ious evening had given way to a mild and sunny day,
the breeze was still brisk and the sea was choppy. The canoe bobbed
up and down on the short waves, and Hugh was rolled from one side to
the other or bounced roughly with every motion of the light craft.
He felt sick and sore, his head ached miserably, and though he had
had no breakfast, the very thought of food was repugnant to him.

On the island, he mused, his friends would have discovered his
discarded garments by this time, and would be calling and hallooing
to him---in vain. What would they think of his prolonged absence?
That he had been drowned, or attacked by sharks, or lost in a
quicksand?---what on earth would they imagine had happened to him?
And Billy? Poor Billy, he would be quite frantic over the strange
disappearance of his chum! The actual state of affairs would be
about the last guess to enter their minds.

Well, it could not be helped now. He would have to bide his time and
await developments, trusting that his friends would not delay their
coming to the rescue. Meanwhile, where were these three villains
taking him against his will?

After dodging from one island or key to another, slipping along the
shady shores, the canoe suddenly struck out across the wider stretch
of water, beyond which lay the mainland. Presently it thrust its
nose into the soft bank of a stream, or, rather, a sluggish
water-course which made a clear channel in an ocean of waving
saw-grass. The men shipped their paddles, stepped out, and lifted
Hugh to his feet; then they dragged him ashore.

He was able now to look about him, to see where they had landed.

A desolate spot it was, being merely an indentation in the swampy
coast, a deep cove formed by two projecting arms of land which
boasted of no vegetation except the tall grass and a group of
stunted palmettos. Into this cove flowed a stream, and at a little
distance from the mouth of the stream stood three log cabins,
thatched with bundles of grass. They were all that remained of
a little camp of fishermen and beach-combers, which had once shown
promise of becoming a village before it had been finally abandoned
to the wilderness.

From the stove-pipe chimney of one of these cabins, the largest, a
thin spiral of blue smoke rose and drifted away on the breeze. This
was the only sign of human occupancy. The other two dilapidated
buildings might readily be imagined to shelter only spiders and
snakes. Toward t