Linda Carlton's Island Adventure

"Do you suppose they're both sick – or injured?" faltered Louise. She did not add, "or dead," but she could not help thinking it.

"Maybe they didn't hear us. Let's shout together – 'Linda and Dot!' If they hear their first names, they'll know we're friends, maybe recognize our voices. You see they may be hiding – for fear it's that gangster returning."

"I never thought of that," replied Louise, more hopefully. "All right – both together when I count three.

"One – two – three!"

"LINDA AND DOT!"

Their voices rose clearly over the splashing of the waves, and they waited tensely.

But there was no reply!

They waited, and tried again… Still silence… Louise put out her hand, and grasped her husband's, in fear.

"What does it mean?" she cried, in anguish. "Is this surely the right island? There seemed to be a lot of them."

"Maybe it isn't" he answered, optimistically. "That girl seemed to be telling the truth – but she was a queer one. Besides, she might not be sure which island it was… Anyway, we'll search. If Linda and Dot were here, we'll see some evidences of their camp – burnt out fires, or worn paths, or something. Come on, let's start!"

Arm in arm they began their search, stepping carefully through the underbrush, now and then stopping to call, "Linda" or "Dot," in the hope that the girls might only have been asleep. They did not have to go far before they saw that at least someone had been here recently, for there was a path worn through the underbrush.

Farther and farther in they went, until they came to a small cluster of pine trees. And here, sure enough, they found the remains, or rather the ashes, for the place had been left neat, of a camp fire.

The sight of this forsaken spot brought sudden tears to Louise's eyes.

"They've been dragged off and killed! I just know it!" she moaned.

"Don't cry, please, dear," begged Ted. "We're not sure yet. This may not be their island – their fire. Somebody else may have camped here. Let's look about a bit."

Slowly they walked around the place, examining the ground for some forgotten belonging that would identify the former campers. Noticing a pile of leaves where someone had evidently made a bed, Louise kicked them aside with her foot, and she saw an empty matchbox. It wasn't much, but it was something, and she leaned over and picked it up.

The letters on the lid leaped out at her like living tongues. Marked with a purple rubber-stamp over the trade-mark, were the words:

"J. Vetter, Spring City, Ohio."

The explanation was only too plain. No one but Dot and Linda could have used that box. Louise dropped to the ground in an agony of wretchedness, and buried her face in her hands.

Even the optimistic Ted found all his hopes blasted by this little box. Gloom spread over his features, and he sat down beside his wife, comforting her as best he could.

For fifteen minutes, perhaps, they remained motionless, overcome by the thought of their friends' awful death. The food which they had brought with the idea of sharing a gay picnic lunch with Dot and Linda was forgotten. Though they had not eaten since breakfast, neither Ted nor Louise could have swallowed a mouthful.

At last Ted got up, gently raising Louise to her feet. Each silently decided to make one more search – a gruesome one this time – for the girls' bodies.

Round and round the island they walked, looking carefully, among the underbrush, near to the beach, even scanning the water with their spyglasses. But they saw nothing. That one matchbox had been their only evidence. Like good campers to the end, Linda and Dot had burned every trace of rubbish.

It was mid-afternoon when Ted realized that Louise was faint from hunger and thirst, and he made her sit down while he brought some supplies from the plane. She drank the water eagerly, but she could not eat. For Louise Mackay was going through the deepest tragedy of her young life: her first experience with the loss of a loved one.

During the entire flight homeward she kept her hand on Ted's knee, but she did not utter a word.

Chapter XVI

Searching the Ocean

Louise and Ted Mackay did not go to the police headquarters that night. They were too miserable, too discouraged by the outcome of their excursion to the island. After leaving the plane at the airport, Ted called Captain Magee on the telephone, and briefly related the results of their flight.

Supper was a dreary affair for them both. It was only by putting forth a tremendous effort that they ate at all – in an attempt to stave off exhaustion. The ice cream, at least, tasted good to Louise, for she was still very hot.

The worst ordeal of all came after the meal, just as the saddened young couple were passing through the hotel lobby to take the elevator to their room. Louise suddenly recognized two familiar figures at the desk, two men who had just arrived with their luggage. Mr. Crowley and Mr. Carlton – the fathers of the two unfortunate girls!

The tears which Louise had bravely forced back ever since her collapse at the discovery of the matchbox on the island, rushed to her eyes again. How could they ever tell these two men the terrible news?

For an instant she hoped they would not see her or her husband, that she could at least put off the evil tidings until the morning. But it was not to be. Linda's father recognized her instantly, and came quickly towards her.

"Louise!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "And Ted! Any news?"

Louise could not answer for the sob that was choking her, and Ted, shy as he always was, knew it was his duty to explain.

"Bad news, Sir," he said. "We had information this morning that the girls were stranded on an island in the ocean, and that their autogiro had been stolen from them. As you probably read in the newspaper, it was found yesterday… We – Lou and I – flew to the island where the girls were supposed to be, this afternoon, and found evidences of their camp – burnt out fires – but no trace of the girls."

Mr. Carlton looked grave.

"But they may have been rescued," suggested Mr. Crowley, who had the same optimistic disposition as his daughter.

"Possibly," admitted Ted. "But if they had, wouldn't we have heard? The whole country is waiting for news of those two brave girls."

"I'm afraid you're right," agreed Mr. Carlton, darkly. "Yes, you must be right. Foul play – "

"Or the ocean!" put in Louise. "Oh, the cruel, dreadful ocean! If it couldn't swallow Linda up on her flight to Paris, it had to have its revenge now!"

"Have you had your dinner, Sir?" asked Ted of Mr. Carlton.

"Yes. On the train. Suppose we get our rooms – I'll ask for a private sitting-room – and then we can all go up and discuss the matter together from every angle, and decide upon what is the best thing for us to do."

Louise brightened at this ray of hope.

"Then you're not going to give up yet, Mr. Carlton?" she inquired.

"Never, till we find them – dead or alive. We're going to think of no news as good news."

Mr. Crowley nodded his approval.

"I have a week's vacation," added Ted, "and I shall be at your service."

"Thank you, my boy," answered Mr. Carlton, gratefully. He was a great admirer of Ted Mackay, ever since he had recovered from his prejudice against him because he was the son of a ne'er-do-well.

The new-comers made their arrangements at the desk, and were fortunate enough to secure a very pleasant suite. Louise and Ted went up in the elevator with them, and Mr. Carlton ordered coffee to be sent to the room.

They settled down into the easy chairs and Louise poured the iced-coffee. The evening was hot, but there were large windows on three sides of the sitting-room, and a lovely breeze was blowing. Mr. Carlton brought out cigars and offered one to Ted.