Madge’s eye fastened upon an unpainted rowboat abandoned upon the sand.
“It’s a regular tub and probably leaks like a sieve,” she announced, “but it’s our only hope.”
They found the oars and quickly launched the boat. All of Madge’s dire predictions were found true. She bailed steadily to keep the boat afloat.
“We’re losing time,” Jack said gruffly. “Wendell has a fast canoe now.”
“But he’s a dub at paddling,” Madge added hopefully. “We have a chance of overtaking him at the Rice Lake portage.”
“It’s a short one and we’re a good ways behind.”
The prospect of portaging the boat was discouraging. They both knew that unless they overtook the chemist by the time he reached Rice Lake, they likely would lose him. Once he had covered the second portage, a short paddle would take him to Bryson, a city of sufficient population to offer protection.
“Look here,” Jack said as they grounded the boat at the extreme end of Elf Lake. “We’ll never overtake him if we try to tote this old tub. I know a shortcut through the forest but it’s hard going even without dunnage. What do you say?”
Madge hesitated. She realized that if they left the boat behind, they must overtake Clyde at the end of the portage or lose him entirely.
“It’s a long chance,” Jack said, reading her thoughts, “and the trail is too hard for you.”
Madge shook her head stubbornly.
“No,” she returned with firm decision. “I’ll manage to keep up. We’ll leave the boat behind and try the shortcut!”
Jack led Madge a short distance down the shore. After surveying the locality intently to be certain of his bearings, the ranger parted the thick growth of bush which fringed the water, and they plunged into the forest. At first they followed a thinly worn path, but presently thorny vines and underbrush impeded their progress. It was unpleasantly warm; mosquitoes and insects were a torment.
Once Jack slackened his pace and looked back at his companion but Madge urged him on. She knew that everything depended upon speed. Rather than hold Jack back she would drop by the wayside.
She managed to keep up with him, never uttering a word of complaint, but when at last they came within sight of Rice Lake she felt that she could not have continued a hundred yards farther. Emerging from the forest they paused to survey the lake. There was no sign of a canoe or a boat.
“Do you think we’re too late?” Madge asked.
“Hard to tell,” Jack returned briefly.
They hurriedly made their way along the muddy shore toward the point which marked the end of the portage Clyde Wendell must have taken. Jack studied the soft ground along the shore but the only footsteps visible had been made many days before. They walked a few steps down the portage and paused to listen. Only the wild cry of a bird greeted their ears. No broken twigs or bushes disclosed that anyone had passed along the trail that day.
“Either we’re here ahead of him, or he didn’t come this way,” the ranger said in a low tone.
Madge sank down on an old log to rest. The ranger stood beside her staring meditatively down the trail. Suddenly he straightened, and Madge, hearing the same sound, looked quickly up. She stifled the exclamation upon her lips.
She could plainly hear the crackle of twigs underfoot. Someone was coming down the trail! Madge quietly arose and looked questioningly at the ranger. His expression had not changed.
Then through the trees they glimpsed Clyde Wendell. He was staggering under the burden of his canoe, and with head bent low could not see the two who awaited him in the clearing.
“Hello,” Jack said challengingly. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
With an exclamation of startled dismay, the chemist straightened and allowed the canoe to slide to the ground. He faced the two defiantly.
“Well, what do you want? I’m on my way to Bryson.”
“So I observe,” Jack commented dryly. “What are you doing with the canoe?”
“I only borrowed it. I’d have sent it back when I got to Bryson.”
“It isn’t considered wise to borrow government canoes. But we’ll let that pass for the time being. Hand over the book!”
“What book?” Wendell countered.
“The one I see sticking out of your hip pocket.”
The chemist’s hand went involuntarily to his pocket but he faced Jack with blazing eyes.
“I’ll not hand over what belongs to me.”
“It’s Anne’s book!” Madge cried for she had seen the cover. “Clyde Wendell, you did steal it!”
The chemist half turned as though to make a dash back over the trail he had just come, but the ranger caught him firmly by the shoulder and wheeled him about.
“Oh, no you don’t! Hand it over or I’ll take it by force.”
Wendell looked searchingly at the ranger. “See here,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I’ll pay for the book and the canoe too. I meant no harm. I only want to catch my train at Bryson. You see, I picked up the book by accident—”
“You’ll catch no train today,” Jack interrupted bluntly. “You’re going back to Loon Lake. Incidentally, there’s a matter of a board bill to settle. Now hand over the book!”
Reluctantly, the chemist relinquished it. Jack passed it on to Madge who hastily examined it to see that no pages were missing.
“You knew it contained the formula,” she accused.
“That’s the wildest accusation yet!” the chemist laughed derisively. “You and that Fairaday girl have built up a pretty story which you’ve kidded yourselves into believing is true. Fairaday never owned a formula. It was an obsession.”
“Move along!” Jack ordered. “Walk ahead of me and don’t try any tricks.”
Madge followed close behind. She was highly elated at having regained possession of “Kim.” Yet what if Anne should fail to bring out the secret writing? Clyde seemed so confident they would not succeed.
“We’ll find some way to reveal the writing!” she resolved. “At any rate, I’ll not worry until after we’ve made another laboratory test.”
