“Unless,” said one of the others, “they are hiding somewhere to surprise us.” “It’s impossible,” said the first boy, “for any one to hide away when he gets in sight of this island. No, if they were aboard we should have seen them the minute the steamer turned the bluff, waving to us and yelling at the top of their lungs. There’s something in the air here that makes one feel like tearing around and making a noise.” “Especially at night, when the cottagers are asleep,” said the third boy. “Besides,” continued the eldest, “their canoe is not aboard, and you would not catch Tom Harris and Bob White coming down here for the summer without it, when they spend half their time in it on the river at home and are as expert at handling it as Indians,—and yet, they wrote that they would be here to-day.” It was evident the boys they were looking for were not aboard. The little steamer, after a violent demonstration of puffing and snorting, during which it made apparently several desperate attempts to rush headlong on the rocks, but was checked with a hasty scrambling of paddle-wheels, and was bawled at by captain and mates, was finally subdued and made fast to the wharf by the deck-hands. The passengers disembarked, and the same lusty, brown-armed crew, with a series of rushes, as though they feared their captive might at any moment break its bonds and make a dash for liberty, proceeded to unload the freight and baggage. Trucks laden with leaning towers of baggage were trundled noisily ashore and overturned upon the wharf. In the midst of the bustle and commotion the group of three boys was joined by another boy, who had just come from the hotel. “Hulloa, there!” said the new boy. “Where’s Tom and Bob?” “They are not aboard, Henry,” said the eldest boy of the group. The new arrival gave a whistle of surprise. “How do you feel this afternoon, Henry?” asked the second of the brothers. “Oh, very poorly—very miserable. In fact, I don’t seem to get any better.” This lugubrious reply, strange to say, did not evoke the sympathy which a listener might have expected. The boys burst into roars of laughter. “Poor Henry Burns!” exclaimed the eldest boy, giving the self-declared invalid a blow on the chest that would have meant the annihilation of weak lungs. “He will never be any better.” “And he may be a great deal worse,” said the second boy, slapping the other on the back so hard that the dust flew under the blow. “Won’t the boys like him, though?” asked the third and youngest boy,—“that is, if they ever come.”