announced that the next number on the
program would be "everybody to bed at once", and there was no more
listening-in before the next morning.

Max stayed up late that night, with phones to his ears, eager to get
another message from the island, and he was a very much disappointed
enthusiast when at last he gave up his efforts, convinced that they were
useless. He slept late next morning and consequently lost an opportunity
to respond to Hal's first call to enlist the aid of the Rockport amateurs
in the campaign to rescue the missing "Crusoe".

But at last he caught a message from the island, and the conversation,
translated from code, that took place between him and Hal, following a
few introductory inconsequentials, was as follows:

"I listened-in last night and heard your arrangements for today," the
Canadian dot-and-dashed. "When are you coming to Rockport?"

"Two of us are on the way," Hal replied. "They ought to be there by
this time."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Yes. Can you go to the dock and ask them to hurry back? There are four
ugly acting men here on the island, who have ordered us off. They
threatened to make trouble for us if we do not go soon."

"Don't your friends know those men are there?"

"No; we discovered them after the boat left."

"All right, I will run down to the dock and tell them."

Max literally kept his promise relative to his manner of travel. He ran
all the way to the dock, half a mile. The Catwhisker was there, tied fast
with cables, but nobody was on board.

"They've gone to the depot," he concluded; then he turned his steps
toward the railroad station.

He ran and walked alternately, with a dozen changes of speed, and arrived
just as the train from the west was pulling in. He had no difficulty in
identifying Mr. Perry and Cub when they introduced themselves to Mr.
Baker, as the latter stepped from a coach, and a moment later he was
addressing the owner of the Catwhisker thus:

"Is this Mr. Perry of Oswego, New York?"

The latter turned quickly and beheld a youth about the age of his own
son, but of considerably shorter stature.

"It is," he replied somewhat apprehensively, in view of recent stirring
events and the logical probability of more of the same sort.

"Well, I have something important to tell you," Max continued. "I'm the
boy who gave you the radio compass information that made it possible for
you to find Friday Island."

"Gee! I'm glad to