Cloudy Island, so named because of the fog which usually held the island in its grip and the group of clouds stationed above it like sentinels in the sky, was but a two minute ride from the main shore. It was a brown strip of land jutting up out of the blue Atlantic Ocean scarcely a mile from the coast of Maine. It was covered with a thick growth of trees and underbrush. About the only shelter of any kind was a fair sized log cabin which the young people had built as a combination picnic lodge and boat house.

Bruce’s motor boat covered the distance in record time, its owner at the wheel and his companions crouched low, straining their eyes for a sight of the airplane.

“It fell at the north end, didn’t it?” Phyllis murmured.

Bruce headed his boat for the sandy beach at the northern point. Bathing suits and sunburned arms and legs flashed in the sun as they left the boat and the boys brought it to a safe anchorage on the beach.

The girls led the dash from the sandy shore into the thick growth of trees, but there the boys soon overtook them.

“Janet will be wild because they were left behind,” Phyllis declared gaspingly as she ran along beside Gale.

Gale’s answer was lost in a cry as they burst suddenly upon the wreckage of the red monoplane. One wing was crumpled beneath the heavy cabin of the plane and the wheels were sticking grotesquely up into the air. The propeller had snapped in half and the shining red surface of the plane was scratched and blackened. The cockpit yawned black and empty.

“Where’s the pilot?” Peter demanded in amazement.

“Look!” Phyllis cried.

A man in the uniform of a flyer leaned weakly against a tree and endeavored to grin at them. There was mud and grime on his clothes and from a cut on his cheek blood was flowing. Bruce and David caught him as he almost fell to the ground.

“Take him to the cabin,” Peter proposed.

The other boys nodded in agreement and the girls ran on ahead. Pillows and blankets were whisked into position for a makeshift bed. A small fire was started in the stone fireplace and water put on to heat.

David, who was studying to be a doctor, put his knowledge to good use by examining the pilot.

“Is he badly hurt?” Gale asked when her friend straightened up.

David shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

The pilot opened his eyes again and looked wordlessly from one to the other, letting his gaze rest finally and longest on Gale. Slowly he sat up and negotiated it successfully, but when he tried to stand his leg gave way beneath him.

“Take it easy,” Peter encouraged.

“Sprained ankle,” was the answer.

“Shall we get you a doctor?” Phyllis inquired anxiously. “We can take you back to the mainland in the boat.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Plane a wreck?”

“Smashed,” Gale supplied for him. She handed him a glass of cool spring water brought in by Peter.

He drained it and handed the glass back to her with a wide smile. “Thanks, feel a lot better now. Where am I anyway?” He looked curiously about the cabin, at the woven rug in the center of the floor, at the small radio set, at the furnishings and curtains at the window.

“We use this as a sort of camping lodge,” Bruce explained. “In a shelter next to this we keep a small canoe. We often spend a whole day here on picnics.”

“Cozy place,” the pilot declared.

“Don’t you think you should go to a doctor with that ankle?” Peter interjected. “We can easily run you over to Marchton.”

The pilot looked at him thoughtfully. From Peter his gaze traveled in turn to each of the others. He frowned at the fireplace before he spoke.

“I don’t know how to make you understand—I’d like to stay here in your cabin—until my ankle mends. Will you rent it to me—say, for a few weeks?”

“Of course,” Bruce said with a frown, “but——”

“There is no one here on the island, and you would be all alone,” Phyllis said.

The pilot smiled. “I shan’t mind that. I want to be by myself—no one must know I am here. Absolutely no one, do you understand?”

“No, sir, we don’t,” Bruce said promptly.

“Why shouldn’t anyone know you are here?” added David. “A lot of people must have seen your plane fall.”

The pilot ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I realize that, but look here, couldn’t you say I was unhurt and you took me to a railroad station or an airport and I’ve gone away? It is so important that no one knows I am here!”

The young people looked at him speculatively.

