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CHAPTER XIII
THE CABIN ON THE ISLAND

“Dave, come on out for a row. You haven’t been on the river this year.”

It was Gus Plum who spoke. He was out in one of the craft belonging to Oak Hall, and hailed our hero as the latter was strolling along the river-bank.

“All right, Gus!” Dave cried, cheerily. “I don’t know but that a try at the oars will do me good, after the hard studying I’ve been doing.”

“You are bound to get a high-water mark this term, aren’t you?” went on Gus Plum, as he brought the rowboat up to the dock, so that Dave might get in.

“I’d like to graduate with honor, yes.”

“What are you going to do after you leave here, Dave?” went on the big youth, as the two rowed up the river.

“I don’t know yet. Have you made up your mind?”

“Oh, I think I’ll go into business, but I am not sure.”

“You won’t try for college?”

“No. You see, I don’t make much of a fist at learning, so what’s the use? But I love business – buying and selling things.”

The two boys continued at the oars until the vicinity of Oak Hall was left far behind.

“If we only had a power-boat we might run up to Squirrel Island,” remarked Gus.

“Perhaps Nat Poole will lend you his motor-boat,” suggested our hero, with a little grin.

“Humph! I’d not ask him,” returned the big youth, promptly. “I am done with Nat Poole. I want to stick to my new friends.” And the former bully of the school fairly beamed on Dave, who had done so much to make him reform.

“Have you seen the motor-boat this season, Gus?”

“Yes, Nat got it out two days ago. I think he is on the river now.”

The boys rowed on, until they came to a bend where there was something of a cove. As they rounded the point they heard the steady put-put! of a gasoline engine not far off.

“There is Nat’s craft now!” cried our hero, and pointed ahead.

“He’s all alone,” was Plum’s comment. “He can’t have many friends these days, or he’d have some of them along.”

“I’d hate to be without friends, Gus, shouldn’t you?”

“Yes, indeed! But it’s Nat’s own fault. If he’d only drop his important airs and be more sociable, he’d get along all right.”

On and on rowed the two students. It was a clear, balmy day, and they hated to return to the school until it was absolutely necessary.

“Let us row around Smith Island,” suggested our hero, mentioning a small place in the middle of the stream, so named after a farmer who owned it. It was a rocky and somewhat barren spot, and seldom visited by anybody but fishermen.

“All right, but we want to beware of the rocks,” cautioned the big youth.

The rowboat was headed up the stream, and soon they came in sight of the island. On one side were a number of bushes, overhanging the river.

“Hello! look there!” cried Dave, a few minutes later, and pointed to the bushes.

“What do you see?”

“A motor-boat. I think it is Nat Poole’s.”

“Is that so? What brought him here?” questioned Gus, with interest.

“I am sure I don’t know. But it’s his boat, I am sure of that,” went on Dave, after another look at the craft.

“See anything of Nat?”

“No, the boat is empty.”

“Let us row in a little closer and see what he is doing,” suggested Gus.

“He’ll say we were spying on him.”

“Humph! Haven’t we as much right as he has to visit the island?”

“Of course.”

“Then what is the use of keeping away? He may be waiting to play some trick, or something like that.”

“Oh, I think not, Gus. Probably he just visited the island out of curiosity. But I’ll go in if you say so.”

Slowly, so as to avoid the many rocks in that vicinity, the two students brought the rowboat close up to the motor-craft. They looked into the bushes and along the rocks beyond, but saw nothing of Nat.

“Shall we call to him?” asked Gus.

“What for? I don’t want to see him.”

“Neither do I. His boat is tied good and fast. He must expect to stay on the island quite a while.”

The two boys rowed on, past the motor-boat. Then, as they turned a point of rocks, Dave gave a start.

“Well, of all things!”

“What is it, Dave?”

“Look yonder – in between those bushes!”

“Why, it’s a rowboat.”

“Exactly, Gus, and do you see how it is painted, drab with blue stripes?”

“Of course – a pretty ugly boat, I think.”

“Gus, that is the very rowboat used by that wild man – the one he was in when he got away from us that day!”

“Do you really mean it?” gasped the big boy, staring hard at the craft.

“I certainly do – I’d know that boat in a hundred. I never saw another just like it.”

“If that’s the case, maybe the wild man is on the island!”

“Just what I was thinking,” answered Dave. “And I was thinking, too, that–” He stopped short.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember how Nat was so anxious to know all about the wild man? And how upset he seemed to be when he heard that the fellow called himself the King of Sumatra?”

“Yes, I remember that. Do you think he came here to find the man?” demanded Gus, quickly.

“It looks so to me.”

“My gracious, Dave, I think you are right! Say, there is something mysterious about all this!” cried Gus.

“Exactly.”

