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CHAPTER X
ON WINDMILL ISLAND

Drifting in the darkness, they were still discussing the situation when, through the gloom, they saw, not far off, a tall, black shadow showing darkly against the curtain of the night.

“What is that off there?” demanded Percy Simmons, indicating the tall object.

“Looks like some sort of a monument,” supplemented Harry Ware.

“I guess I can solve the mystery,” struck in Ralph. “That is Windmill Island, or I’m very much mistaken. That tall tower is all that is left of an old windmill that stood there many years ago.”

“Seems to me I’ve heard a lot about Windmill Island,” said Harry. “Does any one live there?”

“I think there is one hut on it. It is a deserted, lonely sort of a place, rocky and barren,” replied Ralph. “You know something of the story connected with it?”

“Only that it was used as a sort of hiding place for the invading parties at the time of the attempted Fenian invasion of the Dominion of Canada,” responded Harry, who had been reading up on the history of the St. Lawrence.

“That’s right, Harry. That is just the purpose the island once served. It is almost in the center of the river. It was the plan of the conspirators to make it a sort of headquarters, and it was well stocked with arms and ammunition, all hidden in carefully excavated caves and galleries within the island itself; although there were some caves already in existence, for the place was selected for that very reason.”

“What became of the invaders?” inquired Percy Simmons, who was not versed in this chapter of the history of the northern border line.

“They were repulsed and many of them surrounded in the old windmill tower and starved, or shot to death by the Canadians,” was the reply. “Others, who took refuge in the caves and tunnels, were driven out by hunger and made prisoners. Oh, yes; Windmill Island has seen stirring times since the old French settlers first put up that tower. The sails of the mill rotted away long ago, and now there is only the tower left to show what once stood there.”

“But who lives there now?” asked Harry curiously.

“I don’t know that it has any regular residents,” was Ralph’s rejoinder. “I’ve heard that it is sometimes used by smugglers or fish dynamiters, but so far as that goes, I have no first-hand knowledge.”

“At any rate, we might land there and remain till daylight,” suggested Percy Simmons.

“That’s a good idea, Persimmons,” concurred Ralph.

He turned the tender’s head and started to row toward the island. They could now see its rocky shores bulking up darkly under the tall tower, which had once been a windmill, peacefully grinding out grain for the early settlers on the St. Lawrence.

“I suppose Harry would rather stay in the boat,” said Percy Simmons mischievously. “There are sure to be spooks around on an island that has seen so much of tragedy.”

“Say, do you want to swim ashore?” demanded Harry indignantly. “Just cut that out if you don’t want to get hurt. Wow!”

From the shores of the island, toward which they were pulling, a sudden gush of red flame split the night. It soared up waveringly toward the heavens, casting a red glare on the waters.

“Fire!” shouted Percy Simmons.

“It’s a hut ablaze!” came from Harry Ware.

“Great Scott, fellows, it’s going up like so much kindling wood! Let’s hurry ashore. We may be able to help and – ”

Bang!

An explosion that rocked the earth and beat deafeningly on their ear-drums had occurred. The burning hut was blown high into the air and almost immediately red-hot fragments came raining about them.

“Throw them out of the boat,” cried Ralph, as the blazing embers began dropping. “There’s gasoline in our tank, and if any of those sparks set the boat on fire – good night!”

Regardless of burnt fingers, the boys commenced throwing the blazing fragments, that hailed about them like a fiery rain, into the river. They struck the water with hissing sounds. Once or twice the boys narrowly escaped severe burns. But they hardly thought of this as they worked to save the boat from catching fire.

At last the fiery torrent ceased. They looked shoreward. A quadrangular figure, marked in brightly glowing fire, showed where the foundations of the hut had stood. All other trace of it had been wiped out utterly by the explosion.

“What on earth can have happened?” demanded Harry.

“An explosion,” came sapiently from Percy Simmons.

