, with phones to his ears, eager to get
another message from the island, and he was a very much disappointed
enthusiast when at last he gave up his efforts, convinced that they were
useless. He slept late next morning and consequently lost an opportunity
to respond to Hal's first call to enlist the aid of the Rockport amateurs
in the campaign to rescue the missing "Crusoe".

But at last he caught a message from the island, and the conversation,
translated from code, that took place between him and Hal, following a
few introductory inconsequentials, was as follows:

"I listened-in last night and heard your arrangements for today," the
Canadian dot-and-dashed. "When are you coming to Rockport?"

"Two of us are on the way," Hal replied. "They ought to be there by
this time."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Yes. Can you go to the dock and ask them to hurry back? There are four
ugly acting men here on the island, who have ordered us off. They
threatened to make trouble for us if we do not go soon."

"Don't your friends know those men are there?"

"No; we discovered them after the boat left."

"All right, I will run down to the dock and tell them."

Max literally kept his promise relative to his manner of travel. He ran
all the way to the dock, half a mile. The Catwhisker was there, tied fast
with cables, but nobody was on board.

"They've gone to the depot," he concluded; then he turned his steps
toward the railroad station.

He ran and walked alternately, with a dozen changes of speed, and arrived
just as the train from the west was pulling in. He had no difficulty in
identifying Mr. Perry and Cub when they introduced themselves to Mr.
Baker, as the latter stepped from a coach, and a moment later he was
addressing the owner of the Catwhisker thus:

"Is this Mr. Perry of Oswego, New York?"

The latter turned quickly and beheld a youth about the age of his own
son, but of considerably shorter stature.

"It is," he replied somewhat apprehensively, in view of recent stirring
events and the logical probability of more of the same sort.

"Well, I have something important to tell you," Max continued. "I'm the
boy who gave you the radio compass information that made it possible for
you to find Friday Island."

"Gee! I'm glad to meet you," exclaimed Cub, seizing the Canadian youth by
the hand and forgetting, in his eagerness, the announcement from the
"radio compass detective" that he had "something important" to
communicate.

But the latter, although equally pleased to meet the young amateur from
the States, was on his guard against a delay of this sort and soon broke
through the effusion of cordiality with which Cub greeted him and
continued his communication thus:

"I was just telegraphing with one of the boys on the island, and he told
me to tell you to hurry back. There are four men on the island who
ordered them away and threatened to make trouble for them if they didn't
get away soon."

"What's that!" exclaimed Mr. Perry, seizing the youth by the arms. "You
say you got that kind of message from those boys?"

"Sure I did," the boy replied; "and they want you to hurry back."

"What kind of men are they--rough characters, bad men?"

"That's what I understood him to mean."

"Come on, Mr. Baker, Bob; we must hustle along. Thank you, my boy; you'll
hear from me again."

"I'll hurry back and tell the boys I found you and you're on your way,"
shouted Max as he ran down the street toward home.

Mr. Perry led the way toward the dock at a rapid pace. Presently they
found themselves in front of a hardware store, and the owner of the
Catwhisker stopped and said:

"I'm going in here a minute."

He entered, and Mr. Baker and Cub followed, wondering a little as to the
motive of the boy's father. But they were not long left in doubt.

"Have you any fire-arms on sale here?" Mr. Perry asked, addressing the
proprietor.

"Small or large?" the latter inquired.

"Small."

"Right this way."

He stepped behind a show case in which was a display of automatics and
revolvers. Mr. Perry selected one of the former and a box of cartridges
and took out his pocketbook to pay for them.

"I believe I'll take one, too," interposed Mr. Baker, also
producing a purse.

The storekeeper looked somewhat curiously at the two men.

"I'm supposed to exercise care and judgment in selling these weapons," he
remarked slowly.

"Of course, of course," returned Mr. Perry. "The situation is this: We
belong to a yacht on the river and have run up against some bad
characters. I am the owner of the yacht and have decided that we need
protection."

"Sure, sure, that's perfectly satisfactory," said the hardware man. "You
can buy out my whole arsenal on that explanation."

"We won't need it," Mr. Perry smiled. "These two guns are enough."

The purchase completed, the two men and the boy left the store and
hastened on toward the municipal docks.

Meanwhile Max arrived at his home and went direct to his radio room.
There the first thing he did was to don his phones, and the result was
instantly startling.

He had left the instrument tuned to the Friday Island wave length and the
aerial switch in receiving position.

"S O S, S O S, S O S," crashed into his ears in rapid, energetic, excited
succession, it seemed to his susceptible imagination.

Quickly he threw over the switch, and called for an explanation. It came
as follows:

"Those men have seized my friend, and now are coming after me. S O S, S
O--"

That was all--not another dot or dash. Desperately Max appealed for
further details, but it was like calling for life in a cemetery. The
ether was dead, so far as Friday Island was concerned.




CHAPTER XX

Four Prisoners


When the Catwhisker arrived at Friday Island again, the place appeared to
be deserted.

The camp was as they had left it, except that the breakfast dishes were
washed and put away. "Friday" had performed his duty, but both boys had
disappeared, and there seemed to be only one explanation of their
disappearance, namely, the premonition of danger at the hands of the four
strange men that the Rockport amateur, Max, had received from the boys on
the island. No damage had been done to the tent or any of the camp
paraphernalia, even the radio outfit being exactly as it had been when
they left it in charge of Hal and Bud a few hours previously.

"This is getting pretty serious," Mr. Perry said, after they had made an
unsatisfactory review of the situation. "I confess I don't know what to
make of it."

Cub felt an impulse to brand this new affair as the most puzzling mystery
that had yet confronted them, but he checked the utterance wisely enough
as entirely too facetious for the occasion.

"We've got to get the authorities busy on this case," Mr. Perry added
after a few moments' hesitation. "We may be sure now that it's more than
a hazing affair. There must be a retreat of some bad men around here
somewhere."

"What authorities shall we ask to help us?" Cub inquired.

His father seemed about to answer, but he hesitated a moment or two, with
a puzzled look, first at his son, then at Mr. Baker.

"That's so," he said presently. "Where are we--in Canada or the
United States?"

"I think we ought to apply for help in both New York and Ontario," said
Mr. Baker, who was ordinarily a man of quiet demeanor, but now was worked
up to a state of nervous worry over the fate of his son.

"It's going to take some time to make trips to both sides of the river
and get the authorities of New York and Ontario busy," said Mr. Perry;
"but I suppose that's the only thing to do, and every minute wasted is an
opportunity lost. So let's go right away."

"Hold on, father," Cub interrupted; "you forget that we have a means of
calling help right here."

"It won't do to depend on your radio messages" his father replied. "You
know the experience Mr. Baker's son had trying to get help that way."

"Yes, but there were conditions that queered his calls," Cub replied.
"Just remember the results we got by calling our new friend, Max, at
Rockport, and what he did for us. Unless I'm badly mistaken, we can look
for more help from him."

"Yes, you're right, Bob," Mr. Perry admitted. "But I don't like the idea
of staying here and depending on a few boys to take care of so big a
proposition. We need to arouse the whole country around here, including
all people along the shores, on the islands and those boating up and down
the river."

"In other words, there must be some real broadcasting," Cub interpreted.

"You bet you, and more than any amateur radio station in the country can
do. Now, we've wasted too much time already. Come on; we've got to get
started without any more delay."

"But let me stay and see what I can do while you're gone," Cub pleaded.
"I bet I can have a police boat headed this way before you reach the
mainland."

"No, nothing doing," his father ruled unwaveringly. "You'd disappear just
the way the other boys did. We can't afford to run any more such risks."

"I'd be safe enough if you let me have that automatic o' yours, dad,"
Cub argued,

"No, sir-ree; I'm not going to leave you here alone to fight any gun
battle with a band of bandits."

But the boy was still undismayed by his father's resoluteness. He had one
more proposal to offer, and he presented it thus:

"You don't need to leave me here alone, dad. Mr. Baker may stay; you can
run the Catwhisker alone."

Both men had started toward the landing place, expecting the boy to
follow, but they stopped suddenly and faced about on hearing this new
proposition. Mr. Baker looked almost eagerly at Mr. Perry, it seemed,
and, observing that the latter's unyielding attitude had softened
somewhat, he said:

"That's agreeable to me if it is to you."

"Well," returned Mr. Perry with slow deliberation, "that sounds pretty
good. If it suits you both, it suits me. I don't think you'll have to use
the guns, even if any bad actors do happen around. If you show them,
that'll probably be enough. Do you know how to handle an automatic, Bob?"

"Sure I do," the latter replied. "All you have to do is keep the nose
pointed away from you and toward the target you want to hit. To shoot,
you just keep pulling the trigger, and when it's empty you're safe from
accident until you fill the chamber again."

"That's a simple statement of facts," Mr. Perry smiled; "but you left out
the most important of all, and until you tell me what that is, I'm not
going to let you have it."

"Oh, I know what it is; you've told it to me lots of times," Cub replied
with eager alertness. "You know, dad, I always remembered what you told
me, and I didn't forget that advice of yours about fire-arms. It is,
'always handle an unloaded gun as if you know it's loaded.' I promise
you, dad, I'll not forget it this time."

"I guess it's safe to let you have it," said Mr. Perry, handing over the
weapon. "All right, now that everything's settled, I'll be gone and you
two see what you can do through the air."

That ended the discussion, and a few minutes later the owner of the
Catwhisker was putting all the speed he could put into the power boat
toward the Canadian shore, while Cub devoted all his energy and skill to
the task of summoning as much aid as possible by wireless, Mr. Baker
standing by and waiting eagerly for results.

And results were not long coming. The yacht was scarcely out of sight
beyond the outer rim of islands, when Cub recognized the call of Max
Handy, the Canadian amateur at Rockport. He acknowledged the call, and
then telegraphed the following:

"I am the boy whom you met at the depot a few hours ago. When we got
back, we found the two boys we left here were gone."

"I knew something had happened," Max replied. "After I left you I got
their S O S. Then one of them telegraphed that some men had seized his
friend and were coming after him. His last message was broken off in the
midst of a new S O S. I couldn't get him again, I called up the police
and they said they would see it got to the proper authorities for
investigation."

Cub translated this message for the benefit of Mr. Baker and was about to
continue the telegraphic conversation when four men, armed with clubs,
and with anything but friendly demeanor, appeared on the scene. Mr. Baker
saw them first and sounded the alarm.

