The cottage was small, with but a single doer, and on this the youth rapped loudly.
The rapping was followed by a commotion in side of the cottage and Dick heard two persons leap to their feet.
"Who's there?" demanded a rough voice.
"A stranger," Dick answered. "I have lost my way in the darkness," and without waiting he tried the door, and finding it unlocked, opened it.
"Dick Rover!"
The cry came from one of the occupants of the room, a tall, awkward-looking young man, much tanned by exposure, and with a pair of dark and wicked-looking eyes.
"Great Scott!" gasped Dick, falling back a step. "Am I dreaming or is this really Dan Baxter?"
"Oh, I'm Dan Baxter right enough," answered the former bully of Putnam Hall.
But—but I thought you were still on that island in the Pacific."
"You wanted to see me end my days there, didn't you?" sneered Dan Baxter.
Dick did not reply, for he was gazing at the other occupant of the room, a man with a short crop of hair and a short beard.
"And your father, too!" he murmured.
"Come in here," cried Arnold Baxter sav-
