XVII
The Escape
Frank was so close to the man that he recognized him readily. He knew now that Hanleigh was the man who had stolen their supplies and hidden them, evidently to get the boys to leave the island. He knew that Hanleigh was the man who had lost the mysterious Sparewell notebook. He wanted to know more. If he raised the alarm now, the man would simply refuse to talk.
Frank waited until the fellow had vanished among the trees. Then he turned and made his way toward the cabin by a shortcut. He wanted to reach the place first and warn Joe, so that they could better observe the man’s actions without raising an immediate alarm.
“If he thinks we don’t see him, he may give himself away,” Frank reasoned.
He reached the cabin unobserved. Hanleigh had not yet emerged from the trees.
Frank found Joe standing at the window, looking down toward the rocks.
“I saw him! He’s coming this way.”
“Who is he?” demanded Joe eagerly.
“Hanleigh.”
“I thought so all along. Is he coming here?”
“I think so. Look, Joe—here’s my plan. I think he intends to come here. He imagines we’re all out hunting for him. Let’s hide and find out what he wants.”
“How about Chet and Biff?”
“They’re away down at the far ends of the island. We can capture Hanleigh any time we want.”
“Where shall we hide?”
They looked around hastily. If Hanleigh came to the cabin, they knew the man would probably search the place high and low for the notebook which was his probable objective in returning to the island.
“We’ll have to stay outside. No use running any risks. We’d better hide in the bushes until we see him come in here. Then we can creep up and watch him through the back window,” Frank decided.
They left the cabin and ran across to a heavy clump of bushes only a few yards away. There they crouched, waiting.
For a while, nothing happened. Then they heard a snapping and crackling of branches far over to one side. In a few moments, Hanleigh came into view. He looked cautiously from side to side, then advanced swiftly toward the door of the cabin. There was a smile of satisfaction upon his swarthy face. It was quite evident that he believed the lads had departed to search for him. Swiftly, he stepped into the cabin.
Frank and Joe came out of their hiding place. They sped quickly over to the window and peeped inside.
Hanleigh had paused uncertainly in the middle of the room. He was looking at the fireplace. He stepped toward it, then apparently changed his mind, for he paused, shook his head, and turned toward the kitchen. They heard him rummaging about there for a few minutes, and in a little while he returned.
That he was searching for something, soon became evident. He went over to the beds and flung blankets, pillows and even mattresses on the floor. With an expression of disgust, he began going through the boys’ packsacks.
“If he’s looking for the notebook he might as well quit now,” whispered Frank.
“Where is it?”
“In my pocket.”
Hanleigh made a thorough search of the cabin. He rummaged through the bureau and the desk, and as his search went on, with no success, he apparently lost his temper for he flung things on the floor and stamped angrily about.
“Let’s rush him before he wrecks the cabin,” whispered Joe.
But Frank restrained his brother.
“Wait!”
Hanleigh came over toward the window.
The boys ducked out of sight. They could hear the man talking to himself. They listened, and they heard him mutter:
“Well, they won’t be able to read that cipher, anyway, so I guess it’s all right.”
Frank and Joe nudged one another. Hanleigh was certainly searching for the Sparewell notebook. The man went away from the window. They heard a crash as, in a fit of vicious temper, the man swept off a few of the little ornaments someone had placed above the fireplace.
“If he’s going to start smashing things, I guess we’d better take a hand,” remarked Frank.
The boys stole around the side of the cabin. Then they stepped suddenly across the threshold.
With an exclamation of surprise, Hanleigh swung around, facing them.
“Good day, Mr. Hanleigh,” said Frank. “I see that you have decided to pay us a little call.”
The man said nothing. He merely glared at the boys. They could see that he was estimating his chances of escape, but they barred the doorway.
“Why don’t you wait until we’re all at home?” asked Joe.
“You boys have no right here, anyway,” growled the intruder.
“Did you ask Mr. Jefferson about it?” inquired Frank sweetly.
“I came back here to look for something I lost the other day.”
“What other day? The day you came and stole all our supplies?”
“I don’t know anything about your supplies. I mean the day I was here when you fellows first arrived.”
“Haven’t you been here since?”
“No.”
“I’m pretty sure you have, Mr. Hanleigh. What was the idea of hiding our food supplies?”
“I don’t know anything about your food supplies, I tell you!” shouted the man, in exasperation. “I haven’t been here since the last time you saw me.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to take your word for it,” said Frank, with a shrug. “Although I don’t believe you for a minute. What was it you lost? Perhaps we can help you.”
“My pocketbook,” growled Hanleigh, after a moment’s silence.
“Your pocketbook? Was there much money in it?”
“About fifty dollars. You don’t blame me for coming back to look for it, do you?” sneered Hanleigh.
“Not at all. Where did you lose it?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere on the island.”
“Not down among the rocks, by chance?”
“I wasn’t down there.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a notebook?” asked Frank quietly.
The shot told. Hanleigh’s fists clenched.
“No, it wasn’t a notebook,” he said thickly.
“Well, if it wasn’t a notebook, I guess we can’t help you. Quite sure, you didn’t lose a notebook?”
“I don’t know anything about a notebook.”
“That’s too bad. If it had been a notebook
