about to remove his shoes.

Around the ledge of rock came a light skiff. The oarsman was Dave's
missing comrade. He drove the boat upon the sandy beach and leaped
out with a gay laugh.

"Why, Hiram," exclaimed the young aviator in marked surprise.

"It's me," chuckled Hiram. "Stole a march on you. Nearly dry," he
added, shaking his clinging garments. "And oh! what a swim."

"You have been to the mainland?" questioned Dave.

"Where else? When you said 'swim' last night, it gave me an idea.
I'm some swimmer, Dave Dashaway. Always was. Took the prize in a
contest in Plum Creek back at home one Fourth of July. I found a
way out of that shut in place and made a jolly dive for shore."

"But the skiff?"

"You'll need one, won't you?" challenged Hiram.

"Why, yes. I intended hiring one when I got across from the
island."

"So you said, and I acted. I did better than hiring a boat, Dave."

"How is that?"

"Bought one outright. I took my money with me. Found an old fellow