"Here they come," he said in low tone, the accents of which caused Cub
to start to his feet and reach for his father's pistol which he had laid
on the radio table. "Be careful," the man continued. "Don't shoot unless
I do. Maybe we can get some information from those fellows. Put your gun
in your pocket and don't draw it unless they attack us or you see me
draw mine."

The movement of Cub, transferring the automatic from the table to the
right pocket of his coat, did not escape the notice of the visitors, who
appeared to have come from the wooded depths of the island. But evidently
their uncertain vision left their minds in a condition of doubt as to the
significance of the act, for they continued to advance, however, with
some appearance of caution.

"I'll go forward a few steps to meet them," said Mr. Baker, in a low
voice to Cub. "You stay back here and be careful with your gun. Don't use
it unless you see me use mine; then keep your head. I think we'll be able
to handle this situation without any violence."

He advanced half a dozen paces, then stopped and addressed the unwelcome
visitors, who were now distant from him only about fifteen feet.

"Halt where you are, gentlemen," he said. "We are armed, and any further
advance on your part will be met with the use of our weapons."

The "gentlemen" stopped with due consideration for the warning, but with
scowls that indicated the poor grace of their obedience. A description of
them would mark them as the ones who are heretofore recorded as having
made an unfriendly call on Hal and Bud at the island camp earlier in the
day. The tall, angular man again was spokesman for them.

"What're you fellers doin' on our island?" he demanded, with a deepening
of his scowl.

"I didn't know the island belonged to you," Mr. Baker returned quietly.
"You don't happen to carry a deed to it in your pocket, do you?"

"No, but it's ours, or it belongs to one of us," the angry spokesman
replied. "And we don't intend to allow any trespassing."

"We have no desire to do any trespassing," was the response to this
veiled threat. "But I want to answer you with a clear statement of our
position. We are here with a purpose and we don't intend to be turned
aside from that purpose. To get down to brass tacks, three boys, one of
them my son, have disappeared under remarkable circumstances from this
island, and the indications point directly toward you men as responsible
for their disappearance. What your motive is I have no idea, but you may
be sure that it will be fathomed, and now that we have you in our power,
we don't intend to let you get away from us. We are armed with automatic
pistols that shoot like machine guns and one move either toward or from
us, contrary to order, will start them barking. Now, my instruction to
you is that you drop those clubs and come forward, one at a time, and
allow my companion to search you for weapons."

As he spoke, Mr. Baker drew his pistol from one of his trouser pockets,
and Cub did likewise. Instantly the scowls disappeared from the faces of
the four men and were succeeded by looks suggestive of panic.

"There's no need of any such action by you," said the leader of the
invaders with plaintive whine. "We ain't done nothin' out o' the way. We
did drive those kids off o' the island, but we didn't hurt 'em. They're
all right, and we c'n take you to 'em any time you want to go."

"How could you drive them off of here when they had no boat to go in?"
Mr. Baker demanded.

"Oh, we took 'em in our boat and put 'em on another island. If you'll
agree to go away from here we'll produce those boys and land you anywhere
you want to go."

"Why is it you're so anxious to have us go?" demanded Mr. Baker. "Is
there something going on here that you don't want the authorities to know
anything about?"

This shot seemed to throw confusion into the ranks of the visitors,
judging from the expressions of their countenances. But their spokesman
attempted to brush the inference aside as of no consequence to them by
answering:

"That's foolish. If you think there's anything bad going on here, just
bring on the police and investigate; but we don't intend to have anybody
on these islands who hasn't any right here."

"Very well, we'll make a test of the question of rights so there won't be
any dispute about it hereafter," said Mr. Baker. "Robert, will you call
your friend at Rockport and tell him to send some officers here for four
prisoners, but keep your weather eye on these fellows meanwhile and your
pistol beside you ready for instant use."

Cub did as directed and soon was dot-and-dashing a thrilling message to
Max Handy, who had been waiting apprehensively all this time for an
explanation of the island operator's protracted silence.




CHAPTER XXI

The Hostage


Meanwhile the four prisoners held a furtive conference among themselves,
and after Cub had finished his telegraphic conversation with the Canadian
amateur, the leader of the worthy quartet addressed Mr. Baker as follows:

"Looky here, Mister man, we've decided that we're not going to stay here
any longer. You ain't got nothin' on us, and you haven't got any reason
to hold us up with those guns. We haven't done nothin' criminal, and we
don't intend to be held for crim'nals. We'll tell you where your kids are
and ev'rything'll be all right if you keep off o' our islands. We own
all these islands here, and we're not goin' to 'low no trespassin'."

"The main trouble with your proposition is that we have no way of
knowing whether you're telling the truth," answered Mr. Baker. "Can you
tell us where the boys are and then prove that they're there before we
let you go?"

"We c'n tell you where they are and you must take our word fer it," was
the fellow's reply. "They're over on the first island in that direction,
pointing to the southwest. You can't miss it. It's an island about the
same size as this one, all by itself. You'll find 'em there if somebody
hasn't taken 'em off."

"No, that won't do," replied Mr. Baker. "We can't afford to let you go."

"All right, then, let me tell you something more," said the spokesman of
the strange quartet, whose self-confidence and courage seemed to be on
the increase. "Do you see that stake there?"--indicating the visible end
of a piece of wood similar to a guy-rope stake, that had been driven into
the ground at a point midway between the two hostile conferees.

"I see it very plainly," Mr. Baker replied.

"Do you know what it means?"

"I must confess my ignorance."

"Well, I have a surprise for you. There are other stakes driven about a
hundred feet apart clear across this island east and west. That is the
dividing line between the United States and Canada. You are a Canadian,
ain't you?"

"I am."

"Well, that line there means that you are now in Canada and we are in
the United States. If you come over here to take us you are invading
the United States. If you shoot at us, you are shooting across the
border line at citizens of the United States. I defy you to commit any
such act."

Mr. Baker was "almost taken off his feet" by the shrewdness of this
argument, and for several moments he was unable to make any intelligent
reply. Cub also was nonplused at the "international situation". However,
the ludicrous element of the affair did not escape them, and presently
Mr. Baker was hurling the following heated rejoinder at the spokesman of
the unfriendly four:

"Now, see here, my fine fellow, I'm not going to listen to this nonsense
any longer. My son has been kidnapped by you scoundrels, and I am a
desperate man right now. I am in a mood at this moment to snap my fingers
at international lines, if what you say is the truth. I don't care to
dispute your word on so flimsy a subject. But here is the only compromise
I am willing to make with you. One of you has got to stay here a prisoner
until those boys are returned to us. I'm in dead earnest, believe me. If
you try to escape, I'll shoot, and if necessary, I'll shoot to kill. Now
you come right over here into Canada as quick as ever you know how, for
if you don't, in a very few seconds I'm going to begin to shoot. I'm a
good shot and my bullets will hit your feet first. Your companions may go
and as soon as they bring back those three missing boys you may go, too.
Now, come along into Canada. Hurry up, I'm going to count ten, and if
you're still over there in the United States contaminating the soil and
atmosphere of Uncle Sam with your impudence after I've stopped counting,
I'm going to begin to shoot. If I have to bring you over into Canada,
you'll come on a stretcher--see? Now I'll begin to count--one, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight--"

The brave spokesman of the unwelcome visitors collapsed at Number 8 and
shuffled rapidly toward the counter with the automatic pistol. His three
companions, inspired, no doubt, with an eagerness commensurate with his
panic, broke into a run and soon disappeared in the thicket at the rear
of the camp.

"You'd better call after your friends and remind them that it's up to
them to bring those boys back or your fate hangs by a thread," Mr.
Baker advised as he proceeded to examine the fellow's pockets for
dangerous weapons.

But the prisoner was either too sullen or too much frightened to respond
to any suggestion requiring the exercise of wits. He merely obeyed
clear-cut orders and turned a deaf ear to all other utterances on the
part of his captors.

"We'd better secure him so that there'll be no chance of his getting
away," Cub suggested. "There are some pieces of guy-rope in the tent.
I'll get them and we'll fix him in a condition of safety."

Accordingly he went into the tent and a moment later reappeared with two
pieces of rope, the strands of which he unplaited and knotted together,
end to end, and then tested the knots by straining them across his knee.

"Now, we're ready," he said, addressing the prisoner. "Turn around and
put your hands together behind you. There, that's right. I'll try not to
be too cruel, but I must tie this rope pretty tight. Holler if it
tortures you, but I must be the judge as to whether you can stand it.
There, you won't be able to do any mischief with your hands. Now, come
on; well go into the tent and take care of your lower extremities, as you
know we couldn't afford to let you walk away. We have to hold you for
ransom, you know, and the ransom is three healthy, uninjured boys."

The prisoner obeyed without a word, and a few moments later he was tied
on the ground in the tent with legs also securely bound.

"Now, I'll proceed to report developments to our radio friend at
Rockport," Cub announced as he and Mr. Baker came out in the open again.

With these words he sat down at the table, donned the phone headpiece and
began to work the key. He had no difficulty in getting into communication
with the Canadian amateur again, and gave him a detailed account of what
had taken place since his last report of earlier developments.

"My father is on the way alone in the Catwhisker, bound for Rockport,"
the boy added after finishing his account of the dispute with the
professed owners of the island. "Can you get word to him of what has
happened? Tell him to come back with a few armed men as soon as
possible."

"I will run down to the docks and meet him," returned Max. "Maybe I will
come along."

That ended their code conversation for the time being, and Max started at
a brisk pace for the municipal docks.

Meanwhile, Mr. Baker and Cub kept an alert watch over their prisoner and
the camp in general to guard against a surprise, for they were not
unmindful of the danger of an attempt on the part of the three departed
visitors to overthrow the advantage the man and the boy had gained
through the instrumentality of two dangerous weapons. But soon they found
time dragging heavily on their hands, so that it is no wonder that before
long they began to cast about them for something to do that would add to
the small degree of hopefulness of their situation.

"Let's bring that fellow out here and see what we can get out of him,"
Cub proposed at last. "Maybe we can induce him to tell us something,"

"All right," Mr. Baker replied; "but we must not forget to keep a sharp
lookout while we're quizzing him."

