“What, after he kicked you like that?” inquired Jack.

“Yes,” Tom replied.  “A Boy Scout never holds a grudge.”

“Good for you, Tom!” cried Jack, extending his hand to meet Tom’s in a hearty grip.  “Those sentiments make me glad that you are a member of the Beaver Patrol.  I wish they were all like that!”

No time was lost in preparing the boats for the proposed trip to the mainland.  The afternoon was well spent and the boys were tired and hungry.  Their day had been a most strenuous one.

Arnold was already preparing coffee and pancakes in the kitchenette when the boys arrived with the newly discovered skiff.

“We’d better get the anchor aboard,” suggested Harry, “and then hoist the steel rowboat into her chocks and lash her fast.  The skiff we can tow behind us as we did the other if it’s agreeable.”

“Right-o!” sung out Tom, who had nearly forgotten his swollen jaw under the excitement of the moment.  “I see the oar we tied onto the line that Frank fastened to the cable.  It’s right over there.”

In a short time the anchor was brought aboard and lashed fast.  The rowboat was slung into place and made secure, and nothing remained but the disposing of Wyckoff to occupy the boys at the island.

“How about it, Wyckoff?” called Harry from the deck of the Fortuna; “do you want some grub, or can you rustle for yourself?”

A torrent of abuse was the outlaw’s reply.

“Watch out or I’ll sic my little dog onto you!” warned Harry.

“Let’s not aggravate him any more than we have to,” cautioned Jack.  “Take him some grub and throw it onto the beach.  Then be quick about getting back, for it’s getting late.  It’s three bells now!”

Harry rowed ashore with some canned beans, meats and blueberries.

Keeping at a respectful distance from the shore he tossed the cans to a position where they could easily be recovered by the outlaw.  He whistled to Rowdy, who came aboard the skiff with a rush, and then pulled for the Fortuna with a lusty stroke.

Scarcely was he well aboard before Jack at the switchboard had started the engines and the Fortuna pointed her nose away from Petit Bois Island and headed for the mainland.

Frank was lost in wonder and admiration as the boys showed him about the Fortuna.  He exclaimed over the conveniences and went into raptures over the kitchenette and washroom.

“We cooked on a furnace on the Spray,” he said regretfully.  “Here you’ve the gasoline and electric coils.  Electric lights and electric stoves and electric starter on the engines.  It is fine!”

“What’s a furnace?” inquired Arnold eagerly.

“It’s a sort of a bucket made of fire clay,” answered Frank.  “It has a division about half way down.  Charcoal is put in on top and lighted and the draft comes up through a hole in the side.  The natives and negroes down here use them quite extensively.  They don’t like iron stoves and ranges because they don’t know how to use them.”