could slip down and get the boat and sneak in at the lower end."

"Good. We'd best waste no time about it because it's going to be
coming on dark before we know it. Who's going along with me?"

"To the island? I'll go. The man knows _me_," agreed Jerry. "Where's
your boat?"

The rest waited in the cover of the bushes while Phil and Jerry
quietly made their way down the river bank to where the Scout boat
was moored. They sprang in at once, Phil pushing off and hopping
lightly to the oars. There was only one pair, but he sent the boat
skimming across the ripples. No one was in sight on the island, and
they were in hopes of making a landing unobserved, but just as their
boat touched shore the willows parted and the man stepped out on the
high bank.

"Back again?" he demanded gruffly.

"Oh, yes," replied Phil easily. "We came back to see if you'd let us
look for a box of tackle one of the boys thinks he left down where
we were fishing this morning."

"Oh! And you," said the man sarcastically, turning to Jerry. "I
suppose you came to look for a lock of hair from your drowned
friend's head?"

The man's tone was so unfeeling that Jerry simply gasped, but Phil
boiled over at once.