Linda's theories regarding the fourth member of the gang of thieves had been only partially correct. As she had surmised, the "Doc" slipped off in the canoe from Black Jack Island while his companions slept, and he did stop at Soldiers' Camp. But it was not he who compelled Susie to go with him, but the girl herself who insisted upon accompanying him.

Susie's desire to reform had been sincere while Linda was with her. She had actually meant to cut free from the gang and go back to a normal mode of life—earning her living as she had done when she met her husband. No more sneaking about in fear of the law, no more hiding in that desolate camp in the Okefenokee Swamp! She would get a job at an airport, and take up flying again. She might even become famous—like Linda Carlton!

But unfortunately, after the famous aviatrix left her alone, her enthusiasm faded, and her faith in her ability to make a "come-back" died as suddenly as it was born. How could she ever hope to be free from the stain of her last two years of living—since her marriage to "Slats"? If Linda did not turn her over to the police authorities, someone else would. She might have to serve five or ten years in prison.

As the afternoon passed, she grew more and more miserable, more anxious to get away. If only she had a boat! If her ankle were not so painful, and her bandaged head not so conspicuous! If there were only some way for her to escape!

Having no appetite, she made no pretense at preparing any supper for herself. There was still some cold tea left from lunch; she decided to make that her meal, and an hour later she fell asleep where she was, right on the shore of the island.

The sun was rising over the swamp when she awakened the following morning, and she sat up with difficulty, cramped by her uncomfortable position in sleep.

"I might as well be dead—with Slats," she thought, morbidly, as she viewed the desolation around her. Again she tried to rise, when the soft sound of a paddle, dipping into the quiet water attracted her attention. She waited breathlessly. Were the boys coming back so soon?

Not long afterward a canoe came into sight. Susie's heart leaped with joy when she recognized who was guiding it. The Doc!

"Doc!" she cried. "Bill Rickers!" she added, using the man's real name. "It's Susie!"

The man pulled up to the island, amazed at finding her there. In the dawning light he saw the autogiro, lying half on its side.

"Where's Slats?" he demanded.

"Dead," answered the girl, immediately. "We had a wreck.... Will you take me with you?" she begged. "I'm almost crazy here all by myself."

"I wanted to make a get-away alone," he muttered.

"You have the money!" she cried, jumping at once to the correct conclusion. "Where are the other two men?"

"Asleep at Black Jack Island."

"And where are you going?"

"Out of the swamp—across the state, and then over to our island. The yacht's due there tomorrow—I want to be ready to go with it."

"O.K. with me," agreed Susie, as if she had been invited to go. "Let's push off now—or wait—we'll eat some breakfast. There's beans and cold tea."

"Maybe you could be some use," remarked the man, as he ate the meager breakfast. "If we could get a plane. And I am sorry for you, Kid—all alone here with Slats dead."

Susie gave him no chance to change his mind. Hobbling out to the little "house" where the boys had put the blanket and the extra food, she picked up the former, smoothed her dress and her hair, and returned to announce herself ready. They pushed off again, following the little stream out of the swamp.

"How do you expect to get across the state?" asked the girl, wearily, when late that afternoon, they brought their canoe to a landing. She had slept a little in the boat, but she was still very tired.

"Hitch-hike, I reckon," was the reply. "If we go hirin' any cars, somebody might get suspicious. Once at the coast, I count on rentin' a little fishing-boat from some fellow—one big enough to take us to the island."

"I can't hitch-hike," objected Susie.

"Don't then,—stay here," answered the man, indifferently.

"You know I can't do that, either. Let's go to that house over there, and see if we can't get some supper. Maybe they have an old Ford or a team of horses."

"You foot the bill?" he asked, shrewdly. With all that money in his possession, this man had no intention of spending any of it on anyone but himself.

Susie considered a moment. She hadn't any money at all—she always got what she wanted from her husband. But she owned some costly jewelry.

"I'll give you this diamond," she offered, "if you get me safe out of the country. And no walkin'!"

"O.K.," he muttered, his greedy eyes gleaming at the sight of the beautiful jewel. "You win. Go ask the woman yourself."