“Let us go ashore by all means and see what Nat is up to,” urged the big youth.

Dave was more than willing, now that he had discovered the rowboat used by the wild man. Perhaps this island was the home of that mysterious individual. If so, what was the money-lender’s son doing there? Had he business with the strange creature?

“Maybe we’d better not make any noise,” suggested Gus, as the boat was turned in to a convenient landing-place. To this Dave did not reply, but they landed as silently as possible. Then the rowboat was hauled up out of sight between the bushes.

From the craft used by the wild man a rude path ran up from the shore to the rocks beyond. A short distance from the shore the boys saw the marks of a wet foot, coming from the direction where lay the motor-boat.

“That was made by Nat – he got his left foot wet,” said Gus.

“I think so myself,” answered our hero.

They followed the marks left by the wet foot over the rocks. They headed for the upper end of the island, where there was a small grove of straggly cedar trees. Here the marks faded away completely.

“Well, we know he came this way, anyhow,” remarked Gus. “He can’t be very far off, for the island isn’t very big.”

“I see a rude log cabin!” exclaimed Dave, and pointed through the cedars. “Maybe that is where the wild man lives.”

“If it is, we want to go slow, Dave. He may attack us.”

“But what of Nat, if he is there?”

“He may know the man and have some influence over him.”

“I hardly think anybody could have any influence over that man. He is as crazy as can be, and not to be trusted.”

The two youths approached the old log cabin slowly, keeping as much as possible in the shelter of the trees. Nobody was in sight, nor did any sound reach their ears.

Presently the students found themselves within fifty feet of the cabin, the door of which stood half open. Each looked at the other.

“I’m going ahead,” said Dave, resolutely. He and his companion had provided themselves with sticks, and Gus had also picked up two stones.

“Oh! oh! oh!” came of a sudden, to their startled ears. “Oh dear me!”

“It’s Nat!” ejaculated Dave. “Something has happened to him!”

“Maybe the wild man attacked him,” added Gus.

“We’ll soon see,” cried Dave, and started forward on a run.

Soon our hero was at the door of the cabin, which he pushed wide open. Inside all was dark, for it was growing late, and the rude structure boasted of but one small window, stuffed with cedar boughs to keep out the wind.

“Nat, where are you?” cried Dave, as his eyes sought to pierce the semi-darkness.

“Who – who is that calling me?” came, in surprise, from the center of the cabin.

“It is I – Dave Porter! Where are you, and what happened? Where is the wild man?”

“Oh, I’m caught fast – in a trap!” groaned the money-lender’s son. “Oh, help me out! My ankle is almost broken!”

“But the wild man – ?” queried Gus, who was close behind our hero.

“I – I don’t know where he is,” gasped Nat. “Oh, say, won’t you please help me? My ankle is fast in a trap! Oh, how it hurts!”

“Wasn’t the wild man here?” asked Dave, as he got out his match-box to strike a light.

“No – at least, I haven’t seen him.”

Dave soon had a match lit, and with it set fire to a cedar bough placed in the rude fireplace of the cabin. By the glare of this light he and Gus looked around them and at their fellow-student.

The cabin was unfurnished excepting for a rude bench and a board placed on some piles of stones for a table. In the fireplace were a kettle and a frying-pan, and on the table the remains of a scanty meal of crackers, eggs, and apples. A tin pail, half filled with water, was also handy.

When Dave and Gus turned their attention to Nat Poole they had to stare in wonder. Nat sat on the floor, nursing a bruised ankle that was caught fast between the jaws of an old-fashioned steel animal-trap. The trap was chained to the floor, and the release chain ran to a corner of the fireplace, several feet beyond the sufferer’s reach.

“However did this happen?” asked Gus, although he and our hero could easily guess the answer to the question.

“Help me get loose first,” groaned poor Nat. “This thing is sawing down to the bone.”

Dave saw the release chain, which was held firm by a hook. Stepping over, he unhooked it, and then it was an easy matter to pry the jaws of the steel-trap apart. As soon as this was done, Nat rose slowly to his feet, making a wry face as he did so.

“I’ll be lame for life – I know I will!” he groaned. “Oh dear, how it hurts!”

“You take care that you don’t get blood-poisoning from it,” warned Gus. “When you get home wash it well, and put some peroxide of hydrogen, or something like that on it.”

“Blood-poisoning! Oh dear!” and Nat gave another groan.

“Shall we help you back to your boat?” asked Dave.

“If you will.”

“Where is the wild man?” questioned Gus, looking around.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care – just now,” answered Nat Poole.

CHAPTER XIV
THE BANDANNA HANDKERCHIEF

Nat Poole could hardly walk on the injured leg, so Dave and Gus supported him as the three left the rude cabin and headed for the shore of the island.

