"I am beginning to believe in the psychic," she mused, "for I have a
feeling that a cry for help comes from that perfectly silent
island."
Her heart beat quickly as she throttled down her engine, stopped it,
and finally stepped ashore. Her landing was made on a different
side of the island than before and she saw instantly that feet had
been treading down the ferns from shore to inland. This path served
to guide her along. Then she noticed particles of food.
"Hardly picnic folks along here," she thought. "Perhaps the canoe
girl is somewhere about--"
But what was her terror when she faced the shore at a dear spot in
the woods and against it saw the boat of the man Peters.
"Oh!" she gasped. "He must be on the island!"
Then she listened. Yes, there was a step! She sank down behind a
clump of thick bushes and while hiding there she saw, not Peters,
but Jones saunter down to the water's edge!
How she trembled! A half-fainting sensation overcame her. From a
crouching attitude she sank flat on the ground and felt too weak to
attempt to raise herself.
Meanwhile the man had reached his rowboat and pushed off. He
glanced along and saw the motor boat.
"That girl!" he muttered. "She is interfering with my plans again.
This would be an ideal place for a--" Then he stopped. "Bah! I'll
just give her a chance to think over her courage."
Cora was still under the bush, and did not hear the gentle purr of
her engine as the man started down Cedar Lake in her own precious
motor boat, dragging his rowboat behind.
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