“As if we didn’t know that! That was no kid’s fire-cracker that went off, either,” determined Ralph.

“What, then?”

“Dynamite,” was the reply, “or some similar explosive. I felt the river heave under our boat when she went up.”

“Great gracious! A dynamite explosion!” cried Percy Simmons.

“Say, let’s get out of here! Some more might go up and then we’d be right in the middle of more trouble,” cried Harry, in rather alarmed tones.

“I hardly think we need fear another explosion,” said Ralph, “but, to be on the safe side, we’ll just stay here for a while. Then if anything more is due to go up in smoke we’ll be safe.”

“Safe!” exploded Harry.

“Why, yes. In a few minutes, if nothing happens, I mean to go ashore there.”

“You do! Are you crazy?”

“Not that I am aware. At any rate, I don’t see ghosts flitting about over the river,” parried Ralph, with a good-natured laugh at the discomfited Harry’s expense.

“But why go ashore? It looks like a mighty dangerous place to me,” supplemented Percy Simmons.

“I want to go ashore for just one reason,” said Ralph, “and that is to satisfy myself that no human beings were injured in that explosion.”

“You’re dead right, Ralph,” exclaimed Harry heartily, wringing his chum’s hand; “we didn’t think of that. We’re with you from the jump, old chap, and if any one has been injured you can rely upon it that we will do our best for them.”

“I knew you’d think that way about it, boys,” said Ralph. “And now let’s pull in toward shore. I guess we needn’t fear another explosion.”

“There’s a rough sort of landing pier ahead,” said Harry, as they drew closer. “Better pull in there.”

The boat’s head was swung. In a few minutes more she grated against the ramshackle timbers of a tumble-down dock.

“Now then, boys, pile out. Let’s see what has been going on here,” said Ralph, in a brisk voice, as he shipped his oars and tied the painter to a convenient pile. The others clambered up after him on the wharf. A short distance back from the shore the remains of the exploded hut still glowed, casting a lurid light about the scene. Through the ruddy glow they saw a figure come striding toward them as they advanced up the dock.

“Some one coming,” declared Ralph. “Hullo, there, you! We saw the explosion from the water. Is any one hurt? Do you want help?”

Right then the Border Boys were in for the surprise of their lives, though they did not know it till the advancing figure, that of a tall, strongly built young man, spoke.

“You blooming Yankees, get right out of here,” were the astonishing words that greeted them. “Get, now. Do you understand, or do I have to make my meaning plainer?”

“Well, I’ll be double gash-jiggered!” exploded Percy Simmons.

CHAPTER XI
RALPH INVESTIGATES THE EXPLOSION

“What happened? What exploded?” demanded Ralph, ignoring the man’s manner purposely.

“I suppose you figure that it’s some of your bally business?” was the response, in loud, bullying tones. “We’ve not got much use for Yankees this side of the line, and you can put that in your pipe, smoke it and just dig out.”

Ralph’s anger began to rise. The tone in which the man spoke, his utter ignoring of their kindly purpose in coming ashore, and the scene they had just witnessed, all combined to put him in a ferment. Ralph didn’t often get angry, but when he did, like men said of his father in the financial district, he “made things hum.” His companions heard his jaws click in the well-remembered fashion.

“I asked you a proper question in a decent way, my man,” he said, in a quiet voice, controlling his anger with an effort.

“And I don’t choose to answer you. That’s enough, ain’t it? Now get!”

The tones were peremptory.

“Don’t move a step,” said Ralph to his companions. “This fellow has no business to order us about.”

The man had, by this time, advanced quite close to them. They saw he was tall, rather swarthy and fairly well dressed. He did not look like a man who “used the river,” as the phrase goes, for those who make their living from the waters of the St. Lawrence.

“I’ll order you about just as much as I please,” he snapped angrily, seemingly in a towering rage. “This island is mine.”

