Third Warning

  Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morganand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net

  _A Mystery Story for Girls_

  THIRD WARNING

  _By_ ROY J. SNELL

  The Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago

  COPYRIGHT 1938 BY THE REILLY & LEE CO. PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I Flaming Island 11 II The Battle of Siskowit 29 III Beauty and a Threat 39 IV Plumdum 48 V Night Signals 58 VI Chips 72 VII Rescued 84 VIII Mysterious Youth 98 IX The Defense of Chippewa 106 X Riding the Storm 122 XI Ashes in Their Hair 134 XII The Crimson Spot 141 XIII And May You Come Back 148 XIV A Desperate Venture 154 XV The Dog's Parachute 160 XVI Who Rides a Moose 168 XVII The Phantom of Superior 177 XVIII Father Superior at His Worst 184 XIX A Flash in the Dark 192 XX A Weird Resting Place 198 XXI Second Warning 206 XXII Strange Comrades in Battle 216 XXIII Don't Stay Too Long 229 XXIV The Invisible Host 239 XXV Out of the Air 247

  THIRD WARNING

  CHAPTER I FLAMING ISLAND

  "Look, Dave. See those strange clouds?" Florence Huyler shaded her eyesto look away toward the horizon. Her face wore an expression ofbewildered curiosity.

  "Yes, I see them. They _are_ queer!" young "Captain Davie," as everyonecalled him, replied as he wrinkled his brow. After giving the wheel ofhis motor-driven craft a turn, he studied those clouds. "Scurrying alongthe horizon," he murmured, "they roll quite a bit, don't they?"

  "Yes, and such a peculiar shade of yellow," Florence added. "Oh well,clouds are different up here on Lake Superior."

  "Nothing to worry about, I guess," said Dave, as once again he gave hisattention to the wheel.

  As for Florence, at the moment she had nothing to do but think. And suchbitter-sweet thoughts as they were! She was cruising on Lake Superior.That was grand! She had always loved the water. What was still moremagnificent, she was landing twice a week on the shores of that place ofgreat enchantment--Isle Royale.

  Once, you will recall from reading _The Phantom Violin_, Florence withtwo companions had made her summer home on a huge wrecked ship off therocky shores of this very island. What a summer that had been! Adventure?Plenty of it. The ship had at last been completely destroyed during astorm. They had barely escaped with their lives. The girl shuddered alittle even now at the thought of it.

  Florence was large, strong, fearless. A marvelous swimmer and a grandathlete, she had little to fear on land or water. And yet, as her eyesswept the deck of the _Wanderer_, the sixty-foot motor-boat on which sherode, a troubled look came into her fine blue eyes. Nor were those low,circling clouds the cause of her worry. She and her cousin Dave, quite ascourageous and venturesome as she, had embarked upon an enterprise thatpromised to be a failure.

  "Grandfather will lose his money. He can't afford to lose, and it's notall our fault," she told herself a little bitterly. But now her thoughtswere broken by a short, stout, bronze-faced man, an Indian who appearedat the cabin door.

  "Look, John!" she pointed, speaking to the Indian. "Look at those strangeclouds!"

  "Huh!" he grunted. "Smoke!"

  "Sm-smoke!" the girl stared. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh,from Canada! Forest fires. I've heard--"

  "No Canada. Come from Isle Royale, that smoke. Island on fire."

  "On--on fire?" It was Dave who spoke.

  "Yes."

  "Then that--that's the end." His voice was toneless with discouragement.

  Isle Royale on fire! Florence tried to think what that might mean. Forweeks there had been no rain. During their short stops at ChippewaHarbor, Tobin's and Belle Isle, she had often walked back into theforests. She had found the trees, the moss, the soil dry as tinder.

  "Wha--what part of the island is on fire?" she managed to ask.

  "Siskowit Bay." The Indian took the wheel, relieving Dave.

  "Where all those boys are camped?" the girl asked.

  The Indian nodded.

  "Do--do you suppose they are in danger?"

  "Don't know," John twisted the wheel, "Bad fire." He scanned the horizon.

  "John," said Dave, "do you know the rocks of Harlem Reef?"