Midnight lights burned brightly in the Fairaday laboratory. A group of tense watchers, Madge and Mr. Brownell, Jack, and Mr. and Mrs. Brady, stood watching Anne who was busy at the work table. Clyde Wendell, guarded by a forest ranger, sat propped carelessly back in his chair, a look of amused contempt on his face.
“Well, I’m afraid it’s a failure,” Anne said in a subdued tone. She smiled bravely but her face was wan. “We’ve tested each page except the back cover.”
Jack looked accusingly at Wendell.
“You could tell us how to bring out that formula if you would!”
“Perhaps, if there were a formula,” the chemist retorted. “Now that this nonsense is over, am I free to go?”
“You are not.”
All eyes focused upon Anne as she gave the final sheet the chemical test which had been applied to the other pages. As she removed it from the iodine bath a few minutes later, Madge, who was close at her friend’s side, bent closer. Scattered lines, at first indistinct and unconnected, gradually as if by magic, lengthened and conformed into written characters.
“It’s the formula!” she cried exultingly.
Mr. Brownell moved nearer. His face, passive until now, became animated. He studied the page which Anne held up for his inspection and then said quietly: “It’s the genuine thing. Miss Fairaday, I congratulate you.”
For a few minutes Clyde Wendell was forgotten. When Madge looked at him she saw that he had lost his arrogant assurance. He arose and with a gesture of submission faced Jack.
“You win. I didn’t think Miss Fairaday could bring out the writing. I suppose this means prison for me. I’m ready to leave whenever you say.”
“Why did you do it?” Madge asked. “Can’t you explain?”
For the first time, the chemist appeared slightly ashamed.
“It’s a long story,” he said slowly. “Mr. Fairaday and I never clicked very well. He didn’t trust me and I resented it. At first I helped him with his rust prevention experiments, then he began to work in secret. I guessed that he had made an important discovery. I watched him and learned that he had written the formula in that book.”
He indicated the dismantled “Kim,” smiling wryly.
“Before I had a chance to read the formula, Mr. Fairaday discharged me. I found another job. Then three months ago I lost it. I thought I’d develop a rust prevention formula of my own because I was hard up for money. I found I couldn’t do it. Then I read of Mr. Fairaday’s death and knowing that he had never done anything with his formula in a commercial way, I decided to come here and see if I could get it. You know the rest.”
“Then you were the one who entered the house that night?” Anne demanded. “You were searching for the book.”
“Yes, I wasn’t after the silver. I took that merely to throw you off the track. I’m not a common thief. I don’t know what made me try to steal the formula. When a fellow’s down and out—broke—well, I guess things look different.”
Anne, Madge and Jack held a private conference. Presently, Anne turned again to Clyde.
“I’ve decided not to testify against you,” she said. “I’m sure Father wouldn’t want me to. I have the formula and that’s all that really matters. I believe you’re sorry for what you did.”
“I am sorry,” the chemist mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “You’re more decent than I deserve.”
“As far as the canoe is concerned, the boys will be willing to drop the charge,” Jack added.
“And Aunt Madge just said she wouldn’t press the board and room bill,” Madge interposed. “You can pay it later.”
“You’re free to go,” Jack told him. “Clear out and be glad you got off so easily.”
After the chemist had left, the atmosphere became more friendly. Anne refused to talk business that night but the following day she conferred with Mr. Brownell and to the delight of her friends sold the formula for a sum which guaranteed her a modest income for life. Her first act was to pay off the mortgage on her house and island, and then, to Jake Curtis’ bitter anger, she refused to even discuss a sale with him. Mr. Brownell had taken a great liking to Loon Lake and upon learning that Anne intended to live with an aunt in the city, he offered her a price for her property which left her quite dazed. Madge urged her to sell, and after brief negotiations, she arranged all details of the transaction to her satisfaction.
With business matters cleared away, Anne spent a few weeks at the lodge before leaving for the east. The days were crammed with good times and it was difficult for the girls to say goodbye.
“I owe everything to you,” Anne said for perhaps the hundredth time, as they stood at the railway station awaiting the train. “I’ll never forget this summer and all you’ve done for me, Madge. I’ll come back and see you often too.”
The train that carried Anne to New York brought Madge a letter—an invitation to spend two weeks at Cheltham Bay, cruising aboard the luxurious Burnett yacht. As she dispatched an enthusiastic acceptance, she little dreamed of the exciting adventure that awaited her. The story of Madge’s queer reception at Cheltham Bay is recounted in the second volume of this series, entitled: “The Deserted Yacht.”
Jack French did not accept the news of Madge’s intended departure very cheerfully.
“Why, I’ve scarcely had a chance to see you this summer,” he protested as they walked alone one evening. “Here you’re leaving in a week and I’d made all sorts of plans.”
“You know you’ll be too busy to even miss me,” Madge teased.
She was surprised at the look which came into Jack’s eyes.
“I’ll miss you like everything, and you know it too, imp! Since the day you came to Loon Lake, just an undersized, freckled kid, you’ve been the only girl for me. You’re the sweetest—” he broke off.
“Go on!” Madge urged, laughing.
Jack shook his head and smiled.
“No, until you grow a few years you must take it for granted. But while you’re at Cheltham Bay you might think of me once in a while. And don’t be too surprised if you see me!”
He took her hand and together they went down to the lake to watch the moon rise over the spruce ridges.
THE END