  The wind was from the shore and Gib suggested that the small sail be run up. This was soon done and away the little craft went bounding over the evenly rolling waves and, before very many minutes, the point was rounded and the swamp reached. “Where is the airplane anchored?” Nann inquired, peering curiously into the cove which was unoccupied by craft of any kind. “Well, we aren’t sure as to that,” Dick told her, speaking softly as though fearing to be overheard. “We climbed to the top of the rocks and lay there for hours, or so it seemed to me. We were waiting for the tide to turn so we could go out in the punt. But all the time we were there we didn’t see or hear anything of the airplane or the pilot. Of course, since it’s a seaplane, too, it’s probably anchored over beyond the marsh. “Now my theory is that the pilot has a little tender and that in it he rowed up the creek and probably, right this very minute, he is in the old ruin, and like as not if we go up there we will meet him face to face.” “Br-r-r!” Dories shuddered and her eyes were big and round. “Don’t you think we’d better wait here? We could hide the punt in the reeds and watch who comes out. You wouldn’t want to meet—a—a—” Dories was at a loss to conjecture who they might meet, but Gib chimed in with, “Don’t care who ’tis!” Then, looking anxiously at the girl who had spoken, he said, “’Pears we’d ought to’ve left you at home. ’Pears like we’d ought.” The boy looked so truly troubled that Dories assumed a courage she did not feel. “No, indeed, Gib! If you three aren’t afraid to meet whoever it is, neither am I. Row ahead.” Thus advised, the lad lowered the small sail, and the two boys rowed the punt to the opening in the marsh. It was just wide enough for the punt to enter. “Wall, we uns can’t use the oars no further, that’s sure sartin.” Gib took off his cap to scratch his ear as he always did when perplexed. “I have it!” Dick seized an oar, stepped to the stern, asked Nann to take the seat in the middle of the boat and then he stood and pushed the punt into the narrow creek. They had not progressed more than two boat-lengths when a whizzing, whirring noise was heard and the seaplane scudded from behind a reedy point which had obscured it, and crossed their cove before taking to the air. Then it turned its nose toward the island. All that the watchers could see of the pilot was his leather-hooded, dark-goggled head, and, as he had not turned in their direction, it was quite evident that he didn’t know of their existence. “Gone!” Dick cried dramatically. “’Foiled again,’ as they say on the stage.” “Wall, anyhow, we’re here, so let’s go on up the creek and see what’s in the ol’ ruin.” Dick obeyed by again pushing the boat along with the one oar. Dories said not a word as the punt moved slowly among the reeds that stood four feet above the water and were tangled and dense. “There’s one lucky thing for us,” Nann began, after having watched the dark water at the side of the craft. “That sea serpent you were telling about, Gib, couldn’t hide in this marsh.” “Maybe not,” Dick agreed, “but it’s a favorite feeding ground for slimy water snakes.” Nann glanced anxiously at her friend, then, noting how pale she was, she changed the subject. “How still it is in here,” she commented. A breeze rustled through the drying reed-tops, but there was indeed no other sound. In and out, the narrow creek wound, making so many turns that often they could not see three feet ahead of them. For a moment the four young people in the punt were silent, listening to the faint rustle of the dry reeds all about them in the swamp. There was no other sound save that made by the flat-bottomed boat, as Dick, standing in the stern, pushed it with one oar. “There’s another curve ahead,” Nann whispered. Somehow in that silent place they could not bring themselves to speak aloud. “Seems to me the water is getting very shallow,” Dories observed. She was staring over one side of the boat watching for the slimy snakes Dick had told her made the marsh their feeding ground. “H-m-m! I wonder!” Nann, with half closed eyes looked meditatively ahead. “Wonder what?” her friend glanced up to inquire. “I was thinking that perhaps we won’t be able to go much farther up this channel, since the tide is going out. The water in the marsh keeps getting lower and lower.” “Gee-whiliker, Nann!” Dick looked alarmed. “I believe you’re right. I’ve been thinking for some seconds that the pushing was harder than it has been.” They had reached a turn in the narrow channel as he spoke, but, when he tried to steer the punt into it, the flat-bottomed boat stopped with such suddenness that, had he not been leaning hard on the oar, he would surely have been thrown into the muddy water. As it was, he lost his balance and fell on the broad stern seat. Dories, too, had been thrown forward, while Gib leaped to the bow to look ahead and see what had obstructed their progress. “Great fish-hooks! If we haven’t run aground,” was the result of his observation. “Nann’s right. This here channel dries up with the tide goin’ out.” “Then the only way to get to the old ruin is to come when the turning tide fills this channel in the marsh,” Dick put in. “Wall, it’s powerful disappointin’,” Gib looked his distress, “bein’ as the tide won’t turn till ’long about midnight, an’ you’ve got to go back to Boston on the evening train.” “I’d ought to go, to be there in time for school on Monday,” the lad agreed. “Couldn’t you make it if you took the early morning train?” Nann inquired. “May be so,” Dick replied, “but we can decide that later. The big thing just now is, how’re we going to get out of this creek?” “Why—” The girls looked helplessly from one boy to the other. “Is there any problem about it? Can’t you just push out the way you pushed in?” Dick’s expression betrayed his perplexity. “Hmm! I’m not at all sure, with the tide going out as fast as it is now.” “Gracious!” Dories