Without accepting the bottle, and seemingly without heeding the remark, Rutley inquired, a bit seriously: "Is the dog on guard?" "Yes," replied Jack, standing stock still, with the bottle in one hand and the tumbler in the other. "Tied to a stick of driftwood on shore. No interlopers while Snooks is on watch. Why?" The question was asked rather soberly. "I received a tip that you are shadowed and trouble may come before dawn. When it comes the little one must not be here." "I agree with you," responded Jack. "I've lost that medal somewhere, too." "Ye Gods!" gravely replied Rutley, with an alarmed look. "If it falls into the hands of a detective, it may serve as a clue. Curious, too. I recall now that the dog didn't bark or growl when I approached the cabin." "I wonder!" exclaimed Jack. "Maybe Snooks has got loose and is wandering about the island. We had better make sure." Setting the bottle and tumbler on the table, he opened the cabin door and stepped somewhat unsteadily on the platform. Closing the door, he peered shoreward, then softly whistled. After listening intently, and hearing nothing, he called, in a low voice: "Snooks! Snooks!" Receiving no response, and being unable to identify shapeless objects on the shore, through the darkness, he re-entered the cabin, quietly as possible, and with a concerned look on his face. "I believe the dog has got away. I'll go ashore and investigate." "I'll go with you," assured Rutley. "Jack, better see that the child's asleep." Jack took the lamp from the bracket, opened the partition door, looked in at the sleeping child, and closed the door as gently as he had opened it. "Sound asleep," he whispered. Then he replaced the lamp, blew out the light, and made his way out onto the platform, accompanied by Rutley. Quietly they stepped into a small boat, fastened to the logs, and pushed off towards the shore. It was then Jack remembered that he had not locked the door, and wanted to return for that purpose, but Rutley demurred. "Time is precious," he murmured, rather thickly. "Besides we shall be gone only a few minutes, and it is unlikely that the child will stir in the darkness." CHAPTER XV. They had scarcely reached the shore when another small boat came gliding noiselessly along down toward the cabin. The boat contained Virginia and Constance. As they approached near, propulsion ceased, and the boat drifted along. Virginia turned half around on her seat, listened intently, and looked at the dark cabin, with eyes that fairly sparkled, in her effort to penetrate its interior. Slowly the boat drew along the platform. Quietly and cautiously they stepped out, and after fastening the line which held the boat to an iron ring which had been driven into one of the logs for that purpose, Virginia took Constance by the hand, which she felt tremble, and caused her to whisper: "Courage, dear." Then she tapped gently on the door.