“Are you an escaped convict?” Phyllis asked outright.

The strange young man laughed heartily.

“Hardly!” he declared. “I am just a harmless flyer who desires a little peace and quiet for a while. What do you say? Will you help me keep my presence here a secret? You can tell people my plane fell into the sea and was washed down the coast. There is no harm in keeping me hidden.”

The young people could think of no convincing reason why they should tell anyone that the pilot desired to be alone on the island nor why he should not stay here if he wished.

“I suppose it is all right,” David said dubiously.

“Of course it is!” the man assured him.

“We can bring you food from the mainland,” Gale suggested.

“Fine!” the pilot declared cheerfully.

After his ankle was bathed and bandaged and he declared his intention of resting the young people had no choice but to take their leave.

“He seemed glad to be rid of us,” Phyllis said in an injured tone as they climbed back into Bruce’s motor boat. “I wonder who he is?”

“We didn’t ask his name,” David murmured in surprise.

“There is something mysterious about him,” Bruce said with a frown. “I wonder if we should have let him stay at the lodge?”

“Why not?” Gale wanted to know. “He can’t run away—not on his injured ankle—there is no harm in it. I think he is rather nice,” she added, with an afterthought for the pilot’s dark curly hair and handsome, boyish face. “Well, I do!” she insisted defiantly when the boys laughed. She remembered the way the pilot had looked at her and felt a pleasant little thrill. He had such a nice smile!

“What happened? Was he killed?”

Such were the cries from the other four Adventure Girls who had been left behind on the mainland.

The pilot’s presence couldn’t be kept a secret from these four girls so the others told them everything that had happened, eliciting a strict promise to keep confidential the man’s presence at the lodge.

Janet and Carol were beside themselves with excitement and ecstasy. To think that a real, young, and handsome pilot should be plunged suddenly into their midst! Things like that very seldom happened in the little coastal town.

Marchton was a small but busy little town in Maine, bordering the rocky coast, and with its share of the traditional Maine woods.

The Adventure Girls had been raised, each one, in this sheltered spot; however, they were in no way behind the times. Readers of The Adventure Girls at the K Bar O Ranch are already familiar with the girls’ desire for adventure and love of the open road. All were in their last year at the Marchton High School and looking forward eagerly to the day when they would enter college.

One by one the young people went into their homes as they left the beach and walked home in the glowing sunset until only Gale and Bruce were left. The boy and girl lived across the street from one another and it was not until they came to the swinging, whitewashed gate of Gale’s yard that they parted.

Gale ran up the back stairs to her bedroom where she discarded the bathing suit for a trim sports outfit. With her English text book under one arm she descended to the porch to study until time for dinner. English at any time was a problem upon which Gale found it hard to concentrate, but this afternoon it was even more difficult than usual. The brown, laughing face of the airplane pilot kept interfering with the printed page.

All through dinner Gale kept thinking about him. She knew there was no food to be had on the island and she decided to take him some. After dinner, with the expressed opinion of going to the early show at the movies, Gale left home, but her destination was the grocery store. Not the one her Mother usually patronized because it might come to her Mother’s ears what she was doing. It wasn’t that her parents would not understand—nor forbid her to go, it wasn’t that—but the pilot had said to tell no one. If he wanted to be a secret, so he should be. Her parents would, perhaps, never say a word against what she was doing. On the other hand they might not like it at all. Gale hated explanations and questions. When she had an impulse she liked to carry it through. Of course, she decided guiltily, she would tell her Mother tomorrow—then her parents could share the secret with her, but for to-night the pilot would be her own secret.

Her chosen foodstuffs secure in a big brown bag Gale went down to the beach. She had often used Bruce’s motor boat and she knew he would not object to her doing so now. She climbed aboard and deposited her bundle on the cushioned seat while she started the motor.

The stretch of water was black with white-tipped gentle waves as she headed the boat away from the shore toward Cloudy Island.