some sort of struggle. A few shreds of bloody wool, caught in the
junipers, told their own story.

A man--probably several men--had been on the spot not two hours before
and had killed two of the sheep. They had not succeeded in this without
a fight, in which the gallant old dog had been stabbed with a seaman's
dirk or some other sharp weapon.

Bob, scouting onward a short distance, found the deep boot-tracks of two
men in a wet place between some rocks. They were headed
south-eastward--straight toward the reedy swamp where the boys had seen
the top-masts of the strange vessel! The crew--whoever they might
be--had decided to leave no further doubt of their intentions. They had
opened hostilities and to them had fallen first blood.

With serious faces and guns held ready for an attack the three lads
turned toward home, driving the scared flock before them. Old Jock,
stiff and limping from his wound, brought up the rear. They reached the
inlet at last, but it was sunset when the last sheep was inside the
stockade and the cabin door was barred.

That night the wind changed, and the cold gray blanket of a Penobscot
Bay fog shut down over the island.

CHAPTER XXVIII

The fog held for two days. On the third morning Jeremy, on his knees by
the hearth fire, was squinting down the bright barrel of a flintlock. He
had been quiet for a long time. Bob felt the tenseness of the situation
himself, but he could not understand the other's absolute silence. He
scowled as he sat on the floor, and savagely drove a long-bladed
hunting-knife into the cracks between the hewn planks. At length a low
whistle from Jeremy caused him to pause and look up quickly.

"What is it?" he asked.

A look of excitement was growing in Jeremy's face.

"Say, Bob!" he exclaimed, after a second or two. "I've just remembered
something that I've been trying to bring to mind ever since we crossed
the island. You know the sign we saw up by the spring? Well, somewhere,
once before, I knew I'd seen the word 'Watter' spelled that way. So have
you--do you remember?"

Bob shook his head slowly. Then a look of comprehending wonder came into
his eyes. "Yes," he cried. "It was on that old chart in Pharaoh Daggs'
chest!"

"Right," said Jeremy. "And now that I think about it, I believe this is
the very island! Let's see--the bay was shaped this way----" He had
seized a charred stick from the hearth and was drawing on the floor.

"Two narrow points, wit