Meanwhile Jo made a ladder exactly long enough to reach from the ground to the porthole of the captain’s cabin. He had reasoned that the band would be safer outside the ship; he was afraid, and with good reason, of being caught in a trap. But if some one were sleeping on the blankets in the captain’s stateroom Jo could look in and see who was there without disturbing the sleeper. The man could be caught unaware before he had time to hide.

Jo made his ladder by splitting a young green cedar. He selected a straight slender tree, cut it down and trimmed the branches close to the trunk. It looked like a beautiful pole with the bark still on it. Then Jo struck the ax along the grain of the log, inserting wedges in the open gashes. This split the tree evenly as he pounded the wedges in. Then he pared the two pieces smooth and nailed flat bits of boxboard across for rungs, making sure that every nail pointed down as he drove it home.

“When we put our weight on each rung,” he explained to the interested band, “we shall drive the nails farther into the cedar instead of working them loose. Lots of people don’t think of that and their weight comes down in such direction that gradually the nails are pried out. I don’t trust a ladder that I haven’t made myself. I’m always kind of nervous when I’m up on it.”

When the ladder was finished it looked bulky and heavy, as homemade ladders always look, and Ann was astonished to find that she could lift it easily.

Jo explained that, too. “That’s because of the wood I chose. Cedar and spruce and the pine that grows up North here are lighter than hemlock or yellow pine. Yellow pine comes from down South, and you might as well try to lift a stone. And hemlock is not much good for such work as this, as it cracks too easily and once you drive a nail into it you can never pull it out again. Hemlock is used for rough work only, because it is most unreliable. It will crack when you least expect it and let you fall.”

“I should think oak would be the strongest,” said Ben.

“Oak is about the best lumber that grows in these parts,” Jo agreed, “but it is worth a lot of money and it is hard to get, these days. So it is used for finish wood, that is, for furniture and expensive flooring. And supposing we could get it, it weighs more than yellow pine. I’ll bet you couldn’t lift a ladder made of oak, much less carry it down to the wreck; I know I shouldn’t hanker after that job. It sure is pretty wood, though; the grain runs so evenly.”

“The grain is the darker lines through the boards, isn’t it?” asked Ann. “We helped mother scrape the paint from some chairs last winter and then we smoothed the wood with sandpaper so that the grain would show. They were lovely when we had finished. They looked like satin.”

“Sure,” said Jo. “And the grain comes from the way the tree grows. The longer it takes a tree to grow the finer its grain. Oak is grained straight with narrow lines, and yellow pine has a grain that looks like broad bands of ribbon running through it and it shows much pinker in color. The northern pine—white pine, we call it—is so soft that you can’t see the grain; the boards are all the same color and are very white and the wood is easier to cut with a saw than any hard wood.”

“That is the strangest ladder I ever saw,” said Ben, looking at it critically.

Ann had thought the same thing although she had not cared to say it to Jo. She believed in Jo and he must have had some reason for making it as he had. He had kept his two long poles far apart and the rungs were twice as long as in the ordinary ladder. Naturally it was a short ladder because the porthole was not very high above their heads when they stood below it on the beach, but why make it so very wide?

“It is wide because I wanted it to be very steady and because, if it’s wide enough, more’n one of us can look in the port at the same time.”

“Gee! A big idea, Jo!” exclaimed Ben admiringly.

“I think that three of us can get up on it. Let’s practice. We don’t want to make much noise when we’re really using it against the side of the wreck. Anybody inside the cabin could hear us like rats in the wall.”

So Jo placed the ladder under a small window in the barn. He climbed up until his head was opposite the window and then Ben followed. Jo stood as near one end of his rung as possible and Ben stood on the other end; they had one foot each on the ladder while the other twined about the pole. Then Ann came up between them. She was glad that she was thin and lanky!

“Pretty good,” said Jo. “I think that we can manage that.”

In order to be ready for any emergency they carried the ladder down to the road and hid it in the bushes that made a hedge between the road and the meadow, directly opposite the wreck.

They had not made their preparations a day too soon, for that very night as Ann was ready to hop into bed she heard a tap against her window, a secret tap, the signal of the band. She pulled back the curtains and saw Jo standing outside in the moonlight.

“Somebody is coming,” he said in low tones. “See there,” and he pointed across the meadow.

At first Ann could see nothing; then a small light flashed and instantly disappeared.

“I thought he wouldn’t bring a lantern again,” said Jo with quiet satisfaction in his powers of deduction. “He has a flashlight this time.”

The gleam showed again and swung in a semicircle over the meadow.

“He don’t know his way,” said Jo. “He has to watch pretty carefully where he is going.”

“I’ll get Ben,” Ann whispered excitedly. “Helen said that she didn’t want to go to the boat at night—and I don’t believe that mother would like to have her go even if she wished it. We’ll dress quickly and be with you in a minute.”

“All right,” agreed Jo. “Get a move on you. If we can reach the road before the man gets there we will have a fine chance to see who he is as he goes by. I’ll keep track of the light while you’re getting ready.”

“Ben!” whispered Ann. “Are you awake? Robin Hood waits for his men—the marauders are upon us.”

