The Island Camp
Date: 2019-11-04T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Islands -- Juvenile fiction; Camping -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction; Mystery fiction

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Island Camp

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Title: The Island Camp

Author: Ethel Talbot

Release date: November 4, 2019 [eBook #59705]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Al Haines

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLAND CAMP ***

Cover art

THE ISLAND CAMP

BY

ETHEL TALBOT

LONDON
THE SHELDON PRESS
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, W.C.
NEW YORK AND TORONTO : THE MACMILLAN Co.

Printed in Great Britain.

CHAPTER I

"It'll be an awfully long day," said Robin.

"Yes," said Peter and Jan.

"We'd better do something then," said Robin.

"Yes," said Peter and Jan again.

But it was difficult to know exactly what to do! For to-day was the day on which the Lennox cousins were to arrive—Dick and Donald, who had been invited to spend the last weeks of the holidays with the Vaughans. The Vaughans had been looking forward to this day immensely, but now it had come at last they felt that they could hardly get through the hours before their visitors would actually arrive. There would be "tons of things," as Peter said, "to do then," but there seemed nothing to do to-day.

"Let's go over to the Island," said Robin at last.

The island lay in the middle of the river that flowed at the bottom of the Vaughans' garden; it was only the work of a few minutes to pull across to the wooded little place where Brown the gardener had his cottage, but where, otherwise, the birds had it pretty much to themselves, as Jan said.

For the Vaughans were tremendously hard workers; Robin was entered for his first real exam.; Peter and Jan were each head of their forms at their respective schools, and "meant to keep head." Thus the Island certainly was left to the birds except in the holidays; but—a holiday camp was to be one of the tremendous pleasures ahead when the Lennoxes came.

"For they're Scouts, you see, like us, so they're sure to be keen," Robin had said, in appealing to his mother.

"It'll be such awfully good practice," Peter had gone on.

"And, as I'm a Guide——!" Jan had begun.

Mrs. Vaughan had laughed; she was a "jolly good mother for Scouts and Guides to have," as the boys and girls declared, because "she never fussed." She trusted them and left them to themselves, so that they might learn "self-reliance," as she told them. After she had laughed, however, on this occasion she shook her head. "I have no objection to your camping out for a night or two," she said. "After all, Robin camped with his troop last year, and the holiday won't have done much for him if he can't captain the rest of you over on the Island, but——"

"Oh, Mother!" said Jan, who guessed what was coming.

"Yes, I won't have Jan sleeping out of doors. Pneumonia two years ago, you remember, Jan? Or perhaps you don't,—you were too small; but—I do! No, Jan may choose either to sleep at home and join the boys by day, or—" Mrs. Vaughan wrinkled her brow—"perhaps Gardener's wife, Mrs. Brown, has a spare room. Yes, of course she has. Now, Jan, would you feel more on the spot and more of a regular camper if I could arrange for you to sleep in the Island Cottage?" "Oh, yes." Jan's eyes sparkled with delight.

"And the Lennox boys are Scouts too, so they'll be willing enough, I've no doubt," went on Mrs. Vaughan. "In fact I mentioned something of the plan to your aunt, and she seemed very pleased. Well, I think it can be arranged, but—it would be well to wait for really settled weather, wouldn't it?"

"The wind's in a good quarter now," Peter had said.

That had been yesterday, and the Lennoxes were coming in a few hours. It had been decided, though, that for a day or two the newcomers should sleep at the Chase and be introduced to the interests that the house and garden afforded. "You must remember," as Mrs. Vaughan told the children, "everything will be new and interesting to them. It is the first time they have been to the Chase, and the house will mean a good deal to them as belonging to their mother's family for so many generations. They may not want to camp out just at once, and——"

"It's queer, isn't it?" said Peter to the others as they made their way over to the Island, "to think that they've never yet seen the house, though Father is their uncle, and everything!"

"That's because they've always lived so far north," said Robin, "though it isn't as though the Chase is as it used to be, then—in the old days I mean. They'll understand that, though; they must have heard——" he sighed. "It must have been rippingly jolly," he said, "to live here in the old days."

"It is—now," said Jan loyally; but she and Peter knew what Robin meant. For the Chase had been the home of the Vaughan family for generations; it was an old rambling place standing in large grounds, but, ever since the children could remember, most of the house had been shut up and empty. Stories of the old days when their father and his sister had been young—before the change of fortunes had come which had made everything so different—were interesting to hear, if a little strange to understand.

"I often wonder," said Jan, when they were making their way across to the Island for another look at the camping ground on which they had fixed, "exactly what the mystery was."

"I do, too. But Dad never told us. When War's over, and he's back, perhaps he will. We'll be older," said Robin. "It's—a family secret, something to do with something that happened. It killed Grandfather, I believe. He died of a broken heart, or something. There was lots of money to pay, too, and—the Chase has been pretty nearly all shut up ever since, but——"

"I think it's strange," said Jan, "and I think it'd be better to tell us. We might help, you know. Oh, of course I know we all work frightfully hard at school because we're to bring back the family fortunes, but there are things I want to know about. There's a gap in the gallery where a picture's been taken down,—in between the portraits of Dad and Aunt Agnes when they were children,—Mother wouldn't tell me why. Not that I'd ask again, but——"

"Perhaps the Lennoxes will know," suggested Peter.

"If they do, I'm not sure that we ought ——" Robin was beginning when the sound of a horn was heard. It was Mrs. Vaughan's signal to the children when they were on the Island that they were wanted at once at home. At its sound the three turned their steps back to the boat, and in a few minutes Robin and Peter were pulling across. "Oh, my dears," said their Mother, standing on the opposite bank, her face quite pale with anxiety, "such an unexpected thing has happened!"

CHAPTER II

"Whatever is it, mother?" asked Robin anxiously.

For Mrs. Vaughan's face was quite pale with worry as she stood on the bank while they rowed towards her. "Don't pull right in," she said. "Though I suppose it doesn't matter out of doors. It's—— Better not, perhaps, under the circumstances. Stay there—on the water, and I'll talk to you from here."

"Why! What—ever——!" The eyes of the three grew large and round. Then an awful idea struck Peter. "Mother, you don't mean to say that anything's happened. You talk as though we'd got the Plague! Whatever is it?" He racked his brain to think of some possible horror. "Well, it isn't that the Lennoxes have wired to say that they can't come, for, if so——!"

"It's—worse." Mrs. Vaughan laughed ruefully. "One of them has arrived. It's—Dick; but—oh, he's covered with spots! Came out in the train, so he says; and, poor boy, he's feeling pretty bad, I think. It's certain to be something infectious, particularly as Donald—so Dick says—has been kept at home for a day or two, because this morning he woke up with a terrible headache, and wasn't well enough to travel."

"Measles! Well, we've had them!" said

Robin hopefully.

"So have they. I greatly fear that it's scarlet fever. The poor boy is terribly annoyed with himself for coming, but how could they think of such a thing as scarlet fever? No; I pity his mother—so far away—as much as I pity myself. I've sent for Dr. Greig, and, in the meantime, you had better all three stay over on the Island for tea. Get Gardener's wife to give you some, and explain to her. I'm so sorry, dears, that all this has just happened when you had planned such a happy time."

