"Now it's straight for the island!" called out Bobolink, as the boats
drew together, and the motors started as cheerfully as if they had not
undergone a hard day's work from the time the voyagers left Stanhope.

"We'll have to make camp by firelight, that's plain," grumbled Gusty.

"What's the odds, so long as we get fairly comfortable for the night?"
Bobolink retorted, being one of the kind who can make the best of a bad
bargain when necessary. "All we want to do is to get the tents up and a
fire going, so we can cook something. Then in the morning we'll do all
the fancy fixing you can shake a stick at, and try out all the new
wrinkles every fellow's had in mind since our last camp. This is what I
like. A lake for me, with an island in it that nobody lives on, but
p'raps an old wildcat or a she bear with cubs."

"But they say something _does_ live on it, and that he's a terror too; a
real wild man that's got hair all over him like a big baboon--I heard it
from a man that saw him once, and he wouldn't lie about it either," Joe
Clausin called out.

Although the rest of the scouts mocked him, and pretended to jeer at the
idea of such a thing as a wild man existing so near Stanhope,
nevertheless, as the two motorboats gradually shortened the distance
separating them from the mysterious island, they gazed long at the dark
mass lying on the still water of the big lake and its gloomy appearance
affected them.

Just as Joe Clausin had said, it had a real "spooky" air, that, at the
time, with night at hand, did not impress them very favorably.