or at least there's a dwelling place."

The boy pointed to a rude sort of shack built of logs and roofed with
boughs, which stood on the edge of the cleared space.

"Great Methuselah!" ejaculated Zeb. "Can someone have stolen a march
on us?"

"I don't know, but it looks queer, and see, there's a shovel. Somebody
has been digging here."

"But who could it be?" demanded Tom, mystified.

"Gosh! Looks as if we've bin euchered after all," grumbled Zeb.

The Wondership came to earth at the edge of the lifeless-looking, bare
space. They clambered out of the machine and stood on what was,
undoubtedly, Rattlesnake Island, for every landmark on the map had
been verified as they dropped.

They looked about them for a minute and then Zeb drew his revolver out
of the holster and began idly twiddling the cylinder.

"I want ter make sure she's in workin' order," he said with a grim
comprehension of the lips, "before we do any investigating."

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE ISLAND OF MYSTERY.

There was an air of oppression, hard to explain, about the island. But
they all felt it. The boys were inclined to talk in whispers and even
Dick Donovan's usual lively spirits seemed daunted. There was
something about the blistered, barren look of the cleared space on the
edge of which they had landed that gave them all an odd feeling of
melancholy.

Zeb was the first to shake this off.

"Our first job," he said, "is to find out who is on the island and
what they've been doing."

Here and there in the black, swampy-looking bare space, they could see
where holes had been dug, but when they examined the spade, which Jack
had seen from the Wondership as they descended, they found that it was
rusty and had evidently not been used for a long time.

It was the same in the rude hut which they examined. Some rusty
utensils and a few ragged old garments were all that was inside. The
dust lay thick on the floor and a large squirrel leaped out of the
roof as they entered.

"Well, whoever was on the island has moved on again," declared Zeb.

"Or died," said Jack in a low tone.

"Wa'al, what I say is," observed Zeb, "ther sooner we git at that
what-yer-may-call-um stuff and get away agin, the better it'll be for
all of us. There's suthin' about this island I don't like."

The others agreed, all except the professor, who, on hands and knees,
was examining some rocks with his magnifying glass.

"Where shall we make camp?" asked Dick.

"