"Sorry for us! It's you—and Dick, of course," said Robin. "Cheero, mother; let us help. Scouts know all about First Aid!"

"So do Guides," added Jan quickly.

"First Aid is not needed for scarlet fever. None of you have had it, you know; and there's your exam. ahead, Robin. You can't run risks. No, I only called you to tell you; for you must keep out of the way till the Doctor's told me definitely what it is. I'll blow the horn again as soon as I've news." Their mother waved her hand and was gone.

"Wheww!" said Robin; and they rowed in silence to the other side of the water. In an instant their castle of hopes was in bits, and their holiday seemed spoilt. "If I wasn't a Scout I'd feel inclined to—jolly well——!" Peter vented his feelings in kicking up a huge clod of turf as he stepped ashore.

"And if I wasn't a Guide, I'd——" Jan's voice sounded pretty near to tears.

"No cousins—or as bad as none; perhaps worse, for Mother'll be worked to death," continued Peter; "all our ripping preparations spoilt! No camp——!"

"Steady on!" called Robin; he could have grumbled a bit himself, easily enough, but he wasn't going to. He had been thinking hard instead, and he broke out suddenly: "I've got an idea. No, I won't say what it is till I know if it's needed. Don't give up hopes of the camp yet, and let's go meanwhile and ask Brownie about tea."

The gardener's house, to which they turned their steps rather dejectedly, was a very old stone cottage, as old as the Chase itself. It had been used for generations as the home of one or other of the keepers, having been built in a convenient place, so it was said, for the operations of possible river-poachers to be watched. Old Brown the gardener, though he had been in the service of the family all his life, had only lived in the cottage for about fifteen years. With the fall of the family fortunes the outdoor as well as the indoor staff of the Chase had been reduced, and at present he was a regular handy-man, the only man, indeed, about the place. His wife welcomed the three comfortably enough; and under the soothing influence of Brownie's scones and home-made jam their spirits began to rise. By the time the "third cup" stage was reached they were able at last to unburden themselves to their kind-hearted listener.

"We'd expected such lots of fun when the Lennoxes came," said Peter.

"Sure, my dear," said Brownie, nodding commiseratingly.

"They're sure to be jolly, you see, being relations!" said Jan ingenuously; "and besides"—heedless of a warning touch from Robin, who didn't believe in talking over family matters, she went on confidingly—"we somehow hoped they might know what the mystery is. You know, Brownie, at least, but I don't suppose you've ever thought about it——"

"Have you?" asked Peter suddenly, as the old woman did not answer, but rose busily to poke the fire.

"Sure, my dear, and having been in service at the House before ever I married Brown——" began the old body a little confusedly.

"I say," Robin broke in, "look here, Jan and Peter. And, Brownie, I'm not sure——"

"There's the horn!" interrupted Peter suddenly. The clear sound came faintly over the water.

"Aye, the horn it is, sure enough," said Brownie in a relieved voice, "and hadn't you better be going to see?"

But she spoke to an empty kitchen: the three were gone. Down to the water's side they raced, and were just pushing off when their mother began to call to them. "You needn't come over; I can speak from here. Yes, it is what I feared. Dr. Greig says there's no mistake about it. And Donald says that there was a case in his form at school. Now, what I'm to do with you I don't know."

"Mother," began Robin, "listen; I know a tremendously good way out of the difficulty."

"What is it?" inquired Mrs. Vaughan.

"It's nothing more nor less than the camp!" said Robin; "and, if you'll stay there for an instant, I'll row over and tell you what I mean."

CHAPTER III

"It's like this," said Robin, as he hung over the side of the boat, "at first I thought we couldn't do anything, but we can. It's stupid to suggest that we should come and nurse Dick, because we'd be sure to catch it, and give miles more trouble. Even if we don't nurse him, there'll be the chance of infection. So—suppose we stay here!"

"My dear boy," began Mrs. Vaughan, "but——"

"Don't 'but,' Mother; do listen. We were to have a camp, weren't we? Well, let's begin at once. I suppose Dick and his spots are now in the bedroom leading out of Peter's and mine, so it's jolly likely——"

"Yes," Mrs. Vaughan nodded her head. "I put him there before I had realised——. Then, as he had infected the place, I thought he'd better stay. I meant to move him to one of the unoccupied rooms, but so far I haven't managed it, and——"

"Well then, think of my idea. If we move into the house we'll be in quarantine when term begins. No one—not even school—could say we've been near infection if we stay here. There's Brown's house, too, if——"

Mrs. Vaughan's face was beginning to clear: "You'd promise not to sleep out if it were wet? I'm sure Brownie would arrange for Jan, and anything you might want. Well, Robin—I'm not so sure that your plan isn't a good one after all. And, if it does work, it will be a decided help to me."

"Hurray!" shouted Robin. "Hurray!" shouted the other two. This was Robin's plan, was it? they thought; well, it was a jolly good one. Peter waved an oar in the air.

"Listen though," said their mother anxiously, "for if I am going to allow it, I have any amount to say first."

But in half an hour every single thing was arranged. Jan, despatched to fetch Brownie, appeared in due course with the old woman, who seemed as "adaptable as a jolly old glove," as Peter said, hugging her. She was delighted to provide the campers with food and anything that they might need, and was overjoyed that there was a possibility of "Miss Jan" staying at the cottage. "And in bad weather, the young gentlemen too! Yes, ma'am, to be sure," said Brownie. "But—" her voice sounded a little fearful and dubious as she spoke—"there's only the attic, ma'am, with the sloping roof; they wouldn't be fr——"

"Of course not." Mrs. Vaughan's voice sounded almost impatient; she broke off hastily, and Brownie said no more. "Really, Robin," declared his mother, with a change of tone, "I don't know what I should do without you. It seems a very good plan. Now, if only the weather——"

"Wind's in the right quarter," said Peter, with sparkling eyes.

"And—you'll blow your horn every day after breakfast, Mother," begged Jan, "and come and talk to us, won't you? We won't come to the house at all, but we'll send letters by Brown."

"Very well, good-bye till to-morrow." Mrs. Vaughan turned, looking greatly relieved.

"Good luck to Dick; and take care of yourself, Mother," shouted the three as she disappeared, waving her hand at the bend of the path.

"And now, what are we to do?" inquired Peter of his older brother.

"I'll jolly well show you that, old chap," said Robin. "We've got to pitch a camp, and that pretty quickly too, for arrangements have taken time. It's fortunate that we decided on the site; but we've got to make our sleeping-place, you know."

"Better sleep to-night in the large attic, Master Robin, perhaps," suggested Brownie, but she looked relieved at the boys' emphatic refusal of her offer. The attic wanted clearing out; no one had slept there since the Browns took possession, and it was a veritable ark of lumber. "And I've Miss Jan's room to get ready," thought the old woman.

Jan herself was only too eager to help the boys in their preparations; a camper she intended to be from morn till eve; only for the nights would she condescend to the shelter of a roof. Guide as she was, too, her services proved invaluable; with the boys she collected fuel for the fire as to the manner born; dry bark and chips were collected for kindling purposes, and larger pieces of dead wood for the blaze later on. The sun was not strong enough at that time in the afternoon for the fire to be lighted by the help of the burning-glass that Robin always carried, but a single match sufficed in his practised hands; then, when the flame was safely spluttering, he left the fire to the tender mercies of his sister, and the two boys turned their attention to the preparation of a sleeping-place.

