Frank was chosen as the one to relate the adventure to Miss Gale, for the girls were aware that she might scold them for leaving the yacht without her consent, and Frank could make it all right with her. Hans was on deck, but he had not seen their adventure with the whale, although he had heard the report of the rifle, for he cried as they approached: "Vot you shooted? I heard der gun ven id fired you off." "We shot a large seabird," answered Frank; "but the varmint got away from us." "Vot kindt up a pird vos a varmint?" asked Hans. "You don'd remember dot I haf efer seen von, do I?" "It is large enough to make a fish chowder," explained Merry. "Vot vos I gifin' you?" cried Hans. "Who efer heart a pird uf dot could make a vish-chowter! I vos guyin' you, I oxpect." Browning threw him the painter as they came alongside, and soon the girls were safely on the yacht. "Come back as soon as you have fixed it with Miss Gale," said Bruce, "and we will go onto the island and investigate." Frank nodded and then went below. In a few minutes he came out laughing and assured the girls that it was all right. Then he dropped into the boat again, and soon he and Browning were on Devil Island. They pulled the boat up on the beach and made it fast. Frank took the rifle, and Bruce looked at his revolver, which he had slipped into his pocket before leaving the yacht the first time. The _White Wings_ was riding at anchor within easy speaking distance of the shore. "Which way shall we go?" asked Bruce. "The buildings are on the other side of the island," said Merry. "Let's go straight across." "All right." They found a path by which they could climb the bank, making it plain that human beings had traveled on the island not a little at some time, even if the place was deserted then. Following the path a short distance, they came to three small camps built of logs. The camps were not in a very pleasant location, although it was a sheltered spot. After looking around the huts a few minutes, they turned from the path and struck straight up through the woods, which were thick and dark. Beneath their feet twigs crackled and the dead leaves of a year before sometimes rustled where they had piled together but had not rotted. The woods were dark and in places the ground was covered by moss, so that their feet made not a sound. Higher and higher they climbed, till they came out into a natural opening that was surrounded by the gloomy trees. This seemed close to the highest ground on the island, which could be seen rising rocky and bare through the trees at one side of the glade. And in the midst of the glade was a grave that had not been made many months, and a granite stone stood at the head. "It's the grave the cock-eyed man told us of!" exclaimed Frank. "Let's look at the stone." They approached the grave, and Frank bent down to look at the stone. As the cock-eyed man had said, on it were the words: "Sacred to the memory of Rawson Denning."