In the early morning Joe heard the shouts of the merry crowd as they went down through the Academy grounds to the river where the steamer was waiting to take the party out to the island. The boys were laden with blankets, fishing-rods, guns, or other warlike implements; while tents and cooking utensils were taken along in a waggon.

David Winter remained behind with Joe until the whistle sounded, feeling sure that the culprit would confess at the last moment, and that Joe would go after all.

Finding that the hope had been a vain one, he gave Joe a parting hug that would have done credit to the most affectionate bear in the world, and without a word darted out of the room.

As soon as Joe was alone he opened a little note that he had been holding tight in his hand--one that Mr. Bernard had put there himself when he came to the door to say good-bye.

It was a short note, but it gave Joe a great deal of pleasure,

"DEAR BOY,--I am sure you know that I am more than sorry to leave you behind.

"It seems to me the only way to reach the offender, and I hope he will yet confess. Be sure I shall send for you at once if he should do so. Meanwhile don't go home. The summons may come at any time. Yours with affection, J. W. BERNARD."

The boat was gay with flags that streamed from every available point, and the band was playing the liveliest airs as the boys stepped on board.

"Are we all here?" asked Mr. Bernard, as he stood on the top of the saloon and glanced over the crowd of lads.

"All but little Joe!" said one or two boys a little spitefully.

"Carver isn't here yet, sir!" said another.

"Sure enough; where is Carver?" asked the teacher.

"Blow the whistle again!" shouted Mr. Bernard.

"Drayton is missing too!" exclaimed Mr. Andrews.

"O father, here's a note one of the chambermaids gave me for you. I forgot all about it," cried Max Bernard, the teacher's little son, who was to make one of the party.

Mr. Bernard opened the note hastily and read:--

"MR. BERNARD,--I can't go with you. Let Joe Chester go, please. I did the mischief, and was afraid to tell. Ben Carver knew about it, but did not do it. We are going off together. Please send our fathers word that we are safe. RALPH DRAYTON.

"P.S.--I was never sorrier in my life, Mr. Bernard."

Mr. Bernard read the note again carefully, and then said to the waiting crowd,--

"Drayton and Carver have gone, they do not say where; but in this note which they leave behind, Drayton confesses that he is the guilty person."

A murmur of astonishment passed around the throng of boys, which was changed to a cheer when Mr. Bernard added,--

"Who will go back for Chester?"

A score of eager voices shouted, "I, sir!" and before he could speak again a dozen boys had leaped ashore, led by David Winter, and were scampering like a herd of wild deer across the fields towards the Academy boarding-house, each determined to be first in announcing the good news to Joe Chester.

It was at least a mile from the shore to the house, and the boys raced as they had never raced before, Dave, Joe's "chum" and room-mate, keeping the lead all the way, but with such an effort that he only reached the head of the stairs as one or two of the other boys reached the foot.

Without stopping to knock, he pushed open the door, and fell upon Joe, who, hearing the rush of feet, had come forward with eager expectation.

"What's the matter, Dave?" Joe cried in real alarm, as the boy, too breathless to speak, incoherently gasped, "It's all right! You are to go. Come on, old boy!"

The other boys were in the room now, and as all were panting and holding their sides, it was rather difficult for Joe to make out the story they had come to tell.

But he was to go to the island after all; he knew that, and that was good news enough.

He gathered, also, that Drayton had confessed and was missing.

"Where did you say they are gone?"

"Nobody knows."

"Nobody cares!" added another.

"I care," said Joe boldly. "I wish I had time to hunt him up!"

"You, of all fellows! You hunt him up!" exclaimed Frank Furman.

"The idea of your troubling yourself about him!" cried Dave angrily. "You make me mad, Joe!"

"But I know something how he was feeling, and what a hard thing it was for him to confess."

"Never mind him!" said Dave impatiently. "The boat is waiting! Where's your baggage?"

"I'll take your rod," said Ned Gould, taking Joe's fishing-rod from the hooks.

"No, not that one. Ralph left his for me. The janitor brought it around; he said he found it in the hall. Poor Ralph!" said Joe, examining the paper tied to the rod with the address, "For Joe Chester."

"Humph! that's the least he could do!" grumbled Dave. "Come, get your things together quick!" and he pulled Joe's valise from under the bed.

Joe was too excited to help much, but among them all they soon had the valise filled; and with a whoop that would have delighted the heart of a red Indian, the boys dashed downstairs, nearly crushing the janitor, who was labouring slowly up to investigate the noise coming from Room 8.

The race back to the steamboat was not quite so brisk as that to the house had been, but they were not long on the way.

They were hailed by the throng of boys on the boat with cheer after cheer as they came in sight, and most of the boys leaped ashore and rushed to greet the hero of the occasion, who was quite overcome with congratulations and expressions of delight.

Mr. Bernard had gone to make inquiries about the two missing boys, and the boat was kept waiting till nearly noon, when he came with the tidings that Drayton and Carver had sailed that morning in a fishing-smack from that very wharf.

