he "island prisoner," was on hand with a machine-gun stream derisive
waves, but Cub refused to pay any attention to him, not that he regarded
that fellow's version of the affair as utterly unworthy of consideration,
but, for the time being, at least, he did not wish to believe it. He was
eager for the adventure, which might be spoiled if his father became
convinced that "Mr. Crusoe's" SOS was a gambling hoax.

The boys took regular turns at the radio table in the cabin that
afternoon and found the occupation of listening-in much more interesting
than it had been at their homes, not because of any particular difference
in the messages, but because of the more romantic character of their new
motives and surroundings. Even the multitude of static interferences that
swarmed the atmosphere on this, the first oppressively hot day of the
season, were combatted with tuning coil, condenser, and detector, so
confidently, although with poor success, that Mr. Perry pronounced them
all "princes of patience".

In other words, the boys were in the best of spirits, all handicaps
notwithstanding. Cub's father had not taken his first lesson in wireless
telegraphy, and so left the radio field entirely to the three young
amateur experts. In spite of the heat, they were able to get a more or
less broken message now and then from the "island prisoner", but could
get no acknowledgment of receipt of messages sent by them until about
supper time.

"If it weren't for this heat, we probably could 'ave got a message to him
as we were leaving Oswego," Cub remarked to Bud after they had been on
the lake about two hours.

"The atmosphere is the worst I've ever known it to be," returned Bud, who
had been laboring hard with key and spark for some time. "If it don't
clear up, we may not be able to begin our hunt for him before morning."

"Well, we'll go along until half an hour before dark, I suppose, and then
find a place to tie up till morning," said Cub.

He consulted his father on the subject, and the latter indorsed the plan.

The lake was rather choppy, in spite of the calmness of the day;
consequently, the Catwhisker was unable to make a record run to the head
of the St. Lawrence River. Ontario is not a placid lake, although it has
not the heavy roughness that characterizes Lake Huron. A strong current
is driven through its middle by the flood of the upper lakes after its
plunge over Niagara Falls, and along the shores is a back-sweep of ed