"We must investigate this without delay."

"Over that way," answered Tom, pointing the direction out with his
hand. "Come, I think I saw a good way to go."

Then all of the party struck out to reach the landing-place without
delay. They felt that something unusual had occurred, but what, they
could not surmise.

CHAPTER IX

TWO YOUNG PRISONERS

Left to themselves. Fred Garrison and Songbird Powell hardly knew
what to do to pass away the time. With all of the others away the
spot where the gasoline launch had been tied up appeared to be
unusually lonely.

"I can tell you what, I shouldn't care to be caught all alone at
night in such a spot as this," said Fred, with something of a shiver.
"It is about as dismal as any place I've seen."

"Right you are," murmured Songbird and then continued:

"The lonely waters washed the lonely shore,
Where they had washed full many a moon before,
I listened pensively--not a sound
Was there to break the tomblike silence all around!"

"Great mackerel, Songbird!" cried Fred. "Don't go on like that. It's
enough to give a fellow the creeps!" But the would-be poet only
continued:

"I listened for a single bird,
But not a note my ear there heard,
I looked up in the calm, clear sky--"

"And nervous enough was I to fly!" finished Fred, and went on:
"Songbird, if you've got to make up poetry give us something cheerful.
Can't you make up something about--er--about circus clowns, or apple
pie, or--er--"

"Circus clowns or apple pie!" snorted the would-be poet, in deep
disgust. "Well, you are the limit, Fred Garrison. No, I can't make
up poetry about circus pie or apple clo--I mean apple clowns or
circus, pshaw, you know what I mean--"

"I didn't mention mixed pickles," observed Fred, demurely. "But if
you can mix--What's that?"

He stopped short and straightened up on the launch seat, and so did
Songbird. Both had heard voices at a distance.

"They must be coming back," said Songbird. "It didn't take them long."

They listened, and set up a call, but no answer came back. Then they
looked around searchingly.

"That's funny," murmured Fred.

"I don't think it's funny," was the low answer. "Something is wrong."

"Help! My foot is caught!" came presently, in a muffled voice. "Hello,
the launch! Help me somebody, quick!"

"Who is that calling?" asked Songbird.

"Somebody of our crowd and in trouble," answered Fred, and leaped
ashore with Songbird at his hee