Hardy's belongings, he hurried out, locking the door after him and pocketing the key. More stars were now shining, and, without assistance from his pocket light, he made his way to Lake Herring, pausing at times to listen for any possible suspicious sound.
Near the shore a distinct clanking struck his ear, but shooting his light, he discovered nothing more exciting than the chain of a wave-rocked rowboat attached to a post by the bridg of the hangar. The oars, their blades wet, lay across the seats.
Why not take the boat," thought the boy to himself, "and row on over to Cape Peril?"
"No," objected his conscience, "you can't do it. You've got your orders."
"Gosh a Moses! Somebody's been using it already," was the lad's conclusion on a closer inspection of the boat. Then it occurred to him that the waves splashing over the sides had caused the soaking.
Suspicion of trespassers out of his mind, he went along the bridge and inspected the empty hydro shed. Then he started back to the shore, where temptation seized him again. He climbed