"You go in and bring him out, and I'll keep watch to prevent a surprise,"
Cub proposed.

This being agreeable to Mr. Baker, the plan was soon put into effect. The
rope strands around the prisoner's ankles were removed and he was led out
into the open. True to his resolve not to be caught napping, Cub now kept
on the move and on the alert, describing a small circle around the
position of the two men who were seated on camp chairs about twenty feet
from the tent.

"I've brought you out here for a sociable chat," Mr. Baker explained,
while Cub gave close attention in order that he might not lose a word. "I
hope you'll be as sociable as I shall try to be, for if you're not, I
shall have to take you back into the tent and shackle your feet again."

The fellow did not reply, although his silence could hardly be attributed
to a spirit of sullenness.

"Maybe you'll tell me a little more than you were willing to tell me in
the presence of your friends," Mr. Baker continued. "I'd like to know
something about the business and associations of you and your friends, so
that we may know how to treat your demands. Now, rest assured that none
of us has any desire to do any illegal trespassing, and as soon as you've
proved to us that you own this island and that we are unwelcome on these
premises, we'll get off and beg your pardon for our intrusion. But you
don't seem to have established any camp here and you don't seem to be
able to produce as much evidence of ownership as we can."

Mr. Baker now waited a few moments for a response to his introductory
statement, but none came. The fellow seemed to be almost embarrassed
by the straightforward and well connected ideas of the man who
addressed him.

"Well, let's see," Mr. Baker continued. "How can I present the matter so
as to start you out right? Perhaps you will be willing to tell me who you
are and what your business is. But first. I'll be fair and introduce
myself. My Name is James C. Baker. I live in Port Hope, and my business
is that of hay, grain and feed merchant. Now, will you tell me your name?
One of your friends called you Captain. Do you run a boat on the river?"

Whether the fellow was about to reply or would continue in stubborn
silence may not be known, for the thus-far-one-sided conversation
was suddenly interrupted by a shout of eager joy from the pacing
boy sentinel.

"Oh, there they come, there they come," the latter shouted. "There are
Hal and Bud."

Sure enough, two boys had just emerged from the narrow belt of bushes
between the camp area and the only practical landing place of the island.




CHAPTER XXII

The "Crusoe Mystery" Deepens


"Now, where have you boys been? Did those men take you away? Where did
they take you? Did you escape? How did you escape?"

This rapid-fire succession of questions was hurled by Cub at Hal and Bud
as they approached the place where Mr. Baker was quizzing his prisoner
under the protection of the boy sentinel against a surprise attack from
the prisoner's friends. Some of these questions were encouraged by nods
and smiles of assent to preceding interrogatories.

"Yes, yes, but one question at a time," Hal replied. "You're on the
right track, Cub, but that isn't the way to get our story out of us. I
see you have one of the rascals a prisoner. Keep him. He's the worst of
the bunch."

The "rascal" winced at the characterization.

"Who are they, anyway," asked Cub. "What are they doing here? Do they own
this island?"

"Now, you've added three more questions," Hal remarked with a smile, for
he was much pleased at the opportunity to tease the tall and usually
super-wise youth in something of the latter's characteristic manner. "We
can't answer all your questions, Cub, but we know there's a mystery about
this fellow and his friends, and I suppose we'll have to wait for your
father's mathematics to solve it."

"Was it those four men who made prisoners of you?" inquired Cub, who, in
his eagerness to get some definite information, resolved to ask one
question at a time and pursue his inquiry in an orderly manner.

"Yes," Hal replied.

"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 ashore. 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 ashore 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. Hello, 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 restitution.

"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 assured 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 circumstance 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 nobody 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 appetite, 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 appetite 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 butter 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.

"Yes," replied the prisoner.

"What did you sell butter at a loss for?" the inquisitor demanded. "It
hasn't been down that low anywhere that I know of since the war."

"I meant butterine," "corrected" the "sweat subject" hurriedly.

"Well, you've hit it about right, by accident, of course. Now, let's see
if you know anything more about grocery business. What did you sell eggs
and potatoes for the last day you worked?"

"I didn't sell any."

"All you sold was butter?"

"Yes."

"You mean butterine, don't you?"

"No, I sold butter and butterine and a few other things."

"And buttermilk and cheese," the officer amended.

No answer.

"How much did you charge for butter?"

"Fifty cents a pound," the prisoner replied, desperately or doggedly, it
was difficult to determine which.

"Do you know that butter is selling now for thirty-nine or forty
cents a pound?"

"Then it's come down."

"No, it hasn't. It's been around forty cents a pound for several months."

The prisoner fixed his eyes on the ground and said nothing.

"The trouble is, you haven't done your wife's grocery shopping, or you
could tell a more plausible string of lies," Mr. Buckley commented. "Now,
let me tell you this: It's been a long time since you saw the inside of a
grocery store."

"If you don't want to believe me, it's up to you," snarled the prisoner.

"Now, Mr. Howard," the inquisitor continued, "your friends, I am told,
addressed you as Captain. Why was that?"

This query stimulated a little brilliance in the fellow.

"I run a grocery boat on the river," he said. "I don't do much clerking,
but supply groceries to several stores from a wholesale house."

"So that is your explanation for not being very familiar with retail
prices, is it?" Mr. Buckley inferred.

"Yes."

"Well," the Government "sweater" went on, "your story doesn't hang
together very well."

"You don't want it to hang together," the prisoner snapped. "You're here
to make me out a liar. You don't want the truth. You haven't got no right
to keep me here."

"He claimed the rights of a citizen of the United States and defied us to
interfere with him," interposed Mr. Baker, who, together with Mr. Perry,
had been listening eagerly to this quizzing process.

"How's that?" Mr. Buckley demanded.

"Why, Mr. Perry's son and I pulled guns on him and his three
companions, when they threatened us with clubs, and this fellow pointed
out what he said was the international boundary line between them and
us and defied us to cross over and capture them. I made my bull-dog
look at him squarely in the eye and hypnotized him over onto this side
of the boundary line between the United States and Canada and made a
prisoner of him."

"Where is that international boundary line?" Mr. Buckley asked.

"Right here," Mr. Baker replied, rising from his camp chair and walking
about fifteen feet to the stake that the prisoner had designated as
indicating the line beyond which any hostile advance must be regarded as
a foreign invasion.

"Who put that stake there?" he inquired, shifting his penetrating glance
from one to another of the three men before him.

"I don't know," replied Mr. Perry and Mr. Baker almost in one breath.

The prisoner said nothing, and Mr. Baker spoke for him as follows:

"If this fellow would answer, I presume the only statement he could make
is that it was put there by surveyors of the Canadian and United States
Governments."

"Humph! Funny surveyor's stake, isn't it?" grunted the Canadian officer,
"Methinks we shan't go much farther to prove this fellow a fabricator of
fairy tales. So that's the international boundary line, is it?" he asked,
eyeing the prisoner keenly.

"I was told it was; that's all I know about it," the latter
replied sullenly.

"Well that was a lucky reply if you intend to persist in your policy of
evasion," Mr. Buckley declared. "I was about to denounce you as an
illustrious liar. The boundary line between the United States and Canada
along here, my dear sir, doesn't cut islands in two. If you will examine
a map or chart of the Lake of the Thousand Islands, you will see that the
boundary line winds like a snake, dodging the islands through its entire
course in this part of the St. Lawrence river."

"It was foolish of me to swallow such a yarn as that," said Mr. Baker.
"But I called his bluff good and strong. However, I'm much relieved to
discover that my credulity was imposed upon; otherwise I might be accused
of trying to drag the United States and Canada into war."

All of his auditors, except the prisoner, smiled at this remark. The
boys, who had just finished washing the dishes, joined the inquisition
group in time to hear Mr. Buckley's last statement and Mr. Baker's
"confession of folly."

"I think we have got as much out of this man as we may hope to get at the
present time," the officer announced a moment later. "I think I had
better take him back with me and you had better come along, Mr. Baker,
and swear out a warrant charging him with kidnapping."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do if my son is not returned to me
to-night or early in the morning," answered the man thus addressed. "I
suppose you have no objection to remaining here over night."

"Oh, no; it'll be easier to take care of the prisoner here over night
than to work overtime, going back at night, and jail him. But we'll have
to keep careful watch over him to-night and see that he doesn't escape."

"Maybe we'd better lock him up in one of the staterooms of the yacht,"
Mr. Perry suggested.

"Yes, and keep a good watch over him all night," Cub put in. "We want
to make sure those three friends of his don't come back after dark and
let 'im out"

"I'll watch with Mr. Buckley," Mr. Baker volunteered. "We're both armed
and I don't think there's any chance of our being taken by surprise."

"We'll watch in two-hour shifts," Mr. Buckley proposed. "In that way
we'll keep fresh and on the alert, so that there'll be less danger of
being taken by surprise."

"Very well, that's agreed upon, if it's satisfactory to Mr. Perry," the
officer announced.

Further attempts to get information out of the prisoner, bearing on the
whereabouts of the place of concealment of Mr. Baker's son, were
unavailing, and at last they separated into two parties for the night,
Mr. Buckley and Mr. Baker taking charge of the prisoner on board the
Catwhisker and Mr. Perry and the boys distributing the sleeping quarters
among themselves in the camp.

But before the latter retired a new radio thrill was added to their
adventures.




CHAPTER XXIV

"Something Happens"


"Something's going to happen to-night," Bud remarked to his three boy
friends when the four found themselves alone after the departure of the
prisoner under guard. Mr. Perry had accompanied the officer and Mr. Baker
to the yacht to aid them in arranging comfortable quarters for the night.

"What makes you think that?" Cub inquired, while he and Hal and Max all
gathered around the speaker, whose remark afforded stimulus in harmony
with the weird twilight shadows around them.

"I bet I said only what you fellows were all thinking about when I
spoke," Bud ventured by way of indirect reply.

"I felt it in my bones," Hal declared. "Bud didn't have any more reason
to think something is going to happen to-night than all of us have. If
something surprising doesn't happen, I shall be--"

"--surprised," finished Max, whereupon there was a chorus of laughter.

"Whatever happens, or doesn't happen, Hal is going to be surprised," Cub
concluded facetiously.

"I think we all will be surprised," said Bud.

"Surprise party," shouted Hal.

"Bum surprise party without any girls," Cub added.

