A dog's life is an inconsequential thing, according to some people's way of thinking, but here was proof that under Sam's rough and unpolished exterior there throbbed a heart full of gentleness and sympathy for suffering animals. He took the dog, which he then recognized as a small, shaggy Scotch terrier, under his arm and stole back to the detective and Mr. Thorpe. In discussing the affair afterward, it was deemed probable that the detective, finding his long vigil at the edge of the woods tiresome, had unconsciously fallen asleep; though he indignantly denied it, and during that time the dog had been taken on shore and tied to a heavy piece of driftwood to give warning of the approach of strangers by night, but the poor thing had become tangled in the brush, and in its efforts to extricate itself had tightly twisted the rope about its neck, and the heavy limb had rolled over and pinioned it to the ground. In the meantime Mr. Thorpe and the detective were engaged in low, earnest conversation. "Are you satisfied the child is my little Dorothy?" asked Mr. Thorpe. "I am not positive, but I believe so. I have watched all the afternoon in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. Once I heard a child cry." "Yet the child may not be Dorothy!" "True!" replied the detective, "but whether the child be yours or not, I am satisfied the little thing in that cabin is there against its will." "Did you note any visitors to the cabin this evening?" "Yes; a man rowed over from the direction of 'Bundy's' about half an hour ago. He is in there now." "Do you think the Italian, his visitor and the child are the only ones there?" "I am positive they are the only ones in that cabin at this moment." "Then let's wade out there," urged Mr. Thorpe. "Careful!" cautioned Sam, who had just come up. "I know the Dago to be a cunning and dangerous man. We could not wade out that far any way, in the soft mud and tangled roots of that bottom. We must have the small boat." "What have you there?" It was the detective who spoke. "Our first rescue. A mascot!" and then Sam related the incident. "Good!" exclaimed Mr. Thorpe. "Its bark would have betrayed us." The three then held a brief consultation. Shortly afterward Sam retraced his steps along the trail, back to the steam launch, with the "mascot" steadily recovering, but still under his arm. CHAPTER XIV. Within the cabin, so zealously watched by the detective prior to the journey of Thorpe and Sam across the island, were the occupants--Jack Shore and his little captive, Dorothy Thorpe. The child was carefully and secretly guarded, and at the same time made as comfortable as the limited quarters of her captor would permit. Jack Shore was kind to the child, and though fully conscious of the severe penalty of his desperate undertaking should he be discovered, he nevertheless allowed her a certain freedom of the abode in which he had placed her, of course always providing for securely bolted outer doors.