looked up in alarm. “We won’t have to stay in this dreadful marsh until the tide turns, will we?” Then appealingly, “Oh, Dick, please do hurry and try to get us out of here. Aunt Jane will be terribly worried if we don’t get home before dark.” The boy addressed had already leaped to the stern of the boat and was pushing on the one oar with all his strength. Gib snatched the other oar and tried to help, but still they did not move. Then Nann had an inspiration. “Dori,” she said, “you catch hold of the reeds on that side and I will on this and let’s pull, too. Now, one, two, three! All together!” Their combined efforts proved successful. The punt floated, but it was quite evident that they would have to travel fast to keep from again being grounded, so they all four continued to push and pull, and it was with a sigh of relief that they at last reached deeper water as the channel widened into the sea. “Well, that certainly was a narrow escape,” Nann exclaimed as the punt slipped out of the narrow channel of the marsh into the quiet waters of the cove. “Now we know why the pilot of the airplane left. He probably visits the old ruin only at high tide, when he is sure that there is water enough in the creek,” Dick announced. Dories seemed greatly relieved that the expedition had returned to the open, and, as it was sheltered in the cove, the boys soon rowed across to the point of rocks. “If Gib could leave the punt here where the water is so sheltered and quiet, your mother, Dick, would not object even if you went out when the tide is high, would she?” Nann inquired. “No, indeed,” the boy replied. “Mother merely had reference to the open sea. A punt would have little chance out there if it were caught between the surf and the rocks, but here it is always calm.” While they had been talking, Gib had been busy letting his home-made anchor overboard. It was a heavy piece of iron tied to a rope, which in turn was fastened to the bow. “Hold on there, Cap’n!” Dick merrily called. “Let the passengers ashore before you anchor.” Gib grinned as he drew the heavy piece of iron back into the punt. Then Dick rowed close to the rocks and assisted the girls out. “What shall we do now?” he turned to ask when he saw that Gib had pushed off again. He dropped the anchor a little more than a boat length from the point, pulled off his shoes and stockings and waded to the rocks. After putting them on again he joined the others, who had started to climb. When they reached the wide, flat “tiptop” rock Dories sank down, exclaiming, “Honestly, I never was so hungry before in all my life.” Then, laughingly, she added, “Nann Sibbett, here we have been carrying that box of lunch all this time and forgot to eat it. The boys must be starved.” “Whoopla!” Dick shouted. “Starved doesn’t half express my famished condition. Does it yours, Gib?” The red-headed boy beamed. “I’m powerful hungry all right,” he acknowledged, “but I’m sort o’ used to that.” However, he sat down when he was invited to do so and ate the good sandwiches given him with as much relish as the others. Half an hour later they were again on the sand walking toward the row of cottages. Nann glanced at the upper window of the Burton cabin, and Dick, noticing, glanced in the same direction. Then, smiling at the girl, he said, “I guess, after all, there has been no one in the cottage. The blind is still closed just as I left it yesterday.” “We’ll look again tonight,” Nann said, adding, “We’ll each have to carry a lantern.” “What are you two planning?” Dories asked suspiciously. “Can’t you guess the meaning that underlies our present conversation?” Nann smilingly inquired. “Goodness, I’m almost afraid that I can,” was her friend’s queer confession. “I do believe you are plotting a visit to the old ruin at the turn of the tide, and that will not be until midnight, Gib said.” “It’s something like that,” Dick agreed. “Well, you can count me out.” Dories shuddered as she spoke. Nann laughed. “I know just exactly what will happen (this teasingly) when you hear me tiptoeing down the back stairs. You’ll dart after me; for you know you’re afraid to stay alone in our loft at night.” “You are wrong there,” Dories contended. “Now that I know about the ghost, I won’t be afraid to stay alone, and I would be terribly afraid to go to the ruin at midnight, even with three companions.” “Speaking of lanterns,” Dick put in, “if it’s foggy we won’t be able to go at all. That would be running unnecessary risks, but if it is clear, there ought to be a full moon shining along about midnight, and that will make all the light we will need.” Then he hastened to add, “But we’ll take lanterns, for we might need them inside the old ruin, and what is more, I’ll take my flashlight.” The boys had left the white horse tied to the cottage nearest the road. When they had mounted, Spindly started off as suddenly as hours before it had stopped. “Good-bye,” Dick waved his cap to the girls, “we’ll whistle when we get to the beach.” “Just look at Spindly gallop,” Dories said. “The poor thing is eager to get to its dinner, I suppose.” Arm in arm they turned toward their home-cabin. “My, such exciting things are happening!” Nann exclaimed joyfully. “I wouldn’t have missed this month by the sea for anything.” Dories shuddered. “I’ll have to confess that I’m not very keen about visiting the old ruin at——” She interrupted herself to cry out excitedly, “Nann, do look over toward the island. We forgot all about that sea plane. There it is just taking to the air. What do you suppose it has been doing out on that desolate island all this time?” Nann shook her head, then shaded her eyes to watch the airplane as it soared high, again headed for Boston. “Little do you guess, Mr. Pilot,” she called to him, “that tonight we are to discover the secret of your visits to the old ruin.” “Maybe!” Dories put in laconically. |
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