ft enough food so we
could have some, I think."

"Hush! we had a good lunch," said Betty, "and there is no telling what
will happen before morning. Grace, you and Amy might make some hot
chocolate."

"Will you tell us your name now, or are you still afraid?" asked Betty
of the youth, who was eating ravenously. "The men called you--The
Loon--I believe it was."

"Yes, Miss, that's my name. You see I'm not quite right in the head. I
got hurt when I was a baby. I'm harmless, but I can't do much work--I'm
not strong. My name is Harry Jackson."

"And have you no home--no friends?"

"Not as I knows on, Miss, no. I had an uncle once, but he died. I live
around the camps--sometimes the men is good to me, and sometimes not."

He ate quickly, but daintily, and was not all uncouth. From time to time
he glanced about like some frightened animal.

"They calls me The Loon," he went on. "But I know some things. I know
more than they want me to."

"Do you think you could pilot this boat to Mr. Stonington's place?"
asked Mollie with much anxiety.

"Yes, Miss, I could. I know my way all around these waters. I can take
you there. But we ought to help him--help Tom and the other one. I
promised I'd come for you."

"Then tell us where Tom is--who has him--how did he come to send you for
us--who is 'the other one'?"

Betty questioned thus rapidly. The Loon passed his hand over his
forehead as though to brush away the cobwebs from his poor brain. Then
he said:

"The same men caught him, Miss."

"What same men?"

"The ones who were after me. There's a camp back there in the woods, and
they have him, and the other one, too. I started for help for him long
ago, but they got after me and took me back. Then they brought Tom in
this afternoon. He saw me and told me to come for you. They didn't see
him tell me. We've got to go to the rescue."

"I should say we had!" exclaimed Betty. "This is all very mysterious,
Harry." She could not bear to call him The Loon. "Can you tell us any
more about all this? Why did Tom go away?"

"That's it!" cried the queer youth. "That's what I've been trying to
remember. He told me to be sure and tell you that he didn't run away. He
saw you getting flowers, he said, and he went off in the woods a way to
look for some rare kind for you. He didn't mean to go so far. Then the
men caught him, and took him away before he could warn you. That's what
he wanted me to be sure and tell you. Now I've remember