“I’ll have to contradict you there,” rejoined Ralph calmly. “Since the time of the Fenian invasion the island has been a sort of no-man’s-land. The United States and Canada have not yet decided to which government it belongs. We’ve as much right here as you have.”

“You impudent young whelp, don’t accuse me of telling an untruth!”

“I’m doing no such thing,” retorted Ralph bluntly. “I’m stating facts and – you’re not.”

“Well, anyhow, you can’t land here. I’ve no idea where you came from, but I don’t want you here; so get out before I drive you out.”

“You’ll have to answer me a few questions first. What exploded here?”

“What do you think you are? A bloomin’ bobby?”

“No, I don’t think I’m a policeman; but neither I nor my friends here intend to leave till we know more about this explosion. If you have explosives stored here you are a menace to the other islanders, of whom my father is one.”

“A lot I care about that. Are you going?”

“No.”

“Then take that!”

The man made a rush at Ralph, apparently meaning to throw him off the dock on which they were still standing. But before he could reach him something happened; or rather, two things happened at once.

Something twining and snake-like in its grip encircled the man’s legs; almost at the same time, deprived of his footing, he sat down violently and with a sad loss of dignity.

It was Harry Ware’s doing. Seeing that trouble was impending, and knowing Ralph well enough to realize that his chum would not yield to rough coercion, he had bethought himself of the only weapon they had. This was a heavy weight attached to a long line which was sometimes used as an anchor when they went fishing in the tender. To hasten to the boat and bring back the weight and the attached line was the work of little more than a moment.

The boy returned with his improvised weapon just in time to behold the man’s onslaught. He swung the weight and then suddenly released it. The heavy iron shot out and in a jiffy it had swung the rope round and round the man’s legs, effectually depriving him of the power to move, without injuring him in the slightest, except in his self-respect.

“You infernal young demons!” yelled the man furiously, as he sat helpless on the dock.

The force of his fall had shaken him, and this had not helped to improve his temper.

“Come, calling us bad names won’t do any good,” soothed Ralph.

“I’ll have you arrested! I’ll have the law on you! See if I don’t,” bawled the man, struggling to release himself from the encircling rope.

“I wouldn’t talk about law right now,” warned Ralph, in smooth, even tones. “The law might be interested to know something about this explosion to-night, you know.”

“Yah-h-h-h-h-h!” snarled the man. His anger and humiliation had rendered him incapable of any more articulate form of speech.

“Come on, boys, we’ll go up to the ruins,” said Ralph, while the man still struggled with his bonds. In the darkness he was having a hard time to untangle them.

“Don’t you dare go up near that hut,” he roared at the top of his voice.

“See here, my friend, you’ve said enough,” hailed back Ralph, as, together, the three chums set off for the glowing timbers that marked the smoldering remains of the hut.

“I’ll fix you,” roared the man, springing to his feet and rushing after the boys the instant he succeeded in getting loose.

“Don’t make any attempt to interfere with us,” warned Ralph, as the man rushed at them.

“Oh, I won’t, eh? Well, you’ll see. I’ll just – ”

Whack! As the man pounced on him, Ralph’s fist shot out like a piston rod on a compound engine.

It appeared to have almost as much “kick,” too, for the man went down like a stone and lay on the ground, using bad language and threatening the Border Boys with all sorts of terrible things.

“Stop using profanity,” advised Ralph; “it never did anybody any good and never will. Besides, we don’t care to hear it. Good night.”

“I’ll fix you, you young jackanapes,” screamed the man, still, however, not rising from the ground. “How dare you strike me? How dare you – ”

“Remember, I warned you not to interfere with us,” rejoined Ralph, perfectly coolly; “you have only yourself to blame. I simply defended myself against an unjustifiable assault.”

“Unjustifiable!” shouted the man. “Is it unjustifiable for you to intrude in my affairs? Is it unjustifiable to come butting in – ”

“Where we appear to be needed?” said Ralph, suddenly pausing in an attitude of keen attention. “Hark, boys!”

