The shock of the sudden stop, the tilting of the craft, which was sharply careened to one side, the howl of the wind, the rumble of the thunder, the flash of the lightning, and the dash of the rain—all these combined to make the position of those aboard the Bluebird anything but enviable.

“Are we lost! Oh, are we lost?” cried Mrs. MacCall, rushing out of the cabin. “Ha the seas engulfed us?”

“No, nothing of the sort!” answered Mr. Howbridge. “Please don’t get excited, and go back to the children. We are all right!”

“Yes, I believe we are,” added Neale, as another flash showed what had happened. “At least we are in no danger of sinking now.”

For they had been sent before the fury of the storm straight upon the rocky shore of one of the large islands of Lake Macopic. And there the houseboat came to rest.

As Neale had said, all danger of foundering was passed, and in case of need they could easily escape to substantial land, though it was but an island. But tilted as the Bluebird was, forming a less comfortable abode than formerly, she offered a better place to stay than did the woods of the island, bending as they were now to the fierce wind, and drenched as they were in the pelting rain.

“We’re here for the night, at least,” said Neale, as the continued lightning revealed more fully what had happened. “We shall not drift any more, and though there’s a lot of excitement going on, I guess we can keep dry.”

He and Mr. Howbridge, with Ruth and Agnes, stood out on the open, lower deck, but there was a shelter over their heads and the sides of the house part of the boat kept the rain from them. The storm was coming from the west, and they had been blown on the weather side of the island. The lee shore was on the other side. There they would have been sheltered, but they could not choose their situation.

“We’d better take a turn with a rope around a tree or two,” suggested Hank, as he came up to join the little party. “No use drifting off again.”

“You’re right,” agreed Neale. “And then we can turn in and wait for morning. I only hope—”

“What?” asked Agnes, as he hesitated.

“I hope it clears,” Neale finished. But what he had been going to say was that he hoped no holes would be stove in the hull of the boat.

It was no easy task for him and Hank to get two lines ashore—from bow and stern—and fasten them to trees. But eventually it was accomplished. Then, as if it had worked its worst, the storm appeared to decrease in violence and it was possible to get a little rest.

However, before turning in again, Mrs. MacCall insisted on making a pot of tea for the older folk, while the small children were given some bread and milk. As the berths where Dot and Tess had been sleeping were uncomfortably tilted by the listing of the boat, the little girls were given the places occupied by Ruth and Agnes, who managed to make shift to get some rest in the slanting beds.

“Whew!” exclaimed Neale as he went to his room when all that was possible had been done, “this has been some night!”

As might have been expected, the morning broke clear, warm and sunny, and the only trace of the storm was in the rather high waves of the lake. Before Mrs. MacCall served breakfast Neale, Mr. Howbridge, Agnes and Ruth went ashore, an easy matter, since the Bluebird was stranded, and made an examination. They found their craft so firmly fixed on the rocky shore that help would be needed before she could be floated.

“But how are we going to get help?” asked Ruth.

“Oh, there may be fishermen living on this island,” said Mr. Howbridge. “We’ll make a tour and see.”

“And if there is none,” added Neale, “Hank or I can row over to the next nearest island or to the mainland and bring back some men.”

The Bluebird carried on her afterdeck a small skiff to be used in making trips to and from the craft when she was at anchor out in some stream or lake. This boat would be available for the journey to the mainland or to another island.

An examination showed that the houseboat was not damaged more than superficially, and after a hearty breakfast, Neale and Mr. Howbridge held a consultation with Ruth and Agnes.

“What we had better do is this,” said the lawyer. “We had better turn our energies in two ways. One toward getting the disabled motor in shape, and the other toward seeking help to put us afloat once more.”

“Hank can work on the motor,” decided Neale. “All it needs is to have the monkey wrench taken out of the pit. In fact the space is so cramped that only one can work to advantage at a time. That will leave me free to go ashore in the boat.”

“Why not try this island first?” asked Ruth. “If there are any fishermen here they could help us get afloat, and it would save time. It is quite a distance to the main shore or even to the next island.”

“Yes, it is,” agreed Neale. “But I don’t mind the row.”

“It is still rough,” put in Agnes, looking over the heaving lake.

“Then I think the best thing to do,” said Mr. Howbridge, “is for some of us to go ashore and see if we can find any men to help us. Three or four of them, with long poles, could pry the Bluebird off the rocks and into the water again.”

“Oh, do let’s go ashore!” cried Agnes, and Tess and Dot, coming up just then, echoed this.

Mrs. MacCall did not care to go, saying she would prepare dinner for them. Hank took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and started to work on the motor, while the others began their island explorations.

The houseboat had been blown on one of the largest bits of wooded land that studded Lake Macopic. In fact it was so large and wild that after half an hour’s walk no sign of habitation or inhabitants had been seen.

“Looks to be deserted,” said Neale. “I guess I’ll have to make the trip to the mainland after all.”

“Perhaps,” agreed the lawyer, while Ruth called to Tess and Dot not to stray too far off in their eagerness to see all there was to be seen in the strange woods. “Well, we are in no special rush, and while our position is not altogether comfortable on board the Bluebird, the relief from the storm is grateful. I wonder—”

“Hark!” suddenly whispered Ruth, holding up a hand to enjoin silence. “I hear voices!”

They all heard them a moment later.

“I guess some one lives here after all,” remarked Mr. Howbridge. “The talk seems to come from just beyond us.”

“Let’s follow this path,” suggested Neale, pointing to a fairly well defined one amid the trees. It skirted the shore, swung down into a little hollow, and then emerged on the bank of a small cove which formed a natural harbor for a small motor boat.