"It's miles too late to get through with a real hut," said Robin. "We're likely to be on this Island for a while, and we might spend some of our time in building a real good one. What do you say to working up for our Pioneer Badge while we're here, Peter? Good idea, don't you think?"

Peter nodded; he was rather unusually silent, and was evidently thinking something out.

"For to-night we'd better see about a temporary shelter"—Robin was busily engaged in pulling armfuls of bracken as he spoke; "there's a likely tree-trunk over there, and we might lay one of our staves against that fork that comes some way up the trunk. We'll need a jolly lot of bracken to thatch it across, so you and Jan had better both come along here and pull some. It'll be better than sleeping in the attic to spend the night under the stars."

Peter nodded again; then he spoke. "About that attic, Robin," he said, "didn't you twig from the way Brownie spoke, that there is something mysterious about the place?"

CHAPTER IV

"I never knew such a chap as you for getting ideas into your head," said Robin. "Mysterious! Why? you've got mysteries on the brain, it seems to me!"

"Be prepared!" quoted Peter with twinkling eyes.

"Oh, all serene; but 'be prepared' for to-night too, if you've no objection," the old campaigner spoke dryly. "You don't exactly want to get a chill before morning, do you, and be compelled to sleep at the Cottage till the end of the camp?"

This idea struck Peter as sound; he fell to, therefore, with a will. Jan came along, too, having first set one of the boys' dixies on the now blazing camp-fire. "Suppose you'll want your supper after this, won't you?" she asked.

"Rather, I should say so," but the two boys were too busy to talk much. Already the night shelter was beginning to look quite professional. One of the scout-staves was laid against and bound to the trunk of a straight young tree; the framework thus formed was thatched very closely with leafy boughs and bracken, and the whole bivouac was complete.

"It's simply perfect," remarked Jan, surveying the results of their labours with glowing eyes.

"And perfectly simple," added Peter; but Robin, as Captain of the campers, was anxious to set them both to work again as soon as possible.

"We've got the temporary shelter pitched all right," he said, "with its back away from the wind; but we'll want a trench dug all round it. Suppose there's heavy rain in the night, and we get flooded out! Not that I think there will be, but we'll be prepared."

"Now I see why you would have the camp on a slope, old chap," said Peter, coming up. "The trench will carry the water straight down to the river. Jolly neat idea."

The digging of the small ditch took the rest of the boys' energies; about three inches deep they made it. Meanwhile Jan installed herself as camp-cook, and began preparations for the first meal of all. After a flying visit to Island Cottage she returned with a saucepan, a jug of milk, and a loaf of bread, as well as three new-laid eggs. The milk was boiled in the saucepan, and the eggs were cooked in the dixie of hot water. Jan was trying her best to make three slices of rather smoky toast, and burning her cheeks badly in the endeavour, when the boys—their labours over for a time—approached the camp-fire.

Suppers are nearly always welcome; but this particular supper was voted the rippingest on record. And, afterwards, as the day slowly faded to dusk, the three sat in the firelight saying very little but enjoying, every one of them, the magic of the late summer evening in their own particular way. The spell was broken at last by a little shiver from Jan, and Robin jumped up. "Here, it's time we fetched a rug or two, Peter, from the Cottage. And, Jan, Brownie will have your room ready by this time. We will take you home, and then we'll turn in ourselves."

Mrs. Brown was on the look-out for the three. "I've got Miss Jan's room ready," she announced, "but I suppose you young gentlemen are sleeping out? What with the lumber in that attic, my dears, I've not——!"

"It's all right, Brownie, we've just come for blankets," the boys assured her. "We'll help to turn out the attic ourselves on the first wet day. Don't worry about that, and thank you for the milk and eggs and things; they made a ripping supper, and they'll make a ripping breakfast too. But from then we'll be self-supporting. We can row over to the other side of the river for what things we need, and we'll be about, you know, if you want any odd jobs done." The boys, armed with a rug apiece, shouted a cheery good-night and were off again campwards, while Jan followed her hostess into the bedroom that had been prepared for her.

She went to the window when she was ready for bed and looked out; at first it seemed quite dark outside, but the moon was shining on the river between the Island and the Chase garden, and a bridge of moonlight seemed to span the water. Suddenly another light appeared too, a steady light from one of the windows of the Chase. "It's Mother, I expect," thought Jan sleepily. "She's lighted it for us to see. I wonder if the boys see it too. And I wonder if Mother——" she jumped into bed and curled herself up in the big old-fashioned feather mattress, and was asleep in a twinkling.

The boys were fast asleep already too. It hadn't taken long to cover the fire with ashes, and to collect a few logs in case a midnight stoking was required. Then they rolled themselves in their rugs and turned over, their feet towards the fire. Hours and hours seemed to have passed when Robin was suddenly awakened. "I say, old chap," said Peter's voice.

"What's wrong?" asked Robin sleepily; it was quite dark—for the moon had set early—perhaps the darkest part of the summer night.

"Don't you hear rather a peculiar noise?" inquired Peter.

"No! What sort?" Robin raised himself on his elbow to listen.

"A sort of thumping." Peter sat up too. "No, it's gone again. But it was quite loud—it woke me, and I thought——"

"You've been dreaming, old chap," said Robin sleepily; "it's nothing at all." He closed his eyes as he spoke and drew a deep breath, and after a minute or two his younger brother followed his example. "Suppose it must have been a dream," he muttered as he drifted off, "but——" There was a snore—Peter, too, was fast asleep.

CHAPTER V

Both boys seemed to waken at the same instant next morning. The birds were singing all round them; the light was dancing on the river; the Chase stood out before them framed in a cloudless blue sky, and the camp-fire was practically out!

But a little energy soon put that right. A few red-hot cinders still remained, and last night's heap of dead wood served as morning fuel. Very soon the fire was crackling away merrily enough. "Isn't this A1 and O.K.?" shouted Peter, splashing in the river. "Hurray and Hurroosh! Oh, isn't a night-camp grand? I could eat my breakfast, though, at any minute you like to name."

"We'll have to catch and cook it first," said his brother. But when, after a ten minutes' swim, the boys returned to the camp-fire it was to find Jan, the good fairy, in charge. "Breakfast at the Cottage for me!" she repeated indignantly; "what an idea! I'm camping out as much as you are! I'm cook, too, aren't I? No,—if you'll only just go off for five minutes and fetch fuel or something, I'll have hot tea ready by then."

In five minutes she was as good as her word; a dixie full of hot tea for each awaited them, and the remains of the loaf and the butter. "There's not very much," Jan announced to the approaching pair, "but I thought we wanted to be self-supporting now we've begun, so I just brought a few tea-leaves along, and——"

"Right you are. So we will be"—the boys produced a pretty good cupful of wild raspberries. "If we can't make a good breakfast on these——!" they said. And the meal in the open air, of bread and butter and wild fruit, was not to be despised. Hardly was it over when the horn sounded on the other side of the water. "There's Mother. We'll tidy up the camp and make up to-day's arrangements when we've heard what she has to say," said Robin as they raced off.