"Well, anyway, I think we ought to keep watch here to guard against the
kind of surprise party we wouldn't like," Bud declared.

"I agree with you there, old boy," Cub put in quickly. "Whether or not
anything happens, it would be jolly to have watches and relieve one
another the way they used to do out west among the Indians and outlaws
and road agents."

"I bet they do it yet in some places out there," said Max.

"Course they do," Cub concurred. "You can't tell me that the day of
outlaws is gone. Think of the automobile bandits we have now-a-days.
They'll be raiding with airplanes next."

"No, I don't believe that," Hal objected. "They couldn't use an airplane
to any advantage. We won't have any more stage coach robbers or pirates
on the high seas, and I don't think there's any chance of much of that
sort of thing in the air, but there's a good chance for some bad doings
in the air in another way."

"How's that?" asked Max.

"We've all had some experience with it, and you ought to know what I
mean."

"Oh, I know," declared Bud. "You mean radio."

"Sure," replied Hal. "There are going to be a lot of con men at work in
the air or some way in connection with radio; you see if there are not."

"They've been at work already," said Cub. "There's been a good deal in
the papers about the games they work. But I'd like to know the truth
about the fellow who tried to keep us from coming on this trip to find
Mr. Baker's son."

"I bet he's somethin' more than a college sophomore," said Bud. "I
wouldn't be surprised if he's connected in some way with the fellows who
kidnapped our Thousand Island Crusoe."

"A big radio plot, eh?" Hal inferred.

"Maybe," Bud replied.

"What for? What could they be up to? Pretty far fetched isn't it?"

"Yes, maybe; but, you know, it's our business to think up every possible
solution and then find out which one fits the facts."

"All right, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, but where's the sense in figuring
this as a big radio plot unless we can see a sensible answer to it?"
Hal demanded.

"Yes, Bud, it's pretty far fetched," ruled the dominating Cub. "You'll
have to think up an answer to your conundrum before we can consider it.
Why should a college freshman be hazed in the manner that Mr. Baker's son
was hazed just so that some men, confederates of the hazers, could kidnap
him? And then why should one of the hazers work the kind of game that
that mysterious fellow worked to checkmate us in this rescue trip of ours
if the purpose was just to kidnap Mr. Baker's son, after all? The
sophomores had to kidnap him in the first place. Why go through all that
Robinson Crusoe nonsense if the end was to be just a plain kidnapping?"

"Then you think there's no connection between the hazing and the
kidnapping," said Bud.

"I don't see how there can be. There's nothing showed up yet that makes
it look reasonable."

As Cub was making his last statement Mr. Perry returned to the camp. The
speculative subject of discussion was then dropped for others more
immediately practical.

"What did you do with the prisoner?" Hal inquired. "Did you lock 'im up
in a stateroom?"

"That's what we did, and I don't believe there's much chance of his
getting away with an armed guard constantly near his door," Mr.
Perry replied.

"Are his hands and feet tied?" asked Cub,

"No, we decided that wasn't necessary. There's no way he could open
the door without making a noise; so we thought we'd let him rest
easy, and perhaps he'd be in a better humor in the morning and more
willing to talk."

"We've been talking the matter over and we're all afraid something's
going to happen to-night," said Hal.

"What do you think is going to happen?" asked Mr. Perry.

"We haven't any idea."

"Some more mystery, eh?" smiled the leader of the expedition. "Well, that
isn't at all surprising, in view of the gloominess of our surroundings.
Suppose we have a light on the subject. Cub, bring out the flash-lights."

The latter went into the tent and soon reappeared with four dry-battery
lights. These he laid on the table in fan-like arrangement, so that they
threw a flood of light in all directions.

"I don't feel like going to bed yet," said Cub. "Let's stay up a
while and--"

"--listen-in," finished Hal.

"Yes, let's do," exclaimed Bud eagerly.

"I wasn't thinking of that," Cub admitted; "but it's better than what I
had in mind. All right, Hal, tune 'er up. This is a peach of a night for
long distance receiving."

Hal needed no second bidding and soon he was busy with coil and detector.
Cub's "weather report" proved to be accurate, for in a few moments he
announced:

"Here's Schenectady, New York, with some opera."

Over went the switch and with the move came a hornful of vocal
resonance. They listened eagerly to the end of the program and then
Hal began to tune about for "something else doing" in the ether.
Presently he "straightened up" in an attitude of close attention, and
his radio friends all realized that he had found something of more
than ordinary interest.

"Here's a Watertown newspaper looking for information about us," he
announced excitedly after a few moments of tense listening.

The other boys sprang forward with exclamations of wonder, Bud and Cub
donning the other two phone head-pieces.

"Shall I give him the information?" Hal asked a few moments later,
turning to Mr. Perry.

"Whom is he talking to?" the latter inquired.

"Some Canadian amateur who's been listening in to us a good deal of
the time."

"I don't see why you shouldn't tell him everything, Mr. Perry. He's a
reporter, isn't he?"

"Yes, I think he has his own private set and he's looking for a
big scoop."

"Give it to him, by all means," Mr. Perry directed heartily. "Now the
whole country will be aroused over this affair."

Hal managed to attract the attention of the reporter, although he did not
know his call, and pretty soon the ether was alive with a torrent of
thrills for the ambitious representative of the Fourth Estate. For half
an hour the "radio interview" continued, during which many names and
addresses were given and dramatic details were recited in the most
approved manner of exciting spontaneity. At last, however, the close came
with an announcement from the reporter that he was going to get a motor
boat, make a dash to Friday Island, and "scoop the world". Hal gave him a
careful description of the location of the island and assured the
reporter that they probably would remain there a day or two longer.

"Now, we'd all better go to bed," Mr. Perry announced after Hal had
tapped goodnight to the Watertown scribe.

"We ought to arrange some watches first," Bud urged, unforgetful of his
prediction that something was going to happen before morning.

"Why do you think something more is going to happen?" inquired Hal.
"You're a good forecaster, Bud, for your prediction has been fulfilled
already. Something did happen when I caught that reporter and gave him
our story."

"I'll say so," Cub "slanged" wisely. "We'll all have to take our hats off
to you, tee-hee."

"Hal hasn't tee-heed for twenty-four hours in my hearing," Mr. Perry said
reprovingly.

"That's right, Cub," declared Bud. "A little while ago I heard him laugh
right down deep from his lungs."

"Out-door exercise is working wonders for him," Cub opined with deductive
superiority.

"Well, anyway," said Mr. Perry; "I agree with Bud that we ought to have
some watches to-night. I believe in taking warning from Bud's prediction.
There are five of us. Who wants the first watch?"

Nobody answered.

"I'll take the watch beginning about 1:30 o'clock," said Bud. "If
anything happens, it'll be between then and 2:30."

"Brave boy!" commented Cub solemnly. "I'll take next-best place,
immediately following your watch."

"Give me the one just before Bud's," said Hal. "There may be something
doing between now and then you know. If anybody invades the camp at 1:30
o'clock sharp, I'll call Bud and go to bed and let him repel the
invaders."

"What a methodical bunch of boys!" Mr. Perry exclaimed.

"Due to the mathematical training we've had under you, dad," Cub
explained.

"I'll take the first watch, if it suits everybody," Max announced.

"Say, father, you ought to let us have your automatic while we're on
watch," Cub suggested.

"Nothing doing," replied the cautious adult, shaking his head vigorously.
"I'd rather run the risk of being wiped out by a band of bandits than to
run the risk of your shooting one of us if we should happen to walk in
our sleep. If any of you boys see or hear anything suspicious, just call
me, and I'll do the shooting, if any is to be done. You may arm
yourselves with some good stout clubs if you wish to, however."

And so it was thus arranged, and while Max took his post on a camp chair
in front of the tent, the other four sought rest on their cots under the
canvas shelter.




CHAPTER XXV

Bud Shoots


For nearly half an hour Bud had kept his eyes fixed almost continuously
on a certain spot in the dark shadow at the edge of the thicket directly
south of the tent, which faced west. His attention had been drawn to this
spot thirty or forty times after he relieved Max at 1:30 o'clock, and the
cause of his interest was a slight movement in the shadow, suggesting a
shifting of position by an animal of considerable size.

The moon was up, but not high enough to shed much light in the open area
in which the tent was pitched. The sky was clear, and because of the deep
shadows in which this spot was merged, the heavens, to Bud's eyes, were
studded with myriads of gem-like brilliants.

In the dim light thus afforded, the boy sentinel was able to make out
what appeared to be portions of the form of a man partly hidden in the
bushes, which grew at heights varying from three feet to six or seven
feet from the ground. Meanwhile he congratulated himself repeatedly for a
bit of very ordinary ingenuity he had resorted to in order to prepare
himself for any emergency of more or less menacing outlook.

Soon after Mr. Perry announced his intention not to allow any of the boys
to have possession of his pistol while on guard, Bud's mind became busy
on plans for the contrivance of a substitute. In accord with Mr. Perry's
concession, each of the boys cut for himself a stout stick to be used as
a weapon of defense if necessary, and to supplement this Bud decided
first to gather a few dozen stones about the size of a hen's egg in order
that he might exercise his skill at throwing if any suspicious looking
objects should appear to his view.

Then he happened to remember that he had a large rubber band in a small
and little-used pocket of his coat. He had put it there for no particular
reason, perhaps merely to save it. He had found it about three weeks
before and the unusual size and strength of elasticity of the band was
enough to interest any boy in the habit of seeing the adventurous
possibilities of little things.

With the aid of his searchlight, Bud found a small forked limb in a tree
at the edge of the open area, immediately after he took charge of the
guard post, and cut it off. Then he returned to his seat near the tent
and began to whittle. The purpose of this whittling must soon have been
evident to an observer, for he held the object up frequently and viewed
it, with the calculating eye of a "dead shot," until at last he was
satisfied with the length and "grip" of the handle and the symmetry and
trim of the prongs of a fork.