“Do you know where the wild man is?” repeated Gus, who had not been satisfied by the reply given to the question before.

“I do not,” snapped the money-lender’s son, with a touch of his former tartness. “I haven’t seen him.”

“But you know that cabin is where he lives,” put in our hero.

“I thought so – but I wasn’t sure of it.”

“Did you see him come ashore, Nat?”

“No – that is, not to-day. I saw him land here yesterday.”

“And that is what brought you here to-day?” remarked Gus.

“Yes, if you must know,” was the somewhat cold answer.

“See here, Nat, do you know this wild man?” asked Dave, abruptly.

“Me? Know him? How should I know him?” demanded the money-lender’s son, but his apparent astonishment did not, somehow, ring nor look true.

“That is what I wanted to find out.”

“I don’t know him – at least, I don’t think I do. I’ve never seen him close enough to make sure. Maybe he’s some fellow who belongs around here. I wanted to find out about him – just as everybody else wants to find out, that’s all.”

“Want to have him caught and placed in an asylum?” asked Gus.

“It’s not my business to place him anywhere,” cried Nat, hastily. “For all we know, he may be harmless.”

“Not when he stops young ladies on the road and catches folks in steel-traps,” answered our hero, with a faint smile.

“Well, that’s right, too,” grumbled the money-lender’s son. “Maybe he ought to be in an asylum.”

“I think he is on this island now,” went on Dave. “His rowboat is here, anyway.”

“Say, I’ll tell you what we can do!” cried Gus. “Take his boat with us! Then he can’t get away, and we can send the authorities over here to get him.”

“That’s an idea, Gus!” cried Dave. “We’ll do it.”

“Would that be fair to the man?” asked Nat. “He – er – he might starve to death – or try to swim to shore and get drowned.”

“He can’t starve to death in one night, and I don’t think he’ll drown himself. The authorities can come over here early in the morning and round him up, if he is here.”

“I – er – I don’t think much of your plan,” murmured Nat, and seemed much disturbed.

In about a quarter of an hour the boys reached the island shore, at the spot where Nat’s motor-boat was tied up. They helped him get in and start up the engine. He had been told how they had come to the island.

“If you want to, you can tie your boat fast to the stern and ride back with me,” he said.

“All right, Nat, we’ll do it,” answered Dave. “It is getting rather late and it’s a pretty stiff row to the school.”

The motor-craft was started up and sent along in the direction where the boys had left the Oak Hall rowboat. Their course took them past the spot where the wild man’s boat had been tied up.

“Why, look, it’s gone!” cried Gus, standing up and pointing to the place.

“True enough,” answered our hero. “He must have gone off in it while we were up to the cabin.”

“He can’t be very far away, Dave.”

The boys looked up and down the river, but could catch no trace of the missing rowboat or the wild man. In the meantime, the motor-craft was moving forward, where the other boat had been beached among the bushes.

“That is gone, too!” ejaculated Dave. “He has taken our boat!”

“Oh, do you really think so?” asked Gus. He felt that he was responsible for the craft, as he had taken it from the school boathouse.

“I certainly do think so,” said Dave. “It was a neat trick to play.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t take the motor-boat, too.”

“Maybe he didn’t know how to run the boat and it was too heavy to start without the engine.”

“I guess you are right!” came suddenly from Nat. “Look here!”

He had stooped down to pick something up from the grating on the motor-boat’s bottom. If was a torn and dirty bandanna handkerchief.

“The wild man’s!” cried Dave. “I remember it.”

“I am glad he didn’t get away with my boat,” returned the money-lender’s son, drawing a deep breath. “I’ll keep this handkerchief to remember him by.”

“Is it marked in any way?” questioned our hero. “Perhaps it has his name or initials on it.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” returned Nat. “Let us hurry up and get back to the school. If we are late, old Haskers will be after us.”

“Go on and run the boat as fast as you please, Nat,” answered Dave. “But I want to look at that handkerchief.”

Rather unwillingly, the money-lender’s son passed the bandanna over. It was now growing so dark that Dave could see but little.

“Wait, I’ll light a match,” suggested Gus, and did so, and by the protected but flickering flare our hero looked the handkerchief over. In one corner there was a faint stamping.

“Looks like ‘Rossmore Sanitarium’ to me,” said Dave, slowly. “Or it may be ‘Bossmore’ or ‘Crossmore.’ The beginning is too faded to be sure.”

“Bossmore Sanitarium?” queried Nat, and then he became silent and thoughtful. A little later he asked for the bandanna and placed it in his pocket.

The run in the motor-boat to the school dock did not take long. As soon as Nat’s craft was properly housed, Dave and Gus assisted the money-lender’s son up the walk and across the campus.

“I suppose I’ve got to report the loss of the rowboat,” said Gus, ruefully.