The morning bulletin was good. Dick's attack was evidently slight—he had had a good night; and it seemed a very mild sort of scarlet fever, so the children's mother informed them. "He doesn't seem to have caught cold on the journey, for which I am thankful; but the queer thing is that Donald hasn't got it, evidently, after all. His headache was a bilious attack. Your aunt writes that he will travel to-morrow. I shall have to wire to put him off, of course, but it's just possible that he may escape altogether."

"I say, if he does, what a time he'll have! No Dick; no us; no holiday; no nothing!" said Peter commiseratingly. "Poor chap, he's worse off than us."

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Vaughan smiled. "In fact you three look as though you were enjoying yourselves. How is the camp prospering, Robin, and how did you all sleep?"

"Jolly well." They were unanimous. "I saw your light, Mother," added Jan, "in the window."

"My light, dear!" Mrs. Vaughan looked surprised; "my room looks out on the other side. I put out no lamp," she added when Jan had told her story; "you must have been mistaken."

"Quite mysterious," said Peter teasingly.

"Something else happened that seemed a bit mysterious at the time, didn't it, old chap?" said Robin, paying off Jan's score. "What about the noise at midnight?"

"Why, I'd forgotten all about it. So there was!" Peter broke into his story, and the experience lost nothing in the telling: "Bang, bang! Thump, thump! Ting, ting! it went," quoth he, "right through my head."

His mother laughed. "The effect of the late supper, my dear; probably both mysteries come from the same cause. Well, I must go. Robin, remember you're in charge."

"All right, Mother, but everything's going spiffingly, really," her eldest son assured her.

The day was a busy one. First of all, the camp had to be cleared as the Captain commanded. Then came the making of the day's arrangements, and the procuring of supplies. Potatoes could be bought from a neighbouring farm; eggs also; butter and bread and tea from the village shop over the river. Jan was anxious to try her hand at a stew, and the meat for this had to be procured. Mrs. Brown's chores had to be put in hand too; old Brown was away early and the boys were anxious, as Scouts, to do as many good turns as they could for the kind old dame in return for her good services to them. Her wood was collected, and her kindling was chopped; her stores were brought in from the neighbouring shop; half-an-hour's work was put in on mending up the fence of her little garden. "And we'll have a go at earthing up your potatoes, Brownie, while we're on the Island," said Robin.

After dinner and a rest the making of the "regular" hut began; the bivouac was only to be used until better accommodation was ready. A solid piece of work the making of the "Pioneer Hut"—as the boys called it—promised to be. First of all, a framework of tough ash branches, each one carefully chosen, would be needed; the ends of each must be pointed and fixed into holes in the ground, dug opposite to each other in two parallel lines, so that the whole framework, when completed, would look like a line of steady deeply-driven half-hoops of ash. A very strong branch had to be lashed to the top of the half-hoops to hold the whole together, and this must all be tested and tried before the thatching was even begun.

"The whole thing will take some days at least," Robin remarked to his fellow-campers as they sat round their fire.

"And when that's done, what'll we do next, I wonder?" remarked Peter.

But a great many things were going to be done that no one among the campers had any expectation of whatever!

CHAPTER VI

The hut was not finished for a week, and for seven whole days and nights there was not a drop of rain. Then, when at last the pioneer hut stood complete, taut and steady, thickly thatched and masterly in workmanship from framework to roof, the rain began.

Just a drop at first, but the Scouts had been expecting it; the wind had shifted, and there was likelihood of a steady downpour for some time, as their weather-eyes told them. "It's really rather a chouse, though, just when the hut's ready, isn't it?" grumbled Peter, who hated to tear himself away from his newly completed handiwork.

"The weather'll test it, anyway," remarked Robin, gazing at the little erection with critical eyes. "Now we shall know if the trench is really deep enough to carry away the water without soaking the place through, and whether that way of thatching really answers well, starting to thatch from the bottom and working up, so that the rain may drain off the side of the hut instead of drenching through."

"Well, that's one way of looking at it, I suppose," said Peter more resignedly.

"And I'll tell you what I think," said Jan, "I think it's a very good thing that the rain's begun early, if it had got to come. Brownie's got that lumber-room crammed with stuff, and a lot of hard work's got to be done by somebody or other before you boys can sleep there. And you'll have to, to-night, just look at the sky. Suppose we heap up the dixies and everything into the new hut, and go straight to the Cottage and turn to."

In a very few minutes they had started acting on her suggestions. The rain was coming down now in large steady drops, and there was certainly every likelihood of a drenching night. The boys were not afraid of rain; they would have preferred to test the new hut's weather-proof properties by sleeping there through any weather, but they had given their word, and that was the end of the matter. The dixies were put away safely into the little hut, and the three set off in fairly good spirits for Island Cottage. After all, they had had a week's camping out already, and probably there were many more days and nights of it ahead for them; they would take one night's rest under a roof with as good a grace as they knew how.

But an afternoon's good hard work lay between them and any possibility of a good night. The upstairs attic was a perfect chaos of muddled lumber; "and has been, my dears, since we came here," said Brownie, "fifteen years ago, as I remember well."

"Who lived here before you, Brownie?" asked Robin. "It was a year before I was born, you see, so I don't remember."

"Sure, my dear, don't I remember that. 'Twas—well, 'twas young Hooker, gamekeeper he was, in your grandfather's days, but youngish for the job. I can see him now, a fine upstanding chap he was." The old dame heaved a sigh.

"Young, was he? Why did he leave then? Where is he now?" inquired Peter standing still for a minute with an armful of boxes.

"Sure, I can't tell you. 'Twas dismissed that he was. Into disgrace he fell, at the time of all the trouble," said Brownie. "Same age as Master——" she bustled away, muttering to herself.

"Same age as who, Brownie?" inquired quick-eared Jan, who, armed with a duster and a mop, looked quite as busy as she really was.

But the old woman did not appear to hear the question; she made for the door. "You'll be wanting your teas after all the help that you're giving, my dears, and the kettle's not on," she announced, and disappeared down the creaking stair.

"There's certainly a mystery. A—choo!" Peter's voice began on an impressive note and finished up with a sneeze. "Begorra, what dust, Robin! What d'you think it means?"

"I—don't—know." Robin's voice sounded abstracted; he was gazing at a photograph that he held in his hand—an old, old faded snapshot of a young man fishing. "I—picked this up when a lot of rubbish fell down," he said; "but—who is it? It's taken on the Island by the river, and—it's like Dad. But—it's not the same smile. Much younger too, of course, but—whoever can it be?"

"A relation, anyway," said Jan, peering over his shoulder.

"I'll ask Brownie," said Peter, and, suiting the action, to the word, he seized the little portrait and made his way downstairs. "I say, who's this?" he inquired; "this man—is it an old picture of Dad, Brownie, d'you know? Because, well, it can't be, and yet——" He stopped and stared. "It's only a snapshot, Brownie; it's not a ghost," he continued, "nor a bomb, you know. Who is it?—that's all I was asking."

"Aye, my dear, I hear right well what you're asking," said the old woman; "I see right well too that it's but a photograph, as you say. He and Hooker was always together; 'twas one of Hooker's taking, I make no doubt, seeing as it's upstairs still. Like David and Jonathan, so I've heard folks say, and——"

"But—who is it?" inquired Peter, with wonder in his eyes.

