Manson could not
understand why he had from the very first mention of this island, felt
an unaccountable influence attracting him toward it. What it was he
could not tell, and yet every hour seemed to bind this influence all the
closer, and as it were, cast its spell over him. When they all turned in
for the night, he could not go to sleep. His thoughts would go back to
that horrible night on the battlefield when he, in his agonies, fancied
himself wading down a cool, clear brook; then to the strange influence
Liddy had said she felt when, in keeping a foolish promise, she had all
alone paid a visit to Blue Hill, and now this weird spell of enchantment
that was growing upon him. Was there some mysterious plot in his life
that was being unfolded step by step, and one that was far beyond his
comprehension? Was his chance meeting with this friend, Frank, on the
picket line, a part of it? Was the imperative inclination to always take
Liddy away to the top of Blue Hill when he wished to speak to her very
soul, also due to some incomprehensible power that was shaping and
bending their lives together? That they were, and must be as one in the
future--as long as life lasted, he believed as firmly as he believed he
lived, and yet beyond that belief there was--and here he met an
impassable barrier and could go no further, only realizing that he was
being led by an unseen force. Was it a power that was pushing him toward
Pocket Island? He could not tell.

CHAPTER XXIV.

POCKET ISLAND.

When the sun rose red and sullen the next morning, and our three friends
had breakfasted and were hoisting sail on the sloop, Frank said:

"If the wind holds up as it did yesterday, we can run to Pocket Island
and back easily. There is no chance to land"--addressing Manson--"or
even to go within half a mile of it in the sloop; but I can lay her to
while Obed rows ashore in the dory. One hour there will give you all the
ghost hunting you want, I guess. The only thing I don't like is the way
the sun looked this morning. Old Sol appeared mad!"

When they were under way and the sloop was heeling over before the fresh
morning breeze, Manson said: "I do not want you to take any chances on
my account, Frank. We can go there some other day."

"Oh, I'll take no risks," replied his friend. "It's not the wind that
worries me, for we can reef close, and the sloop takes big seas like a
duck. It's these beastly coast fogs that come in without warni