The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest

Taking a swift glance around Zeb, despite his wound, hoisted himself over the stern rail, and with the agility of a sailor, dropped into the small craft. Then he drew his knife and slashed the rope. Free of the yacht the boat dropped rapidly astern in the darkness. As the large vessel’s lights grew dimmer and died out, Hunt took up the oars.

“It ain’t so very far frum here to the Canady shore,” he muttered; “and once there I’ll be safe frum the law.”

He gave a shudder.

“I guess what that kid said was right,” he muttered, “it don’t pay ter be bad, an’ frum now on Zeb Hunt’s goin’ ter turn over a new leaf.”

In the meantime, in the lighted saloon of the yacht, the castaways had told their story, and then Mr. Dacre and Sam Hartley started in on theirs, part of which we know. On a lounge sat Jack and Tom, their arms entwined round each other’s necks, while Mr. Chillingworth and his wife sat happily side by side listening to the excited hum of talk. At some distance from the rest sat the bottle-nosed man; still he was a sharer in the general jubilation, too, for it was he who had piloted the yacht to the island.

But we are running ahead of Sam Hartley’s narrative a little. Our readers will recall what Mr. Chillingworth and Tom did not, of course, know, namely, the Secret Service man’s visit to the captain of the “Islander.” From the description of the schooner the bottle-nosed man recognized Bully Banjo’s craft, while Sam Hartley easily identified Tom from the description the captain was able to give of the boy who had sprung into the shrouds and hailed them.

This done, the next thing to do was to get hold of Mr. Dacre and telegraph to Washington about the results that had been attained. A dozen assistants had been rushed to Sam at once, and a week later the trim yacht “Idle Hour,” under the flag of the U. S. Treasury Department, had set sail from Puget Sound for a mysterious destination.

They had sighted the fire a few hours before they picked up the boat and it had caused them a lot of apprehension. It looked as if things had come to a crisis too soon. But as it happened, things could not have fallen out better for Sam Hartley’s purposes.

They anchored that night off the island, while all hands took a much-needed rest, and in the morning they landed. The followers of Bully Banjo, stupefied by drink and reckless rioting, were an easy prey for the Secret Service men, who soon had them transferred to the schooner. It had been decided to tow the vessel into the nearest port, using her as a prison ship in the meantime.

The Chinamen who had fled in terror to the brush when the rioting broke out, drifted back one by one. They were rounded up and the situation explained to them. As it was impossible to take them on the schooner they were left on the island with plenty of provisions from the yacht till a Canadian government schooner could call for them and deport them to China.

A few days after these arrangements had been completed, the “Idle Hour” sailed for Seattle with the schooner in tow. In the meantime, the mine had been visited once more – by way of the cove – and several samples of ore taken from it, which the professor decided to assay when they reached port. He thinks, however, that they will prove to be very rich, and already negotiations are under way to acquire the mine. When the Bungalow Boys and Professor Dingle do secure a right to work it the Kanakas will have a goodly share of the proceeds, and Mr. Chillingworth will not be forgotten.

Once more in Seattle Mr. Chillingworth was anxious for the party to return to his ranch, but the boys and Mr. Dacre both felt that they had seen about all they wanted of that part of the country. They therefore accepted the professor’s invitation to visit him later at his home on the Great Lakes. First, however, they gave their evidence against the captured mutineers, all of whom were given sentences of more or less severity, including the treacherous Fu.

We could tell many things about the pleasant times the boys spent in the great metropolis of the northwest, and of some of the wonders they saw in that part of the wonderful Pacific Slope. But it is now time to leave them for a brief space.

We shall meet them again in a new tale of their adventures, even more exciting and thrilling than its forerunners. This volume will be called “The Bungalow Boys on the Great Lakes.”

THE END