From the neighborhood of the ruins there had come a low groan.

“There’s somebody suffering there! Come on!” shouted Ralph.

The others needed no second urging to the rescue. Followed by the imprecations of the man they left behind, they hastened on toward the smoking pile that marked the site of the hut.

CHAPTER XII
SAVED FROM THE RUINS

“The groans seem to come from over there,” said Harry, after an interval of searching among the scattered beams and timbers.

“Where?”

“Right there where the remains of that stone chimney are standing. Phew! what a strong odor! It makes my head ache.”

“Dynamite,” was Ralph’s brief response; “that shows I was right. It was dynamite that blew up the hut.”

Right by the chimney that Harry Ware had indicated was a confused pile of boards and scantlings. As the boys reached the spot a hollow moan came from beneath the tumbled mass of wreckage.

“Here, boys! It’s right under here!” cried Ralph. “Hurry now and tear this stuff away. It may be a matter of life and death.”

The boys worked feverishly for a few minutes and then they uncovered an arm, and a minute later an unconscious form was stretched out before their eyes.

“Why, it’s a boy!” exclaimed Percy Simmons, as the white face of the inanimate form was illumined by a faint glow from the smoldering hut.

“So it is. Just a kid. See, there’s a bucket over there and a well yonder. Make haste and get some water, Harry,” said Ralph. “We’ll bathe this cut on his forehead.”

“Poor little fellow, he looks about all in,” said Percy Simmons, as Harry hurried off on his errand of mercy.

“I’m not so sure about that. He may have only been knocked unconscious when those beams fell on him,” replied Ralph hopefully. “I can find no trace of broken bones.”

“Well, that’s good, anyhow. See, here comes Harry back with the water. What now?”

“We must bathe the wound and then try to get him to a doctor,” was the reply.

“A doctor?”

“Certainly. He needs medical attendance. We can only give first aid measures.”

“But there’s no doctor nearer than Piquetville.”

“Think again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, on North Twin Island, not far from us, Dr. Chadwick has a summer home. He arrived there two days ago. We’ll take this boy there, and see what can be done for him.”

While this conversation was going on Ralph had been tenderly bathing the little lad’s wound, while the others supported his limp frame. He appeared to be hardly more than eleven or twelve years old, with a meager, starved-looking little body; but his hands were cruelly scarred and mauled as if by hard work. His feet and calves were bare and a tattered shirt and torn trousers formed his sole garments. Altogether, it was a forlorn little scarecrow that they bent over in the dim light of the ruins.

All this time they had forgotten completely about the man they had left behind them, felled by Ralph’s necessary blow. He now was recalled abruptly to their recollection by no less a circumstance than his arrival on the scene.

“What are you doing with that boy?” he demanded roughly.

“Trying to do the best we can to patch him up till we get him to a doctor,” said Ralph sharply. “Did you know he was in the ruins?”

“What is that to you if I did or not?” grumbled the man. “If you must know, I was looking for him when you came up and interfered.”

“And you wasted valuable time which might, for all you knew, have cost a human life, in quarreling with us? You’re a fine specimen – not!” growled out Ralph. He was mad clear through at the other’s brutal cynicism. But he was to get madder still presently.

“Don’t you dare take that boy off this island,” the man said peremptorily.

“And why not?” demanded Ralph. “Surely it’s plain enough, even to as callous a being as you are, that he needs medical attention.”

“I can attend to him. If you take him away from here, you do it at your peril,” was the extraordinary reply.

“Great Scott, man, do you call yourself a human being?” burst out Percy Simmons.

“Come on. Pick him up and carry him down to the boat. Easy now, don’t shake him,” said Ralph as, after bandaging the lad’s head with his handkerchief, he issued the order to his chums, ignoring the man utterly. The fellow fumed as Percy Simmons and Harry Ware took the injured lad’s head and feet and started off for the boat.

“Put down that boy!” he screamed.

“By what authority?” demanded Ralph.

