Part 19 (2/2)
”He is a nice fellow,” Ruth declared, with more earnestness than there really seemed to be necessity for.
”I--de-clare!” murmured Helen. ”Really! Does the wind sit in that quarter?”
CHAPTER XVII
A DETERMINATION
However the wind might sit and whatever may have been her secret opinion of Ruth Fielding's interest in Chessleigh Copley, Helen suddenly became mute regarding that young man.
But, after a moment, she was not at all mute upon the subject of the King of the Pipes and what might be going on on the island where they believed the queer old man had his headquarters.
”If it should be smugglers over there--only fancy!” sighed Helen ecstatically. ”Diamonds and silks and lots of precious things! My, oh, my!”
”Better than pirates?” laughed Ruth.
”Consider!” cried her chum boldly. ”I said that island looked like a pirate's den from the start.”
”Your fore-sight-hind-sight is wonderful,” declared Ruth, shaking her head and making big eyes at her friend.
”Don't laugh--Oh! What's that?”
From over the water, and unmistakably from the rocky island on the summit of which the blasted beech stood--a prominent landmark--came the strange cry, ”co-ee! co-ee!” which they had heard before.
”Do you suppose that poor old man is calling for help?” hesitated Ruth.
”Your grandmother's aunt!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Helen, in disgust.
”We-ell that is even a more roundabout relations.h.i.+p than that between Aunt Alvirah Boggs and me. Poor old soul, she is n.o.body's relation, as she often says, but everybody's aunt.”
”There goes the signal again, and here comes that boat!” exclaimed Helen suddenly.
”What boat?” demanded Ruth, looking in the direction of the distant Canadian island, toward which the canoe, with Totantora and Wonota in it, had now disappeared.
”Turn around--do!” exclaimed Helen. ”This way. That is the same boat we saw going by some time ago. The boat with the yellow lady in it, as Wonota called her.”
”This is very strange,” murmured Ruth.
”But the yellow lady is not with those men now,” said Helen.
”I do not see any woman aboard,” admitted her friend.
The boat--going not so fast now--crossed their line of vision and finally rounded the end of the island on which the two chums believed the queer old man resided. At least, somebody had uttered the strange, shrill cry from that very spot.
”Oh, dear! If we were not marooned here!” grumbled Helen.
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