Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island Part 14

"Are you coming?" he shouted when he felt that he had gone far enough.

"Hold up a second and I'll be with you. Good night, dad."

"Good night, Mr. Fulton," shouted Jerry in turn, then waited for Tod.

The journey to the Boy Scout camp was made in silence, for Jerry did not feel that he dared ask any more questions, and Tod volunteered no further explanation. Just outside the ring of light cast by the deserted camp fire, however, Jerry halted and asked:

"Thought what you'll tell _them?_"

"Why, no. Just what I told you, Jerry."

"You can't--unless you tell them more. They'd never be satisfied with _that_."

"I'm sorry, Jerry. I'd like to tell you the whole yarn, but--but you see how it is."

"I don't but I guess I can wait. Only I do think you ought to have something cooked up that would stop their questions. Will you leave it to me?"

"Surest thing you know. What'll you say?"

"That's my secret. You play up to my leads, that's all you've got to do. _h.e.l.lo_, bunch!" he shouted.

"Wow! Hooray! There he is!" came cries of delight from the darkness in the direction of the river, and a moment later the boys, who had been almost frantic with worry over the non-appearance of Jerry, came trooping up. When they found Tod with him, their joy was unbounded.

Their excited questions and exclamations of surprise gave Jerry a much-needed instant in which to collect his story-inventing wits. At last Phil quieted down his dancing mob and put the question Jerry had been awaiting:

"How did you do it?"

"That's the funny part of it. I didn't. Tod's dad came along and did it for me."

"I hope he beat up that old grouch----"

"Huh, you got another guess coming. They're old friends----yes," as a cry of unbelief went up, "that's why Tod was in no hurry to be rescued.

His name's Billings, and Mr. Fulton used to be in business with him. Is yet, isn't he, Tod?"

"Uhuh--I think so."

"Well, you may know there's fish around Lost Island. Billings is what I call a fish hog. He don't want anybody to know about the place--wants it all for himself. Tod drifts onto the island and the man can't very well throw _him_ off, half drowned as he is. Then, when he gets the water out of Tod, all but his brain, he finds it's the son of his partner, and he can't very well throw him off _then_. There's a girl on that mound out there, and she comes in with a string of the biggest fish you ever saw. You couldn't drive Tod off with a club after that.

After the fish, I mean, not the girl. He gets a message to his father, and makes his plans to stay there all summer, but dad comes down to-night and spoils his plans by dragging him off. He kind of thinks he doesn't want all the fish dragged out by the tails--he likes to hook a few big ones himself. I'd got out into the middle of the Plum when I heard the sound of prodigious weeping--it was Tod, saying a last farewell to the big fishes--and the little girl.

"So I swam back. And here he is and here I am, and we're both pledged not to go back on Lost Island."

"Righto!" cried Tod, in great relief, Jerry could plainly see. "And dad asked me to coax you chaps to keep away from old Billings--he's a regular bear, anyway. But to make up for that, to-morrow I'm going to take you to the swellest pickerel lake you ever laid eyes on."

"You mean _ba.s.s_ lake, don't you?" asked Jerry maliciously.

"Pickerel and ba.s.s," agreed Tod without an instant's hesitation. "Let's turn in; we want to make an early start."

It was late, however, before the camp was finally quiet, for someone started a story, and that brought on another and another, till half of the Scouts fell asleep sitting bolt upright.

But as one lone boy, the last awake, rolled near the fire in his borrowed blanket, he chuckled knowingly to himself and said:

"Foxy old Tod! Dad sure can 'trust' him. But I'm just going to be curious enough to block his little game so far as I'm concerned. _I'm_ going to stick around!"

CHAPTER XI

A MID-AIR MIRACLE

Jerry had a hard time next morning explaining just why he couldn't go along on the proposed fis.h.i.+ng trip. Tod was inclined to accept his excuses at face value, but Dave and Frank could not understand why Jerry should so suddenly about-face in his notions. Just the day before he had talked as if he was prepared to stay a week. But his promise of a speedy return--with his own fis.h.i.+ng tackle--finally silenced their grumblings, especially when he agreed to make their peace with two mothers who would be asking some pretty hard questions on their own return.

But Jerry was not to get away without taking part in an incident that almost provided a disagreeable end for the adventure. It was while they were all at breakfast. Tod had been giving a glorious account of the thrilling sport he had enjoyed on his last trip to the ba.s.s lake he promised to guide them to. Suddenly, in the midst of a sentence, he stopped dead. His jaw dropped. He positively gasped.

"_There she is!_"

Then his face became blank. After a hasty glance about the circle of astonished faces, he went on with his fish story. But he was not allowed to go far.

It was Phil, taking a cousin's rights, who put the sharp question.

"Is your mind wandering, or what? 'There she is!' Who is _she_--and where? We don't want to hear your old fish yarn anyway."

"I guess he's still thinking of that island girl," suggested Jerry, realizing that Tod had put himself into some kind of a hole, and wis.h.i.+ng to help his chum out. But Phil was not to be so easily satisfied.

"There's something mighty queer about this whole proposition. That yarn of yours last night, Jerry, didn't sit very easy on my pillow, and it doesn't rest very easy on my breakfast, either. What's the idea? What you trying to hide, you two?"

"Nothing," said Tod, and Jerry repeated the word.

"Nothing! You make me tired. Now, out with it. I swam across that creek last night in my clothes on account of you, and I figure you've got a right to tell me why."

"And I figure you've got a right to believe me when I told you why last night."

"You didn't. You left it to Jerry to cook up a story that would keep us from asking questions. And now you yell out, 'There she is!' and sit there gaping at the sky, with your mouth wide open as if you expected a crow to lay an egg on your tongue. What does it all mean?"

"It means I'm still capable of taking care of my own business!" snapped Tod.

"Oh--very well. After this I'll let you."

It was an uncomfortable group that sat about the rest of the breakfast, even after Tod had begged his cousin's pardon for ungrateful loss of temper, and Phil had said that it was "all right."

Jerry was afraid for awhile that the fis.h.i.+ng trip would be called off, but in the boisterous horseplay that went with the was.h.i.+ng of the scanty dishes, all differences were forgotten, especially when Phil, scuffling in friendly fas.h.i.+on, put Tod down on his back and pulled that squirming wrestler's nose till he shouted "Enough!"

It was with feelings of mingled amus.e.m.e.nt and relief that Jerry watched the noisy crowd pile into the two boats, the Scout boat and the _Big Four_, and paddle downstream, soon to be lost sight of behind Lost Island. His satisfaction was somewhat lessened by the fact that Phil had felt it necessary that one of their number remain behind to stand guard over the camp, but Jerry was sure that he would have no great trouble in keeping away from Frank Willis, trusting that "Budge" would live up to his reputation.

He began well, for hardly was the camp deserted before he went back to his blankets. "Now some folks like fis.h.i.+ng," he yawned, "and I do too when the fish don't bite too fast; but I like sleep. It's good for what ails you, and it's good if nothing ails you. Take it in regular doses or between meals--it always straightens you out."

Jerry did not argue with him. A few minutes later his regular breathing told the world at large and Jerry in particular that so far as one Budge was concerned the coast was clear.

As a matter of fact, Jerry did not feel that there would be anything to see until late in the afternoon at best. The conversation between Mr.