“I suppose they came down here to get their tent, not realizing we’d be here so soon,” observed Andy, which indeed was the fact.

Fortunately the Flying Fish was not very hard aground and a little manipulation got her off into deep water once more.

“I guess those two chaps are almost in Hampton by this time and getting ready to leave town,” observed Rob as the motor boat forged ahead, once more.

“This will be the safest thing for them to do,” exclaimed Merritt, “they are in a serious position this time.  Kidnapping is a dire offense.”

“I wonder what they came back for?” said Tubby suddenly.

“No doubt to get their tent and the few things they had left on the island,” vouchsafed Rob, skillfully dodging a shoal as he spoke, “maybe, too, they intended to see how Joe was making out.”

“I wasn’t making out at all,” said the small lad, with a shudder at the recollection of his imprisonment.

“Never mind, Joe, that’s all over now,” put in Merritt.

“I’m glad it is,” answered the small lad, “and just think, if I hadn’t been a Boy Scout and understood that code I might have been there yet.”

“That’s true enough,” said Rob, “for we had about made up our minds that the bungalow was deserted, and were not going to bother investigating it, till we saw the smoke.”

About an hour later the boys landed once more in camp, where their reception by the others may be well imagined by my young readers.

“And now comes the final chapter in the career of Messrs. Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender,” said Rob decisively, “I’m going to take a run up to Hampton.  Joe, you’ll come along, and you, Merritt, and Tubby.  If that letter was delivered, as I imagine it was, Joe’s parents must be in a terrible state of anxiety by now and we must hurry up and see them at once.”

“Right,” agreed Merritt, and a few moments later, having left the captain and the others ashore, the Boy Scouts and their young leader were speeding toward Hampton.  With the craft lightened as she was, they made good time and arrived at the yacht club pier speedily.

News of the events which had transpired at the island had evidently reached the town, for Mr. Wingate himself, with Mr. Blake and Merritt’s father were at the landing as the Flying Fish glided up to it.

The three elders were almost as enthusiastic as the boys had been over the safe recovery of Joe, the details attendant on which Rob rapidly sketched to them.  He had hardly concluded and had not had time to ask how they knew of the kidnapping when a wild-eyed man in faded old farm clothes, accompanied by an equally distracted woman, came rushing down to the wharf.

“Where’s them Boy Scouts?  I allers knew no good would come of my son joining ’em,” the man shouted.  “I’ll give a hundred dollars fer a boat that’ll take me ter Topsail Island in ten minutes.”

“’No need of that, Mr. Digby,” said Rob quietly stepping forward with his hand on Joe’s shoulder, “here is Joe safe and sound.”