"Ah, my dear, sure and don't be asking me!" sobbed the old woman.

CHAPTER VII

In spite of all the mysteries, however, and there certainly seemed to be a good many, the boys slept like tops in their attic-room that night. Perhaps it was as well "for their brains' sake," as Peter remarked, for they woke next morning to yet another mysterious affair.

This time Jan had a story to tell, a story of noise. "A most peculiar noise, from the wall I think it was, or from the floor, Brownie, but I couldn't make out," she announced at breakfast-time. "Were you walking about in the night?"

"No, indeed, my dear," said the old woman.

"And you needn't ask us, for we didn't move all night," Peter assured her. "After all, there's something to be said for a jolly comfortable feather-bed after a week's outside camping. Though, of course, I'd rather sleep out of doors any day (or night, of course, I mean) than in a house."

"Well, I don't know what my noise was then," said Jan; "I was hoping it was one of you. I am sure I was awake a whole hour listening to it and wondering. Like a banging and a tinging it sounded."

"Ting! ting! d'you mean? Why! perhaps it's like my noise," broke in Peter again, staring, "like the noise I heard when we were sleeping in camp."

"Brownie, do you know what it was?" persisted Jan. "Have you ever heard it before?"

"A noise, my dear, there once was, that some said——" the old woman checked herself. "Never, Miss Jan, have I heard such a sound as you name. Mice now, dearie, they make queer sounds," she added earnestly.

"But mice don't bang or ting," Jan remarked to Peter as they made their way again towards the camp. Somehow the three didn't feel satisfied about the matter. Robin certainly said little enough, but he "probably thought the more," as the others remarked. "We'd come down to your room and listen if it wasn't so rippingly fine," remarked Peter, "but the wind's veered right round and jolly weather's going to set in, though one doesn't know how long it will last with the suddenness of it. So it'd be downright silly to sleep indoors again, wouldn't it, unless you're really funkish, of course," he added considerately, "if you are——!"

"Of course I'm not," said Jan bravely. After all, the fright of the night before had quite vanished with the morning light. She began to think that perhaps she had imagined the whole thing. "You see, after Brownie being so mysterious," she said, "and—well, everything,—I think perhaps I was just a bit silly."

"Righto! I expect it was that," said Peter in brotherly tones as all three made their way down to the pioneer hut.

The sound of Mrs. Vaughan's horn called them, however, before they could set to any kind of work. Every morning during the ten days' camp she had come to speak to them, and every day the bulletin had been a satisfactory one. Dick's scarlatina case seemed certainly to have been a very slight one, and nursing had not been arduous. To-day, as they rowed across, Mrs. Vaughan was looking extra cheerful and pleased.

"Yes, Dick's still progressing," she said; "he's really tired of being in bed, and he'll be up as soon as the rash has disappeared. Peeling will come next, I suppose. I've a piece of news for you to-day, however, which I had better give at once. Can you guess?"

"Anything about Dad?" asked Peter.

"No, it's Donald. He's out of quarantine now; it's ten days since he saw Dick, you see, and he's evidently not going to catch scarlet fever. So I thought of a plan which will, I hope, give pleasure to you all. I wrote to your aunt and told her what you three were doing, and suggested that Donald should join you on the Island. He's coming down to-morrow; I heard to-day. What do you think of that?"

"Mother, it's perfectly ripping. What a splendiferous idea! And—we never thought of it!" There was no doubt about the satisfaction of the three.

"Well, it's really a little hard on all of you, Donald as well, to have your holiday changed by the scarlet-fever business, so," Mrs. Vaughan smiled. "I'm glad you all approve. I spoke to Brown, and he was sure Brownie would welcome another. If seems that you're all more of helps than hindrances, he says, to his wife, and I'm glad to hear it. So another Scout will be no trouble to the old folk, I hope. The attic where you boys sleep is so big that another trundle-bed can be rigged up there, if there's a wet night again."

"If! But I hope there won't be," said Peter, as they made their way back to camp. "I say—ripping, isn't it? We don't know him, but——"

"Well, we know that he's a Scout," said Robin.

"So he's sure to be thoroughly decent," said Jan, who adopted her brother's expressions when in need of extra words.

And certainly Donald proved in the opinion of the three to be indeed "thoroughly decent" when, next afternoon, he arrived; a "jolly all-round man and a good Scout" the boys voted him, and Jan was quite as satisfied. Within an hour of his arrival he had been introduced into all the plans of the campers, and the four were seated round the fire roasting potatoes for supper as though they had been boon companions for years. "And you've the Pioneer Badge already?" exclaimed Robin, "as well as the ones we've got. And,—what's this?—Oh! the Signaller's Badge"; the boys were examining the proficiency badges that Donald wore on his right arm.

"Well, Dick's a better signaller than I am," said Donald; "I wish he was here. He's jolly good and quick at flag-wagging; you should see him at it, and——"

"You're both frightfully clever, I expect," said Peter. "Oh, I say, being cousins, you know, and all that, d'you think, Robin, that we could ask him about the mysteries?"

CHAPTER VIII

"Mysteries!" Donald pricked up his ears. "Oh, I say, I'd like to hear them," and before Robin could exactly make up his mind on the matter, the subject was well under way. "There's—well there's a whole heap of mysteries," said Peter eagerly, "little ones and a big one. Brownie's in some of them, at least she certainly knows something about one, and I've an idea that she knows more than she'll own about your noise, Jan, if you ask me. And then there's my noise, and I——"

"What on earth!" gasped their bewildered cousin, who felt almost suffocated with mysterious affairs already.

"It does seem a bit muddly, I own," Peter grinned, "but we're properly muddled with them all, I can't tell you. First night we slept out Jan saw a light shining from the Chase windows; thought it was mother, and next morning thanked her politely for her beacon, only to hear that Mother had never thought of such a thing. Of course there might easily be an explanation of a light, but——"

"But," interrupted Jan, eager to have something to say in the matter, "I've never seen it again, for I've looked. I wondered why; and besides, I believe it shone from one of the windows of the empty wing."

"Some servant looking round last thing?" suggested Donald.

"We've only two, and that's why the house is all shut up. They sleep at the back on the other side. Nobody goes round at night, but there might easily be an explanation of the light, I quite think—only, it certainly was there. Go on about your noise, Peter."

"My noise happened at midnight or thereabout," said Peter, "I heard it hammering and tinging away. Thump! thump! Bang! bang! as I'm always telling everybody. Then it was gone. And Robin doesn't believe a word of it."

"I don't say that," remarked his elder brother suddenly.

"What?" Peter turned like a dart, "you're coming round, are you? How's that? You were so positive at first. Perhaps it's because Jan heard a noise last night?"

"If you want to know the reason"—Robin stared into the fire,—"well, I happened to have heard it myself. Not the night that you did, Peter, but the next. You were asleep, and I lay and listened: it was a thumping and a banging and a tinging, as you say, and——"

"Why in all the world didn't you tell us then?" demanded his younger brother.

"I wanted to think," said Robin, "and—well I didn't hear it again. But, of course, Jan did, last night."

"Was she sleeping out, then?" inquired their cousin, wrinkling his brows in thought. "I imagined that you said it was wet."