Mr. Bernard had also written to the boys' parents, giving a brief account of the trouble, with information in regard to their sailing, the name of the vessel, and the time when it might be expected to return to port. At the close he had expressed his regret that he must decline to receive the boys again as pupils.

"Gone in a fishing-smack!"--"Such high-toned fellows, too!"

These were some of the exclamations of the boys.

The delay was over at last.

The boat swung around from the pier and steamed away; the band played "Bonnie Dundee," and the boys' shouts quite drowned the music.

The day was beautiful and bright, and every one was in high spirits, as the little boat puffed its way out between the capes and towards Whaleback, which lay within sight, and among scores of white sails, from that of the tiniest wherry up to the broad canvas of the huge ships sailing proudly away to foreign ports.

They passed one fishing-smack on which somebody thought he espied two boys who looked about Drayton and Carver's size; but when they passed it no one but the captain and his one helper could be seen.

"I'll bet Drayton and Carver are down in that cabin. I just know I saw them dodge; besides, I saw the twinkle in that old fisherman's eye," said Dick Wooster.

The orders were for the steamboat to land its passengers on the southern side of Whaleback; and as they steamed past the lighthouse on its rocky perch, and the long line of jagged coast against which the waves were dashing furiously, the boys wondered how they were to get ashore. On rounding the southern end, a fine pebbly beach, sheltered a little by projecting points of land, offered a comfortable entrance for boats.

The steamboat anchored outside, and four boats were lowered and speedily filled with boys, who were almost ready to jump overboard and swim ashore in their eagerness to land.

The landing occupied some time, as the boats made many trips before all the boys, tents, bedding, stove, cooking utensils, and, last but not least, the provisions for the hungry crowd, could be put on shore.

Jonas Brown, the cook, and his man Freitag (conveniently translated by the boys, "Friday"), attended to that part of the labour, and long before the boxes and barrels were all ashore, the boys were demanding something to eat.

Some started off on an exploring tour; others helped to put up the tents; and some of the hungriest went grubbing in the clam-beds,[#] still wet with the receding tide.

[#] Clams are shell-fish, used for food.

"Here are clam-forks, boys," shouted Jonas. "Glad to have your help. You dig the clams, and I'll build up my fire and get ready for a bake. I reckon that will taste as good as anything."

"A clam-bake! a clam-bake! Who will dig clams?"

More boys volunteered than could find forks to dig with; but not to be outdone, some of them worked with sticks, prying in the mud wherever the little holes indicated the presence of the shell-fish.

Jonas showed those who had forks how to strike them deep into the beds, and the boys were apt scholars; so that by the time the rocks were well heated, and the sea-weed gathered, there were clams enough piled up on the shore to furnish a feast even for such a crowd of boys.

While the clams were slowly baking under their sea-weed cover, Jonas and his Friday pitched their cook-tent, set up their stove, and baked biscuits to be eaten with the clams.

Long before the roast was pronounced "done," the boys were on hand waiting for the sea-weed to be removed, and a hungrier pack of young savages never danced around a clam-pile.

A barrel of biscuits had been opened on their first arrival at the island, and the boys had "taken the sharp edge off their appetite," as they said, by eating them; otherwise Jonas would never have been able to bring those clams to the stage of perfection that he did.

"Come, Jonas! they are done to a turn!" cried the impatient boys.

"They will lose all their goodness in that good smell," said Joe, sniffing the air.

All noses went up, and fifty boys gave a prolonged "Ah! Isn't that gul--orious?"

It did seem that Jonas was provokingly slow in testing those clams; but at last he said, in his drawling way, "Well, now, I reckon them'll do!"

The boys cheered this remark, and hastened to offer their assistance in removing the sea-weed; but Jonas declined their offer in a most decided way.

"Now, you just move off, every boy of you! or you shan't have a clam. Off with you, till I get 'em out in piles, and give every one a fair chance!"

The boys knew by experience that it was policy to keep Jonas good-natured; so, with a good deal of pushing and whooping, they widened the circle, and contented themselves with watching the operations and exhorting Jonas to "hurry up."

"Now, that there pile belongs to the gentlemen!" said Jonas, pointing to the first heap that he threw down on the clean pebbles.

"O Jonas! aren't we all gentlemen?" asked Walter Martin, and a chorus of groans followed from the other boys.

Jonas vouchsafed no reply, but continued to shovel out clams and divide them into a half-dozen piles along the beach; while the boys danced around, awaiting the signal of the bell.

Freitag presently appeared with the great bell, and, although the summons was wholly unnecessary so far as the boys were concerned, as they had been at the scene of action for nearly an hour, it brought the teachers from their work of tent-raising.

After a blessing asked by Mr. Bernard, permission was given to the hungry crowd to attack the shellfish.

There were three courses provided--roast clams, then warm biscuit, and finally a dessert of gingersnaps, a barrel of which stood open from which all helped themselves.

Fortunately the boys were not difficult to suit, and they pronounced it a meal fit for a king.