not going to bother
investigating it, till we saw the smoke."

About an hour later the boys landed once more in camp, where their
reception by the others may be well imagined by my young readers.

"And now comes the final chapter in the career of Messrs. Jack Curtiss
and Bill Bender," said Rob decisively, "I'm going to take a run up to
Hampton. Joe, you'll come along, and you, Merritt, and Tubby. If that
letter was delivered, as I imagine it was, Joe's parents must be in a
terrible state of anxiety by now and we must hurry up and see them at
once."

"Right," agreed Merritt, and a few moments later, having left the
captain and the others ashore, the Boy Scouts and their young leader
were speeding toward Hampton. With the craft lightened as she was,
they made good time and arrived at the yacht club pier speedily.

News of the events which had transpired at the island had evidently
reached the town, for Mr. Wingate himself, with Mr. Blake and Merritt's
father were at the landing as the Flying Fish glided up to it.

The three elders were almost as enthusiastic as the boys had been over
the safe recovery of Joe, the details attendant on which Rob rapidly
sketched to them. He had hardly concluded and had not had time to ask
how they knew of the kidnapping when a wild-eyed man in faded old farm
clothes, accompanied by an equally distracted woman, came rushing down
to the wharf.

"Where's them Boy Scouts? I allers knew no good would come of my son
joining 'em," the man shouted. "I'll give a hundred dollars fer a boat
that'll take me ter Topsail Island in ten minutes."

"'No need of that, Mr. Digby," said Rob quietly stepping forward with
his hand on Joe's shoulder, "here is Joe safe and sound."

"Great hopping watermelons!" yelled the farmer, rushing at his son
followed by his wife. Together the worthy souls almost squashed the
small lad like a butterfly under a harrow. But at last the first
greetings were over and the farmer turned to the somewhat amused group
of boys and men who were looking on.

"My, what a fright we had," exclaimed Mrs. Digby, a motherly-looking
woman, dabbing at her eyes with capacious pocket handkerchief, "we gets
a letter tellin' us that our boy be kidnapped."

"Yes we know all about that, Mrs. Digby," put in Mr. Blake, "you
recollect your husband telephoned to the chief of police here about it,
and expecting news from the island, we came down here."

"So he did, so he did," cried Mr