“What’s that?” said Ben, sitting up in bed, and feeling his hair rise. “Some one is walking toward the wreck with a flashlight! Don’t talk out loud; we don’t want to be told that we mustn’t go out!”

“Is Jo ready to go?”

“Yes. I’ll beat you at dressing.” Ann whisked back to her room. “And if I’m ready first we’ll go without you!”

“If you beat me you’ll be beating some one worth while,” answered Ben as he swung out of bed and thrust his bare feet into his shoes without bothering with stockings. But in spite of his omissions he finished at the same time as Ann and reached her side as she climbed over her window sill.

“Where is he?” she asked Jo.

“About halfway, I should judge. Time to see his light now.”

Even as Jo spoke the light flashed yellow.

“Just where I thought he would be,” whispered Jo exultantly. “Now follow me and be quick and quiet, for you can bet he is watching and listening or he wouldn’t be traveling so slowly. Keep in the shadows as much as possible and remember he is less likely to see us when he has the light. Light shows up things that are close by but it blinds pretty well for distance.”

Jo crouched low into the shadow of the ground so that he would not be outlined against the white house in the moonlight. Lithe as a cat he sped into the shadow of a tree a short distance away.

“He won’t move on from there until the light shows,” Ben said to Ann. “Wait until he runs again and then we will go together to the tree where he is now.”

The light flashed almost immediately.

Ann could see Jo’s dark slim bulk speed on to a bush and shoulder to shoulder she and Ben reached the shelter of his first hiding place. Jo waited where he was and in the next flash his followers slid over to his patch of darkness.

There was shadow most of the way now and they quickly reached the underbrush that bordered the road by the wreck. They were several minutes ahead of the man with the flashlight.

“Flatten down,” Jo warned softly. “He won’t expect anybody to track him from this side, so there’s nothing to be scared of now. He’ll make for the far side of the ship.”

They could hear the sound of heavy boots walking cautiously along the road. Nearer and nearer it came and Ann had to swallow hard. Although she hoped that Jo was right when he said there was no danger while they were lying in the bushes, she could not help fearing that the man must hear them as plainly as they heard him. Ben’s arm trembled where it pressed against her shoulder and she knew that he felt as she did.

Jo lay a little ahead of them, where he could peep through an opening that gave him a good view of the road. “Almost here now,” he warned under his breath. “If he swings his light this way hide your face but don’t move a muscle unless you have to.”

The man was walking in the dark now. As he drew closer to the ship he walked more quietly and more quickly, as if he were stalking something in the night. Ann could see the shadows cast by his legs as he passed in the moonlight and he almost touched Jo, but the boy lay as if frozen. He did not even tremble and Ann knew that he would have kept exactly as quiet if the big boots had trodden on him.

The man went directly to the prow of the boat. Vaguely in the moonlight the figure of the demon hung over him. The man looked up at it and Ann heard him give a low chuckling laugh. “Well, old boy,” he said, “you are one grand guard for the old boat and you keep her well protected for me.”

Then Ann thought that the torch must have slipped from his hands, for it turned as he clutched it and the light went on. The reflection flashed across the man’s face.

“Warren Bain!” Ben breathed close to her ear.

If Ann had not remembered Jo’s instructions she would have hushed Ben impatiently. She felt certain that he had been heard. Warren Bain—for it was he—shut off his light instantly and stood listening. Ben, realizing that perhaps he had betrayed the band, pressed so close to the ground that Ann almost expected to see him disappear into it.

But Warren evidently was satisfied that whatever sound he had heard came from the noises of the night. After a moment he started on his business again. He slipped his flashlight into his coat pocket and then leaped up into the dangling irons that were swaying from the bow. Having mounted these he reached up and caught the top of the rail with both hands and pulled himself up to the deck. For a minute he stood erect, outlined against the bright sky, and then he strode forward and vanished from sight.

“He’s going to the cabin,” whispered Jo. “Now’s our chance to get the ladder placed.”

There was no need of concealment for the next moment or two, and the ladder was beside them in the bushes. Jo raised it noiselessly against the side of the wreck.

Stealthily he mounted, peered through the window, and listened. Ann thought of the buck deer, listening by the pond. Then Jo beckoned to Ben. Quickly Ben climbed after him and placed himself in position where the two boys balanced each other perfectly. Then Ann went up.

The boys stood one rung above her and could peer into porthole one on either side over her head. Ann found that from where she stood she could just manage to see over the bottom edge of the round window. She could dodge down quickly if Bain happened to glance toward the porthole.

He was coming now. How different his steps sounded from the strange sussh-sussh she had heard that other day when the band visited the wreck. Bain walked lightly but he came steadily with abrupt steps that sounded like those of a human being. The other sound, she felt sure now, could not have been human. But what had made that curious noise? Ann could not bring herself to believe in ghosts.

As Bain entered the captain’s cabin he flashed his light into all the corners and the band dodged out of the glow. The port was so high from the floor that there was no danger of Bain’s seeing anything that was not directly in front of the opening.

