cannon balls. They plant them every spring and give pleasure to some of these old fellows, who are traveling around the island in their gentle, antiquated gait looking for things that belonged to our grandfathers. They give them the childish pleasure of making ‘discoveries’ every year.”

“I should think they would take the balls away with them,” suggested John.

“No, they leave them for the historical interest they provide for the visitors. You go up to the reception room and you’ll find some there now in the glass case. They are a part of the same crop.”

“That’s all right,” laughed Grant. “It’s an easy way to keep the old people interested.”

By this time the Gadabout had gained the lower point of Drummond Island, thirty-five miles from the place from which they had started more than two hours before this time. Across the narrow channel they saw the shores of Cockburn Island. The latter was within the Canadian boundaries and as the captain of the Gadabout had explained, the boys would not be permitted to fish in the waters along its shore without a special permit from the Canadian officials.

The shore which they were approaching apparently had no buildings of any kind. There were high bluffs and rocky points, but no house was within sight.

“Captain,” called Fred, “why are you taking us to this island?”

“I’m not taking you to this island,” responded the captain. “I’m going to take you past it. I’m not fool enough to try to dodge the Canadian laws.”

Both the captain and his mate were watching the shore of the island, which every moment was becoming more distinct.

Unexpectedly on a bluff far to the left a man was seen standing and suddenly he appeared to become aware of the approaching Gadabout. Turning abruptly about he several times waved a white cloth, which he held in his hand, to parties that apparently were behind him. Then, once more facing the waters, he again waved the cloth. Instantly and with a grin of satisfaction appearing on his face the captain changed the course of his motor boat.

The four boys glanced blankly at one another and for a brief time no one spoke.

It was later when they learned that the signal which they had observed was to mean much, both in excitement and adventure, for all four of the boys on board the Gadabout.

CHAPTER II
THE LANDING ON THE CANADIAN SHORE

As the course of the Gadabout was sharply changed in response to the call of the captain, the attention of the four boys was quickly drawn in another direction. Not one of them was aware of anything unusual in what really was a signal on the shore of the Canadian island.

In a brief time the party was once more in American waters and as it was still early in the morning, preparations were soon made for the sport of the day.

The Gadabout was anchored in a little cove and the mate, with Fred and John, as the members of his party, took one of the skiffs, while Grant and George together with the captain departed in the other. It was agreed that they should meet at a certain place for luncheon and the rivalry was keen as to which boat should have the bigger catch of fish.

“Look out for us!” called Fred as his boat drew away from that in which his companions were being carried. “Look out for us! If you hear a whistle you’ll know we will need help.”

“To catch your fish?” laughed Grant.

“No, to bring them in. We’ll have a boat-load, anyway.”

In high spirits the boys soon were ready for the sport of the day, and it was not long before neither boat was within sight of the other.

When the noon hour arrived, still excited and hungry, the two boats were landed at the place agreed upon and the captain at once displayed his skill as a cook.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” said George, not long after they were seated about the folding table which the captain had brought in the Gadabout. “Isn’t it wonderful the amount of food a fellow can put himself outside of?”

“It is that,” mumbled John, who was as busy as any of his comrades. “It pays for it all, now.”

“Of course it pays,” laughed Fred. “That’s what we’re here for. Honest, Grant, who caught that big pickerel?”

“I did,” responded Grant proudly. “I cannot tell a lie, I caught it with my little hook and line.”

“I’ll ask the captain about that later. I saw some other boats up there where you were and I am going to ask them how much they charged for the fish they sold you.”

“They didn’t sell us any fish!” retorted George indignantly.

“Another boy that cannot tell a lie. No wonder they call you the papa of your country. What do we do this afternoon?”

“I’m going to take you to another place,” explained the captain, who throughout the meal had been busied in attending to the numerous wants of the boys.

“Shall we get more fish than we did this morning?”

“That depends,” said the captain solemnly. “Some people do and some don’t. It mostly depends on whether they are any good with the rod.”

“Don’t you think we’re good?” demanded Fred.

“Huh!” retorted the captain. “Maybe you will be some day. Most of the fish you got this morning were hooked so that they couldn’t have got off the hook. There’s a big difference between catching a fish that way, and getting one with just a hook through his lip. It takes some skill then.”

“All right, captain, just as you say. You show us the right ground and we’ll do the rest.”

“Maybe you will and maybe you won’t,” retorted the captain as he turned away to prepare dinner for himself and his mate.

When afternoon came, the Gadabout took the two skiffs once more in tow and swiftly carried them seven miles farther, where the wonderful ground described by the captain was located.

As soon as the anchor was dropped, the skiffs, arranged as in the morning, sought the place where the marvelous fishing was to be had.

Apparently the words of the captain were in a measure fulfilled for so busy were the four young fishermen that not one of them was aware of the increasing distance between the boat in which he was fishing and the one which carried his comrades.

It was late in the afternoon when Fred suddenly looked up and said, “It’s getting late, Jack. We ought to be going back to the boat. I don’t see it anywhere, do you?”

“You mean the skiff in which Grant and George are fishing?”

“Yes.”

“No, I don’t see them,” said John slowly, after he had glanced all about him. “I don’t see the Gadabout either.”

“Well, the mate knows where it is,” said Fred easily. “I hope the other fellows won’t get into any trouble, for there’s a storm coming up.”

As he spoke, Fred pointed to some clouds that rapidly were approaching in the sky directly overhead. They were black, angry clouds too, and the frequent flashes of lightning were followed by reports of thunder that at first had been so low as scarcely to be noticed. Now, however, the sounds were threatening and the oarsman, bidding the two boys reel in their lines at once, began to row swiftly toward the point behind which the Gadabout was anchored.

In a few moments, however, the calm waters had become rough. Whitecaps were to be seen all about them and the boys glanced anxiously at each other. The wind too had risen now, but instead of blowing steadily across the