And so Prince did. He took a path he had evidently traveled many times
before, to judge by the hoof-marks, and presently came to a swampy
place at which Frank and Allen balked.

"Wait here," advised Will. "I'll soon be back. This is near one end of
the island. It must be here that Prince has his stable."

And so it proved. Splashing through the swamp, Prince ascended a
little slope, pushed under some low tree branches that nearly brushed
Will from his back, and came to a halt before a tumbled-down cabin,
that was just about large enough for an improvised stable. Will leaped
off, gave a look inside, and uttered a shout of joy, for there,
trampled on and torn, broken and water-stained, was the saddle. A
second later Will was kneeling before it, exploring the saddle
pockets.

"Here they are!" he cried, as he pulled out the missing papers. "I
have them, fellows!"

A hasty survey showed him that they were all there-- somewhat stained
and torn, to be sure, but as good as ever for the purpose intended.

"This is great luck!" cried Will. He looked about him. Then he saw the
reason why Prince had made this place his headquarters. The former
occupant of the deserted cabin had left behind a quantity of salt, and
as all animals like, and need, this crystal, Prince had been attracted
to the place. It was like the old "buffalo licks." Then, too, there
was shelter from storms.

"Prince, old man, you're all right!" cried Will, as he put the papers