"That was just what it turned out to be, Allan, a fair sized motorboat,
stoutly built, and yet something of a hummer when it would come to
speed. Her outlines told me this as soon as I could make her out down in
the berth she occupied between the rocks where they had protected the
sides of the little basin with logs to keep her from chafing too much.

"Now, speed indicates that the people owning that boat expect to show a
clean pair of heels, as they say, at times. They want to be in
condition to skip out in a hurry, and be able to outrun any ordinary
craft that might try to overhaul them. Wouldn't you think that way,
Allan?"

"You're speaking my mind to a dot, Thad."

"But I wasn't satisfied wholly, and made another move, to see whether
they had any sort of a cabin around. Seemed to me that if they were
using Sturgeon Island for some sort of shady business, they ought to
have a shelter. Well, I found it before ten minutes had passed, and by
just creeping along what I made out to be a regular trail leading from
the boat up the shore a piece."

"Good for you, Thad; no woodsman could have done better!" exclaimed the
other scout, who, having had practical experience extending through many
trips into the wilderness with hunting parties, was pretty well posted
on the numerous little "wrinkles" connected with woods lore.

"Oh! that was the most natural thing in the world for any one to do, and
I don't deserve any credit, Allan. But there were times when I admit I
did have to almost smell that trail, for it passed over little stretches
of rock, you see. At such times I had to look around, guess about where