LOST ISLAND


It was only a thin edge of a moon that now stood barely above the
low line of tree-covered hills beyond the east bank of the river.
The light it gave was a misty, watery sort of ray that was a
doubtful help in walking over the broken shore line. The two boys
were too occupied in watching their footing to do much talking.
Jerry led the way, bearing to the water's edge, finally stopping
where a light rowboat had been pulled well up on the rocky beach.

"We'll have to divide forces, I guess. In this uncertain light we
never could be sure of seeing the boat if she was on the other side.
I'll cut across while you go down this bank."

"Why not take the boat and go down the middle?"

"Too hard work getting through the shallows, and, besides, this way
we're closest to the place where the boat would most likely have
been snagged. We can go lots faster on foot. We'll keep about
opposite each other; we can yell across once in a while and it won't
be quite so lonesome. You go ahead till you get below the riffles,
and wait there till I catch up with you."

Jerry stepped into the boat and took up the oars. Dave gave the boat
a mighty shove that almost put the stern under the water.

"Hey! What you kids doing?" bellowed a gruff voice that the boys
hardly recognized as being that of Mr. Aikens.