  “They look like Fred and John,” replied Grant in a whisper. “Where do you suppose they came from?” “I don’t care where they came from, the most I want to know is that they are here. You don’t suppose they are ghosts, do you?” “I think you would find out whether they were ghosts or not if you tried to throw Fred. Come on, let’s go ahead and meet them.” Advancing quickly the boys soon drew near the place where the approaching forms were seen. “Fred, is that you?” called George anxiously. Instantly the trio stopped and in amazement stared in the direction from which the unexpected hail had come. “Is that you, Fred? Is that you, Jack?” George called again, this time speaking a little more loudly. “Yes,” replied John. “Who is it calling us?” “You have been gone so long you don’t recognize your own friend,” called back George. “What are you doing here?” “That’s the same question we might ask you,” retorted Fred. “We didn’t expect to find you here.” “Neither did we expect to find you,” said George. “We’re mighty glad we have though, for we have been looking for you a long time.” “The trouble is you didn’t look in the right place,” laughed Fred, who was delighted to be with his friends once more. “You don’t need to tell us that,” retorted Grant. “We have had troubles enough of our own without having you twit us about them. We looked all around Western Duck Island and up and down the shore but couldn’t find any trace of you. Now tell us where you have been and what you have been doing.” All six were now returning to the shore together, the strange companion of Fred and John walking in advance of the boys. Several times George nudged Fred as he pointed toward the ungainly figure which was somewhat dim in the obscure light. The peculiar gait, the strange swinging motion of the shoulders were not to be forgotten when once they had been seen. Rufus, however, had not spoken since the meeting of the boys and because of that fact there were still further revelations to be made that were to startle the newcomers. “How did you get here, Fred?” demanded George unable longer to restrain his curiosity when the boys were within a few yards of the shore. “We came in a motor-boat.” “From where?” “Sault St. Marie.” “Be honest, Fred. This is no time for joking. Where did you come from?” “I’m not joking and I’m telling you the truth. We started from Sault St. Marie.” “How long have you been here?” “About two hours.” “Why did you come to Cockburn Island?” “Because our skipper said he had to come here before he could take us to Mackinac.” “What did he want to come here for?” “Don’t talk any more now,” said Fred. “Wait until we get back and we’ll tell you all about it and there are some things worth hearing, too.” When the boys and the strange skipper returned to the shore and it was discovered that there were two motor-boats there, John quickly said to Rufus, “Our friends are going back to Mackinac and we can go with them so you won’t have to go out of your course. You can go right back to Sault St. Marie.” “How about them ten dollars?” demanded Rufus, speaking in his shrillest tones. “I don’t intend to let go of you until I see the color of them dollars.” “Have you got any money with you?” demanded Fred, turning quickly to George and Grant. “How much do you want?” inquired George. “Ten dollars. That’s what we agreed to pay our skipper.” “I guess we can make that up between us,” said Grant, and in a brief time the money was produced and the brilliant-hued Rufus was paid. With evident satisfaction, he said, “I don’t know, boys, but I shall stay over here to Cockburn Island for three or four days. If you show up again in these parts you might let me know and maybe I can do somethin’ more for you.” “Thank you,” laughed Fred. “You certainly have helped us out of our troubles.” “Did he help you out of your clothes, too?” demanded Grant, who now had become aware for the first time of the strange garb in which both his friends were clad. “No, we picked them up on the lake-boat.” “On the what?” “On the steamer. We weren’t proud. We didn’t want the crew to think that we felt above them so we put on the suits that they provided us with.” “They certainly picked out choice ones,” laughed George, as he grasped the sleeve of Fred’s coat. “When are you going to start for Mackinac?” “What’s become of our friend whose house is on the island here?” inquired Grant in a low voice. So interested had they all been in the recent experiences that the passenger they had brought with them had been forgotten. When the boys looked quickly about them they were aware that the man had disappeared. However, as he had landed and their duty was done they were all ready now for the return to Mackinac Island, where they could not expect to arrive before two or three o’clock the following morning. The ungainly Rufus was again thanked for his aid and then the four boys speedily took their places on board the little motor-boat in which the searching party had set forth early that morning. After the boat had left the shores of Cockburn Island behind them, so eager were George and Grant to learn what had befallen their friends that they insisted that the entire story should be told them. And what a strange story it was. Fred or John, alternately breaking in upon each other, each insisting upon describing the perilous adventures through which they had passed, finally related the story of their rescue and the strange manner in which they had been taken to Sault St. Marie. Stranger still was the