"You won't see any lights this time of night," retorted Fred. "If there is anybody willing to live in this forlorn spot he's probably in bed four or five hours ago." "Well, go ahead anyway," said John. Accordingly Fred again grasped the oars and slowly rowed forward. For a long distance they were unable to discern anything but the marsh on their right. There was no place seen where they might make a landing nor was an attempt considered worth while. "I don't see any use in this," said Fred at last. "We aren't getting anywhere." "Try a little longer," said John. "Maybe we'll come to something different. There you have it!" he added a few minutes later when apparently they came to the end of the marsh and saw before them the dim outlines of a sloping bank. "We can land here, I guess." "Land!" retorted Fred. "What do you want to land for?" "Why, maybe we can find a house or some place where we can get some gasoline." "Gasoline will be a fine thing for us," laughed Fred, his courage having returned with the knowledge that they were no longer on the open waters of the lake. "You'd better take the oars, Jack, and we'll row on a little further. Even if we can see no light perhaps we can find a house." Once more the boys exchanged places and John rowed slowly along the shore. Neither of the boys discovered any house, however, nor did they see any indications that the region was inhabited. "We're having a fine time here," Fred said at last. "There doesn't seem to be anybody living here. We haven't anything to eat and we haven't even a gun or a fishing-rod in our skiff." "We shan't need any of them," said John, "when the sun rises. We'll be sure to find somebody who will take us back to Mackinac Island, or maybe the _Gadabout_ will be looking for us." "My namesake acted as if he liked to spend a good deal of time searching for us," said Fred scornfully. "I tell you, Jack, he has other business on hand." "Maybe we can take him back to the insane asylum and claim the reward," suggested John. "Or to state prison." "Yes, or he may be something else." "What do you mean?" "It doesn't make any difference what I mean. I have my own ideas and I'm not going to cast any pearls before swine. What I'm going to do now is to go ashore. The sun will be up in a half an hour. It's beginning to be light in the east now." "You're right, John," acknowledged Fred. "It surely is getting light over yonder. I don't know what you're going to gain by landing, but I'm willing to try it, if you want to. Be careful that you don't strike a rock." Hardly had Fred spoken before there was a dull thud and a moment later it was evident that the frail little skiff had struck the jagged point of a hidden rock. CHAPTER XIII A FRESH ARRIVAL