“It wasn’t your fault, Gus,” answered Dave. “I’ll go with you to Doctor Clay.”

“I can’t go with my lame foot,” put in Nat, and he hobbled up to his dormitory, eyed by several curious students, who wanted to know how he had gotten hurt.

The boys found the master of Oak Hall getting ready for supper. He looked at them inquiringly as they entered his study, in answer to his invitation.

“Well! well!” he exclaimed, after listening to their story. “This is certainly odd! I trust Poole was not seriously hurt.”

“I think he was more scared than hurt,” answered Dave. “The trap scratched his ankle, that’s all. I am sure it is not sprained or broken.”

“But the rowboat–” put in Gus. “I didn’t mean–”

“Do not worry about that, Plum. It was not your fault. I am glad the wild man did not harm you. I think you got off well. After this you must be careful about how you go out after this remarkable creature.”

The master of the school then asked for more particulars of the occurrence, and said he would notify the town authorities about the loss of the rowboat, and ask that a general hunt take place for the wild man.

“They ought to be able to round him up sooner or later,” he added.

There was considerable excitement in the school when it was learned that the wild man had been heard of again. The boys looked for the strange individual and so did the town authorities and many farmers, but nothing came of the search. Nat was called on to exhibit the bandanna handkerchief and did so. Nobody could make out the first part of the name on it, for the handkerchief showed a small hole where the letters should be.

“That is queer,” said Dave, to Roger and Phil, when he heard of this. “That handkerchief did not have a hole there when I looked at it.”

“Maybe Nat put the hole there,” returned the senator’s son.

“Why would he do that?” questioned Phil.

“So that nobody would know what the name of the sanitarium really was. I believe with Dave that Nat knows the man, or knows about him, and is trying to keep something a secret.”

“Hum! Maybe you are right,” mused the shipowner’s son.

Phil had perfected all his arrangements for his spread at the hotel, and his guests for that occasion had been duly invited and all had accepted the invitation. It had been arranged with Mr. Dale that the boys should drive to the hotel in the school carryall, and Horsehair was to have his supper in town and, later on, bring them home. No secret was made of the affair, for this was not necessary.

“I am only sorry for one thing,” said Phil to Dave. “That is that I can’t have the whole school there. But that would go beyond my purse.”

“Well, you’ll have enough, Phil, to insure a good time,” answered our hero.

The night was clear, with numberless stars glittering in the heavens, when the carryall drove around to the Hall door and the boys piled in. All were in the best of humor, and they left the campus in a burst of song.

“I’ve been saving up for this!” cried Ben. “Haven’t eaten a mouthful for two days!”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” cried Shadow. “Once a poor street-boy was invited to a Sunday-school picnic. The ladies fed him all he could hold and then some. At last, when he couldn’t eat another mouthful, and saw some cake and pie and ice-cream going to waste, what do you suppose he said?”

“Give it up, Shadow.”

“He said, ‘Say, missus, please save it fer me, won’t yer? I won’t eat fer a week, honest, an’ then I’ll come an’ finish it all up fer yer!’”

“Good for the street-boy!”

“Say, Phil, you won’t have to save anything for me! I’ll eat my share right now!”

“I’ve been in training for this feed!”

“Shove the horses along, Horsehair; we don’t want the soup to get cold.”

“I’m a-shovin’ ’em along,” answered the carryall driver. “We’ll git there in plenty o’ time.”

“Say, Phil, as far as I am concerned, you can have this affair pulled off once a month,” remarked Buster.

“Make it once a week,” piped in Chip Macklin. And then Luke Watson commenced to sing a popular negro ditty and all joined lustily in the chorus.

On and on rattled the carryall until the lights of Oakdale shone in the distance. The boys continued to sing, while one or two blew freely on the tin horns they carried. Here and there somebody would come rushing to a window, or door, to learn what was doing.

“It’s them Oak Hall boys!” cried one old farmer. “My, but they do have high times!”

“So they do,” returned his wife. “But they are good boys,” she added, for some of them had once aided her in capturing a runaway bull.

With a grand flourish the carryall swept around the last corner and came to a halt in front of the hotel. Phil had hoped to see some extra lights lit and was somewhat disappointed to see only the regular lantern burning.

“I told him to light up freely and he said he would,” he whispered to Dave.

“Maybe he thought you meant the dining-room, Phil.”

The students piled out of the carryall and waited for Phil, as host, to lead the way into the hotel. All marched up the steps and into the broad hallway. There they were confronted by the hotel proprietor, who came to meet them in his shirtsleeves. He looked completely bewildered.

“Well, we are here for that supper, Mr. Sparr!” cried Phil. “I hope you are all ready for us!”

The hotel man looked at the boys in amazement. His jaw dropped. Then he gasped out the words:

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!”