Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island

by Gordon Stuart

  CHAPTER IX

  A RESCUE THAT FAILED

  In the excitement of hearing that groan, Jerry forgot every otherthought. Both boys jumped at once to the same conclusion: Tod was inthat cabin! Perhaps he had been hurt, or perhaps, even, that ruffianwas mistreating him. With one accord they broke for the cabin, makingfor where a thin pencil of light hinted at a door. They wasted no timefumbling for the knob, but put all the strength of their shouldersagainst the opening.

  The door gave, suddenly, and they tumbled over each other into a dimlylighted room. It was fortunate for them that there was no one there,for in falling Phil overturned a chair, which in turn managed to becomeentangled in Jerry's legs, who came to the floor with a suddenness thatdid not give Phil time to get out of the way. Half stunned, they laythere panting, till a renewal of the moaning aroused them to quickaction.

  Phil jumped to his feet and caught up a leg of the chair, that had beenbroken loose in the triple fall. It was well to have some sort ofweapon. The sounds seemed to have come from above, where a trap doorindicated a loft or attic of some sort. The boys looked wildly aboutfor some means of getting up to the trap door, but the light of thesmoky kerosene lamp revealed nothing. The chair might have helped them,but it was wrecked beyond hope.

  "Perhaps if we called to him, he might answer," ventured Jerry huskily.

  "First see if you can reach the trap door if you stand on myshoulders." Phil made a stirrup of his hands and gave Jerry a leg up.Wabbling uncertainly, but managing to straighten himself, Jerry caughtat the edge of the opening.

  "Nailed!" he exclaimed disappointedly as he jumped to the floor. "Shallwe call?" Phil nodded.

  "Tod. Oh, Tod!"

  Only silence. Again they called.

  "Tod--Tod Fulton."

  There was an answer this time, but not of the sort nor from thedirection the boys expected. It was more like a whine than a groan thistime, and it came from the far side of the room. For the first time theboys noticed that there was a door there, partly open. They made a rushfor it, Jerry in the lead. But he got no farther than the threshold. Ashe reached it, the door was flung open in his face.

  In the doorway stood a sixteen-year-old girl, a slim, black-haired slipof a thing, her black eyes snapping. One hand was doubled up into afist that would have made any boy laugh, but there was no laughter inthe other hand. It brandished a wicked looking hand-axe, and it wasevident from the way she handled it that there was strength in thosescrawny arms.

  "You get out of here!" she commanded, advancing a step.

  Jerry backed away hastily, but Phil only laughed, trying to balancehimself on the two and a half legs of the wrecked chair.

  "I've seen you before, Lizzie, and you don't scare me a bit with thatmeat axe."

  "It's no meat axe; it's a wood axe--look out for your heads," sheretorted scornfully. "Clear out of here or I'll make kindling of bothof you."

  "Put down that cleaver, Lizzie, and let's talk sense. We came here toget Tod Fulton--he's my cousin, you know----" but that was as far as hegot.

  The girl, her face showing a determination that made nonchalant Philjump up from his chair and beat a quick retreat, walked up on them, theaxe flashing viciously back and forth before her.

  "You're going to get off this island," she exclaimed, "and you're goingto do it quick. No tricks now! The first one who makes a break getsthis axe in the back--and I can throw straight. About face, now. March!"

  There was nothing to do but obey. Sheepishly enough the boys turned andmeekly let her drive them out into the dark. As she passed the lamp shecaught it down from the bracket on the wall with one hand.

  Thus they marched across the open ground, along the narrow path and outon the waterfront.

  "Our boat is down at the other end of the island" remarked Phil,turning his head ever so slightly.

  "I'll have my father bring it over to you in the morning," answered thegirl relentlessly. "I see your friends waiting for you over on theother side, so it wouldn't be fair to keep them in suspense."

  "You're surely not going to make us try to swim it?" pleaded Phil,pretending great consternation, hoping that he might delay theirdeparture till something might happen to give them the advantage.

  "That's not all I am going to do." Setting down her lamp on aconvenient rock, and changing her axe to her left hand, she stoopedover and picked up a pebble. With a quick jerk she drew back her armand then shot it out, boy-fashion The boys heard the stone hum as itsailed through the air. An instant, and then a howl of pain arose fromone of the Scouts dancing about the blazing camp fire on the othershore. It was a good hundred yards away.

  "I just did that to show you what'd happen to you if you didn't headstraight for that gang of pirates over there," she said grimly.

  "You're _some_--tomboy!" exclaimed Phil, admiringly, Jerry thought, butthe girl only laughed sarcastically.

  "You first," she demanded. "You're just watching for a chance to catchme off my guard. I'm onto you."

