“Billy Noon!” he whispered. He knew the voice of the second speaker now; there was no doubt about it. And yet Billy had left them at half-past eight in the direction of his boat, declaring that he was going to turn in. Still, that didn’t signify anything. The voice was Billy Noon’s voice without a doubt, and very probably the boat was his as well. At that moment, from below the island, came again the creak of a boom. Then they were bound down-stream, thought Chub. In that case--but it was all an unfathomable mystery, and although Chub sat there for the better part of the next hour and tried to explain it he was at last forced to give it up. By this time he was very sleepy, and so, hobbling back to the tent, he threw himself down on his bed and dropped off to slumber on the instant. When he awoke Roy and Dick had finished breakfast and it was nearly nine o’clock! Roy explained that they thought maybe he hadn’t slept very well, and so they didn’t awaken him. The ankle was almost well, and after giving it another sousing with cold water Chub ate the breakfast which they had left on the stove for him with hearty relish. Dick was out in the launch bailing the water out with a saucepan. The sun was shining brightly and almost every cloud had been swept aside by the westerly breeze that rumpled the surface of the river. “Say, this is Sunday, isn’t it?” Chub asked. And Roy replied that it was. Chub groaned. “That means letters to write,” he sighed. “How did you sleep?” asked Roy. “Pretty well,” answered Chub thoughtfully. “I was awake until long after midnight, though.” He was trying to decide whether to mention the men in the sail-boat. Viewed by the sane light of morning the incident seemed to mean very little. And while he was still hesitating there came the sound of a merry whistle and Billy Noon appeared around the point. Chub looked at him attentively. He didn’t look at all like a person who had been up half the night. Perhaps, after all, Chub thought, he had been mistaken in the voice; lots of voices sounded alike, especially in the dark. So he kept his own counsel for the present. “Well, what’s the program for to-day?” asked Billy merrily. “Write letters,” said Chub dismally. “Go to church,” said Roy. “We didn’t go last Sunday and so Dick and I are going to-day. You coming, Chub?” “With this ankle?” asked Chub in surprise. “You said it was about well,” Roy answered. Chub sighed. “I know,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to have a relapse.” Billy asked about the injury and by the time Chub had finished telling him Dick came back with the saucepan. “She’s all ready,” he announced, greeting Billy. “We’re going to sail down to the Cove and go to church,” he explained. “Want to come along?” “I don’t know but I might,” was the reply after a moment’s thought. “I’ll have to spruce up a little first, though. Can you wait a few minutes?” “Easy! We don’t need to start for an hour yet, I guess. You going along, Chub?”