"No, she never does. It's against orders. And that makes the whole thing queerer. Our noise was heard when we were camping, and didn't sound far off. It seemed to me to come through the ground, but, perhaps, that would be vibration, for a noise carries a long way if one puts one ear to the ground to listen," added Peter wisely. "Jan's noise, you know, was by her bed in the Cottage."

"I never said so," remarked Jan eagerly; "from the wall or the floor, or both, I couldn't tell which—that's what I said!"

"Noises are queer things sometimes," was all the remark that Donald had to contribute apparently, a rather disappointing fact from the point of view of the three cousins, who had hoped for help from this distinguished Scout. "But, what other mysteries are there? They're most frightfully interesting, you know."

"Yes, aren't they? Well, there's Brownie's queer way of going on. First asking Mother if we'd be 'fr——'; the word was stuck in her throat by Mother's look, as I twigged, but she meant 'frightened'—frightened to sleep in the attic! Robin and me, you know, and we're Scouts. Why, for a minute I thought the place was haunted, and I felt inclined to give up the camp even, just to have a go at hunting the spooks, but Scouts don't believe in ghosts; and it wasn't that, it was something else!"

"What?" inquired his cousin with interest.

"Well, that's what we want to find out. The attic-place hadn't been swept out for years, and it's crammed with lumber, old bits of machinery and what not. There's some mystery about the former tenant of the Cottage, I'm almost sure; gamekeeper to Grandfather he was, you know. Dismissed, too, and gone somewhere that Brownie knows well enough, only she won't tell. Also, who's this?" Peter suddenly produced something out of his pocket and handed it across.

"I say, Peter, I didn't think you'd hung on to that," interrupted Robin, "it's not yours. Besides, I don't know if——"

"It's not anybody's except Hooker's! And I'll give it to him smart enough when I find him," answered his younger brother. "Brownie didn't ask for it, and it's not hers anyway, any more than it's mine. And, after all, Donald's a relation; he's not a stranger, is he? although we've never seen him before to-day; and——" he broke off as Donald turned.

"There's no mystery exactly about this, as far as I can see," he said; "I've seen the picture before."

"What! who is it then?" inquired the three.

"Uncle Derrick—he's yours as well as ours, he's uncle to all of us, of course. Your father's brother, and my mother's brother"—there was rather a strange sound in Donald's voice.

"But we've never heard about him, never in all our lives," moaned Peter, "and he looks so jolly sporting. Is he dead?"

"No," Donald was beginning awkwardly, when Robin interrupted with authority. "Look here, Peter, you're to stow it. We'll ask Mother to-morrow, and if she's willing we'll go on. I'm Captain of this camp, and you're to obey orders, d'you understand?"

CHAPTER IX

"I say, Mother, don't hurry off, wait a jiff, won't you?"

The morning "confab" was over; the boat was pulled up close to the bank, and Mrs. Vaughan stood at the river-side; she was just turning to go back to the Chase when Robin's voice detained her. "What is it?" she asked, "Anything wrong? Are you sick of camping?

"Rather not. It's something jolly different. It's——" Robin hesitated. "We're gradually finding out something," he said, "and we want to go on. It's about—— Mother, have we got an Uncle Derrick? For, if so, is there anything mysterious about him?"

There was a minute's pause, then Mrs. Vaughan looked straight at the boys. "Who told you about him?" she asked slowly.

"I'm afraid it was me. I didn't——" began Donald.

"Mother, don't listen to him, it wasn't him," burst in Peter; "at least, just at the end, he told us that was who the photograph was of. But we've suspected something all along. Brownie's knowing something, and trying so hard not to let us twig, that's what has given it away. Then up in the attic there's Hooker's things!"

"Hooker?" Mrs. Vaughan started, "what have you found out about him?"

"Only that if there is an Uncle Derrick, he was Uncle Derrick's friend; that he was keeper in Grandfather's time, and that he was dismissed. And—Brownie won't tell us where he is," Robin spoke slowly.

"Also that he was a jolly sporting sort, the room's got ripping little engines and machinery sort of things about; he ought to have been a Scout. And that he could take jolly snapshots when you come to think that this has been lying round for fifteen years; and——" Peter stopped and held out the picture. "We found this, Mother," he said.

"Yes … it's poor Uncle Derrick," said Mrs. Vaughan; she looked sadly at the picture for a minute, then she turned to the group. "Your father and I did not tell you," she said, "we wanted to keep sad things from you as long as we could. But perhaps we were not wise; Donald and Dick have evidently been told more than you know. Brown and his wife, too, know all the sad story, but—oh, I cannot tell you now, this is neither the time nor the place. Donald may tell you what his mother has told him; and you may ask Brownie. For every one loved your Uncle Derrick, and you will hear the story just as lovingly told by the old servants as I can tell it to you myself." Mrs. Vaughan turned, and still holding the little picture, she walked towards the Chase without turning, while the boat was rowed silently back to the other side of the water.

It was not until after tea that old Brownie's story was told; all day the campers had half dreaded and half longed to hear the tale, for Donald knew little more than he had told them already, that there had been an Uncle Derrick, that there was an Uncle Derrick. Beyond that, the story was a mystery to him and Dick, as well as to the Vaughans. "Mother said we should know more some day," he told his cousins, "but I've never liked to ask."

"Oh, my dears," said old Brownie when they gave her the message, "tell you? Oh, my dears. But happen it's better not to keep the sad things hid, for they cut so deep, so deep! Your Uncle Derrick, my dears,—oh! he was the gayest, most open-handed that the sun shone on, handsome, kind and good to rich and poor. Aye, and true," the old woman nodded her head, "aye and true!

"Him and Hooker was the same age; friends they'd been, though Hooker was but a village lad, from babyhood as you might say. But Master Derrick was like that. Together always, like David and Jonathan, both with the same passion, as boys, for fitting together bits of machinery, engines and such like, and all so clever. Your grandfather was proud of him, aye, and so were we all, servants too, but your grandfather was fonder of him, aye, perhaps than of either of the other two; pardon me, my dears, them being own father and mother to some of you. But so life is, sometimes. Master Derrick was like a Benjamin, so he was, to the Squire, coming late in life to him and all; he'd do anything for Master Derrick, would Squire. Gave the keeper's house to young Hooker, did he, young as Hooker was for to be keeper, just to please Master Derrick.

"And there the pair used to spend hours of their time. When Master Derrick was a wee chap, 'twas always Hooker he followed; home from boarding-school, the same; he didn't forget old friends, and on they'd go with their inventions as they called them. Home from college, 'time Hooker had the cottage—then there they'd be down at the keeper's house, this house, here, my dears, and—that's how the bad end came!"

"What!" whispered Jan with white lips.

"Strange things were being said," went on the old woman, "and at that time strange false money was being passed in the county. Coiners were somewhere, and the evil couldn't be traced. Then scandal began to be afloat, though we heard naught of it till after; 'twas started, some said, by Mitchell, head keeper he'd been, and dismissed when Hooker took the job, and a grudge he'd always borne the lad. Folk spoke of the dear lads' inventions, and—well, my dears, to cut a long story short, the police from headquarters came down unexpected on this very cottage one night. Found what they called, I mind me, 'coiners' plant' in the wee room where Miss Jan sleeps, and in the attic-room above, where to this day I'm feared to heart of stopping long, 'twas there that they arrested the two."