It was thus, by strange coincidence, that Susie and the Doc rode across Georgia that evening in the same Ford that had driven Linda and the boys to Jacksonville the night before. They reached a seaport town a little after midnight, and Susie succeeded in finding a house to stay in, though her companion preferred to remain out-doors, for he said he "didn't trust nobody." In the morning, when she joined him, he had rented an old motor-boat from a fisherman. "Rent" was the word he used, but he had not the slightest intention of returning it.

"You can run her, Susie," he said. "You're better at engines than I am, and she'll need coaxing. I'll steer."

It was a difficult cruise, for at times the engine coughed and died, and Susie had to try all sorts of methods to start her up again. When they finally came within sight of the island, the motor sputtered its last and refused to function any longer. The man managed to get the boat inshore by riding the waves, and using the oars kept at the bottom of the boat for just such an emergency.

About the time Linda Carlton and Dot Crowley were eating their lunch on Black Jack Island, Susie and the Doc were making their landing. They pulled in at the opposite shore from the one which the girls later used in the autogiro. The man's first concern was with the hiding-place where he expected to find the boxes of jewels. His disappointment was keen when he discovered that they had been taken away.

"The cops has found us out!" he snarled angrily at Susie, as if it were her fault. "They'll be back again—I'll bet you! We gotta get out of here!"

"How?" demanded Susie. "Not in that boat?"

"Nope. Maybe the yacht will be along early, but it ain't likely. It usually runs after dark."

Dumping his bags in the sand not far from the hole, he tried to think what would be best to do.

"We gotta act quick, Susie—if the cops come. No use tryin' to put up a fight—with only one gun, and them two bags to guard.... You watch on that other shore, and I'll go back to the one we came in on. Whatever they come in—airplane or boat—we gotta swipe. Hide if you see anything comin', give 'em a chance to get into the island—and grab their boat. Give me a signal——"

"How?" she interrupted.

"You take the gun, and shoot when you're ready to push off.... If I see anybody on my side, I'll whistle, as near like a bird as I can." He grinned to himself; if the police came in anything but an airplane, he wouldn't bother with Susie. Let her face the music!

"O.K. But I couldn't run, Doc. Don't forget that."

"I ain't forgettin'," he returned.

They separated, and for two hours waited tensely, keeping a sharp look-out for the rescuing yacht, hoping against hope that it would arrive before the police. But at three o'clock their worst fears were realized. Susie saw the autogiro coming towards them, and hobbled off into the depths of the island to conceal herself. Lying flat on the sand, she was not able to identify the people who got out of the plane, but she could see that they both wore riding-breeches, and she believed they were men. So she kept still until they had disappeared into the underbrush. Then she began to creep laboriously, in a round-about fashion, to the autogiro.

Susie's progress was slow; she did not reach the plane until after Linda and Dot had succeeded in emptying the bags of the money, and refilled them with sand. The girls had just recognized the man on the shore, and were creeping farther into the island, out of sight of him, when the shot of the pistol rang out above the roar of the ocean. They had no way of knowing that Susie had fired it.

A moment later they heard the rustle and crackle of underbrush, as the man came towards them. From her hiding place, now some distance from the bags, Linda raised her head cautiously, and saw the thief retrieve the bags with a grab. Then he dashed back to the shore, circled the island on the harder sand, and reached the opposite shore, where the autogiro was standing.

"Why doesn't he come after us?" whispered Linda, in amazement.

"He will soon, I'm afraid," replied Dot hoarsely, clutching her revolver tightly. "But I'm going to shoot if he does!"

"So am I," answered Linda, calmly. "We've got the advantage—we're hidden."

Tensely they waited for five minutes—possibly ten; then something they had not thought of happened. The engine of the autogiro began to roar!

"They're stealing the Ladybug!" cried Linda, aghast at such a calamity. "Susie must be with him! Dot, we can't let them do that!"

Regardless of the danger, Linda jumped up excitedly, and rushed to a clearing, where she had a view of the shore. She was just in time to see her beloved autogiro taxi along the beach and rise into the air.

Dot dashed to her side, and the two girls stood together in helpless agony of spirit.

"Prisoners!" cried Dot, at last, dropping her useless revolver into the sand.

"Robinson Crusoes!" added Linda, bitterly. "No better off! No plane!"

"With thousands of dollars!" groaned her companion, ironically. "Where money is no good at all!"