CHAPTER XXVII A HAUNTED BAY
As you have guessed, the plane heard by the Red Rover and Berley Todd wasDrew Lane's red racer. And Johnny Thompson was riding in the rearcockpit.
Drew had planned his trip well. They should have reached the islandbefore dark. But misfortune had befallen them. Forced down by a leakyfuel pipe, they had found themselves on the surface of a small lake inthe midst of a great forest where there was no one. After two hours oflabor with a few tools and scant material, they had managed to repair theleak. This delay had forced them to fly in the night, and here they wereapproaching an island known to them only by reports and by a map that layspread out before Drew in the cockpit.
Despite his meager knowledge, he did wonderfully well. Having arrived atthe east end of the island, he flew directly across it. Catching thegleams of light that came from three narrow bands of water, he knew themto be Rock Harbor, Tobin's Harbor and Duncan's Bay. Choosing the middleone of these, he dropped low to go scooting along less than two hundredfeet in air.
As he flew, the gleam of a powerful searchlight, attached to the plane,played upon the water.
Of a sudden that light shot upward, then blinked out.
"Found what he was looking for," Johnny Thompson told himself. "But whatwas it?"
To this question he could form no certain answer; perhaps a boat, a cabinor an airplane. In fact, Johnny was almost completely in the darkregarding the purpose and probable outcome of this, the latest of DrewLane's adventures.
When he had met the young detective he had said never a word. In silencethey had climbed into the plane and flown away. Who had kidnaped the RedRover and Berley Todd? Johnny did not know. Did Drew Lane know? Were thekidnapers on this island? Was the Red Rover? Was Berley Todd? The boy didnot know. All he knew was that he appeared to be right bang up againstone more exciting adventure, and that was enough.
Tipping the plane at a rakish angle, Drew Lane sent it over a narrowridge of land to drop at last upon a narrow stretch of black water. Thiswas Rock Harbor. The scout's cabin was not half a mile away. Hearing thedrum of a motor, he extinguished his light, then sprang to the door justin time to see the plane land.
"Hm!" he breathed. "More kidnapers, officers of the law, or just ordinaryfolks. I expected to have a dull time at this place, all by myself, butblamed if it ain't been exciting so far."
At that he buckled his one remaining "shootin' iron" about his waist anddisappeared into the night.
At that same hour a second plane, all silver and white, circled over astretch of water black as night, then, graceful as a sea gull, sank torest.
The body of water was Duncan's Bay. Two miles long, one quarter as wide,with trees growing to the very edge of its lapping waters and never somuch as an abandoned shack standing beside it, this bay at all seasons ofthe year is a dark and lonesome spot as night falls across the world.
Night was here. So too were the chill winds of November. But the singleoccupant of the plane appeared to give little heed to all this. Unfoldinga curious sort of collapsible rubber boat, he filled it with air, took ashort paddle from his fusilage, stepped into the rubber affair andpaddled ashore.
The spot upon which he landed had perhaps at one time been a barrenstretch of sand. Overgrown now with tangled grass and low bushes, itforms a perfect camping ground. Such it has been for countlessgenerations. From this spot ten thousand camp fires have sent theirgolden gleams across the black waters of Duncan's Bay. Each in turn hasfaded into the darkness of night. Had this strange visitor, a slenderperson in a long black coat, cared for such things, he might have dugbeneath his very feet and found there charcoal and half burned bones fromfires that had gleamed a hundred, perhaps two hundred years ago. For,since Isle Royale lifted its rocky head from out the deep and took on acap of green, this spot has been the camping place of man.
The stranger did not dig. He stood there long as if in silentcontemplation.
He might have fished, for in these very waters such great northern pikes(wolves of all fresh water seas) as are not found elsewhere play amongthe wavering weeds. Had he cared to wait for dawn, then had he put outacross the narrow bay to set a silver spoon gleaming through the blackwaters, he might have experienced such a thrill as is seldom accorded afisherman.
He did not wait for dawn. Instead, by the gleam of a small flashlight hestudied a slip of paper for a moment; then turning abruptly about, losthimself in the dense brush that lines the slope of a high ridge just backof this narrow clearing.
Duncan's Bay is separated from Tobin's Harbor--which, as you will recall,was the landing place of first the kidnapers' plane and after that DrewLane's red racer--by a tall and narrow ridge of rocks heavily overgrownwith brush.
A half hour after this tall person from the silver plane vanished fromthe camping grounds of Duncan's Bay, a strange apparition might have beenseen at the very crest of the ridge.
At this spot, known as Lookout Louise, one may stand at a point somehundreds of feet above the water level and look down upon the dark andsomber bay that lies below. On this particular night, viewed from thisheight, the silver plane seemed a giant sea gull with wings outspread.
But the apparition--he wore a long flowing robe of filmy white. As themoon came out to gleam upon him, his head appeared as white as his robe.And his body was bones, just gleaming white bones, or so it would haveseemed had some one been there to look. There was no one.
For one full moment he stood gazing down at the black waters and thesilver plane. Then, turning slowly about, he gave utterance to a low,hollow chuckle as weird as the song of the wind in the pines of achurchyard at midnight. Then, like the phantom he seemed, he dropped awayinto the shadows that lay above Tobin's Harbor where at that very momentthe fate of Drew Lane, Johnny Thompson and the kidnapers swunguncertainly in the balance. And even as this strange apparition vanished,he appeared to gallop.