Linda Carlton's Island Adventure

"Watch out for snakes, Dot!" warned Linda. "I'd almost rather meet the Doc than a snake, I believe."

They walked carefully towards the camp only to find it absolutely deserted.

"Let's look all around," suggested Linda, who remembered everything only too well. "We'll begin with the mess-tent."

Quietly at first, they snooped around, peering into boxes of provisions, looking under the cots, behind the tents, and, when they were quite sure that they were alone, they began to act more natural, to laugh and joke with each other.

Linda showed Dot the tent which she had shared with Susie that one night of her captivity, and they both smiled over the sight of the magazine which had led to Linda's escape.

"We could even stay here all night if we had to," Dot remarked. "Seems comfortable enough."

Linda shuddered.

"Never again!" she protested. "But we may as well eat some lunch before we fly to that island. I'm hungry."

"And thirsty. But it isn't so hot here as it was in Jacksonville."

"No. And the island out in the ocean ought to be cooler yet. You may like it so well that you'll want to spend the summer there. Only it has no tents or cots, like this camp."

"Thank you, I'd rather not play Robinson Crusoe," replied Dot.

"Poor man!" sighed Linda. "If he'd only had an airplane, how simple it would have been for him."

They ate their lunch, and then, for the third time, Linda flew across the Okefenokee and over the coastal plain of Georgia – out to the barren island in the ocean where the treasure had been hidden. The desolate loneliness of the spot impressed her companion.

"You suggested this as a summer resort!" she remarked, when they had landed. "Why, I don't even see a fishing-boat!"

"That's just the trouble," replied Linda. "The first time I flew here – with Susie's husband – I looked about desperately for somebody to shout to for help. And there wasn't a soul! Nothing but ocean and sky… Do you have your revolver handy, Dot?"

"Yes. Right here. But I don't know much about shooting."

"I'm sure we shan't have to. I just want to explore. But 'be prepared' is our motto."

"I will be. I won't shoot you, either, Linda – you can count on me for that."

Climbing out of the autogiro they walked towards the center of the island where the sand was soft and the underbrush thick. Perhaps, thought Linda, there might be more hiding places than the one hole which she knew; it would be worth while to make a thorough search. On and on they plodded, the sand sinking into their shoes, the sun beating down upon them with full blast, for what trees there were, were not high enough to afford much shade. It was difficult to find the hiding place in such monotonous desolation, but at last she came to the spot.

"Somebody's been here since I came with the police!" she said to Dot, "because we left the stones as we found them. But it looks as if the hole is empty."

She was correct in her surmise. After five minutes of pushing the sand away, Linda had assured herself that nothing was there.

"Let's go down to the opposite shore from the one we came in on," suggested Dot. "And explore that."

"All right," agreed Linda. "If you can stand walking through this sand again…" She stopped abruptly, peering towards the shore. An instant later she dragged the other girl to the ground. "The Doc!" she whispered, hoarsely. "I saw him down by the water – maybe there's a boat coming!"

"What shall we do?" demanded Dot, clutching her revolver tightly.

"Wait till he gets on – and follow in the autogiro. I've got plenty of gas… Let's be creeping back to the Ladybug."

The girls kept well hidden behind the underbrush, crawling along on their hands and knees. Suddenly Dot stopped; she had struck something solid. A canvas bag – two bags, stuffed full with something. Could it be the money?

Breathless, they both stopped while Linda untwisted with her pen-knife the coarse pieces of wire around the tops of the bags, and dumped out the contents. Money in an amount they had never seen before! Hundred dollar bills in rolls that they had no time to count, bonds in thousand-dollar denominations!

"Hide it quickly, Dot!" whispered Linda. "In your pockets, your riding-breeches – stuff some of it in my clothes – while I re-fill these bags with sand… And have your revolver ready."

Chapter XII

The Money-Bags

Linda's theories regarding the fourth member of the gang of thieves had been only partially correct. As she had surmised, the "Doc" slipped off in the canoe from Black Jack Island while his companions slept, and he did stop at Soldiers' Camp. But it was not he who compelled Susie to go with him, but the girl herself who insisted upon accompanying him.

Susie's desire to reform had been sincere while Linda was with her. She had actually meant to cut free from the gang and go back to a normal mode of life – earning her living as she had done when she met her husband. No more sneaking about in fear of the law, no more hiding in that desolate camp in the Okefenokee Swamp! She would get a job at an airport, and take up flying again. She might even become famous – like Linda Carlton!

But unfortunately, after the famous aviatrix left her alone, her enthusiasm faded, and her faith in her ability to make a "come-back" died as suddenly as it was born. How could she ever hope to be free from the stain of her last two years of living – since her marriage to "Slats"? If Linda did not turn her over to the police authorities, someone else would. She might have to serve five or ten years in prison.

As the afternoon passed, she grew more and more miserable, more anxious to get away. If only she had a boat! If her ankle were not so painful, and her bandaged head not so conspicuous! If there were only some way for her to escape!

Having no appetite, she made no pretense at preparing any supper for herself. There was still some cold tea left from lunch; she decided to make that her meal, and an hour later she fell asleep where she was, right on the shore of the island.

The sun was rising over the swamp when she awakened the following morning, and she sat up with difficulty, cramped by her uncomfortable position in sleep.

"I might as well be dead – with Slats," she thought, morbidly, as she viewed the desolation around her. Again she tried to rise, when the soft sound of a paddle, dipping into the quiet water attracted her attention. She waited breathlessly. Were the boys coming back so soon?

Not long afterward a canoe came into sight. Susie's heart leaped with joy when she recognized who was guiding it. The Doc!

"Doc!" she cried. "Bill Rickers!" she added, using the man's real name. "It's Susie!"

The man pulled up to the island, amazed at finding her there. In the dawning light he saw the autogiro, lying half on its side.

"Where's Slats?" he demanded.

"Dead," answered the girl, immediately. "We had a wreck… Will you take me with you?" she begged. "I'm almost crazy here all by myself."

"I wanted to make a get-away alone," he muttered.

"You have the money!" she cried, jumping at once to the correct conclusion. "Where are the other two men?"

"Asleep at Black Jack Island."

"And where are you going?"

"Out of the swamp – across the state, and then over to our island. The yacht's due there tomorrow – I want to be ready to go with it."

"O.K. with me," agreed Susie, as if she had been invited to go. "Let's push off now – or wait – we'll eat some breakfast. There's beans and cold tea."

"Maybe you could be some use," remarked the man, as he ate the meager breakfast. "If we could get a plane. And I am sorry for you, Kid – all alone here with Slats dead."

Susie gave him no chance to change his mind. Hobbling out to the little "house" where the boys had put the blanket and the extra food, she picked up the former, smoothed her dress and her hair, and returned to announce herself ready. They pushed off again, following the little stream out of the swamp.