Before getting out of his boat, however, he made sure that the mooring rope was tied in such a way that, if need be, he could make a running jump into the craft, pull the knot out with one tug of the free end and so be loosed from the dock. Also he made certain that his motor would start at once. It was a powerful and speedy craft in which Tom had come to the island—one that would start with a throw of a switch, not needing any laborious cranking. “I might want to get away in a hurry,” he had reasoned. Thus having taken all precautions to serve him in case of emergency, Tom clambered up on the dock and started for the shore end. As he left the circle of friendly rays from the lantern, he could not prevent a slight feeling of uneasiness creeping over him. After all, it was a risky thing that he was doing—trusting himself alone to unknown men who had every motive for wishing him out of the way or, if not exactly out of the way, at least prevented from pursuing his activities in certain directions. “But I think I’m going to beat them at their own game,” mused Tom, as he walked along. His feet made ghostly echoes on the rattling planks of the old dock, and, now and then, he paused to ascertain if any one else in the neighborhood were stirring. However, he appeared to be the only one. “Let’s see,” mused the young inventor as he was about to step off the dock to the shore. “As I remember it, the dock was to the east of the house when Ned and I looked out of the window and saw the three men. So I must turn right now.” Accordingly he swung in that direction as he started up a path that was partly overgrown with weeds. It was quite dark, once he had left the glow of the dock lantern, and Tom was glad he had brought a pocket flashlight with him. Switching this on, he let the bright rays fall in front of him to guide his steps so he would not get off the path. For he had in mind the sinister name of the island to which he was paying a midnight visit. “They say the rattlesnakes are all gone,” mused Tom, as he kept as nearly as he could to the middle of the path, “but I’m taking no chances of stepping on one. I don’t want to tread on a tail and be bitten. Even if their bite isn’t always deadly, it’s bad enough.” In spite of himself, Tom could not prevent a creepy feeling coming over him at times as he walked along on the path. He almost wished he had not selected this means of tricking the plotters. But it was too late to turn back now. He had made his choice. Suddenly, when he judged that he was half way to the old house, Tom heard a noise in the bushes just ahead of him and off to the left. For a moment he had a fear that it might be the rustle caused by the passage of a rattlesnake through the underbrush. He flashed his light in that direction, but instead of the beams picking up the gliding form of a serpent they illuminated the feet and legs of a man.