Mystery. I wish I could find out who is at the bottom of it."
Sammy was eager to relate his story now.
"Perhaps we can tell you!" he eagerly exclaimed, when Mr. Jessup nodded to show that he had finished. "It must be the hermit who's taking your things."
If he and his chums expected Mr. Jessup to show surprise at the mention of the hermit they were disappointed. Mr. Jessup only shook his head.
"So you've seen him, too," he murmured. "He's showing himself more often of late. I hope he doesn't get into trouble."
"Who?" asked Frank.
"The hermit."
"Oh, then you know him?" asked Sammy. His expected surprise had amounted to nothing. He was rather disappointed.
"Oh, yes, I know him," admitted the hunter, "but that isn't saying I know what he's up to. That part is queer, I admit."
"Who is he?" asked Sammy, and he briefly told how they had encountered the strange old man, with his white hair and beard.
"Well, his name is Franklin Addison," answered Mr. Jessup, "and he has been here for some time. Just when he came I don't remember, but I know I ran across him one day, and he ordered me off the island. Of course I didn't go, owning considerable land here. So I stood my ground, and explained matters.
"Then Mr. Addison grew more reasonable. He told me he had come to live here to be away from the world, and he showed me a little hut he had made for himself, on a small piece of land he said was his. A poor enough place it is, but he seems to like it. Since then, though we haven't met often, we have been better friends. I let him alone, and he lets me alone. He lives about a mile from here, in a lonesome place.
