Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island Part 13

Jerry repeated, puzzled, to himself: "Left plane--what in thunder's that?"

Billings went on:

"You won't forget to bring the timer. Elizabeth will get it at the usual place if you can leave it by noon."

"It'll be there, Billings."

Not a word more was said as the boat was swung about and headed out into the stream, save that Mr. Fulton chuckled:

"Old Billings rather had you worried, eh, son, until he gave you my message?"

Tod laughed, so heartily that Jerry, who had watched his chance to cut out into the wake of the boat and hold on behind with one hand, could not himself forbear a little happy ripple.

"What was that?" exclaimed Mr. Fulton, a full minute after.

"I don't know," answered Tod. "I was waiting for it to come again.

Sounded like--only _he_ couldn't be here."

"Who couldn't?"

"It sounded like a laugh--and there's only one person, outside of a billygoat, who's got a gurgle like that."

"Your wetting didn't tame you down any, did it? Who's the goat you had in mind?"

"Jerry King--_well_, what in the world!"

Over the back of the boat clambered a dripping, wrathful figure.

"I'll be switched if I'm going to be dragged along at the tail of this scow and be insulted any longer. I laugh like a billygoat, do I? For two cents I'd scuttle the ship!"

But Jerry's anger was more put on than real, and under Mr. Fulton's banter and Tod's grateful appreciation of the attempted rescue, he soon calmed down.

"What was the matter with you back there on the island? We heard you groaning as if you'd green-appled yourself double."

"Groaning? Me groaning? Huh! Say, next time you go bearding damsels in distress and rescuing castaway fishermen, you learn how to tell the difference between a bulldog who's whining to get out and get at you, and a wounded hero. It's a good thing you didn't have a chance to follow up that 'groan'--you'd have _groan_ wiser."

"One more like that, Tod," suggested Mr. Fulton wearily, "and I think I'll take a hand myself."

"But why," Jerry wanted to know, "didn't you come back home right away--if you weren't hurt?"

"Oh, but I was. You try going over that dam once and see if your insides-out don't get pretty well mixed up. I got a terrific thump on the back of the head when the boat turned turtle, and if I hadn't had a leg under the seat, I'd be in Davy Jones' locker right now. When I came to I didn't know whether I was me or the boat. I had gallons of water in me and--and I think I swallowed a worm or two; the bait can got tipped over--and all the worms were gone--somewhere."

"But why did you stay----" Jerry began, feeling vaguely that Tod was talking so much to keep him from asking questions. But he was not allowed even to ask this one, for Mr. Fulton interrupted with:

"I got busy right away after you had told me about your Lost Island clue, and soon got a message through to--to Mr. Billings there. When he told me Tod was safe and sound, I thought I'd wait until I had finished some important business I just couldn't leave. That's how it was so late before I got here."

"Mr. Billings came and got you, didn't he?" remarked Jerry, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. If they had a secret that was none of his business, _he_ wouldn't pry.

"Yes," said Mr. Fulton, and made no further explanation.

"But there were two of you on the island after me, weren't there? Who was the other hero?" Tod wanted to know.

"Where were you, that you knew there were two of us?"

"I was all doubled up in that little anteroom where the dog was--doubled up laughing." Then he added hastily, thinking he had teased poor Jerry far enough: "But I was locked in."

"Why locked in, if Mr. Billings had gone to bring your father? Afraid you'd up and rescue yourself?" Jerry's tone was downright sarcastic.

"No, Jerry--you see, the island--that is," looking toward Mr. Fulton as if for permission to go on, "that is, there's something going on on Lost Island that Mr. Billings figures isn't anybody else's business, and he didn't want to take chances of my nosing around."

"I see," said Jerry dryly. "So of course rather than row you across to dry land himself he brought your father here to get you. It's all as plain as the wart on a pumpkinhead's nose!"

"Now, Jerry, you're getting way up in the air without any cause. I'll tell you this much, because I think you've got a right to know: Mr.

Billing's secret really is mine. Just as soon as I dare I'll tell you all about it. But what became of your friend--if there _were_ two of you?"

"I was so peeved that I forgot all about Phil. It's Phil Fulton----"

"What!" cried Tod. "Cousin Phil. Where is he?"

"Standing on the bank just opposite Lost Island and figuring out how soon he ought to give me up for drowned or hand-axed by a savage female. He may have gone for the sheriff by this time--or the coroner.

Better take me to sh.o.r.e here and I'll go back."

Mr. Fulton began pulling the boat toward sh.o.r.e. "How did he happen to get into this?" he asked.

Jerry told him the whole story of the encounter with the Boy Scouts.

"They've pitched camp there, so I guess I'll see if they can dry me out and put me up for the night," he finished.

As the boat neared sh.o.r.e Tod began to show signs of suppressed excitement. Finally, as Jerry was about to jump out into the shallow water, being already soaked through, Tod began coaxingly:

"Why couldn't I go on with Jerry, dad? You told me you'd let me go camping with the bunch, don't you remember? And I promised Phil I'd show him the best ba.s.s lake in the country----"

"I ought to take you back to town and let Doc Burgess look you over.

Maybe the bones are pressing on your brain where you b.u.mped your head.

You act like it. But the fact is I _didn't_ want to go back to Watertown--I ought to chase right down to Chester for that timer. It was promised for to-morrow, and there isn't a minute to be lost. There aren't any falls down this way, are there?" he asked with mock seriousness.

"Come on, dad, say I can go!" begged Tod.

"We-l-l," hesitated Mr. Fulton, "suppose we say I'll let you stay till morning--or night, rather. Then we'll see."

Jerry jumped out at this point and splashed his way to sh.o.r.e. He had a feeling that the two might want to talk without being overheard.

Apparently he was right, as for a good five minutes the two conversed in low tones. Jerry tried his best not to hear what was said, but every now and then a sentence reached his ears. But it was so much Greek as far as he was concerned.

He had walked inland a bit, finally striking the narrow path that fishermen had cut along the top of the high bank. It swung back toward the edge, cut off from view by a rank growth of willows. He noticed that the boat had drifted downstream until it now stood almost opposite him, and only a few feet from sh.o.r.e. Thus it was that, as Mr. Fulton backed water with his left-hand oar and rammed the nose of the boat toward the shelving beach, he heard one complete sentence, distinct and understandable.

"It's up to you, Tod, to get them away. We can't afford any complications at this stage of the game. To-morrow is the day!"

"Trust me, dad!" exclaimed Tod, going up and giving his father's shoulder a squeeze. Jerry waited for no more. Bending low, he scurried far down the path, so that Tod could have no suspicion that his chum had overheard.