  "Every rock." The Indian showed his fine teeth in a smile.

  "Then I think," Dave weighed his words carefully, "I think we'd betterput in there. It's off our course, but--"

  "What's that?" a voice broke in sharply, "A fire on Isle Royale?"

  "Yes, we--"

  Florence did not finish. As she looked into the eyes of the man who hadspoken she read there something that almost frightened her.

  He was a short, stout man, one of the few passengers on that voyage. Inhis face she seemed to detect a look almost of antagonism. "But why?" shethought in sudden consternation, "I've never seen him before, I am sureof that. What can we have done to him?"

  When the man spoke, none of this was to be detected in his words.

  "A fire on Isle Royale?" He even forced a smile. "Too bad. But I can'tsay that concerns us. This is a passenger boat, bound for Rock Harbor.Lake Siskowit, I'm told, is some twenty miles from there----"

  "A fire," Captain Davie spoke slowly, "any fire that destroys propertyconcerns all of us."

  "Swing her about, John," he turned to the Indian. "We're going in there."

  "But your schedule calls for first stop at Rock Harbor," the maninsisted.

  "That's right, but an emergency exists. We--"

  "Emergency my eye!" The man's dark face flushed angrily. "You'vecontracted to have me at Rock Harbor by four o'clock, the _Iroquois_docks an hour later. I shall have just time to transact my business andcatch the _Iroquois_. If you don't get me to Rock Harbor on time, you'llregret it."

  "Perhaps," was Dave's slow rejoinder. Turning to the Indian he saidquietly, "John, we're putting in at Siskowit."

  "I'll break you!" the man exclaimed angrily.

  "That," Dave laughed uncertainly, "that's impossible. We're alreadybroke."

  Turning on his heel, the passenger strode away.

  "Big shot," said Indian John, jerking his head toward the retreatingfigure.

  "What kind of big shot?" Florence asked.

  "Don't know." John twisted the wheel. "Not Houghton man. Came fromsomewhere. Don't know where."

  "Well," said Dave, "big shot or no, we're off for Siskowit."

  Leav
ing the pilot house, Florence walked to the prow of the boat, thendropped into a steamer chair. At once her alert mind was busy on past andpresent. They were headed for an island. It was on fire. The island was aregular tinderbox. There was gasoline on board. Their boat wasmotor-driven.

  "Three hundred gallons of gas," she thought with a shudder. "To be of anyreal help we'll have to draw in close to the island. That'sdangerous--might be disastrous."

  Then, like a weather-vane whipped suddenly about by the wind, herthoughts turned to the past. It was to have been a rich and gloriousadventure--this summer cruise. Four months before she had been seatedwith a jolly, friendly group, her own people for the most part, listeningto a promoter's rosy tale of money to be made by a boat running from themainland to Isle Royale.

  And they had the boat! Ah! yes, there had been their weakness. The_Wanderer_, her grandfather's boat, had been tied up at the dock for twoyears. Before that it had carried fruit across Lake Michigan. Trucks hadruined this trade. Then, too, a weak heart had forced her grandfatherinto retirement.

  "But you young people!" the promoter had exclaimed, "you know how to runthe boat, don't you?"

  "Oh sure," Dave had grinned, "I've been on the boat with the captain herefor two years."

  "And Rufus is a fine engineer," Florence had exclaimed, "Why not?" Herheart had given a great leap at the thought of fresh and gloriousadventure. "I--I know a lot about the island. I'll be first mate."

  "There you are," the promoter had begun pacing back and forth before theopen fire, "you'll make a fortune! You know the island is being made intoa national park," he had enthused, "Thousands will be wanting to gothere. Most beautiful spot in all the Midwest."

  "And the temperature," he had fairly exploded, "It's never above seventy,even when all the rest of the country is melting at a hundred in theshade. Ten dollars round trip. Fifty to seventy-five passengers to thetrip. Three trips a week. You'll wear diamonds! You'll go to college!You'll--"

  "Yes," the girl thought now, sitting there watching the distant islandcome nearer, "yes, we took it all in. Half of what he said was true. Itis a glorious island. The temperature is wonderful, but how many peopleknow it? Not many. How many are coming? Very few. We're licked, that'sall. Grandfather spent two thousand dollars he couldn't well spare to fitout our boat. Here we are making trip after trip, taking in enough tomake expenses, not earning a cent, and paying back nothing. Diamonds!College!" She laughed a trifle bitterly.

