Henry Burns resolved to keep the man’s secret for a time, for the reason that he was firmly convinced he had not come to the island to commit any wrong there, but to hide away. The island offered every advantage for the latter, and no inducement for the former. The man’s design certainly was to secrete himself. Still, Henry Burns had no intention of letting the man escape from the island. He would watch also for those friends that the man had said were to come for him with their yacht, and he would make sure that they did not sail away again. Though but a boy, the stranger’s secret was in dangerous hands, if he had but known it. And yet luck was to effect more than Henry Burns’s scheming. Tom and Bob were waiting impatiently when Henry Burns arrived at the tent. They launched the canoe, the three embarked, and soon left the tent and then the village behind. They glided swiftly along the picturesque shore till they came at length to the narrows; here they carried the canoe across and launched it again in the western bay. In an hour from the time they had left the tent, they had come alongside the sloop _Spray_ in Fish Hawk’s Cove, and the Warren boys had sleepily made room for them in the cabin. It was crowded for them all there, and it may have been for that reason that Henry Burns did not sleep soundly,—either that, or because of the figure of a man that he could not drive from his mind, and that appeared to him, half-dreaming and half-awake, as a figure that hobbled along, stooping and bent, but which suddenly sprang up before him, lithe and threatening, and brandishing in his hand a cudgel that looked like a cane. CHAPTER VIII. THE HAUNTED HOUSE At four o’clock next morning, when Arthur Warren tried to rouse the other boys, they were loath to turn out. It was warm inside, under the blankets, and the sea air outside was cool and damp. Out in the cockpit Arthur lighted an oil-stove, which they always carried aboard, made the coffee in a big pot, and set it on to boil. Then he called the sleepers in the cabin again. “Come you, Art, shut up out there! How do you expect any one can sleep, with you bawling out in that fashion?” This was from George Warren, whose voice denoted that he was only about half-awake. “Don’t want you to sleep any more,” answered Arthur. “Want you to get up and fish.” “Don’t care to fish,” said George, still only half-awake. “Well,” persisted Arthur, “may I inquire what you did come over here for?” “Certainly you may. I came over here to sleep. I like the air over here. Now, please don’t disturb us any more, Arthur. You can be decent, you know, when you’ve a mind to be.” And with this request, drowsily mumbled, George pulled the blanket comfortably about him and settled back for another nap. At this juncture, however, his brother poked his head in at the companionway and yelled at the top of his lungs: