him. But, gee whiz, Dave, he shouldn't have known it was _young
Fulton_ unless--unless it was young Fulton himself who told him.
Dave--Dave! Don't you see? We never mentioned his name."

"Great guns!" gasped Dave.

That was all he said, and for that matter, all that either one said.
The man stood on the point of Lost Island till he was satisfied that
the boys had tied the boat safely and did not mean to loiter in the
neighborhood. Then he disappeared among the trees of the lower part
of the island. But the boys did not pay much attention to their late
antagonist, save for a bare glance as they topped the high ridge
that followed the river course.

Miles to the north they could see a big square white building that
they knew as Carter's Mills, really only a grain storage elevator.
Almost due west of that was the milldam, which was about the only
place they could hope to be able to cross Plum Run--and Watertown
lay on the other side. Of course, they might follow the river bank
on the chance of meeting some good-hearted fisherman or camper who
would row them across. But the chance was too slim. They decided to
cut across country till they reached the mill.

It was a long, hard drill on an empty stomach. Up hill and down
dale, and every step kept time to by a pang from the inner man.

"Do you think it's a sin to steal?" This from Dave.

"Certainly."