  No time now for regrets, however. The _Wanderer_ was rapidly nearingshore. She could catch the red glow of the fire. Would there be realdanger? There were ten passengers on board. Was it right to endanger thelives of these, even to the slightest degree? Dropping back to the sideof her stalwart cousin, she confided to him her fears.

  "We'll be careful," said Dave. "There may be some small boat that cantake the passengers on to Chippewa."

  "I hope so," the girl agreed.

  As the _Wanderer_ at last rounded the point of land hiding the camp onSiskowit Bay, it took no second look to tell them that the situation wascritical. Creeping slowly forward from bush to bush and tree to tree, thefire was moving like some slow, red serpent toward the stout camp thathad been built by so much labor and such willing hands.

  "They're nice boys," Florence breathed, thinking of the C.C.C. boys whohad built the camp.

  "Fine chaps," her cousin agreed.

  Once before the _Wanderer_ had put into this harbor with supplies and,becoming storm-bound, its crew had spent several happy hours with thecampers. Having seen neither mothers nor sisters for months, the fellowshad treated Florence as if she were a queen.

  "We may be broke," Dave muttered grimly, "but we're not too broke tooffer a helping hand."

  "You're not going in there?" demanded an angry voice. Once more it wasthe "big shot," as Indian John had called him, who spoke.

  For a short space of time no one replied. In that brief moment, thenumber of questions that passed through Florence's mind was astonishing.Who was this man? What did he really want?

  "Yes," it was Dave who spoke at last, quietly as ever, "yes, we are goingin."

  "You'll blow this can of yours sky high and all of us with it."

  "Not you," said Dave with a touch of scorn. "See! There's a fisherman'sboat coming to meet us. We'll send you on to Chippewa with it."

  At that the man subsided into silence. As the small boat pulled closer,Dave saw that Captain Frey, in charge of the camp, was on board.

  "We're coming in," Dave shouted cheerfully. "We've a good pump and aninch-and-a-half hose."

  "That's great," was the young captain's heartened response. "You mightsave us. But is it safe? How about the passengers?"

  "Whose boat is that?" Dave asked, pointing to the small fishing schooner.

  "Holgar Carlson's, from Chippewa," Frey answered.

  "Hello, Holgar!" Dave called. "How much to carry ten passengers toChippewa?"

  "Oh, I tank mebby ten dollar," Holgar drawled.

  "All right. Come alongside."

  "Here." Dave waved a greenback when all passengers had been transferred.

  "No you don't. This is on us," and Captain Frey slipped a bill in thefisherman's hand.

  "You don't know," he commented a moment later, as he stood besideFlorence on the _Wanderer_, "you'll never know what this means to us.We've worked so hard getting a camp. Rain, cold, swamps, mosquitoes--itsure has been tough on the boys, and now this!" His arms swept a widecircle. "We're not to blame for the fire. The boys were here, all ofthem. They didn't set it. It just came creeping down upon us fromnowhere. The boys have been fighting it for hours."

  For a time after that, as guided by Indian John's skillful hand the boatglided shoreward, nothing further was said. Once, as the wind veered, aheavy cloud of yellow smoke engulfed them.

  "Oh-o," Florence gasped, trying to breathe. "This--this is terrible."

  "It's what the boys have been up against for hours," Captain Frey saidquietly. "We'll be out of it in a moment."

  As Florence looked at the captain she thought, "Efficient, brave!"

  Then a spectacle of the great fire caught her eye, and she gasped withastonishment. One moment a great fifty-foot, moss-covered spruce treestood proudly against the sky, the next, with a loud roar, flames rushedfrom its roots to the topmost branch. "Alight, like a giant candle,"Florence exclaimed, "and there are thousands of them on the island!""Yes," the young captain replied. "Close to our camp they stand somedistance apart. If only we can wet down the earth about the camp, keepthe fire from creeping, then turn the hose on it when it comes, we'llwin."

