href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@36377@[email protected]#chXIII" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">118

XIV. Off for the South 128 XV. Something About White Mice 138 XVI. Picking up the Trail 147 XVII. Meeting Old Friends 157 XVIII. Off for Barbados 167 XIX. The Missing Ship 177 XX. Landing on Cave Island 187 XXI. Into a Cave and Out 197 XXII. The Hurricane 207 XXIII. A Strange Discovery 217 XXIV. Jasniff and Merwell 227 XXV. Link Merwell’s Story 237 XXVI. The Column of Smoke 247 XXVII. Behind the Curtain of Vines 257 XXVIII. In Which the Enemy Sails Away 267 XXIX. A Chase on the Ocean 277 XXX. Homeward Bound—Conclusion 287

 
 
 

DAVE PORTER ON CAVE ISLAND

CHAPTER I—THE SCHOOLBOY CHUMS

“Come on, fellows, if you are going! It’s a good six-mile skate to Squirrel Island, and we’ve got to hustle if we want to get there in time for lunch.”

“Wait till I fix my right skate, Dave,” returned Phil Lawrence. “I don’t want to lose it on the way.”

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” came from another of the group of schoolboys who were adjusting their skates. “Once a man asked for a pair of skates for——”

“Stow it, Shadow!” interrupted Dave Porter. “We haven’t any time now to listen to stories. You can tell them while we are resting up at the island.”

“Shadow can tell stories while we put away the lunch,” observed Roger Morr, with a grin.

“Not much!” cried the lad mentioned. “I guess that skate will make me as hungry as anybody—and the stories will keep.”

“I thought Ben Basswood was going, too?” came from another of the schoolboys.

“Here he comes, Lazy,” answered Dave, and as he spoke he pointed to a path across the snow-covered campus, along which another boy was hurrying, skates in hand.

“Co-couldn’t get here an-any so-sooner!” panted Ben, as he dropped on a bench to adjust his skates. “Old Haskers made me do some extra work in Latin! Wow, but don’t I love that man!”

“We all do,” answered Phil. “We are going to get up a testimonial to him. A silver-mounted——”

“Slice of punk, with an ancient lemon on top,” finished Dave. “It’s just what he’s been waiting for.” And at this sally there was a general laugh.

“Well, I’m ready,” went on Phil, as he arose from the bench. “Say, but isn’t it just a glorious day for the outing?” he added, casting his eyes around and drawing in a deep breath of the pure, cold air.

“It couldn’t be better, Phil,” answered Dave. “And we ought to have a fine time at the island, bringing down rabbits and squirrels. Old Jerry Lusk told me that hunting was never better.”

“What’s the matter with having some of the rabbits and squirrels for lunch?” asked Sam Day.

“Perhaps we can cook them, Sam,” returned Dave. “But we had better depend on the lunch hamper for something to eat. By the way, we’ll have to take turns carrying the hamper. It is rather