Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island

by Gordon Stuart

  CHAPTER VI

  TO THE RESCUE!

  This much of the interview was perfectly clear to Jerry afterwards, butwhat followed he could not quite understand at the time or later. For amoment it was almost laughable. There stood Aikens fiercely clutchingone arm and waving it up and down as if to pump further informationfrom him. Mr. Fulton, after the first dazed instant, darted across theroom and grabbed Jerry's other arm.

  "_Where_ is he? Tell me--quick!" he demanded.

  Then it was that Jerry could not understand, for the look that cameover Mr. Fulton's face at his reply was neither belief nor doubt. Hiseyebrows almost met in a frown as he repeated mechanically:

  "On Lost Island, you say? But--but--how do you know? You weren't _on_Lost Island, were you?"

  "No--o," answered Jerry slowly.

  A look of relief, quickly hidden, came to Mr. Fulton's face, but Jerrysaw it, and wondered.

  "Did someone tell you he was there, then?"

  "Someone told me he _wasn't_ there----" began Jerry, when theting-a-ling of a telephone bell cut him short.

  "Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Fulton and hurried from the room. His muffled voicecould be heard in a lengthy conversation. Jerry impatiently awaited hisreturn, anxious to tell the rest of his story. Imagine then hissurprise when Tod's father delayed his return unreasonably, and hisonly response to Jerry's eager sentences was, "Yes, yes, I know."

  Jerry's heart sank unaccountably--he sensed the fact that Mr. Fultonwas not listening, was only waiting, in fact, till the boy shouldfinish and he could decently get rid of Jerry. The story wasconsequently hurried through. Disappointed beyond description, Jerryleft the house, not even noticing that Mr. Fulton had left the roomeven before Jerry had reached the door.

  Something was wrong somewhere; Jerry had expected that his story wouldbe literally snatched out of his mouth; instead it had been smotheredunder the dampest kind of wet blanket. Feeling not a little sore overhis failure to impress the two men with the importance of hisdiscoveries, Jerry plodded along home, determined that as soon as hehad gulped down a little breakfast he would hike back to Lost Islandalone and make one more attempt to gain the cover of its wooded banks.

  Even that plan was doomed to disappointment. Jerry's mother had saved agoodly breakfast for him, and bustled about making him comfortable.Contrary to Jerry's expectations, she had no word of blame for hishaving remained away overnight without asking consent, and evenlistened with sympathetic ear to the story of his adventures. But justat the moment when Jerry was about to announce his intention to return,Mrs. Ring was called to the back door, to return a few minutes laterwith the announcement that it had been Mr. Aikens, and that Jerry wasnot to worry any more about Lost Island.

  "But I've simply got to go back, ma," sputtered Jerry, his mouthuncomfortably full of pancake. "Mr. Fulton isn't going to--well, hedidn't show much interest in my theories---"

  "But Mr. Aikens seemed to think he did. You just rest easy, son. If twogrown men can't take care of your Lost Islander--and your theories,too, why, well--you just get ready to pile into bed, that's all."

  "But, ma--there's the boat."

  "It'll take care of itself till you get there."

  "But, ma----"

  "Hush up, now. Into bed with you."

  "But can I go after the boat when I----"

  Mrs. Ring caught up a flat piece of wood from the back of the kitchenrange, and laughingly but firmly put an end to the coaxing, Jerryretreating hastily to the shelter of his bedroom.

  Both Jerry and his father stood in awe of tiny Mrs. Ring, who barelyreached to overgrown Jerry's shoulder.

  "Wake me up at twelve, will you, ma?" called Jerry, in his mostwheedling voice. His mother only laughed, but Jerry felt sure shewould. Besides, there was his dollar alarm clock.

  Jerry repented his request when sharp at twelve o'clock he was calledfor noonday dinner. He was sleepy and cross and not a bit hungry. Hismuscles were sore, and the drill to Lost Island did not have quite theromance by broad daylight that it had had a few hours before.

  Jerry watched his father put on his hat and hurry back to work, with agreat deal of relief. His mother was much easier to handle in a case ofthis sort.

  "You won't mind if I don't get back till late?" he asked, hoping shewould give her unqualified consent to his remaining away as long as hesaw fit. "You promised me I could go camping this summer--let me takeit now, _please_, ma."

  "Will you promise me to come back and let me pick the birdshot out ofyou after you've made a landing on Lost Island?" she asked in mockanxiety. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Ring was about as proud of her bigboy as a mother well could be without making herself a nuisance to theneighbors. From his earliest boyhood she had cultivated theindependence of spirit he showed with his first pair of real trousers,and now she often strained a point to let him exercise it. To be sure,she sometimes wondered how much was genuine self-confidence and howmuch was a reckless love of adventure.

  Now she raised her eyebrows in denial, but at the eager look on theboy's face she relented. "Trot along, Jerry," she agreed, with a quickpat at his shoulder--the Rings were not much at kissing each other. "Ifyou can't take care of yourself by now, you never will be able to. Iknow you're as anxious as you can be about Tod--I do hope it turns outthat you are right about him."

  With a muttered, "I've got to be right," Jerry set about making himselfa couple of substantial sandwiches and stuffing them in the pocket ofhis canvas hunting coat, which he took along for emergencies."Good-bye, ma," he called over his shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as Ican bring Tod with me."

  Once outside, he wasted no time but struck off at once cross-lots torout out Dave Thomas and Frank Ellery. Fortunately Frank came first,otherwise Jerry might not have been equal to the task of waking upDave. They tried everything they had ever heard of. They tickled hisfeet; they set off a brass-lunged alarm clock under his very nose; theydumped him roughly out of his bed, but even on the bare floor heslumbered peacefully on. Cold water brought only temporary success.They were in despair.