Bud was always very methodical in his youthful mechanics. Everything he
made must be "just so," hence the results were usually effective, as well
as artistic to a degree. In this instance, even the notches that he cut
around the extreme ends of the prongs were neatly grooved, in spite of
the limitation of the light in which he worked. The only regret he had
was the fact that he possessed no good strong cord, about the size of
fishline, with which to attach two separate sections of the rubber band
to the prongs at the grooves. As substitute for such cord he had provided
himself with some strands of the rope with which the hands of their
prisoner, "Captain" Howard, had been tied. After all the other details of
his mechanical labor had been completed, he took from one of his pockets
an old and inexpensive pouch-like pocketbook, emptied the contents into a
trouser pocket and proceeded to cut out a section of the pouch to a size
and shape suited to his needs. The rubber band he had cut into two equal
lengths and in the leather section from his pocketbook he cut two small
holes near opposite edges.

The assembling of the parts of his contrivance was now speedily
accomplished, resulting in a very neat hand-catapult of a kind with
which every boy is familiar. After testing the strength of the
connections by stretching the rubbers several times to thrice their
ordinary length, Bud looked about him and soon gathered a supply of
small stones suitable for missiles.

He was thus engaged when he first observed a movement in the shadow of
the thicket to the south of his position. Then, indeed, he congratulated
himself on the preparation he had just made to defend himself and his
companions against stealthy and hostile movements on the part of the
enemy about the camp under cover of the darkness.

Bud was not, by nature, a blood-thirsty boy. All of these preparations
for battle were made without the slightest thought of the actual effect
of one of his missiles should it hit his mark. His industry was inspired
more by the mechanical act than by any picture of human pain that might
result. Hence, when the time came for him to make use of his weapon "with
deadly intent," he found himself in a hesitant frame of mind. He knew
that some animal, human or otherwise, was eyeing the camp with studied
interest, and it was difficult to imagine other than a human being
capable of such interest.

Bud finally came to the conclusion that the animal half hidden in the
shadow of the bushes was a man, and that the latter's interest was
centered in "Captain" Howard, whom he doubtless believed to be held
prisoner within the four canvas walls of the tent.

"I bet he's one of those four men that took Hal and me and marooned us on
that other island," the boy mused. "Of course, he's looking for a chance
to set our prisoner free, but he's doomed to disappointment. My
goodness!"

Bud whirled around suddenly as a new possibility occurred to him,
stimulated by a slight noise like the cautious tread of a man's foot. The
next instant a cry of alarm almost escaped him as he saw a human form
near the entrance of the tent.

"My goodness!" he repeated aloud, but in subdued tone, as he recognized
the approaching youth. "You'd better announce yourself, Max, before you
come onto an armed person under such circumstances as these."

"Armed!" echoed the Canadian youth in surprise. "I thought Mr.
Perry said--"

"Oh, yes, he said we couldn't have his automatic, but I've been busy
making a very effective substitute since I came out here--see?"

Bud exhibited his weapon by drawing back the leather sling, thereby
stretching the elastics to their full capacity. His searchlight he had
switched off after finishing the work on his catapult, and the only
illumination in the open area came from the moon over the tree tops.

"Did you make that out here to-night?" demanded Max in astonishment.

"Sure--why not?" was the other's reply.

"Well, you're some boy, all right. I'd never 'ave thought of it. If
anybody means mischief around here, he'd better look out, with a weapon
like that in your hands."

"You bet he had," Bud returned with a sturdiness of purpose, indicating
to his Canadian friend that he meant business. "And there's at least one
prawler around here already. I'm glad you came out here, for I was just
about to come in and wake up the whole camp."

"Is that so?" whispered Max. "Why, what's doing?"

"I don't want to let on that I know anybody is prowling about," Bud
replied; "but if you'll watch those bushes straight south of here for a
while you'll make out the form of a man half hidden there. He moves a
little every now and then. Be careful and don't let him know you known
he's there."

"I won't," Max replied excitedly. "Why don't you shoot at him?"

"I don't want to do that unless I have to," Bud replied. "Besides,
I'd like to know what he's up to. Why did you come out here? Couldn't
you sleep?"

"I didn't sleep a wink; I couldn't. My head was in a whirl all the time.
I was busy imagining just such things as this. Believe me, it was some
spooky job, out here all alone."

"Yes, that's true," Bud agreed. "I'm glad enough to have your company. By
the way, you haven't explained how you happened to come here with Mr.
Perry. We're mighty glad to have you here, but I was wondering how your
folks happened to let you come."

"Mr. Buckley is my uncle," Max replied. "I called him up and told him
what was going on out here, and he asked me to come along."

"Oh, that's it," Bud returned. "I was wondering if you Canadian boys are
way ahead of us Yankee boys when it comes to doing as you please. My
father wouldn't let me come on this trip if Mr. Perry hadn't come along."

"I guess we're not much different from you Yankees," Max replied. "But,
talkin' about doing as you please, it seems to me that you went pretty
far when you made that slingshot after Mr. Perry said you mustn't have
a pistol."

"Oh, that's nothing like a pistol," Bud replied. "You couldn't kill
anybody with it."

"I don't know about that," Max answered with a shake of his head. "I
wouldn't like to be in front of it when you shot. I bet you could knock a
fellow silly with it."

"Maybe I could. Well, anyway, a slingshot's a long way from being a
pistol. Have you made that fellow out yet?"

"Yes, you bet I have," answered Max. "I've seen 'im move several times."

"Let's sit down and pretend not to suspect that anybody's watching us,"
Bud proposed. "Then maybe he'll be a little bolder."

"All right, but we'll have to keep a close watch out of the corner of
our eyes."

"Sure. Come on. Here are a couple of chairs."

"Let's sit down facing each other, so that nobody can creep onto us
unawares," suggested Max.

"That's a good idea," said Bud.

They seated themselves, face to face and within "whispering distance" of
each other and continued their conversation in low tones, but at the same
time keeping a sharp lookout for developments.

"This experience has proved one thing," Bud remarked in the course of
their continued discussion, "and that is that all our watches ought to be
in two's."

"Yes, a single watcher gets pretty lonesome, and, besides, it's too easy
for him to be taken by surprise. Now, there's a sample of what I say.
Don't look yet; he'll know we see him. He's moved, farther to the east,
and now he's creeping up behind the tent."

"We must make sure that he's alone, or else rouse the rest of the camp,"
said Bud excitedly. "Keep watch in every direction. I'll turn slowly and
get a look at him, and then turn back and pretend not to see him."

This program was observed carefully for a minute or two. Meanwhile the
spy crept closer and closer, crawling like a serpentine quadruped and
making fairly good progress withal. At last, however, Bud decided that it
was time for him to do something to put a stop to this proceeding.

Without giving his companion any warning as to his intention, he lifted
the catapult eye-line high, pulled back the sling, in which all this time
he had held a stone nearly half the size of a hen's egg, and let it fly.

Thud!

That the missile hit the mark hard was indicated, first, by the sound of
the blow, itself, and, second, by the muffled cry of agony that followed.
The next instant the victim, who seemed to be struggling to retain his
"quadruped balance," rolled over with a moan of impotent agony.




CHAPTER XXVI

The Sling Shot Victim


"What's the matter, boys?"

Mr. Perry appeared at the entrance of the tent with this question on his
lips. The boys turned quickly, while Cub's father advanced nearer to
pursue his inquiry.

"I shot somebody," Bud replied.

"Shot somebody!" Mr. Perry exclaimed. "What with?"

"This," the boy answered, exhibiting his slingshot. "Some fellow was
prowling around here and I thought it was time to stop him. He was
standing in those bushes over there for a long time, and I suppose he
thought he was fully concealed, but I saw him. Then he started to crawl
up close to the tent, and I let him have a good solid, heavy stone. It
went like a bullet--these rubbers are awful strong, and I pulled them
way back."

"He isn't killed; he's crawling away," Max interrupted at this point.

"We mustn't allow that," declared Bud. "We must find out who he is and
what he was up to."

Just then Hal and Cub appeared on the scene, and a few words sufficed to
explain to them what had occurred. All of the campers on retiring had
kept on their day clothes, in order that they might be ready for action
in case of trouble in the night.

"Come on, we must stop him," Cub announced.

This seemed to be the opinion of all, including Mr. Perry, and a general
move was made in the direction of the slowly retreating injured spy. They
soon overtook him and threw a flood of illumination about him with their
search-lights, which they had picked up in the dark almost as
instinctively as a grandmother picks up her glasses in the morning.

"Why, he's a boy!"

Bud was the only one present who gave utterance to this discovery aloud,
but the "exclamation" flashed mentally in the head of every other
youthful investigator in the group. As Mr. Perry was not easily
mystified, we must take it for granted that he was not easily astonished,
so that probably he did not feel like giving vent to anything of the
nature of an exclamation.

"Well," said the latter quietly; "we must take this youngster back to the
camp and give him some hospital treatment. Can you walk?" he added,
addressing the victim of Bud's slingshot.

"You don't think I'd be down here if I could, do you?" moaned the fellow
sarcastically. "But just wait till I get over this and I'll fix the
fellow that hit me."

"Let's not waste any time with him here," urged Mr. Perry. "Some of you
boys pick him up carefully, so as not to hurt him, and carry him into the
tent. We'll give him a quizzing there."

All the young members of the Catwhisker party had had first aid
instruction, so that they knew how to lift the injured boy and carry him
with a minimum of pain to the sufferer. A minute later the victim was
lying on one of the cots in the tent, with his captors gathered around
him, undoubtedly more concerned about the mystery of his presence than in
the extent of his injuries.

"No, boys, we mustn't try to get his story from him until we take care of
his wound and see to it that he is resting easy"; Mr. Perry interposed.

Accordingly the wound was examined and found to consist of a very bad
bruise on the side of the right hip. Bud's missile had struck the
intruder at a point where there was little flesh, right on a protruding
ridge of the hip bone, and it was easy to see that the blow must have
been very painful.

"I don't think it's very serious," Mr. Perry remarked after examining the
wound; "but I doubt if this boy will want to be running around very much
for several days. About all we can do is to apply some liniment to the
wound and encourage it, by careful treatment, to heal as rapidly as
possible."

A bottle of liniment was accordingly produced and an application
administered by Mr. Perry. This seemed to ease the prisoner-patient
somewhat, although he made no effort to stand up, or even to sit up.

"He may have a bone fracture," Mr. Perry remarked, after he had finished
his first-aid ministration, "It's a pretty bad wound, after all. We'll
have to take him to the nearest physician in the morning if he doesn't
show decided improvement by that time. I didn't dare rub the liniment in
because the slightest touch was so painful."