  "And we will," Dave exclaimed. "We've got a marvelous pump. If only--"

  "If only you can get in close enough." The captain stood up and staredahead. "How large is this boat?"

  "Sixty feet long, by twenty wide."

  "Good!" the captain replied. "I'm sure there is room. The water along theshore is deep, thirty feet. A little way out are shoals."

  "We'll slide right in there near shore," Dave took the wheel.

  "It's a close little berth," he said five minutes later, as Rufus, theiryoung engineer, suddenly put the engine into reverse. "Rocks before us,rocks to right and left. It's like cruising in a bath tub."

  They dropped anchor, let down their lifeboat, sent the hose ashore, thenstarted the pump. At once a powerful stream of water was busy soakingdown the dry, moss-covered earth. At times it set up a terrific sizzlingsputter, as it played on a tree that had just caught fire.

  Encouraged by these reinforcements, the loyal band of camp workers,toiling with ax and shovel, redoubled their efforts.

  "Will we make it?" Florence asked anxiously.

  "I hope so," was Captain Frey's reply. "If the fire gets by us here, thewhole island may go. Think what that means! A forty-mile long islandcovered with virgin timber, last stand of primeval beauty, futureplayground of thousands!"

  "Yes," Florence agreed, "it does mean a great deal." Then, and for weeksto come, she forgot her
own disappointments, her lost hopes, whenever shethought of this larger cause which meant so much to many.

  For two long hours, with the heat at times growing all but unbearable,with the peril of a gasoline explosion ever threatening, the boat's pumpchugged on.

  There came a time at last, however, when the weary fighters leaned onshovel handles and watched the flames fade. Then there rose a glad shout:"The wind! The wind! It's changed. It will drive the fire into the bay!"

  This was true. The wind had changed. But Dave's brow wrinkled. He andFlorence were for the moment on shore. "Come on," he exclaimed. "We'vegot to get the boat out of the bay. In a half-hour that fire will bedangerously close to the boat and our gasoline. It's swung round theircamp--that's safe. But it's coming our way with the wind up. Our pumpwon't stop it. In an hour--"

  He did not finish. Instead, he rowed swiftly across to the _Wanderer_.

  "Rufus!" he called. "Cut off the pump. Their battle's won. Pull in thehose. We'll back out of here in a jiffy and be away."

  "Thanks. Thanks more than we can say," Captain Frey shouted hoarsely fromthe shore.

  "Say-ee!" Dave stared down at the water before the prow. "We've shifted.Current carried us in. I wonder--"

  He did not have long to wonder. As Rufus set the motor roaring, theboat's propeller stirred up a great, white mass of foam, but the boatmoved never an inch.

  "Grounded!" Dave groaned. "Stuck between two rocks. We'll never get offwith our own power."

  "How terrible!" Florence was almost in tears. "We've tried to help, andnow this! The fire is coming! The boat--"

  "What's up?" Captain Frey shouted from the shore.

  "Aground," Dave called back.

  "Wait!" The captain sprang toward the slope where the campers wereresting.

  A moment later, Florence felt her throat tighten as she watched the wearyboys swarming shoreward. The hose was carried to land, and this time thepump did double duty. The boat rocked with the throbbing of its motors.With a heart that at all times seemed to stand still, the girl saw thebravest of the boys in blue overalls force the nozzle of the hose almostupon the onrushing fire.

  Was the stream of water large enough? Would the fire be stopped before itwas too late? For a time it seemed that, with the hose alone, the firemight be conquered. Then, of a sudden, a fresh and stronger gale sweepingacross the bay sent bright flames leaping along the spruce trees and intothe sky.

  "We'll lose," Florence choked.

  "Try the motor again!" Dave ordered. "We might get away now."

  The engines were accelerated, but in vain.

  "Getting pretty hot down there." Rufus mopped his brow as he came up frombelow.

  A wave of despair overwhelmed Florence. What would be the end? Then athrilling sight met her gaze. Fifty boys, each carrying a shovel or an axand each with his head covered by a damp cloth, marched out of the campcabin and straight toward the conflagration. "To do or to die for us,"she thought.

  Then the boys struck up a song.