“But on what charge?” Mrs. Tingley asked, in some distress.

“That won’t matter.  Some trumped-up charge.  Easy enough to do it when you have a feller like ’Squire Keller to deal with.  Oh,” said Preston, shaking his head, “Rufe Blent knows what he’s about, you may believe!”

“Who’s the old gee-gee with the whiskers?” asked the disrespectful Isadore, when the real estate man came down to the dock, with the constable slouching behind him.

“Hurry up, Grandpop!” shouted one of the Tingley boys.  “This expedition is about to start.”

Blent scowled at the hilarious crowd.  It was plain to be seen that any supply of milk of human kindness he may have had was long since soured.

Ruth caught Tom Cameron’s eye and nodded to him.  Helen’s twin was a very good friend of the girl from the Red Mill and he quickly grasped her wish to speak with him alone.

In a minute he maneuvered so as to get into the stern with his sister’s chum, and there Ruth whispered to him her fears and desires regarding Blent and Jerry Sheming.

“Say! we ought to help that fellow.  See what he did for Jane Ann,” said Tom.  “And that old fellow looks so sour he sets my teeth on edge, anyway.”

“He is going to do a very mean thing,” declared Ruth, decidedly.  “Jerry has done nothing wrong, I am sure.”

“We must beat the old fellow.”

“But how, Tom?  They say he is all-powerful here at Logwood.”

“Let me think.  I’ll be back again,” replied Tom, as the boys called him to come up front.

The punt was already under way.  Preston and his three men worked the craft out slowly into the drifting ice.  The grinding of the cakes against the sides of the boat did not frighten any of the passengers—­unless perhaps Mrs. Tingley herself.  She felt responsible for the safety of this whole party of her daughter’s school friends.

The wind was not strong and the drift of the broken ice was slow.  Therefore there was really no danger to be apprehended.  The punt was worked along its course with considerable ease.

The boys had to take their turns at the sweeps; but Tom found time to slip back to Ruth before they were half-way across to the island.

“Too bad the old fellow doesn’t fall overboard,” he growled in Ruth’s ear.  “Isn’t he a snarly old customer?”

“But I suppose the constable has the warrant,” Ruth returned, smiling.  “So Mr. Blent’s elimination from the scene would not help Jerry much.”

“I tell you what—­you’ve got to fight fire with fire,” observed Tom, after a moment of deep reflection.

“Well?  What meanest thou, Sir Oracle?”

“Why, they haven’t any business to arrest Jerry.”

“Agreed.”

“Then let’s tip him off so that he can run.”

“Where will he run to?” demanded Ruth, eagerly.

“Say! that’s a big island.  And I bet he knows his way all over it.”