“By mine. I’m his father.”

“Then you must have married mighty early. You don’t look much over twenty-one or so.”

“Confound your impudence!” shrieked out the man. “How dare you come here and kidnap my son?”

“Oh, we’re not kidnapping. We are taking him to Dr. Chadwick on North Twin Island. He may decide that he must go to a hospital. If the doctor does order this we will inform you. Will you let us have your name?”

“I will not,” shouted the man. “I warn you that you are law-breakers. You’ll be punished for this. I’ll see to that, if it takes me the longest day I ever live!”

“Then you’ll have to wait till the time that men or boys are to be punished for saving lives,” flung back Ralph scornfully, as they made their way to the landing.

The man offered no further objections to their taking the boy. Possibly he had had his lesson already and found out that instead of three mere boys, he had tackled lads who had seen enough of peril and adventure to render them capable of rising to almost any emergency that might present itself.

Nevertheless, he followed them to the dock and watched without comment while they stowed the lad as comfortably as they could on the floor of the little tender, using the cushions off the seats so that he might rest the more easily.

“We’ll let you hear from us in the morning,” cried Ralph, as they shoved off, the man still remaining in silence on the dock.

“Don’t you dare to come back here again,” he bawled in reply. “If you do, I shan’t be alone.”

“Perhaps we shan’t be, either,” shot back Ralph, as he fell to work on the oars.

With this parting dart, they left the strange man of Windmill Island silhouetted against the glowing remains of his hut. As long as they could see him, he stood motionless there, watching the receding boat.

“Well, if this isn’t a night of adventures and mysteries, jumbled up like a tangled fishing line, I’d like to know,” exclaimed Percy Simmons feelingly, as the boat moved slowly through the water.

CHAPTER XIII
A RACE FOR THE DOCTOR

“We’ll switch to the motor, Persimmons.”

The dawn comes up early so far north as the St. Lawrence. It was not yet three o’clock in the morning, yet there was a faint gray light illumining the river.

They had been waiting for this. In the darkness, and with the many whirlpools and rapids that occur in that part of the river, it would have been dangerous to do anything more than wait about for daylight. As the light grew stronger the little motor began to crackle and bang, and the tender moved swiftly off through the water in the direction of Dr. Chadwick’s island.

“How is our patient getting along, Ralph?” asked Harry, who was steering.

“Breathing easily, but still unconscious. Give us all the speed you can get, Percy. This boy’s life may be the reward of a few extra miles coaxed out of the engine.”

“I’ll do my best,” young Simmons assured him.

With Persimmons making good his promise, it was not long before the tender’s headway was checked off Dr. Chadwick’s island, a pretty, wooded spot with a bungalow showing amid the trees. The bungalow stood back from the water up a steep, grassy slope. The first rays of the rising sun were gleaming on this when the little tender came to a stop at a neat stone dock.

“Blow the whistle,” ordered Ralph. “I guess somebody is up. Anyhow, there is smoke coming from the chimney.”

Obediently, Percy Simmons began sounding the pneumatic whistle.

Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot!

At the fifth blast the figure of a servant appeared from the bungalow at the top of the slope.

Ralph snatched up the tender’s megaphone.

“Dr. Chadwick at home?” he shouted.

The servant nodded in reply.

“Then please ask him to hurry down here as soon as possible. We’ve got a badly injured boy with us. Ask him to make all the haste he can. It’s a serious case.”

The man gave a wave of his hand to show he understood and vanished. It did not take long for Dr. Chadwick to appear. He was evidently up early to go on a fishing expedition, for he wore outing clothes. He was a middle-aged but active man. He came down the slope quickly, carrying a black surgical case in one hand. As he saw the boys he broke into a run. Speedily he was on the dock looking down into the tender.

“Well, well,” he exclaimed, “you young men are early callers. What is the trouble? Ah! that lad there! Cut on the head, eh? Bring him ashore and I’ll examine him.”

