ly their crowns to show a few inches above
the rail as they peered over. They held themselves ready at the same time
to duck into complete invisibility.

"The cove is in sight," announced Noxon, slightly turning his head.
"Better keep down."

A few minutes later they felt the change in the course of the launch.
They were entering the inlet and the officers raised their heads barely
enough to peer alongside of the steersman, over the front and beyond the
flagstaff with its fluttering bunting.

"There it is!" whispered Calvert to his friend.

"I see it," said the other, "the Beautiful Isle of Somewhere; we are
closer to it than I supposed."

CHAPTER XXX

A THROUGH TICKET TO HOME

There it was in plain sight, rising like a giant nosegay of emerald from
the crystalline water. It was barely two acres in extent, and, like
nearly all islands great and small in southern Maine, the firs, pines and
spruce grew to the very edge of the water. It reminded one of the patches
of green earth in Europe where the frugal owners do not allow a square
inch to go to waste.

"I don't see anything of the _Deerfoot_," said Calvert in a guarded voice
to Noxon.

"We always lay to on the other side. Keep down!"

It was wise advice, though not needed. The two crouched so low in their
crowded quarters that a person a hundred feet away would not have seen
them. Each instinctively felt of his hip pocket. The little weapon was
there.

The officers had now to depend upon Noxon, who for the time was director
of the enterprise. He could make himself heard over his shoulder without
drawing attention to himself, provided he was under the eye of his old
associates. He was never more alert.

Veering to the right, where there was a hundred yards of clear water
between the islet and the mainland, he slowed down and began gradually
circling the exuberant patch of earth. It will be remembered that he had
been there before and knew the habits of Woodford and Miller. By and by,
he had glided far enough to bring the western shore into his field of
vision. Before that moment he had discerned the stern and flagstaff of a
launch. A second glance told him the truth, which he cautiously made
known to the crouching forms behind him:

"The _Deerfoot_ is there! Don't stir till I give the word!"

Neither of the criminals was in sight, but it was evident they were near,
else the launch would not be lying where it was. Noxon gave a series of
toots wi