Though nearer that end of the lake where Shopton was located, still this little irregular circle of land, rocks, and shrubbery known as Loon Island was a lonesome place. Its name might indicate that, for in times past many loons made their nesting place on the island, and the loon is a very shy bird—it loves not human company. “There isn’t much chance of any one visiting here to rescue me,” mused Tom to himself as he submitted tamely to being bound. That is, he submitted with seeming tameness, making no struggle. But, truth to tell, he was boiling within at the indignity put upon him and he was wild with righteous rage against the men for their threats to steal his idea of the great airline express. However, there was nothing to do now but to let the four scoundrels work their will upon him. They were not unduly rough, but they took great care in the tying of the ropes. Then one of them noticed the ring of iron and the few dangling links on Tom’s leg. “He filed off the chain!” exclaimed one of the masked man. Like his companion he kept his face covered. As for Kenny and Schlump, they did not appear to mind being recognized. Perhaps they felt that Tom would know them even with masks on, so they did not go to the trouble to disguise themselves. “I guess I have never seen the other two, and that’s why they want to hide their faces from me,” mused Tom. “They don’t want me to recognize them again if I should happen to see them with their masks off. But I may, for all of that.” Tom had keen and observing eyes, and now, foiled in an attempt to see the faces of the two masked men, he began studying their peculiarities so he might know them again. He studied their walk, their actions, the way in which they used their hands and the tones of their voices. Often a person may be recognized by his voice alone. And Tom remembered how he had recognized Renwick Fawn by that man’s elbow peculiarity. But he could not place these two. “Yes, he filed the chain off all right,” admitted Kenny. “We might have known he’d do something like that. We should have bound his hands.” “They’re bound now,” grimly remarked Schlump, as he tightened the knots on the rope around Tom’s wrists. It was so closely drawn as to be painful, but Tom did not murmur. He was not going to let these men know that they were hurting him. “We’d better take that leg bracelet off,” went on one of the masked men, the larger of the two. “Why so?” asked Schlump. “Because the links on it might rattle just at the wrong minute,” was the answer, and the man made a peculiar motion, pointing off to the mainland which Tom could see in the distance as he stood on Loon Island. In a few moments the young inventor was freed from the leg-iron. It was not heavy, and gave him no particular discomfort, but, all the same, he was glad to be rid of it.