story they had to tell of their return and the reason why they had been found on Cockburn Island. “But that isn’t the strangest part of all,” explained Fred when the first of their story had been told. “We have something else worth telling and when you hear it you’ll both sit up and listen to it.” “What is it?” inquired George. “This man Rufus who took us in his motor-boat over to Cockburn Island is a queer Dick.” “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” laughed George. “His clothes and his voice, to say nothing of his hair and his long legs, are a small part when you stop to think of some other things,” said John. “What other things?” “Now listen and we’ll tell you. We’ve about decided that the man who stays on Cockburn Island is a regular smuggler. You know those letters we found, or rather the letter that came to me and the one we picked up on the shore of Western Duck Island, don’t you?” “Yes,” replied George and Grant together. “Well, I suspect,” resumed Fred, “that this man Rufus wrote them both.” “He’s almost as good a letter writer as he is a dresser, isn’t he?” laughed Grant. “You just wait until I’m done,” retorted Fred. “That’s always the trouble in this party. Whenever I start in to give you information and try to teach you some things you need to know and don’t know, there’s always somebody that has to spoil it all.” “We’re not spoiling it,” laughed George. “Go ahead with your story. What makes you think he wrote those letters?” “Be quiet, me child,” said Fred, “and I will enlighten thee. We suspect Rufus wrote them because he talked almost all the way from Sault St. Marie to Cockburn Island. Even when we stopped on the shore of Mud Lake and he cooked our dinner for us he kept on talking just the same whether we were there or not.” “That’s just the trouble with you, Fred,” retorted George. “You say he kept on talking whether you were there or not. Now how do you know he kept on talking when you weren’t there? You see that’s the reason we have to put in intelligent questions sometimes. You are just as likely to talk about things you don’t know as you are about things that you do.” “Never mind,” retorted Fred. “This man in the course of his extended remarks dropped a few words that made us think he knew more than at first we thought he did. We suspect that he runs a motor-boat for this man over on Cockburn Island.” “Is that the reason why he took you there?” inquired George. “Probably,” answered Fred. “At any rate he told us that he had to go that way and that he had to be there this afternoon. I tell you, fellows, that man is doing something he doesn’t want Uncle Sam to find out and my own impression is that he’s a smuggler and carrying on a regular trade at it.” “What do you think he smuggles?” inquired George. “I’m not just sure yet about that, but I’m pretty sure that I know where he hides the stuff before he takes it over to Mackinac or up to Sault St. Marie. In fact I think he has two places, one on Cockburn Island and the other down on Western Duck Island and I think, too, that he has a man or two on each island. Rufus runs a boat between Cockburn Island and Sault St. Marie and we suspect that he has another man down on Western Duck who gets rid of things there for him. And the strangest part of all is where he hides the stuff on Cockburn Island.” “Where is that?” demanded George and Grant, who now were greatly interested in the story of their friends. “I think he hides it in the barn.” “Do you mean that old barn right behind his shanty?” inquired Grant. “That’s the very place.” “What makes you think he hides the stuff there?” “From what Rufus said. You see, Rufus isn’t more than half or three quarters witted, and he feels that he hasn’t been treated by this man as he ought to have been. So he wrote those letters to get even, as he said, with the smuggler, and then as nothing was done about them he felt just as much provoked at Mr. Button as he had at the smuggler himself. So he has been first on one side and then on the other.” “Whose side is he on now?” asked Grant. “Just at the present time he’s on the smuggler’s side. But he was so anxious to talk all the while that we think he let out more than he knew. Among other things he told us why the smuggler keeps that big dog that we saw the other night. It seems there are three of those dogs and at night two of them guard the barn and the other is taken inside the house to protect that place. When we asked Rufus why they had to have two dogs around the barn he said that if we knew what was in the barn we wouldn’t ask any such foolish questions as that. Putting that together with some other things he said, I haven’t any doubt that whatever it is that Mr. Halsey deals in it is something that is very valuable and isn’t very large and can be easily carried.” “What do you suppose it is?” inquired Grant. “That sounds like money.” “Men don’t smuggle money,” sniffed Fred scornfully. “When we get back to Mackinac I’m going to tell Mr. Button, if he’s there, all about it and ask him what he thinks. And if he goes over to Cockburn Island and makes a search I want to go with him.” “But he can’t make a search on Cockburn Island,” said George positively. “That’s in Canada. An American officer can’t go over there and make searches.” “Not unless he gets a Canadian officer to go with him,” retorted Fred. “At all events when we get back to Mackinac we’ll find out what can be done and then we’ll just go ahead.” |
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