"The skin isn't broken," Bud observed, with a tone of real concern, for,
in spite of the fact that the fellow was there on no friendly mission,
the catapult "dead shot" now felt no exultation over his deed.

"No, or I could not have used the liniment," Mr. Perry replied. "His
clothing protected him against a broken wound. By the way," he continued,
turning to the victim, who lay on one of the camp cots that formed a part
of the regular equipment of the Catwhisker; "who are you and what were
you doing here?"

"Never you mind who I am or what I was doing here," snapped the youth,
who appeared to be a few years older than the boy Catwhiskerites and
their Canadian friend, Max. "You wait till my father gets after you.
He'll clean you all up."

"And who may your father be?" inquired Mr. Perry with provoking calmness.

"You'll find out who my father is, just you wait. You haven't any right
here. These islands belong to my father and--"

"Oh--ho!" interrupted Mr. Perry in tone of sudden discovery. "So that's
the way the wind blows, is it? I get you now. You're the son of one of
those kidnappers."

The boy's face twitched, possibly with pain, more likely with alarm at
his having betrayed his identity so foolishly.

"We'll get down to the bottom of this mystery yet," Cub declared
confidently.

"Yes, all we need is a little mathematics, Mr. Perry, and we'll soon
solve the problem."

"We've had some mathematics already," Mr. Perry smiled.

"I didn't see it," returned Cub. "Maybe I'm slow."

"No, you haven't got farther than your One's in the addition table. You
can add 1 to any other number, but you can't tell how much 2 plus 2 are."

"All right, I'm foolish," admitted Cub. "Spring your joke."

"This is a rather serious situation in which to spring a joke,"
reminded the "foolish boy's" father. "But didn't you hear me put two
and two together when this fellow declared that this island belonged to
his father?"

Laughter greeted this sally, in spite of the seriousness of the
situation.

"By the way, I wonder if we haven't got this youngster's father a
prisoner on the Catwhisker," Mr. Perry continued. Then he turned toward
the youth on the cot and inquired:

"Is your father a tall, angular fellow with a smart, flip way of talking,
and do his friends call him captain?"

The catapult victim did not answer, but the expression on his face was
all the evidence that was needed to indicate what an honest reply would
have been.

"I thought so," said Mr. Perry. "Now, would you like to make a trip down
to the landing and occupy a stateroom in the Catwhisker with your father?
The Catwhisker, by the way, is a yacht in which we made a trip from
Oswego, New York, to rescue a boy marooned by some young scamps on this
island. After he was marooned, your father and his friends kidnapped him
and took him away. Now, what we want to know is, where is he?"

Still the wounded prisoner made no reply.

"There's going to be some awful serious trouble for your outfit if that
boy isn't returned," Mr. Perry went on, waxing fiercer and more fierce in
his manner as he purposely worked up a towering rage for the sake of its
effect on the boy on the cot. "Would you like me to turn you over to the
father of the boy whom your scoundrel gang kidnapped? What do you think
would happen to you if he got hold of you? Well, he's on the boat down at
the landing, and your father is there too, under lock and key. And before
long we're going to have the whole gang of you under lock and key. Now,
don't you think it is best for you to give up your secret and tell where
that boy is?"

The prisoner was now thoroughly frightened. He shrunk away from the
glowering owner of the Catwhisker as if he feared the man's clenched
fists were about to rain blows on his wounded body. At last he gasped in
trembling tones:

"I don't know, I don't know."

"Don't know what?" thundered Mr. Perry.

"I don't know--I don't know--where he is," stuttered the terrified boy.

"And I don't believe you, young sir. Do you understand me? You're not
telling the truth. Come on, boys, we'll turn him over to the father of
the boy they kidnapped."

"Oh, no, no; don't, please don't, mister," pleaded the scared youngster.
"I don't know where that boy is; please sir, I don't. But I'll ask my
father to tell if you'll take me to him."

"There, I thought we'd get something out of you," said Mr. Perry in tone
of satisfaction.

"But you didn't do it with mathematics this time, dad," Cub declared in a
voice that indicated full confidence of victory.

"Oh, yes, I did, my youthful minus quality," his father flashed back. "I
multiplied my wrath very righteously, and this fellow is going to have
his woes multiplied and his joys subtracted and his peace of mind divided
into a thousand more pieces if he doesn't get busy on the square and see
to it that young Alvin Baker is returned to his father."

"He isn't hurt nearly as bad as he pretends to be, Mr. Perry," Hal put in
as the "mathematical man" indicated that he had "spoken his speech". "He
moved his leg several times. You better watch out or he'll be jumping up
and making a dash for liberty."

"I'd been noticing that," Mr. Perry replied. "I wouldn't insult Bud's
catapulting powers by intimating that this fellow wasn't pretty badly
hurt; but I do think we've overestimated the extent of the injury. He was
completely knocked out by the blow, but he's been recovering here pretty
rapidly. Come on, now, Master Howard--what's your first name--won't tell,
eh?--all right; we'll find out in due time--come on, let's talk a walk
down to papa and that terrible man whose claws are just aching for
revenge for the loss of his son. What--you can't get up? Well, boys, pick
him up again and carry him. Be careful, of course, for he's in some pain
yet. Now, we'll march. Bud, you bring up the rear with your mediaeval
rubber pistol, and I'll march beside you. If anybody, tries to interfere
with us there'll be some crack-shot shooting."

Hal, Cub, Bud, and Max picked up the wounded boy in approved
relief-ambulance-corps style and carried him, with a few groans and moans
from their burden, across the open area, through the narrow belt of
bushes, to the top of the hill that overlooked the landing. There Mr.
Perry called a halt and then hailed the yacht thus:

"Ahoy, the Catwhisker."

All listened breathlessly, but no answer came. Then the owner of the boat
put greater volume in his voice and repeated the hail:

"Ahoy, the Catwhisker! Ahoy, the Catwhisker!"

This time an answer came, but hardly in the manner expected.

A muffled, rattling, rackety noise came from within the cabin, the door
of which seemed to be closed. It sounded as if someone were pounding and
kicking the walls like an insane patient in an unpadded room.

"What in the world does that mean?" Cub demanded, giving utterance to the
apprehension that thrilled every other member of the party.

"I don't know," his father replied; "but I'm going to find out pretty
quick. You boys stay here with the prisoner. I'm going down there to
investigate."

With this announcement, he drew his automatic for ready use and began to
descend the steps they had fashioned in the stony hill before
establishing their camp on Friday Island.




CHAPTER XXVII

Chased Out


The investigation did not take long. The boys watched Mr. Perry as he
crossed the moonlit deck of the Catwhisker and entered the cabin. A few
minutes later he returned on the deck and with him were two men, whom the
observers on shore recognized as Mr. Baker and the Canadian officer. Then
Mr. Perry called out:

"Come on down here, boys."

A minute later they were on board the yacht with their prisoner. Cub, the
most impatient of their number, was first to speak.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Matter enough," growled the officer. "Those scoundrels outwitted us,
locked us in the stateroom, and our prisoner is gone."

The boys were so astonished that not one of them uttered a sound.

"I haven't heard their story yet," Mr. Perry interposed. "We'll all get
it together."

"It won't take long to tell how they did it," Mr. Buckley began. Then he
seemed to hesitate, glancing in some embarrassment at Mr. Baker.

"I'll take all the blame," the latter confessed at this juncture. "In
fact, there's nobody to blame but me. I wasn't asleep at my post, but my
wits must have been slumbering, for one of those fellows stole up behind
me and gave me a rap on the head that put me to sleep sure enough. When I
woke up I was in a pitch dark stateroom, with the door locked. Luckily my
searchlight had not been taken out of my pocket, and soon I had the place
well enough lighted to determine where I was. I also found something
else; I found Mr. Buckley in the same condition that I had been
in--unconscious. Mr. Buckley can tell you the rest."

"There's absolutely nothing for me to tell," Mr. Buckley replied, "I went
to sleep on the cot in the cabin and woke up with a headache in the
stateroom. Mr. Baker was working over me as if I'd been shell-shocked on
the battlefield. I think we both were sandbagged, for there were no
bruises on our heads. We were locked in and probably would have been
driven to the necessity of breaking the door open if Mr. Perry hadn't
come when he did and let us out."

"I found both the stateroom door and the cabin door locked with the keys
on the outside," Mr. Perry explained. "Well, we have this consolation at
least: While we were losing one prisoner, we were capturing another."

"What do you mean by that?" Mr. Buckley; demanded quickly.

"Here's the new prisoner right here," was the other's reply, indicating
the catapult victim who had suddenly found himself able to stand with his
weight on his uninjured leg and aided by two of the Catwhisker boys.

"Who is he--one of that gang?" asked the officer.

"He's a son of one of them, probably the one who was rescued from you."

"Lock him up in that stateroom at once, and I'll have something more to
tell you," Mr. Buckley ordered.

The order was speedily obeyed; then all gathered eagerly about the
government officer.

"The situation is this," the latter began. "When those rascals raided
this boat they robbed me of my gun and I suppose they got yours, too,
didn't they, Mr. Baker?"

The father of the missing freshman slapped his hand on his "pistol
pocket" and then gasped:

"Yes, it's gone."

"I thought so," continued the officer. "Now, we have an armed enemy to
contend with. If they get wind of the fact that we have the son of one of
them a prisoner on this yacht, you can expect a fusillade of bullets
popping through your portholes any time. My advice is to get out of here
as soon as possible."

"Where'll we go?" asked Mr. Perry.

"We'll decide that after we get away. If you want to keep your prisoner,
don't stay here."

"Dad's got his automatic yet," Cub reminded with youthful confidence in a
chamber full of shells.

"And I've got my slingshot," chimed in Bud.

"Tee-hee," laughed Hal.

"Oh you can laugh all you want to, Tee-hee, but if it hadn't been for my
slingshot, we wouldn't have any prisoner at all right now," Bud flung
back with a suggestion of resentment.

"Yes, we must give Bud credit for all he's done," Mr. Perry agreed. "We
owe a good deal to his ingenuity."

"We ought to take our prisoner over to Rockport and put him in jail,"
suggested Mr. Baker.

"On what ground?" asked Mr. Buckley. "What would you charge him with? He
hasn't done anything except spy around your camp here. You couldn't put
him in jail for that and keep him there any time. Besides, his father
claims to own these islands--maybe he does."

