CHAPTER X.

ON WINDMILL ISLAND.

Drifting in the darkness, they were still discussing the situation when, through the gloom, they saw, not far off, a tall, black shadow showing darkly against the curtain of the night.

“What is that off there?” demanded Percy Simmons, indicating the tall object.

“Looks like some sort of a monument,” supplemented Harry Ware.

“I guess I can solve the mystery,” struck in Ralph. “That is Windmill Island, or I’m very much mistaken. That tall tower is all that is left of an old windmill that stood there many years ago.”

“Seems to me I’ve heard a lot about Windmill Island,” said Harry. “Does any one live there?”

“I think there is one hut on it. It is a deserted, lonely sort of a place, rocky and barren,” replied Ralph. “You know something of the story connected with it?”

“Only that it was used as a sort of hiding place for the invading parties at the time of the attempted Fenian invasion of the Dominion of Canada,” responded Harry, who had been reading up on the history of the St. Lawrence.

“That’s right, Harry. That is just the purpose the island once served. It is almost in the center of the river. It was the plan of the conspirators to make it a sort of headquarters, and it was well stocked with arms and ammunition, all hidden in carefully excavated caves and galleries within the island itself; although there were some caves already in existence, for the place was selected for that very reason.”

“What became of the invaders?” inquired Percy Simmons, who was not versed in this chapter of the history of the northern border line.

“They were repulsed and many of them surrounded in the old windmill tower and starved, or shot to death by the Canadians,” was the reply. “Others, who took refuge in the caves and tunnels, were driven out by hunger and made prisoners. Oh, yes; Windmill Island has seen stirring times since the old French settlers first put up that tower. The sails of the mill rotted away long ago, and now there is only the tower left to show what once stood there.”

“But who lives there now?” asked Harry curiously.

“I don’t know that it has any regular residents,” was Ralph’s rejoinder. “I’ve heard that it is sometimes used by smugglers or fish dynamiters, but so far as that goes, I have no first-hand knowledge.”

“At any rate, we might land there and remain till daylight,” suggested Percy Simmons.

“That’s a good idea, Persimmons,” concurred Ralph.

He turned the tender’s head and started to row toward the island. They could now see its rocky shores bulking up darkly under the tall tower, which had once been a windmill, peacefully grinding out grain for the early settlers on the St. Lawrence.

“I suppose Harry would rather stay in the boat,” said Percy Simmons mischievously. “There are sure to be spooks around on an island that has seen so much of tragedy.”

“Say, do you want to _swim_ ashore?” demanded Harry indignantly. “Just cut that out if you don’t want to get hurt. Wow!”

From the shores of the island, toward which they were pulling, a sudden gush of red flame split the night. It soared up waveringly toward the heavens, casting a red glare on the waters.

“Fire!” shouted Percy Simmons.

“It’s a hut ablaze!” came from Harry Ware.

“Great Scott, fellows, it’s going up like so much kindling wood! Let’s hurry ashore. We may be able to help and——”

Bang!

An explosion that rocked the earth and beat deafeningly on their ear-drums had occurred. The burning hut was blown high into the air and almost immediately red-hot fragments came raining about them.

“Throw them out of the boat,” cried Ralph, as the blazing embers began dropping. “There’s gasoline in our tank, and if any of those sparks set the boat on fire—good night!”

Regardless of burnt fingers, the boys commenced throwing the blazing fragments, that hailed about them like a fiery rain, into the river. They struck the water with hissing sounds. Once or twice the boys narrowly escaped severe burns. But they hardly thought of this as they worked to save the boat from catching fire.

At last the fiery torrent ceased. They looked shoreward. A quadrangular figure, marked in brightly glowing fire, showed where the foundations of the hut had stood. All other trace of it had been wiped out utterly by the explosion.

“What on earth can have happened?” demanded Harry.

“An explosion,” came sapiently from Percy Simmons.

“As if we didn’t know that! That was no kid’s fire-cracker that went off, either,” determined Ralph.

“What, then?”

“Dynamite,” was the reply, “or some similar explosive. I felt the river heave under our boat when she went up.”

“Great gracious! A dynamite explosion!” cried Percy Simmons.

“Say, let’s get out of here! Some more might go up and then we’d be right in the middle of more trouble,” cried Harry, in rather alarmed tones.

“I hardly think we need fear another explosion,” said Ralph, “but, to be on the safe side, we’ll just stay here for a while. Then if anything more is due to go up in smoke we’ll be safe.”

“Safe!” exploded Harry.

“Why, yes. In a few minutes, if nothing happens, I mean to go ashore there.”

“You do! Are you crazy?”

“Not that I am aware. At any rate, I don’t see ghosts flitting about over the river,” parried Ralph, with a good-natured laugh at the discomfited Harry’s expense.

“But why go ashore? It looks like a mighty dangerous place to me,” supplemented Percy Simmons.

“I want to go ashore for just one reason,” said Ralph, “and that is to satisfy myself that no human beings were injured in that explosion.”

“You’re dead right, Ralph,” exclaimed Harry heartily, wringing his chum’s hand; “we didn’t think of that. We’re with you from the jump, old chap, and if any one has been injured you can rely upon it that we will do our best for them.”

“I knew you’d think that way about it, boys,” said Ralph. “And now let’s pull in toward shore. I guess we needn’t fear another explosion.”

“There’s a rough sort of landing pier ahead,” said Harry, as they drew closer. “Better pull in there.”

The boat’s head was swung. In a few minutes more she grated against the ramshackle timbers of a tumble-down dock.

“Now then, boys, pile out. Let’s see what has been going on here,” said Ralph, in a brisk voice, as he shipped his oars and tied the painter to a convenient pile. The others clambered up after him on the wharf. A short distance back from the shore the remains of the exploded hut still glowed, casting a lurid light about the scene. Through the ruddy glow they saw a figure come striding toward them as they advanced up the dock.

“Some one coming,” declared Ralph. “Hullo, there, you! We saw the explosion from the water. Is any one hurt? Do you want help?”

Right then the Border Boys were in for the surprise of their lives, though they did not know it till the advancing figure, that of a tall, strongly built young man, spoke.

“You blooming Yankees, get right out of here,” were the astonishing words that greeted them. “Get, now. Do you understand, or do I have to make my meaning plainer?”

“Well, I’ll be double gash-jiggered!” exploded Percy Simmons.