Hutchins saw him just then and scowled.  The last we saw of her she was moving rapidly up the river and the detective was dropping slowly behind.  They both disappeared finally into the bay and Tish drew a long breath.

“Typical!” she said curtly.  “He’s sent here to watch a dangerous man and spends his time pursuing the young woman who hates the sight of him.  When women achieve the suffrage they will put none but married men in positions of trust.”

Hutchins and the detective were still out of sight when supper-time came.  The spy’s supper weighed on us, and at last Tish attempted to start the motor launch.  We had placed the supper and the small raft aboard, and Aggie was leaning over the edge untying the painter,—­not a man, but a rope,—­when unexpectedly the engine started at the first revolution of the wheel.

It darted out to the length of the rope, where it was checked abruptly, the shock throwing Aggie entirely out and into the stream.  Tish caught the knife from the supper tray to cut us loose, and while Tish cut I pulled Aggie in, wet as she was.  The boat was straining and panting, and, on being released, it sprang forward like a dog unleashed.

Aggie had swallowed a great deal of water and was most disagreeable; but the Mebbe was going remarkably well, and there seemed to be every prospect that we should get back to the camp in good order.  Alas, for human hopes!  Mr. McDonald was not very agreeable.

“You know,” he said as he waited for his supper to float within reach, “you needn’t be so blamed radical about everything you do!  If you object to my hanging round, why not just say so?  If I’m too obnoxious I’ll clear out.”

“Obnoxious is hardly the word,” said Tish.  “How long am I to be a prisoner?”

“I shall send letters off by the first boat.”

He caught the raft just then and examined the supper with interest.

“Of course things might be worse,” he said; “but it’s dirty treatment, anyhow.  And it’s darned humiliating.  Somebody I know is having a good time at my expense.  It’s heartless!  That’s what it is—­heartless!”

Well, we left him, the engine starting nicely and Aggie being wrapped in a tarpaulin; but about a hundred yards above the island it began to slow down, and shortly afterward it stopped altogether.  As the current caught us, we luckily threw out the anchor, for the engine refused to start again.  It was then we saw the other canoes.

The girl in the pink tam-o’-shanter was in the first one.

They glanced at us curiously as they passed, and the P.T.S.—­that is the way we grew to speak of the pink tam-o’-shanter—­raised one hand in the air, which is a form of canoe greeting, probably less upsetting to the equilibrium than a vigorous waving of the arm.

It was just then, I believe, that they saw our camp and headed for it.  The rest of what happened is most amazing.  They stopped at our landing and unloaded their canoes.  Though twilight was falling, we could see them distinctly.  And what we saw was that they calmly took possession of the camp.