"Well, what are you in favor of doing?" asked Mr. Baker.

"I think we ought to move your entire camp outfit to this boat and then
stand off from the shore for a while and keep our eyes on this place with
spyglasses--have you got a pair?"

"Yes," Mr. Perry replied; "two good strong pair."

"Then we'd better get busy at once before they suspect what has become of
this boy we have here."

"All right, let's get busy at once," said Mr. Perry. "The boys, however,
must stay here on the boat. We don't want to run any risk of their
falling into the hands of the enemy."

"Oh, Mr. Perry, let me go along with you and get my radio outfit,"
Hal begged.

The yachtsman looked at the pleading youth for a few moments in
hesitating manner.

"I don't know," he replied slowly. "Still, I suppose we could protect
one of you if anything happened. Well, inasmuch as we men don't know
anything about disconnecting a radio hook-up. I guess we'll take you for
one trip. Come on; no more delay. Keep a good lookout, Cub and Bud, and
set up a holler if anything goes wrong. And, Bud, be careful not to
mistake us for the enemy when we return; we don't want to be hit by that
sling of yours."

"We ought to have a signal, so we could be sure to recognize each other,"
Bud suggested.

"All right, what'll it be?"

"The Catwhisker ought to have an official signal," said Hal. "Why not
make it 'meow'?"

"Very good; it's adopted."

The first trip was made without incident worthy of special note. Hal and
Mr. Baker brought all of the radio set except the aerial, and Mr. Perry
and Mr. Buckley each carried a load of camp equipment on their return
trip. Then Mr. Perry insisted that Hal remain on the yacht, and the three
men went ashore again for another load.

But from this trip they came back sooner than looked for, and the manner
of their return alarmed the boys, who expected momentarily to hear pistol
shots fired at them from the shore. The three men came down the hill to
the landing almost at a run, and as they reached the deck, Mr. Perry
announced in cautious tones:

"Boys, we'll have to leave that camp as it is for a while. Those men are
up there watching for us. We don't want to get into a gun battle with
them; so we're going to back out of here as fast as we can."




CHAPTER XXVIII

A Radio Eavesdropper


The Catwhisker was backed out of the narrow inlet or strait, in which she
had been moored, without interference on the part of the hostile men on
Friday Island. Whether or not the latter knew of the departure of the
yacht, the men and boys on board had no way to determine. It is probable,
however, that they heard the coughing and sputtering of the gasoline
engine and that they watched proceedings from any of the numerous places
of concealment afforded by rocks, bushes, and trees along the shore
elevations.

At any rate, the most careful scrutiny of the deep shadows revealed
nothing to the Catwhiskerites and their guests as the yacht worked its
way out of the inclosure, and presently they exchanged congratulations
one with another on the assurance that they were well out of pistol-shot
range from the group of islands.

"How far do you think we had better go?" asked Mr. Perry addressing
the Canadian officer after this matter of concern had been well
taken care of.

"Oh, I think we ought to find a mooring place at some island about a mile
from here and try to get a little sleep before daybreak," Mr. Buckley
replied. "I'm sure Mr. Baker and I need some brain rest after the slams
we got on our craniums. I've got the worst headache right now that I ever
had in my life."

"So have I," Mr. Baker chimed in.

"All right, let's not discuss this affair any more to-night," Mr. Perry
proposed. "Boys, you may as well get your wits together to arrange the
most comfortable sleeping quarters possible under the circumstances. I
guess about all our bedding is at the camp."

The boys set about to do as suggested, but it was not long before they
realized that wits could do little for them regarding rest convenience
for the remainder of the night. Presently they reported back the
following results to Mr. Perry:

One lounge in the cabin, bedding enough for one of the berths and enough
other bedding and articles of clothing to be rolled into pillow
substitutes for half a dozen sleepers.

Presently Mr. Buckley, who had been keeping a sharp lookout ahead in the
moonlight, supplemented by the strong headlight of the Catwhisker,
pointed out what seemed to be a suitable mooring place for the yacht for
the rest of the night, and a careful run-in was made, accompanied by
pole-soundings to prevent running aground. The depth proved to be O.K.,
and in a short time the yacht was tied up to a small tree which leaned
over almost far enough to dip some of its branches into the water. As all
were eager to waste no time belonging to nature's nocturnal period of
rest, the pillow substitutes were soon rolled and the various sleeping
quarters assigned according to varying degrees of necessity. Because of
their "sand-bag headaches," Mr. Baker and Mr. Buckley were given the
cabin lounge and the available stateroom berth. Although they felt
reasonably safe against further intrusion in their new quarters,
nevertheless it was deemed wise to maintain a series of one-hour watches,
the first of which fell to Mr. Perry by his own choice. Before the
general retirement of all but the first watch, an inspection was made of
the stateroom prison, and the boy prisoner was found to be fast asleep on
the floor with one arm for a pillow.

Hal was given the last watch, beginning shortly before the break of day.
Bud who had preceded him, handed over his slingshot together with a
supply of stones which he had brought in one of his pockets from Friday
Island. Hal accepted the catapult with profound respect, expressing full
confidence in his ability to repel a formidable array of would-be
boarders with a weapon of such knock-out record.

After it was light enough for him to see what he was doing, Hal occupied
his time by connecting his radio set for service on the yacht once more.
When this task was completed, he set about to prepare breakfast, deciding
that he would let the sleepers get another hour's rest, as he could
prepare the morning meal alone almost as quickly as with the aid of one
or two others. He had already learned the truth of the housewife's axiom
that "two are a crowd in a kitchen, and three are a throng."

At 7 o'clock he called all the sleepers to breakfast. The two "sand-bag
headaches" were no more, and everybody was as cheerful as could have been
expected under the circumstances.

"What are we going to do about Bud's prisoner?" Hal inquired as they were
about to gather around the cabin table, which was well loaded with
appetizing dishes, some of them steaming hot.

"Oh, we'll have to give him some breakfast," replied Mr. Perry, starting
for the prison-stateroom. "I'd quite forgotten him."

Without more ado, the prisoner was produced and supplied with
conveniences to prepare for the morning meal. After he had washed and
combed his tousled hair, he presented a fairly respectable appearance and
was given a place at the table. He sat through the meal without as much
as a "thank you" for dishes passed to him, and the other breakfasters,
observing that he was in anything but a cheerful mood, did not attempt to
draw him into conversation.

After breakfast the three men on board held a conference, the result of
which was an agreement to run back to the Friday Island group and make an
inspection of it with glasses from every possible angle. In this way they
hoped to be able to obtain a clew relative to the headquarters and
activities of the men who had ordered them to move their camp from Friday
Island. Then the engine was started, and the course of the Catwhisker
directed up stream.

"Now, my friend," remarked Mr. Buckley, addressing the young Canadian;
"you'd be perfectly welcome to the freedom of the deck under ordinary
circumstances, but the present are extraordinary circumstances, so we'll
have to ask you to resort to the pleasures and comforts of the cabin.
Boys," he added, addressing the three young Catwhiskerites, "you may go
into the cabin, too, and get acquainted with him." Then in lower tone to
Cub, who stood near the officer, he suggested: "Maybe he'll be more
talkative with you boys than he has been with us men. See if you can't
get something out of him."

Cub "tipped" Hal and Bud as to the purpose communicated to him by
the Canadian officer, and the three conducted "Bud's prisoner" into
the cabin.

But the latter proved to be about as uncommunicative as he had been
when the older members of the yacht's company tried to get something
out of him. He appeared to be bright enough and not especially coarse
grained, so that from the standpoint of quality qualifications, there
seemed to be no reason for his sullenness. Hal frankly made a statement
to him to this effect, but it produced no result of the kind desired
and intended. They got only short, surly returns in response to their
most friendly advances.

At last they gave it up and returned on deck. Before leaving the cabin,
however, Cub said to the prisoner:

"Now, if you'll promise to stay here and not make any attempt to escape,
we won't lock you up. Otherwise we'll have to lock you up in a
stateroom."

"I'll promise," was the fellow's laconic response.

"By the way," Bud remarked, as they were about to leave the cabin, "would
you mind telling us the handle of your name? We know your father's
surname, but we'd like to know how to address you. You're too young for
us to call you Mr. Howard."

"You c'n call me Bill, if you want to," the slingshot victim replied.

Hal was particularly impressed with a sly, cunning look in the eyes of
the prisoner and told himself that the fellow would bear watching to keep
him out of mischief.

"I tell you what I'd like to do," he said to his two friends as they
reached the deck. "I'd like to hide in the closet in the cabin and watch
that fellow. I bet he'd do something that would help us break his
mysterious silence."

"You could steal down into that little alcove near the entrance of the
cabin and watch him there through the crack in the door," Bud suggested.

"That's second best choice," said Hal, "I think I'll make use of
it at once."

Accordingly he descended the companionway with the greatest caution and
succeeded in ensconcing himself in the position suggested by Bud. He had
not been there long when he was amply rewarded for his diligence.

He could hear the prisoner moving about in the cabin and a peep through
the long narrow aperture along the hinge side of the door acquainted him
with the object of the Canadian boy's interest. The latter, apparently,
had just seated himself at the table, and with phones to his ears, was in
the act of tuning the instrument.

Presently he appeared to be satisfied with this preliminary and put his
hand on the sending key. The fellow seemed to be perfectly at home with
the outfit. Now the key was tapping and the spark was leaping across the
gap. The secret watcher leaned forward eagerly to catch every sound. Yes,
it came in genuine enough dots and dashes, and he read them with ever
increasing astonishment.

First the operator repeated a Canadian call several times. Then,
apparently, the call was acknowledged, and he sent the following message:

"I am prisoner on yacht, Catwhisker, in hands of the fellows I tried to
hold back, with radio, as they were leaving Oswego, N.Y. They are
determined to solve mystery of your doings. Don't bother about me, but
tell pa to clean out his place as soon as possible and then let his
prisoner go. They have government officer with them on his trail and will
soon find his hiding place and raid it."

"My goodness!" Hal breathed excitedly. "Now I'm getting at the bottom
of this affair. That boy is the anonymous amateur who pretended to
have a radio wager with Hal's cousin and tried to make us think his
SOS was a joke."




CHAPTER XXIX

The End of the "Mystery"


Hal almost held his breath in his eagerness to maintain perfect silence
in order that he might "listen-in" to this radio transmission until the
sender had telegraphed all that he had in mind to send.

