It is quite unnecessary to give a minute account of how Clay and Nugget spent the night on the island. As the absence of their companions was more and more prolonged they became worried and anxious, and gave but little thought to their own miserable plight.

The rubber coats shielded them from the rain, and by crouching under the trees they avoided the fury of the wind. Nugget faced the situation with remarkable fortitude, and uttered but few complaints.

After the gale subsided, and the thunder and lightning became less frequent, the boys made occasional trips to the buttonwood tree to see how the canoes were faring, and in this way they soon discovered that the creek was rising. So rapidly did the flood advance that on the fifth visit they found the roots of the buttonwood submerged, and the yellow tide within a few inches of the trunk.

At Clay's suggestion the canoes were dragged out on the island, and all the baggage was stowed in the hatches. When the task was completed the canoes were so heavy that the boys could scarcely lift them; and little wonder, since they held just double their usual load.

The water soon began to trickle over the island, and when it was three or four inches deep, the boys tied the canoes side by side to a large tree, and climbed into their seats. Here they sat, protected by rubber coats and canvas aprons until morning dawned.

The broad yellow expanse of the creek, as it whirled swiftly by the island with its burden of dÉbris and driftwood, satisfied Clay that the absent ones had found it impossible to paddle back.

"There is no use in waiting here any longer," he said to Nugget. "The boys may have been carried far down the creek, and are probably looking for us at this minute."

"You think they are safe then?" asked Nugget.

"I hope so," replied Clay dubiously. "We'll know to a certainty before long. Hand me your knife till I cut the ropes. I tied them in a knot."

"Here you are."

An instant later the canoes drifted off the island, and plunged into the swirling flood. Their heavy loads caused them to sink almost to the gunwales, and this the boys noted with serious alarm.

"We must keep along shore," said Clay. "If we upset then the danger won't be so great."

With extreme caution the boys paddled diagonally to the left bank, where they found the current considerably less rapid. They were drifting along side by side when a man suddenly appeared from behind a tree a few yards ahead, and beckoned them anxiously with his finger.

"Come in here a minute, you fellows," he whispered hoarsely, when the canoes were close to him.

The boys ceased paddling, but hesitated to obey.

"I don't mean any harm," added the man. "It's for your own good."

"I wonder what he wants," said Clay. "Perhaps it's something about the boys. Let's talk to him, Nugget."

They ran the canoes into a shallow inlet where dry land had been but a few hours before, and the stranger came quickly toward them. His appearance was not calculated to cause the boys any alarm.

He looked to be about six and twenty. He was poorly dressed, and his rather boyish face was covered with a stubbly growth of light hair. Something in his features seemed to wake a chord of recognition in Clay's heart, and he struggled with his memory to account for it.

The man came close to the canoes, and after casting a furtive glance up and down the shore, said in a low voice:

"You needn't get out. I won't keep you long. Where are the other two chaps that belong to your party?"

This unexpected question amazed the boys, and they regarded the stranger with sudden suspicion.

"I don't mean any harm to you, indeed I don't," he added. "It's just the other way."

There was unmistakable sincerity in his words and manner, and after a brief deliberation Clay told him how the other boys had started after the tent, and had not come back.

"I thought you wanted to tell us something about them," he concluded. "Did you just come up the creek?"

"Yes," replied the man. "I was as far down as the next dam, but I didn't see a sign of your friends. I reckon they're below that somewheres, so you'd better push on and find them. I want to give you chaps a warning. Keep your eyes open for a big man with a purple face. If you run across him get out of the way as quick as you kin. He's somewhere about this neighborhood, too, for I seen his—"

The man stopped abruptly, and after another cautious survey of the woods, resumed in a whisper:

"If you fellows do chance to get in trouble through this party, why mebbe I'll be near at hand to help. It ain't certain, mind, because he may easily give me the slip again. If I kin find him afore he gets away this time, it ain't likely he will give you any trouble."

"I don't quite understand," said Clay in a perplexed tone. "Who are you, and who is this man that you are warning us about? Why should we be afraid of him?"

The stranger shook his head.

"It ain't quite the thing for me to tell," he said slowly. "You see nothin' may come of it after all. Just you fellows mind what I say, and keep your eyes open. When you find your friends paddle on down the creek for a good way before you camp. Good-by, I'm off."

He turned abruptly away, and hurried through the woods toward the base of the hill.

Clay called him two or three times, but in vain. He was already out of sight.

The boys looked at each other for a moment with unspeakable amazement.

"It's the queerest thing I ever heard of," exclaimed Clay. "I don't pretend to understand it. The man was serious in all he said, too."

"There was something familiar about his face," observed Nugget. "At least I thought so when I first saw him."

"Why, that's just what struck me," replied Clay eagerly. "I never saw him before, but I have seen some one that looks like him."

"That's about the way of it," assented Nugget. "We'll keep a sharp lookout for that purple faced man, anyhow."

"We certainly will," replied Clay. "Now then, let's be off. The fellow won't return again."

They backed out of the inlet and paddled on down the creek. Hardly a word was spoken. The mysterious stranger's warning had taken a deep hold upon both lads, and they were so deeply engrossed in puzzling over it that they failed to see the dam until it was close to them. The falling water made but little noise since the breastwork was almost submerged.

It was a weird and lonely scene that the boys gazed upon now—the broad yellow flood under a leaden sky, the gray crumbling mill looming through a pall of drizzling rain, and beyond, where the mists deepened, the foaming thread of the creek, visible for a brief stretch before it was lost among the steep, pine clad hills.

"What a desolate place!" exclaimed Clay. "I don't believe there is a human being within a mile. The boys must be farther down, and ten to one they shot the dam in the dark. It doesn't look very dangerous, but I hardly think we'll risk it, Nugget. That corner by the mill seems a likely place to carry around."

"So it does," assented Nugget. "Come ahead, we'll try it."

With cautious strokes they paddled on until a sudden glimpse of the sluiceway leading under the mill caused them to pull up short. They headed straight for shore, and as they scrambled out at the foot of the hill, and pushed through the bushes, intending to see what the chances were for a portage, they blundered into the two missing canoes and the tent.

"Here's luck!" cried Clay. "Ned and Randy must be—"

The sentence was never finished, for that, instant the bushes rustled, parted, and a big burly man with a purplish red face stepped out.

The blank amazement and fear on the faces of the two lads was a study for an artist. Before them was the living verification of the mysterious warning. There was no mistaking that ruddy countenance.

The stranger spoke first.

"You're just the lads I'm looking for. Your friends are lying in yonder mill. They went over the dam in their canoes this morning at daybreak.

"I happened to see them and saved their lives. They were pretty near drowned, but I managed to bring them around all right. They ain't able to walk yet, so they asked me to go up the creek and hunt you fellows. Come right along and I'll take you to them."

Was Mr. Dude Moxley's brain muddled that he should have inserted such a gross error in his otherwise plausible little story? Perhaps he did not have time to plan it thoroughly in his hasty advance from the mill, or had calculated on finding his new victims at any other place than this.

Frightened as the boys were they noted the discrepancy, and it opened their eyes to the seriousness of the situation. "If our friends went over the dam this morning," asked Clay with a touch of scorn, pointing to the canoes and the tent, "how do these come to be here?"