The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1940-01-12

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He did not understand. This was
splendid as hiding place, but it
could be reached only from the
stump. He had thought this would
be the explanation of the boat
there was no boat there. No boat,
and no Tuck. -.
With sudden inspiration he
reached forward on the ledge, as
far as he could go and touched that
wall of rock with the end of the
knife still in his hand. After a
moment it moved little, ripping
the water below Michael pushed
at it, again, gave a short hard laugh
and came back along the ledge.
painted canvas. Go up quick,
Bunny. I've got to get her. I've got
to follow her."
They left the stump, and Michael
darted off toward the house again.
At the gate Michael turned toward
the river again.
What are you going to do,
Michael?"
"Row across. It's the only thing
to do. The only thing we know is
that he'll be downstream from the
spot l land at :. unless he hides
his boat, and walks. He a . surely
/ can find something there"
And he was off toward the
ravine where he and Gordon had
hidden the new boat.
Across The River
THE river was not more than a
mile wide at the point where
Michael crossed it, but it seemed
like a million. The current was
swift, and very strong, and it took
all his strength to keep the boat
from being swept downstream
more rapidly than he could make
Roadway. All of his strength, he
told himself grimly, and all that
lent him by the awful thought of
Tuck in the hands of this mad
man, this cunning fiend who held
life as Of no value.
AS he bent strongly to the oars
he was obsesSed by the fear that
he was doing the wrong thing, CO.
ing the wrong way to rescue Tuck.
What proof had he that she had
been taken across the river? None.
Only the fact that Gordon had said
again and again that the mystic
rlouS boat came from across the
river.
He gritted his teeth. If only he
had been able to discover that one
little clue. That one end of the
ball of thread whose loops wound
round him constantly and led
back only into the tangle. The let
ter written by Murchison himself
when he must be dead; Smiths
awful fear of him; his appearance
only day before yesterday Muir
Gibson himself, Smith would
swear it. The proprietor of the
hardware store had seen him, a
tall man in a duSt-coat and fawn
hat who had bought an oar-lock.
Smith might have been mistaken
in the identity of his man, how
ever sure he seemed to be, but
that oar-lock was convincing.
When he was nearing the other
shore Michael knew suddenly
what he must find; somewhere. A
laboratory. That was it. That was
the clue. A mailman, gone off to
perform an experiment. What ex-
pertinent? A laboratory, not for off,
not at a great distance. but right
here, right under their noses all
the time. A place which could
have been used as a base, from
which the boat had come.
The water was getting shallow
er at last. The boat grounded sud-
denly, and with a groan of thank
fulness Michael jumped out into
the water and pulled the boat in
to shore. He peered anxiously
along the shore for that other
boat; hoping against hope that it
would be near. But as far as he
could see in the darkness it was
not in sight. He dragged his own
boat downstream a little, into
the shadow of some bushes grow
ing near the waters edge, and,
fiaShlight in hand for use if he
needed it. he started off down the
river. He had reasoned to himself
on the long trip across that if, in
deed, the boat had been brought
across to this shore, its destina-
ton was in all probability down.
stream. since the current was too
swift to row upstream.
He walked swiftly along the
smooth sand of the bank close to
the waters edge, searching for
that other boat; but he did not
find it; and finally, after he had
walked many yards down the
shore, he decided that he must
risk a light. He turned back up
stream and flashed the beam upon
the sand ahead of him.. walking
slowly, peering closely, hoping for
footprints to guide him.
He was beginning to despair.
Time wasted and Tuck? Where
was she? He pressed his lips to-
gether tightly and wiped the per-
spiration from the palms of his
hands. He must not think Of that.
He came back to his own boat
and passed it, almost hopeleSsly
now. The smooth sand had given
place to rocks upon which foot
marks would not leave trace. He
turned his light out over the
water. but no boat was visible. He
went a few steps farther and
turned it down upon the rocks at
his feet. Something small and rosy
caught the light and gave it back
to him. He looked at it unseeingly
for a moment, and then caught
his breath; bent swiftly and
picked it up.
It was a bead, rosy-red, made
of carven coral. Tuck's necklacel
He was breathing hard as he
dropped it into his pocket and
looked again on the rocks. Three