he climbed upon a rock and sat in the warm sunshine. How delicious
it felt on his body! What fun to stretch his muscles in the exercise
which he liked best of all---swimming!

"Nothing to equal the first dip of the season!" said the young man,
half aloud. "I feel like a schoolboy in a pond!"

All at once his quick ear caught the faint splash of a paddle close
at hand, and he sat motionless on the rock, and waited. The
sound grew more distinct, and presently a canoe, manned by a
solitary individual, came into sight around the shore of the island.
Rawson uttered an exclamation of surprise, for the man was "Injun Joe."

Bareheaded and stripped to the waist, his thick blue-black hair
tousled in the breeze, his lean, muscular, lithe torso gleaming
like bronze in the sunlight, Joe paddled with a strong, swift stroke
which sent the light craft dancing over the water. As he
approached the rock on which George was seated he moderated his
speed, and swerved toward a strip of beach. For a moment he
hesitated, holding the canoe still by extending the paddle flat out
on the water; then he headed straight for a safe landing between
two boulders.

Five minutes passed---ten. Still George waited, watching a little
spiral of smoke curl up into the air. Then the canoe came into sight
again, bobbing gently away from the island. Now it was empty.

"Hello! He's not in it!" Rawson exclaimed, shading his eyes with
one hand. "The canoe has floated away with his clothes! He'll
have to swim for it!"