The injured lad was carefully lifted to the dock by the boys and laid down on the crib-work, while the physician bent over him sympathizingly. He removed the bandage that bound the boy’s head. As he saw the wound he whistled.

“Pretty bad cut, this. How did it happen?”

As the boys explained the case to him, he worked on the wound, applying antiseptics and carefully bandaging it.

“Is the skull fractured?” inquired Ralph.

“That is impossible to say. I cannot do more than examine it now.”

“What had better be done?”

“I’d recommend a hospital,” said the doctor.

“Is there one near here?” inquired Ralph.

“Yes, at Cardinal, on the Canadian shore.”

“We had better take him there?”

“I should strongly advise it. In fact, it may be his only chance of pulling through. It was a good thing you came to me so early. I am going down the river to-day and may be gone for some time. Otherwise I should be glad to help you out in elucidating the mystery of that island.”

“Thank you,” rejoined Ralph; “we mean to try and do something in that way ourselves.”

“Well, you look capable enough,” said the doctor dryly, with a twinkle in his eye.

Not long after, for the doctor had cautioned them not to delay, the tender shot out from the dock. In the rush of events it had hardly occurred to the boys to talk over the disappearance of the River Swallow. Now, however, that they had done almost all they could for the boy, and the tender was headed for Cardinal, not more than six miles off, the talk swung naturally enough to that topic.

Indignation against Malvin was the ruling feeling, although Ralph warned them not to prejudge the man.

“He may have had some good reason for what he did,” he said.

“He’ll have a good excuse, anyhow. I’ll bet my head on that,” said Harry Ware, with emphasis.

They were swinging between the North Twin and the South Twin Island as the lad spoke. As they shot around a promontory on the latter’s easterly end, Percy Simmons, who had relieved Harry at the wheel, checked their talk by an abrupt shout.

“Motor craft ahead!” he cried.

“Where?” demanded Ralph.

“Right over our bow. By hickory,” the boy’s voice became surcharged with sudden excitement, “it’s – it’s the River Swallow!”

“By all that’s wonderful, so it is!” and Ralph echoed the other’s shout.

“Hail her!” suggested Harry, “it won’t be long now before we squeeze some sort of an explanation out of that wiggly Malvin.”

The tender was urged to top speed. The River Swallow was bound down the river, apparently headed for Dexter Island. She was making good speed, but, aided by the current between the two islands, the tender bade fair to intercept her. Harry Ware opened a locker and snatched out a flag. He waved it energetically above his head.

Before long the River Swallow’s way was checked. She swerved from her course and headed for the little tender. As she came alongside, Malvin’s face appeared on the bridge. His countenance beamed with what appeared to be genuine relief as he met the boys’ eyes unflinchingly.

“Thank heaven you’re safe, young gentlemen!” he cried. “I feared something had happened to you.”

“Humph,” muttered Harry to himself, as some steps were lowered and they prepared to board the River Swallow, “I’ve got more than half a notion, my friend, that you weren’t half as worried as you would like us to think.”

Malvin and Hansen helped to get the injured lad on deck, where he was laid out in the cockpit. Had Ralph not been preoccupied he would have noticed Malvin give a perceptible start as his eyes fell upon the lad’s pallid face.

“It’s Henderson Hawke’s boy, Jim Whey,” he muttered to himself. “So it was these brats of Border Boys who landed on Windmill Island last night. I thought so from the description Hawke gave me of his visitors.”

After seeing the wounded lad comfortably disposed, Ralph ordered full speed ahead. Cardinal was reached after a swift run and the lad hurried to the hospital in an ambulance summoned from the dock.

“I think we may hope for the best,” said the house surgeon in answer to the boys’ inquiries. “What is the lad’s name?”

“We – we don’t know; but I’ll be responsible for him,” rejoined Ralph.

“Humph! Queer sort of lads,” muttered the surgeon, as he turned to give some orders and the boys returned to their fast motor craft.