"Oh!" Peter's face went quite white. "Uncle Derrick! Was it?"

"No!" the old woman's voice was firm, "neither of the dear lads was in it. Some spoke of Master Derrick's debts, and, well, some he may have had, open-handed as he was; but we know, as had served Squire from youth, and watched Master Derrick grow up. It was imprisonment that they got—seven years."

"Where are they now? It's fifteen years ago," Robin's voice sounded strange, even to himself.

"Ah, my dears," Brownie dropped a slow, difficult tear, "that's the saddest part of it all."

CHAPTER X

"Never a trace of them has there been since they were released from prison, never a trace. Out of the country they both went, so we think, and that's as far as we know. It was the death-blow to Squire, it was; but he died trusting in Master Derrick. Left him all his money too, did Squire; 'as a proof,' so Squire said. Yes, the Chase went to your father, the Major, Master Robin, him being eldest son, my dear, but the money's waiting for Master Derrick when he comes home."

The old woman's voice ceased, and there was silence. In the little room dusk had fallen while she had been speaking, for her story had been a long one. The firelight lit up the white faces of the four listeners, but none of them spoke: even Peter for once had nothing to say. Jan slipped her hand into Robin's, and he held it fast. "Poor Uncle Derrick!" said the little girl in a quivering voice, after a few minutes had passed.

"And sure, why poor?" Brownie's voice was husky but it was firm still. "'Twas naught of wrong that he did; nor Hooker, neither, for we know. They'll be coming back, an' wrongful punishment cannot smirch the innocent, my dears. Please God, I shall see them, too; please God they'll come in my time; but that they will come back, I know." There was silence again for a minute or two, and then the spell that seemed laid on the little group by the telling of the old woman's story was suddenly broken by a sound outside. Old Brown clamped noisily into the kitchen, kicking the earth from his boots on the step outside. "I've been down to th' hut, wife," said he, "but the young folks hain't thereabouts. Happen ye know where they'll be?"

"We're here!" The four came out of the shadows, feeling glad in a way of the interruption, for the story was too dreadfully sad to them to be thought of too long. "D'you want us, Brown?" asked Robin.

"Aye, sir, 'tis a message. There's a telegraft come this night. Your mother, sir, would have spoke to you herself, she bid me say, but she's right-down busy. The Major's expecting leave, and——"

"Dad!" Three voices were raised in excited chorus.

"Aye, my dears, 'tis good news, that's certain. He's hoping to be home come Saturday. Your mother, sir, she was fair set about at first on account of the scarlet fever, but she's talked it over with the Doctor. They've arranged to move the young gentleman into the old wing. 'We'll disinfect the rest of the house for three whole days,' so madam said, and Doctor, he agreed; 'and then 'twill be right enow,' said madam, 'what wi' sulphur-burning, and such like.' Aye, they've fires lighted, and 'tis all under way, and they're moving Master Dick this night." The old man hobbled to his favourite chair.

"Hurrah, but it's late!" Robin got up and shook himself. "We must go back to camp and see that the fire hasn't burned too low. We'll soon boil up a dixie and get some supper ready. Coming?" he called to the others.

But as the four made their way across the Island to the camp in the dusk they spoke not at all. Brownie's story had made such a deep impression on every one of them that they hardly knew how to mention it even to each other. Even after Jan had been escorted home, and supper was over, and the boys lay stretched in the blue-darkness of the summer night, the topic upper-most in their minds was not touched upon between them.

"Jolly ripping that Dad's coming home, anyway," said Peter at last.

"Rather," said Robin. Then a silence fell. The three boys lay under the stars and thought before finally they fell asleep; each one was thinking too of the same thing, of Uncle Derrick's story.

"I saw my light again last night," announced Jan next morning as she fried up the remains of some cold potatoes for a breakfast dish, wielding the frying-pan with dexterous hand.

"You did?" All the boys were eagerly listening.

"In exactly the same place, but a brighter light this time; and it lasted longer, too. It didn't come and go like before; it stayed alight till ten o'clock, and then went out, for I timed it by my watch."

"Show us whereabouts," suggested Peter.

"I can, for I looked particularly. It was a pretty dark night, but the moon came out from behind a cloud once, and I could make out the outline of the Chase. The light was from the last window of the east wing. I'm going when breakfast's done, to look at the place again."

But when at last breakfast was over the results of the investigation seemed to be rather disappointing, considered in the light of a possible mystery. The window in question looked over the river, and could plainly be seen from the Island. A white curtain stretched across the panes, and a fern plant stood on a table in the window. "I don't think there's much reason why there shouldn't be a light from that room every night of the year without causing mysteries," announced Donald. "It's plainly a bedroom, or something!"

But the three Vaughans were staring open-mouthed. "It's—why it must be the room they've moved Dick into!" remarked Peter at last. "It looks as though it's come alive in the night, doesn't it? It gave me quite a shock; that's why you saw the light last night, Jan—no mystery at all!"

"But," Jan was persistent, "even if that does explain last night's light—and I suppose it

CHAPTER XI

The three days before Major Vaughan's return promised to pass on leaden wings, but in reality they flew merrily enough. Not only was there a general furbishing-up of the camp to be seen to, for "Dad," as the boys said, "was sure to be as jolly keen on it as they were," but a new and unexpected occupation suddenly presented itself to the company.

Hitherto Dick had been considered in the light of an un-get-at-able invalid, who could be written to, and to whom messages might be sent through Mrs. Vaughan, but who was, otherwise, as inaccessible as though he had been still at his home in the far north. Now, however, with the removal of the convalescent to the "river-room" in the east wing, things changed. From breakfast till bedtime the now recovering invalid stood glued to his bedroom window watching with interested eyes practically everything that the campers were doing. The Cottage was in full view of his window, so was the camp fire. "It seems strange, doesn't it?" said Peter, "that there's Dick looking on, and here are we, feeling awfully chummy with him, and all that, but we've never spoken to him in our lives!"

"Good idea!" shouted Donald; into the hut he raced, appearing presently with a flag with which he began signalling to his brother. The latter seemed to twig the idea instantly; he disappeared from the window, and appeared again, bearing what was certainly nothing more or less than a bath-towel; vigorous flag-wagging ensued between the brothers for a few minutes, while the Vaughans looked interestedly on.

"I say," said Robin, "you can do Morse like lightning. I could hardly follow half of it. No wonder you've got your Signalling Badges! What were you saying?"

"I asked him how he found himself this morning, and he says that he feels topping, and never better, and wishes the peeling were over, and would give a jolly lot to be camping with the rest of us," explained Donald.

"Let me have a try," begged Peter; but his skill in signalling was slight; and Robin, who tried next, had had little experience. Donald tried again. "I say, he says," he interpreted after a vigorous few minutes, "that you two need practice, and he says why don't you let him practice with you while he's shut up there with nothing to do. You'd probably soon pass your tests if you did. Minimum is 24 letters per minute for Morse, you know, and 36 for Semaphore. He knows both, and he'd coach you from his side, and I'd coach you here."

