It would seem that Red Rodgers' reasons for wishing to rejoin his teamwere all that one might ask; yet at the very moment he stood theretalking with the chubby lighthouse keeper, Drew Lane was telling JohnnyThompson of reasons that to him seemed tremendously important. Thesereasons had to do with the cause of the kidnaping. Who would not findthis a subject of absorbing interest?
Drew Lane possessed an all but superhuman power of finding his way aboutin the dark. Though he had never before seen Isle Royale, he not only wasable to land safely in the channel known as Rock Harbor, but once ashore,he experienced little difficulty in making his way across the ridge tothe other channel that lay on the opposite side.
"This," he said to Johnny as they at last came out upon a short boatlanding, "is Tobin's Harbor. At the back of this harbor the powerfulamphibian that carried the Red Rover to Isle Royale lies at anchor. Thusfar we are in luck. If the Red Rover is still in their midst we shall bein greater luck. And if we succeed in rescuing him without having ourmuch treasured heads blown off, ours will be the greatest luck in all theworld."
"But whose plane is that amphibian?" Johnny could no longer suppress aquestion.
"You have a right to know." Drew Lane's tone was serious. "It's quite astory. We have some distance to go. Here's a boat beside the landing.Probably chained up, but we'll break her loose. Suppose we get her off?Then you can row while I talk."
"O.K. Let's go."
The padlock that held the boat was a cheap one. Two knocks with a rockopened it as though it were a clam shell.
Ed, the scout, crouching with his dog at the top of the ridge, heardthose blows, but wisdom counseled no interference.
Only when the boat was gone did he descend the hill. After skirting theshore for a short distance, he proceeded to drag a light canoe from thecenter of a clump of bushes where it stood on end, safely concealed. Inthis, by cutting off at an angle, he was able to keep Drew Lane andJohnny Thompson within striking distance without himself being observed.Did he mean to strike? Perhaps he could not have answered this questionhimself.
"It's a curious business." Drew spoke in low tones, as Johnny with long,strong strokes drove the light rowboat along. "If you hadn't been in onit perhaps we would have gotten nowhere. You had all the luck."
"I?" Johnny lost a stroke.
"Luck no end!" Drew rumbled. "Remember the jimmy bar? The invisiblefootprint? The shavings? Sure you do. They were red hot clues that led usstraight to the spot."
"Then--then it was Angelo, the--the flower shop keeper?" Johnny lost twostrokes.
"It was Angelo."
For a time after that there was silence. This silence was broken byJohnny. His voice was husky. "I only feel bad for the boy, young Angelo.He is a fine young chap. And he has had everything--big car, speedboat--going to college. Everything. And now--"
"Now his father is going to be broke. We are here to arrange all that. Wemust not fail. To-night Angelo Piccalo is rich. He believes he is safe,that his riches are safe. To-morrow night at this hour, if our plans workout, he will be broke, broke and in prison.
"Too many times--" Drew's voice was tense with pent-up emotion. "Too manytimes we go out and get a rich crook and he is able to buy his freedom,by corrupting a judge or a jury with the very money he stole from honestmen. This time there shall be no chance for this; not a chance. We--
"Look!" His voice suddenly fell to a hoarse whisper. "Look! Over yonderis the light of a camp fire. Must be their camp, the kidnapers' camp.
"Here!" Drew bent over, then straightened up to thrust a thing of coldsteel into Johnny's hand. "Put this in your pocket. And this."
Johnny obeyed.
"Don't use 'em unless you have to." The young detective's tone was lowand tense. "But if you have to, shoot often and straight. It's a toughbunch. Don't know how many, but plenty, I'm afraid.
"As for the boy, Angelo," his tone changed, "don't worry too much abouthim. He'll have to get along without his car and speed boat all right.But then there are plenty of people who'll tell you big cars and speedboats do a boy more harm than good. Gives them false notions of life;that's what they'd tell you. I don't know much about that. An old policeflivver with, like as not, a share of bullets waiting at the end of theroad--that's as far as I ever got.
"But one thing I _do_ know." He sat up straight and stiff. "Crookeddollars never did any one any real good. And every dollar Angelo Piccalospent on that boy was crooked. Flowers! That flower shop was only ablind."
"It seems strange," Johnny mused, pulling hard at the oars. "Angelo is anartist at heart. He can make flowers talk. He loves music, and the bestin pictures. Why should such a man be a crook?"
"A man's love of honesty has--
"Look, Johnny! Swing a little more to the left. We'll keep well out. Thenwhen we've passed their camp we'll swing in. They're in a sort ofclearing. Trees beyond them. Plenty of chance to slip up. They'll not seeus out here on the water. The moon is low yet."
Again for a time there was silence, such silence as one finds only on acalm bay of Isle Royale at night. Now came from afar the sharpyip-yip-yip of a bush wolf. And now, from the opposite shore of the baythey caught the faint plash-plash of a moose swimming along the shore. Orwas it a boat? Johnny's heart skipped a beat.
"Can't see us. Works both ways. We can't see them. Might slip up on us.Then--"
"This artist business," Drew broke in with a hoarse whisper. "Curiousthing. A man can be a fine musician or a painter, and still be a crook.They've got some fine artists in Sing Sing. Art and conscience have noconnection, it seems. The only thing that saves a fellow from being acrook is a desire deep down in his heart to be honest, to do right by allmen."
Drew lapsed into silence. There were many things Johnny wished to know.How was it that Drew felt so sure he was on the right track? What freshevidence had he uncovered? How much had his own discoveries helped tobring things about? But this, he knew, was no time for questions. Theywere nearing a camp. Was it the enemies' camp? Who could doubt it? Thebig amphibian could not be a quarter of a mile from that camp.
So in that silence, broken only by the cries of wild things in the night,he rowed on.
And after them, in utter silence, there came a canoe.