In a minute they pulled back where they could see and all three watched the man as he examined the cabin. He gave most attention to the table. He pulled the drawer out, banging it on the floor and listening for some sound that would indicate a secret compartment; then he took out his pocketknife and ran the open blade around the joining of the wood. It was evident that he found nothing. When he began to work he fixed his torch in his belt in such a way as to allow the light to follow his hands and let him see clearly what he was doing. Once in a while he would stop and listen intently, and each time he took up his task again he worked faster than before, as if he expected interruption.

As he searched his dark face was very intent. But it did not appear evil. He looked far more friendly to Ann to-night than when she had seen him at the cove. But in spite of that she had no desire to let him know that Robin Hood’s band were spying upon him. Under his hands one of the table legs suddenly loosened; apparently it had been screwed together in the middle where the crack was hidden by a line of decoration. The piece in Bain’s hands was hollow and from it he took a roll of paper. He opened it and grunted with satisfaction as he read. Then he slipped the paper into his pocket and replaced the table leg carefully, taking great pains to screw it tight.

He was searching for something more than the paper, for he crossed to the closet and began to shake and finger the clothes hanging there. When he found nothing in them he ran his hands up and down the closet walls, tapping them at intervals. Evidently he found what he wanted; as he latched the door he wore a pleased smile and as he turned away he said, “Stay there, sweet babies, some one will come for you.”

Such a funny thing to say! The words had no meaning for the three listeners.

Bain’s light flashed across the blankets in the berth. Ann could feel Jo start in astonishment, and glancing toward him Ann saw that his eyes, too, were riveted on the berth. She followed them and realized that the blankets were matted down as they were before Jo had shaken them that other day. Some one had been sleeping on them again; some one who had come aboard in spite of their vigilance and walked about the boat without a light. And it was not Warren Bain; that was perfectly evident, for he had taken his flashlight out of his belt and was running it slowly over the blankets.

Suddenly Bain stopped. He was listening intently. Had he heard their breathing or perhaps heard them moving against the side of the ship above his head? Ann was quite prepared to slip from her precarious perch and scamper away to the safe farmhouse.

But no, he was not paying any attention to the porthole. Slowly he turned his head and glanced back over his shoulder to the door. Ann recognized the movement. So he was beginning to feel that strange sensation, too. Ann strained her ears to hear the mysterious noise that he must be hearing.

From the deck above the three, near the top of the ladder, faintly came the phantom sussh-sussh. Slowly it drew nearer and louder, then it came from a spot farther away; always moving nearer or farther, it came with the same rhythm, the first sussh heavy and scraping, the second lighter and with more of a rasp.

“Hold tight,” whispered Jo. “We’ll weather it through with Warren.”

But Warren had no intention of weathering through any such meeting. He reached his free hand into his coat pocket and brought out a heavy automatic which he cocked. Shifting the flashlight into his left hand he rushed out of the door and up the companionway.

“Hurry,” ordered Jo. “Slide into the shadows under the boat. Jump, Ben; I’m letting go of my side.”

The boys dropped together and Ann stepped down to the ground. Jo barely had time to take the ladder and cut under the stern of the boat. From their hiding place they could hear Bain run across the deck and they saw him swing out over the prow and drop. He switched off his flash as he landed on the beach and crept into the underbrush where the children had hidden to watch him go by. Then he was gone.

The shuffling noise had ceased as the three left the wreck and went home.

When they were once more under Ann’s window Jo exclaimed, “There goes Bain now! Out toward the swamp.”

And a sudden pinprick of light showed beneath the dense growth of pine on the edge of the wood.

“He was not the one who left that fire,” said Ann with conviction.

“How do you know?” asked Ben.

“I don’t actually know,” admitted Ann, “but I feel sure.”

“Jo, what do you think was in that roll of paper?” Ben asked.

“Perhaps it was a few sheets from the lost log,” suggested Jo. “But if it was that, a table leg was a funny place to keep it.”

“You don’t suppose that Warren was the captain of the ship?” Ann questioned. “I thought of that,” said Jo. “But if he was captain, what reason had he for skulking aboard in that fashion? He would have full right to occupy the ship.”

“Besides,” said Ben, “Warren Bain searched for that paper; if he had been the captain he would have remembered where he hid it.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Ann. She was loath to believe that Bain was where he had no business to be, for suddenly she had begun to like the man. In a moment she had another idea. “Perhaps the captain stole something from Warren and hid it, and Warren has been searching for it.”

“That sounds more like it,” said Jo. “But if it were the log that he took, had he any right to it? Logs aren’t included in a ship’s salvage.”

“It sounded to me,” said Ann, “as if he found something that he didn’t take away with him. Did you hear the strange thing that he said as he came away from the closet?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Ben. “‘Stay there until some one comes for you, babies.’ Only of course it wasn’t babies—they’d have starved to death before now.”

Ann and Jo laughed at that. “I guess you’re right about that, Ben,” said Jo.

“And what do you think he is doing, back there in the woods?” said Ann.

“Ask me another,” answered Jo. “I’m stumped about the whole thing.” And then he slipped away in the darkness and Ann and Ben crept silently over the window sill. For the second time that night Ann undressed and went to bed.