And a motor boat was at that moment in the sheltered cove. All in the party saw it, and they also saw something else. This was a view of two roughly dressed men, who, at the sound of crackling branches and rustling leaves beneath the feet of the explorers, looked up quickly.

“It’s them again! Come on!” quickly cried one of the men, and in an instant they had jumped into the motor boat which was tied to a tree near shore.

It was the work of but a moment for one of them to turn over the flywheel and start the motor. The other cast off, and in less than a minute from the time the Corner House girls and their friends had glimpsed them the two ragged men were on their way in their boat out of the cove.

“Look! Look!” cried Ruth, pointing at them. “They’re the same ones!”

“The men we saw at the lock?” asked Neale.

“Yes, and the men who robbed us—I am almost positive of that!” cried the oldest Corner House girl.

“The rascals!” exclaimed the lawyer. “They’re going to escape us again! Fate seems to be with them! Every time we come upon them they manage to distance us!”

This was what was happening now. The tramps—such they seemed to be, though the possession of a motor boat took them out of the ordinary class—with never a look behind, speeded away.

“How provoking!” cried Agnes. “To think they have our jewelry and we can’t make them give it up.”

“You are not sure they have it,” said Mr. Howbridge, as the motor craft passed out of sight beyond a tree-fringed point.

“I think I am,” said Ruth. “If they are not guilty why do they always hurry away when they see us?”

“Well, Minerva, that is a question I can not answer,” said her guardian, with a smile. “You are a better lawyer than I when it comes to that. Certainly it does look suspicious.”

“Oh, for a motor boat!” sighed Neale. “I’d like to chase those rascals!”

“Yes, it would be interesting to find out why they seem to fear us,” agreed Mr. Howbridge. “But it’s too late, now.”

“I wonder why they came to this island,” mused Ruth. “Do you think they were fishermen?”

“They didn’t have any implements of the trade,” said Mr. Howbridge. “But their presence proves that the island is not altogether uninhabited. Let’s go along, and we may find some one to help get the boat back into the water.”

They resumed their journey, new beauties of nature being revealed at every step. The trees and grass were particularly green after the effective washing of the night before, and there were many wild flowers which the two little girls gathered, with many exclamations of delight.

Turning with the path, the trampers suddenly came to a small clearing amid the trees. It was a little grassy glade, through which flowed a stream of water, doubtless from some hidden spring higher up among the rocks. But what most interested Neale, Agnes, Ruth and the lawyer was a small cabin that stood in the middle of the beautiful green grass.

“There’s a house!” cried Dot. “Look!”

“It’s the start of one, anyhow,” agreed Mr. Howbridge.

“And somebody lives in it,” went on Ruth, as the door of the cabin opened and a heavily bearded man came out, followed by a dog. The dog ran, barking, toward the explorers, but a command from the man brought him back.

“I hope we aren’t trespassing,” said Mr. Howbridge. “We were blown on the island last night, and we’re looking for help to get our houseboat back into the lake.”

“Oh, no, you aren’t trespassing,” the man replied with a smile, showing two rows of white teeth that contrasted strangely with his black beard. “I own part of the island, but not all of it. What sort of boat did you say?”

“Houseboat,” and the lawyer explained the trouble. “Are there men here we can get to help us pole her off the shore?” he asked.

“Well, I guess I and my two boys could give you a hand,” was the slow answer. “They’ve gone over to the mainland with some fish to sell, but they’ll be back around noon.”

“We’ll be glad of their help,” went on the lawyer. “Do you live here all the while?”

“Mostly. I and my boys fish and guide. Lots of men come here in the summer that don’t know where to fish, and we take ’em out.”

“Were those your two sons we saw in a motor boat back there in the cove?” asked Neale, indicating the place where the tramps had been observed. Rather anxiously the bearded man’s answer was awaited.

“What sort of boat was it?” he countered.

Neale described it sufficiently well.

“No, those weren’t my boys,” returned the man, while the dog made friends with the visitors, much to the delight of Dot and Tess. “We haven’t any such boat as that. I don’t know who those fellows could be, though of course many people come to this island.”

“I wish we could find out who those men are,” said Mr. Howbridge. “I have peculiar reasons for wanting to know,” he went on.

“I think they call themselves Klondikers, because they have been, or claim to have been, to the Alaskan Klondike,” said Neale. “Do you happen to know any Klondikers around here?”

Somewhat to the surprise of the boy the answer came promptly:

“Yes, I do. A man named O’Neil.”

“What!” exclaimed Neale, starting forward. “Do you know my father? Where is he? Tell me about him!”

“Well, I don’t know that he’s your father,” went on the black-bearded man. “Though, now I recollect, he did say he had a son and he hoped to see him soon. But this O’Neil lives on one of the islands here in the lake. Or at least he’s been staying there the last week. He bought some fish of me, and he said then he’d been to the Klondike after gold.”

“Did he say he got any?” asked Neale.

The man of the cabin shook his head.

“I wouldn’t say so,” he remarked. “Mr. O’Neil had to borrow money of one of my boys to hire a boat. I guess he’s poorer than the general run. He couldn’t have got any gold in the Klondike.”

At this answer Neale’s heart sank, and a worried suspicion crept into his mind. If his father were poor it might explain something that had been troubling the boy of late. Somehow, all the brightness seemed to go out of the day. Neale’s happy prospects appeared very dim now.

“Poor father!” he murmured to himself.

Suddenly, from the lake behind them came some loud shouts, at which the dog began to bark. Then followed a shot, and the animal raced down the slope toward the water.