  It was Frank who finally solved the problem. Seating himself on thefoot of the bed, he raised his head much in the fashion of a houndbaying at the moon--the sound that issued from his throat would put toshame the most ambitious hound that ever howled. Jerry caught up apillow and would have shied it at the head of the offender, but theperfectly serious look on Frank's face withheld his arm. Gradually itdawned on him that the boy was trying to sing--and, more than that, itwas one of Dave's favorite songs he was murdering.

  Then it was that Jerry understood Frank's strategy. The bed-clothesbegan to heave; they had piled them all atop Dave as he lay on thefloor. Frank began on the chorus. A wriggling leg emerged from beneaththe comforts. Jerry joined in, his voice a villainous imitation ofFrank's discords. Another leg came to view.

  They began to repeat the chorus, further off key than before. One linewas all they were suffered to torture. A catapult of boy, bedclothesand pillows bounded from the floor and sent Frank spinning into thebed, while Jerry barely saved himself from a spill on the floor.

  "You will yowl like a lot of bob-tailed tomcats, will yuh!" yelledDave, dancing up and down on one foot--he had stubbed his toe againstone of his shoes in his charge across the room.

  "You will snore away like six buzz-saws on circus day, huh?" snortedFrank, neatly catching Dave in the pit of the stomach with a pillowcaught up from the floor.

  For a second it looked like a free-for-all, but Jerry had no time towaste.

  "Get your clothes on--hustle. We're going back to Lost Island."

  "Suppose my mother won't let me?"

  "Suppose you tell her we've got to go and get our boat? She'll let yougo all right. You just want to get back to bed, that's all that'sworrying you. Hustle, Dave. We can't lose a minute."

  "But didn't you tell Tod's dad about what we--found out?" Davehesitated over the last. It was plain to be seen that he was none toosure in his own mind of the importance of their discovery.

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bsp; "I did, and he--well, he acted so queer about it that I don't know whatto think. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they--he and Mr. Aikens, youknow--never went near Lost Island. They think we're just kids."

  "But we don't really _know_ anything, Jerry; we're only just guessing."

  "Guessing, huh? Well, I'm only just guessing that you're wasting a lotof time about getting your clothes on, but in about half a minute I'mgoing to climb all over you."

  At that Dave bristled up a bit, but his fingers became spryer withbuttons and hooks and very shortly he stood fully dressed and ready togo downstairs. Jerry had already made peace with Mrs. Thomas, so littletime was lost in waiting for Dave to snatch a bite to eat and be on hisway.

  "I've got four bits loose in my pocket," announced Jerry, once theywere out on the street. "If we don't let any grass grow on the sidestreets while we're moving we can make the two-five express on theDellwood Interurban. We can drop off when they slow down at DownersCrossing; that must be almost opposite Lost Island. It's hard goingthrough the swamps to get to Plum Run, but I guess we're good for it."

  They made the two-five--with about three seconds to spare. Their carwas empty, so each dropped into a seat and sprawled out comfortably.Jerry smiled grimly to himself as he looked back perhaps five minuteslater and saw how the two had slumped down in their seats. It did notneed a throaty gurgle from Dave to convince him that the pair weresound asleep. "A fine pair of adventurers," he muttered to himself, notentirely without some feeling of resentment. It was well enough to bethe leader, but--well, he wouldn't have minded a little snooze himself.

  He did not feel quite so critical, however, when, perhaps a half hourlater, at a terrific jolt of the train, he was roused from the dozeinto which he too had fallen. A hasty glance out the window told himthat they were at Downers Crossing. With a yell that would have donecredit to a whole war-party of Comanches, he pounced upon the twosleepers and dragged and pushed and pommeled them out onto the platformof the car. The train was beginning to move, so their descent was nonetoo dignified.

  "Why in thunder didn't you wake us in time so I could have got adrink?" complained Frank.

  Jerry said nothing; he felt too guilty to risk any answer. After theyhad cut across to the wagon road that led in the general direction ofthe river, he consoled his chum with: "Downer's farm is only about halfa mile in, and we can get all the buttermilk we want there----" addingmischievously: "----on Wednesdays, when they churn."

  Both Dave and Frank promised instant murder for that, so he had toadmit that they would reach the best spring in Winthrop County withinthree minutes.

  "Saved your hide by just twenty-nine seconds," declared Dave as heplunged his face into the bubbling surface of the clearest, coldestkind of a hillside spring.

  Their gait was much livelier after that, and in less than ten minutesPlum Run was sighted, But they did not come out as close to Lost Islandas Jerry had predicted. In fact, they were not certain in whichdirection it lay, for to the north lay a cluster of trees apparentlysurrounded by water, and which might well be the place they sought. Tothe south lay another green spot away from shore.

  "It's north of here," declared both Dave and Frank, but Jerry exclaimedtriumphantly, after the first tangle of argument:

  "It must be south. If Lost Island was north the wagon bridge'd bebetween us and it."

  So south they went; and as they drew nearer they saw that the patch ofgreen was indeed Lost Island. Once they were within close sight of it,they went forward with all caution. The last hundred yards or so theymade on hands and knees, finding cover in every clump of bushes orwillows on the way.

  But finally they were ready to break through the last fringe of willowand spy out the prospect. Jerry, who was ahead, waited for his twocompanions to catch up with him.

  "Not a sound, now," he cautioned as they crouched beside him.

  Stealthily they pushed aside the leaves that obscured their view.Suddenly, from behind them a yell, blood-curdling, absolutelyhair-raising, rang out through the stillness. The three turned.

  But it was too late. Breaking cover at the same instant, a half-dozenhusky young chaps charged on the surprised trio.

  "Up and at them, fellows!" came a roar. "They're part of the gang!"