At the nearer end was the new hunting lodge of the Tingleys, with the neighboring outbuildings.  At the far end the island rose to a rugged promontory perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high, with a single tall pine tree at the apex.

That western end of the island seemed to be built of huge boulders for the most part.  Here and there the rocks were so steep that the snow did not cling to them, and they looked black and raw against the background of dazzling white.

The face of the real cliff—­because of which the island had received its name—­was scarcely visible from Logwood.  Jerry had told Ruth it was a very wild and desolate place, and the girl of the Red Hill could easily believe it.

The crowd had left the inn as soon as the clouds began to break and a ray or two of sunshine shone forth.  Two ox teams were breaking the paths through the town.  The boys and girls went down to the dock, singing and shouting.  Mrs. Tingley and the foreman came behind.

Three other men were making ready a huge punt in which the entire party might be transported to the island.  Later the punt would return for the extra baggage.

This vehicle for water-travel was a shallow, skiff-like boat, almost as broad as it was long, and with a square bow and stern.  There was a place for a short mast to be stepped, but, with the lake covered with drifting ice cakes, it was judged safer to depend upon huge sweeps for motive power.

With these sweeps, not only could the punt be urged forward at a speed of perhaps two miles an hour, but the ice-cakes could be pushed aside and a channel opened through the drifting mass for the passage of the awkward boat.

Mr. Preston had explained all this to Mrs. Tingley, who was used to neither the woods nor the lake, and she had agreed that this means of transportation to Cliff Island was sufficiently safe, though extraordinary.

“Let’s pile in and make a start,” urged Ralph Tingley, eagerly.  “Why! we won’t get there by dark if we don’t hurry.”

“And goodness knows we need to get somewhere to eat before long,” cried Jennie Stone.  “I am willing to help propel the boat myself, if they’ll show me how.”

“You might get out and swim, and drag us behind you, Heavy,” suggested one of the girls.  “You’re so anxious to get over to the island.”

They all were desirous of gaining their destination—­there could be no doubt of that.  As they were getting aboard, however, there came a hail from up the main street of Logwood.

“Hi, yi!  Don’t you folks go without me!  Hi, Preston!”

“Here comes that Blent man,” said Mrs. Tingley, with some disgust.  “I suppose we must take him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t advise ye to turn him down, Mis’ Tingley,” urged the foreman.  “No use making him your enemy.  I tell you he’s got a big political pull in these parts.”

“Is there room for him?”

“Yes.  And for the fellow with him.  That’s Lem Daggett, the constable.  Oh, Rufe is going over with all the legal right on his side.  He’ll bring Jerry back here and shut him up for a few days, I suppose.”