The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

“Do you think Koswell and Larkspur would give aid to those other rascals?” asked Sam.

“I think they’d do almost anything to make trouble for us, Sam. You can see how bitter they acted at the dock.”

With caution the party of four began a tour of the island. They moved from the shelter of the bushes to a thicket of pines, and then climbed along a ridge of rough rocks.

“I’ll crawl to the top,” said Dick. “Then I’ll have a pretty good chance to look around.”

At the top of the ridge, however, he found the view somewhat disappointing. There were other ridges, and several thickets of pines and hemlocks, and at one point what looked to be a cliff with some caves beneath.

“It will take some time to explore this island,” said he, as he came down. “I don’t wonder that the smugglers used to use it. It’s got a number of dandy hiding places.”

“How in the world did the Sobber crowd learn of it?” asked Sam.

“I think I can answer that,” said Tom “Josiah Crabtree once taught in a Portland school and he used to put in his summers on an island in this bay. More than likely, in cruising around, he heard of this island, and when he plotted to abduct Mrs. Stanhope he made up his mind it would be just the spot to bring her to.”

“All providing she is here,” added Sam. “We haven’t proved that yet.”

They moved on, and passed another ridge of rocks. Then they came to a well-defined trail, running from one end of the island to the other.

“Let us follow this,” said Dick. “If there are any buildings near the centre of the island they’ll likely be on this road.”

“Here is a spring!” exclaimed Sam, a minute later. “Say, that water looks good. I am going to have a drink.”

All stopped to quench their thirst, for the day had been warm in spite of the breeze that was blowing.

“Look!” cried Dick, as he pointed at the wet ground. “Somebody has been here before us.”

“That’s so!” returned Tom. “Now, if we were only Indians, we would know whose footprints those were and would follow ’em.”

Dick and Sam got down to examine the footprints. The majority of them were of good size, but a few were small, the heel marks especially so.

“I believe those marks were made by a woman’s shoes!” murmured Dick. “And if so – ”

“They were made by Mrs. Stanhope!” finished Sam. “Dick, I think we’ve struck the right trail!”

“This proves that what that young fellow of the motor boat said was not true,” said Dick. “Other folks are on this island.”

“Let us follow up the footmarks!” cried Larry Dixon. “Come on, messmates, to the rescue!” And he waved a stick he had picked up.

To follow up the footmarks was not easy, for they led from the dirt to the path and then to some smooth rocks. But they managed to get the general direction, which was something.

“I wonder if it would do any good to set up a yell,” said Tom. “Maybe Mrs. Stanhope would hear it, and answer it.”

“If she got the chance.” said Sam. “If she didn’t, all the yelling would do would be to let our enemies know we were here.”

“No, we had better go ahead as quietly as we can,” said Dick. “If possible, we want to take them unawares.”

Much to their surprise, at the other side of the smooth rocks was another path, running between a thick growth of pines. Here the going was somewhat uncertain, and they had to proceed slowly, for fear of stepping into a crevice and twisting an ankle.

“If they brought Mrs. Stanhope this way, it must have been very hard on her,” murmured Tom.

“Listen!” exclaimed Sam, suddenly, and held up his hand.

All became silent, and listened with strained ears. But the only sounds that reached them was the breeze through the trees, and the washing of the waves on the rocks.

“What was it, Sam?” asked Dick, in a whisper.

“I thought I heard a call.”

“You must have been mistaken.”

“Maybe I was, but – There it goes again!”

“That’s so!” exclaimed Tom. “Somebody is calling from the other side of this patch of trees.”

“It is Jerry Koswell,” said Dick.

“Who is he calling to?” asked Sam.

“I don’t know. Keep still and maybe we’ll find out.”

And then all listened with bated breath for what might follow.

CHAPTER XXVI

A TALK OF IMPORTANCE

“I say, you on the rocks! Come down here and let us talk to you!” shouted Jerry Koswell.

“Who are you. What do you want?” asked a voice that was strange to the Rovers.

“We want to know what you are doing on this island?” demanded another person, Alfred Darkingham.

“What business is it of yours?”

“What business?” shouted Darkingham, wrathfully. “A good deal of my business. This island belongs to my uncle and you have no right here.”

“Oh, is that so!” exclaimed the stranger. “I didn’t know that this island belonged to anybody in particular.”

“Well, it does. Who are you anyway?”

“Oh, my name is of no account, since we are not acquainted,” answered the stranger. “If this is your island, I suppose the only thing for me to do is to get off of it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Why – er – only looking around,” stammered the stranger.

“Are you alone?”