"My, if I only had an extension receiver," he thought. "How I would like
to hear what the fellow he's talking with has to say."

Even as this longing came to his mind, "Bill" ceased to send and listened
attentively to something that was coming to him "over the wireless."
Presently he swung the aerial switch over and began to send again.

"I tell you you are in danger," he dot-and-dashed. "That hiding place is
not safe any more. They will have a revenue cutter down on you, before
you know what has happened. The government officer suspects the truth, I
am dead sure."

A few more sentences of similar purport were sent in reply to other
messages received. Then "Bill" cut the radio conversation short with a
warning that he did not dare continue it longer and left the table. As he
got up from his seat, Hal stepped into the cabin and remarked:

"Congratulations, 'Bill'; I didn't know you were a radio fan. But really,
I'm glad to recognize you as an old acquaintance."

"Bill" turned as white as the proverbial sheet and trembled like the
aspen of similar associations. Then he blurted out:

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you deny that you were just telegraphing a message to a friend of
yours?" Hal demanded.

"No, not at all," replied "Bill". "I guess that ought to convince you I'm
not the criminal you're trying to make me out to be."

"I'm not trying to make you out a criminal. I surely hope you're not. No,
I don't believe there are many criminals among radio fans and college
students."

"College students!"

"Say, 'Bill Howard', don't try to play the innocent to a fellow who's
been listening-in to your unconscious confessions ever since you began to
talk in your sleep," Hal scoffed with well simulated disgust. "I know
well enough who you are. You're one of the sophomores of Edward's College
who hazed Alvin Baker by marooning him on that island where his cousin
shot you with a slingshot."

"Bill's" lower jaw dropped, and there was some more aspen trembling in
his frame.

"You don't need to be so badly scared," Hal went on with a tone of
reassurance inspired by a purpose. "Of course that was a pretty raw
hazing, but you can get by with it yet if you don't carry your prank any
farther. Tell us where your victim is."

"Give me a few days and I'll produce him," the frightened boy pleaded.
"He isn't hurt, and nobody's goin' to hurt 'im."

"Well, I'm glad to get that much out of you," Hal declared with profound
gratification. "But I don't see why in the world you have to be so
mysterious about it. Why not tell me now where he is?"

"I--I--can't," faltered the other.

"Don't you know?"

"No, but I can find out."

Hal was sure the fellow was lying, and he looked at him with accusing
penetration.

"You'll have to let me do it my own way," the Canadian youth added
stubbornly.

Realizing that he could make no further progress with the prisoner at
present, and fearing that it might not be wise to disclose what more he
had learned by listening to the wireless messages the hazer had just
sent, Hal returned to the deck and recounted his experience in the cabin
to his companions. All were assembled at the pilot house when he gave
his recital.

"This is important," said Mr. Buckley when the account was finished. "I'm
glad you didn't disclose to him the fact that you suspect anything is
going on of interest to the Canadian government. He won't be on his guard
so much perhaps as he would be if you had put all your cards on the
table. By the way, everything seems to be happening in our favor right
now. There's a Canadian revenue boat over there. Let's run over that way
and hail it."

The boat in question was somewhat larger than the Catwhisker and looked
as if it might give the yacht a merry race if the two were matched for a
test of speed. She was 300 yards distant and in a few minutes the evicted
Friday Islanders had run up within short hailing distance of her. Then
Buckley gave a signal, which was recognized, and the two boats were
brought close together. A short conversation between Buckley and the
commander of the revenue boat was sufficient to acquaint the latter with
the situation, and he promised to remain in the vicinity in order that he
might come speedily to the aid of the Catwhisker when needed.

Then began the work of careful examination of the Friday Island group
with binoculars. The yacht was only a few hundred yards from these
islands when the Canadian revenue cutter was sighted. After arrangements
for co-operation had been made with the commander of this boat, the
Catwhisker began to move slowly around the group, while Mr. Perry and Mr.
Buckley examined every detail of their littoral features with strong
glasses. Cub was at the wheel, and Mr. Baker, Bud, Hal and Max stood near
the two men with the glasses, eagerly waiting for significant results.

"I wonder if this is to be the finishing stroke," said Bud, addressing
the two boys near him.

Mr. Perry overheard the "wonder" and replied:

"I am confident that we will solve the whole problem very shortly."

"With mathematics?" asked Hal.

"You see we are moving in a geometric circle, do you not?" Mr. Perry
returned with a smile.

"Oh, look there!" suddenly exclaimed Max. "A motor boat."

But there was no need of calling attention to so conspicuous an
appearance. All saw it at the same time. It darted out from a narrow
passage between two of the smaller islands surrounding the one that Alvin
Baker had denominated "Friday." It was a small cabin runabout, very
neatly designed and constructed; and apparently with a draft measured
only by inches. She made directly for the yacht.

"Catwhisker, ahoy!" called out a youthful voice, and a wide-awake
red-haired boy put his head out of one of the port windows of the cabin.
"I want to come aboard with important information."

Of course, everybody aboard the Catwhisker was astonished, but Mr. Perry
signaled Cub to reverse the engine. This was done, and the yacht soon
lost all headway. Then the runabout glided close up to the larger power
boat, and the boy who had hailed her sprang over the two adjacent rails.
Another boy could be seen in the pilot seat of the smaller craft.

"My name is Halstone," announced the visitor. "I am from--"

His announcement was drowned with exclamations of surprise from
his audience.

"Hal Stone!" repeated several in chorus, including the Catwhisker's Hal
Stone himself.

"Yes, Halstone," reiterated the challenged youth; Frederick Halstone.
"Anything funny about that? I'm the reporter from Watertown who was
dot-and-dashing with you folks last night. I got in touch with a friend
of mine right away who owns that motor boat, and he was crazy to make the
trip here after this big scoop. I'm here representing not only my paper,
but the Associated Press. We located Friday Island here without any
difficulty. But I brought my radio outfit and loop antenna along and
listened in just a short time ago to some messages between somebody who
said he was a prisoner on the Catwhisker and another fellow on a boat in
the cove I just came out of. You'd hardly think a boat of its size could
get in there. It's about the same size as the Catwhisker, and is built
and painted like it. I think you'll find the solution of your big mystery
is right there. They're loading a lot of stuff in boxes from a cave in
the steep bank of that small island next to the big one. The cove is
between these two small islands, which, you see, have high banks and are
covered with bushes and trees, so that their boat could rest there and be
invisible to anybody out on the river or on the shore of the larger
island that you call 'Friday'. They're making a big hustle to get away."

"Is there a boy in there?" asked Mr. Baker eagerly.

"Yes, several of them and four men. The men were pretty sore at me for
running in there, and they ordered me out. I don't think, however, that
there's much love lost between the men and the boys. I suspect the men
are smugglers, and the boys have got into a scrape they don't like.
There was an exchange of hot words going on just as I ran into their
hiding place."

No more time was wasted in the making of explanations. The little revenue
cutter was signaled and in less than fifteen minutes half a dozen men,
including Mr. Buckley and Mr. Baker, were on the cabin-runabout which
again saucily invaded the retreat of the Catwhisker's "double."




CHAPTER XXX

The Result of a Radio Hazing


The raid was a speedy success. "Captain" Howard and his crew of
lawbreakers offered no resistance when they saw the odds against them,
for each of the men from the revenue cutter was armed and promised to
shoot to kill if a hostile hand was raised against them.

Then they made an inspection of the cave, which was of considerable size
and lighted with an oil lamp, and there the lost victim of a radio
college hazing was found chained to a post that had been driven into the
ground floor. He had not suffered from malicious mistreatment in any
way, but was chafing under restraint and confinement. He was a little
older than the Catwhisker boys, but he had no "college airs" and was
soon telling his story as one boy to a group of chums, while the men
stood around and drank it all in as eagerly as if they themselves were
boys again.

"Bill Howard made the biggest mistake of his life when he confederated
with three other sophomores to haze me," Alvin began. "He didn't know his
father had a hide-out here when they marooned me on Friday Island. His
father owns several motor boats that are used for pleasure excursions,
but, I suspect, he wasn't making money fast enough and fell for a scheme
put up to him from the other men who are now his companions in crime.
They were in touch with a gang of burglars and hold-up men who wanted a
means of disposing of their loot. They induced Mr. Howard to consent to
the use of one of his boats to convey stolen property of various kinds to
this cave as a hiding place, and from here, occasionally, to places of
disposal, principally in the United States. Well, Bill's band of hazers
unwittingly brought me to these islands, and before long there was a
pretty mix-up. The operators of this burglars' 'fence' found me on Friday
Island and got the idea, I suppose, that I was spying on them. At first I
hoped they would let me go, but I made some foolish remarks, based merely
on suspicion, about the character of their business, and they concluded
the jig was up and brought me right to this cave, and, of course, after
that I could see everything that was going on. Then the hazers appeared
on the scene. I suppose they became a little nervous about me. I gathered
from conversation I overheard that they stumbled into this place while
searching for me and then they were taken partly into the confidence of
the lawbreakers. But they're pretty smart boys, if they are sophomores
and if their leader is a son of a smuggler of stolen goods, and soon were
putting two and two together--"

"More mathematics," interrupted Mr. Perry gravely.

Alvin looked at him curiously, but this was no time for academic
digression, and the veiled quip had to await later explanation.

Of course there was more discussion of the strange tangle of events,
which now seemed to be about to be cleared up. Indeed, it took many days
for them to thrash the subject out completely, but it would hardly do to
write another book on matters now essentially explained so we must leave
those details to the diversion of Friday Island camp.

The camp was rehabitated, Hal's radio outfit was hooked up again with the
island aerial, and all of the Catwhiskerites and their newly discovered
radio friends enjoyed a week's undisturbed outing in the midst of recent
personal romantic associations.

As for the "radio hazers," they went back home with no spirit of "brag"
over their achievements, and the members of the band of smugglers of
stolen goods were held in custody and eventually punished under sentences
returned in a Canadian court.

Meanwhile Mr. Perry took steps looking toward the purchase of the Friday
Island group from the Canadian government as a summer camping place for
the Catwhiskerites and their friends.


The next volume of this series will be RADIO BOYS AND THE SKY PLOT or
BOTTLING THE BOREALIS.