"Rather!" the three Vaughans were unanimous. "There's a Signaller's Badge for Guides, too!" said Jan. "I say, what fun!"

By the time that dusk fell on the evening of the first day, hiding the east wing signaller from his pupils, the latter had certainly gained ground after a hard day's work. Next morning, before breakfast, Peter, after flying out with his flag to bid Dick good-morning, returned to the rest of his camping companions with rather a queer look on his face. "Come on, Donald," he said, "you're wanted. I can't exactly twig what Dick's saying, he's so jolly quick about it. But it's something about 'noises,' I'm pretty sure; and I think he says that he's heard queer noises in the night!"

"He does," announced Donald, after conversing with his brother. "It's strange isn't it? but he says he's been kept awake by them. He says that he wants to know if the east wing supposed to be haunted!"

"Ask what kind of a noise?" suggested Jan.

"He says 'thumps and bangs,'" reported Donald.

"WELL!!!!" chorused the others in amazement.

"My light on the first night," added Jan suddenly; "it shone from there. Now, who says that it wasn't mysterious?"

There was little chance of signalling practice for the rest of that day, for rain came down in buckets as soon as breakfast was over and the mist quite blotted out the Chase from the Islanders. Night must be spent at Island Cottage, there was no doubt about that. "And I do hope it'll be fine to-morrow," said Peter, as the three boys undressed that night in the big attic upstairs. "Dad's to get here early in the morning, and it would be such a——"

Tap! tap! came at their door, and Jan's face appeared; her eyes were bright and her teeth were chattering. "Oh, I'm so glad that you're sleeping here to-night," she said, "because—"

"What's up?" inquired the boys.

"It's—my room; the noise again; only it's louder: thumps this time, and loud bangs, and—near. On the wall, I think, or behind the wall, and from near to the floor. Some one's knocking, I'm certain, and I think I heard a voice!"

It didn't take an instant for the boys to slip on their coats. In another they were on the stairs on their way to Jan's room. There was silence for a minute or two after they entered; then the rapping began again. From the wall near the fireplace it seemed to come. Then there was the sound of a voice, "Let me out;" the words were faint, but perfectly plain.

"Yes, we will. Don't lose heart," Robin's tones sounded clear in the little room. He dropped on his knees beside the wall: "Tell us what to do, and we can help you."

There was a pause, and then the voice very faintly came again: "Make haste, or—pull out the mantel-shelf; that's the way. Keep it straight as you pull, and—pull hard; I will push from here, but I have not much strength left!" Then followed a moment of tense suspense, while the boys followed the directions; then came a grinding noise, and a long creaking movement of the front of the fireplace; then came a cry from Jan.

CHAPTER XII

"My dears," said Mrs. Vaughan; she had just left Island Cottage and she was seated outside the pioneer hut beside the camp-fire with the four beside her. "Yes, there has been a thorough disinfection, and Dr. Greig says it is quite safe for me to see you out of doors. Tell me about it. And Jan, how pale you look."

"It was—last night, seeing the old man, he looked so ill, so dreadful when he came through the door." Jan's voice trembled.

"It was only just in time, you see, Mother," Robin spoke; "in five more minutes he wouldn't have had the strength even to call or rap again. He was in dreadful pain, it was his heart."

"Yes, dear, Dr. Greig has told me; he is there still, and I have just seen him." Mrs. Vaughan spoke slowly.

"How he came there we don't know a bit,—how he knew of the secret door; for it must be one, and it must lead somewhere. He—well he asked for Dad, said that he was dying and that he had a confession to make, and," Peter stopped for a minute, "then Robin went off for Dr. Greig."

"That was right." Mrs. Vaughan looked up. "You ask me who he is, and about his confession. It is a long story, some of which you have heard before from Brownie, but you must know it. Does it make things any plainer to you if I tell you that the old man who is dying at the Cottage is called Mitchell?"

"Mitchell!" The boys looked at each other. "We've heard the name—didn't Brownie—?"

"It's the name of the gamekeeper before Hooker," exclaimed Jan suddenly.

"Yes. Mitchell, long ago, was your grandfather's head keeper; he was unsatisfactory, and so was dismissed. Hooker was given his situation and his cottage by Uncle Derrick's request, and for that reason Mitchell bore a grudge against the two—not only on account of his dismissal, but the Cottage had become necessary to him owing to some underhand work that he had been carrying on there for some time. For a year at least before his dismissal he had been making false money, which had been circulated through the county; he had discovered a secret smugglers' passage leading from the east wing, under the Island, to the other side of the river, which opened also into one of the rooms in his cottage, and in this secret place his coining was carried on.

"Even after Hooker came into possession of the Cottage, Mitchell still carried on this work; he felt secure in his underground shelter; and it was not until the false money had been detected and inquiries began to be put on foot that he feared arrest. Then he paid back the grudge that he had nursed for months against Uncle Derrick and young Hooker; he managed to enter by night, unseen, through the secret entrance into the Cottage; there he left some part of his coining plant, which would be indisputable evidence against the person in whose possession it might be found. He wrote an anonymous letter to the Police Headquarters suggesting that they should search Hooker's cottage, and the deed was done. Brownie has told you how Uncle Derrick and Hooker were arrested, and——" Mrs. Vaughan stopped.

"But how do you know this?" Robin asked hoarsely.

"Mitchell has confessed to Dr. Greig in the presence of old Brown. I have read the confession which was made last night. Fifteen years have passed since his first attempts at coining, and it seems that he thought he would attempt the same thing again. For some weeks now, so he says, he has worked in the underground passage. Last night he was suddenly seized with a dreadful heart attack—for years he has been the victim of heart disease—and, not having strength to get through the passage to the other side of the river, he tried to make his way through into the Cottage for help, as he knew it was his last chance. He is dying and he has confessed; God will be merciful to him, and will help us to think mercifully of him too."

"Oh, Mother, and poor Uncle Derrick." Jan's voice shook.

"Listen," Mrs. Vaughan spoke again, "I have other news for you. Last night a letter came from Father; he has delayed his coming for a few hours so that I might read his letter first. He is not coming alone, children, he is bringing with him a friend—an officer of the Australian contingent, who has won the V.C. under circumstances of extraordinary bravery. This officer, it was, who at the risk of his life stayed beside his wounded orderly, whom he would not leave though enemy fire was raining around them for a day and a night. His right arm is gone"—Mrs. Vaughan's voice shook—"but his orderly's life was saved."

"Mother," Jan spoke breathlessly, "Uncle Derrick is the Australian officer, he—is."

"And Hooker's the orderly," said Peter very gruffly.

"Look," broke in Robin suddenly; and on the other side of the river a little group of three was seen to be approaching the boat that would take them over to the Island. Major Vaughan was there; with him a tall, one-armed officer, and, behind them a little, came the form of another soldier. "Oh, Mother," said Peter, "Oh!"

But no one else could say a word; for it was all too wonderful ... Uncle Derrick had come home.

THE END

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Table of Contents

- THE ISLAND CAMP
- CHAPTER I
- CHAPTER II
- CHAPTER III
- CHAPTER IV
- CHAPTER V
- CHAPTER VI
- CHAPTER VII
- CHAPTER VIII
- CHAPTER IX
- CHAPTER X
- CHAPTER XI
- CHAPTER XII
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE