By this time the Catwhisker was several miles beyond Grindstone Island
and was winding its way through a labyrinthine group to the north of
Grandview. The scenery here was so enchanting that Cub and his father
speedily agreed that the first convenient, unclaimed natural harbor that
they discovered ought to be adopted as theirs for the night.

The season was well opened, and there were many boats on the river, so
many, indeed, that it seemed strange that any live, intelligent person
could be marooned on one of those islands, however vast their number,
without being able to call attention to his distress. However, there were
main highways in this, as in any other, semi-wilderness, and doubtless
some of the by-ways were less accessible, if not less inviting and in the
nature of things, less frequently visited.

This company of "rescue tourists" had motored through the Lake of the
Thousand Islands before, and hence were not at a loss at any time how to
find their way. The spectacle, therefore, of a hit-and-miss, crazy-quilt
arrangement of long, round, high, low, green, bare islands, many of them
decked with a wealth of firs, pines, tamaracks, oaks, maples, bushes and
flowers, was not new to them. However, it was not long after their
decision to look for a mooring place when they found an ideal cove and
tied the Catwhisker to an overhanging bent, gnarled, contorted pine tree.

No camp was made on the shore, as they had no intention of remaining at
this place longer than until the next break of day. All hands were pretty
tired after supper, but Hal decided he must listen-in for a while before
going to bed. So he donned a pair of phones and began to tune for an
evening program, when a call, clear and distinct, addressed to him,
suddenly held his attention.