  Phil had no choice, so without more ado, he plunged in and begancutting the water neatly in the direction of the camp fire.

  "He swims well, doesn't he?" remarked the girl, so easily that Jerrycould have sworn she was about ready to laugh.

  "He sure does!" he agreed. "He's got me beat a mile. Say," he coaxed,"we didn't mean any harm. We were just looking for a boy who wassupposed to have got drowned up the river a piece but we believe landedhere on Lost Island. Just tell me whether he's alive or not, and wewon't bother you any more."

  "Oh, you're no bother. In fact, I rather enjoyed your littlevisit--though I will admit you scared me a bit when you held the knobof the door to the hangar----"

  "Hangar? What's that?"

  "It's--it's French for--woodshed," the girl stammered. "It's your turnnow," motioning toward the water.

  "But won't you tell me about Tod?"

  "Did you ask my father about him?"

  "If it _was_ your father, yes."

  "And he didn't tell you!"

  "No, and he wouldn't let us search the island."

  "Well, I'm my father's daughter. So into the briny deep with you. Ihope the fish don't bite you."

  "But, look here," began Jerry, then fell silent and moved toward thewaters edge, for the girl had picked up a handful of large pebbles andstood plumping them meaningly into the river.

  The water was warm, and aside from his clothes, Jerry did not mind theswim. After he had stroked along perhaps a third of the way, he turnedon his back. The light had disappeared from shore. He had a moment'simpulse to turn back, but was afraid she might be waiting in thedarkness to greet him with a laugh and an invitation to take to thewater again.

  He turned once more and swam steadily across the current. But after alittle, once more he turned on his back, only kicking occasionally tokeep himself afloat. He fancied he had heard some noise that did notbelong with the night.

  There it was again, that regular beat as of wood striking against wood.He listened intently, trying to place the sound. Finally, it dawned onhim that it was a boat, rowed by means of a pair of loose oars.

  His mind worked quickly. It could not be the Boy Scout boat, for thesound was not right for that. It could only be the man of the island,"Lizzie's" father--she had as much as said he was away. At any rate,Jerry decided, he would wait there and find out. If the worst came tothe worst he could always dive out of sight.

  Nearer and nearer came the boat. Jerry lay in the water with only hisnose showing. He was too heavy-boned to be very good at floating, butthe barest movement of hands or feet kept him from going under. Atfirst he could make out nothing, but as his eyes focused more sharplyhe distinguished a slow-moving shape against the gray of the sky. Itwas barely twenty feet away, headed almost directly at him.

  A few noiseless strokes put him inside the boat's path, but when hestopped paddling he realized to his horror that the boat had changeddirection and was cutting in toward the island. It was almost upon himwhen he dived.

  He w
as not quick enough. The landward oar caught him a flat blow acrosshis eyes. Blinded, dazed, his mouth full of water, he flung up hisarms. He had a vague sense of having caught hold of something, and heheld on. Through a sort of mist he heard a voice saying laughingly:

  "Hit a snag, John. Better be careful or you'll wreck the ship in sightof harbor."

  Little by little Jerry's head cleared and he realized that he hadcaught hold of the stern of the boat. He could not see over the edge,but he could tell that there were two people in the boat, both men.They talked fitfully, but for the most part their voices came to Jerryonly as meaningless mumbles. Once more the dark outline of Lost Islandlay before him, and in Jerry's heart arose a new hope that perhaps thistime he would not come away empty-handed. The boat grounded on thebeach where he and Phil had stood only a few minutes before. The manwho had been at the oars jumped out and pulled the boat well up onshore. Jerry, finding that he could touch bottom, had let go and nowstood well hidden in the water.

  "You might as well wait here in the boat," said the one who had goneashore. "I won't be gone but a minute."

  He moved up the bank. It was the same man Jerry had encountered twicebefore on his island visits. But who was the man in the boat? Jerrywished he dared come closer.

  The minutes passed slowly, and the water did not feel as warm as it hadat first. He was greatly relieved when once more he heard the rustle ofsomeone coming through the tall grass. But though the sound came nearerand nearer, Jerry, his nerves literally on end, found the wait a longone. Would the man never get there?

  But the delay was quickly explained. There were two instead of onecrunching across the beach, and the other stumbled as he walked andwould have fallen more than once had it not been for the supporting armof his companion. Jerry could have shouted from joy had he dared, forsome instinct told him that that swaying form belonged to no one buthis chum, Tod Fulton.

  And then, in an instant, the mystery was all made clear--at least forthe instant. The man in the boat rose and struck a match so that theother could see to help wobbly Tod to a seat. As the light flared upfull, Jerry had a good sight of the face of the man who stood waiting.

  It was Mr. Fulton!