In this particular case, the cock crowed, not thrice, but once. Indeed, the single triumphant call was all that was necessary. It was as if the vainglorious fowl was aware that he had been a figure in a tragedy, as had been no other of his kind since the time when Saint Peter made craven denial of his Master.

There was no possibility that Captain Ichabod could be deceived as to the identity of the creature's voice. As the boat drew in toward the shore to investigate the significance of the white flag that had fluttered from the sand dunes and had then so abruptly vanished, the old fisherman, hearing the cock's crow, turned to the detective and Roy Morton, and spoke vehemently:

"Men, did ye hear that? Whar are your ears? I'll jest be John Browned if that wa'n't my ole rooster Shrimp a-crowin'! Why, men, I declare to goodness if it ain't a fact as sure as shootin'. I'd know that bird's hide in the tan-yard with the feathers off. It's him, men—an' if he's thar so is the gal!"

The all-important feature of the chase with Ichabod hitherto had been to find Ethel. Not only on his own account, but for the sake of Roy, whose deep distress aroused his sympathies. Now, however, when he heard his old feathered friend lift up a lusty voice as if in salutation, the fisherman for the time being forgot the graver aspect of their quest. A new emotion dominated him: He must see Shrimp—at once! Forthwith, then, he dropped the sheets, and sculled vigorously toward that part of the beach whence had issued the sound of the crowing.

When the boat grounded, Ichabod excitedly hastened forward, climbing the steep slope of the nearest dune. Roy and Van Dusen followed him, for they believed in the accuracy of the old man's observation that the girl must in truth be somewhere near his pet.

As the three reached a cleared space above the thick growth of bushes about the base and sides of the dune, Uncle Icky, who was some distance in advance of the others, stopped short. He stood for a few seconds in silence, peering intently ahead. Then he cried out in a loud voice:

"Wall, I'll be eternally damned!" He pointed a bony forefinger. "Now, what do you men think o' that? It's him, all right, but, by cracky, the ole devil, as well as myself, has changed consider'ble in his attitude toward the other sex, since last we met! Don't ye see, men, he's a-scratchin' an' a-kityka-dawin' thar fer three hens!"

Both the old man's hearers burst out laughing over this comparison of the rooster's conduct to Ichabod's own, of which they had been given a full account during their voyaging together.

"Wait a minute, folks," he called out as he trotted forward, "till I gits my Shrimp, an' then I'll jine ye!"

Ichabod gave his whistle, so familiar to the rooster, as he walked forward. The feathered ex-alarm clock, now become a gay Lothario, looked up from his pecking and scratching. Then, seeing his old Island companion approaching, Shrimp hurriedly scurried off into the thick growth of bushes, and as he went he issued an authoritative call to the hens to follow, to which they rendered prompt obedience. Ichabod halted, and stared for a moment in dismay. He made no attempt to continue the pursuit. He realized that the old rooster had had a taste of real life, like himself he had come to realize the mistake of living alone on an island of sandy waste, far from the society of the gentler sex. As the old fisherman returned to his companions he spoke gravely:

"Wall, I don't know as how I can blame him. If he's gittin' as much pleasure out o' his new life as I aim to git out o' mine, I don't believe as how he orter be disturbed. He sure was a faithful alarmer, an' I don't see any reason why he shouldn't make a good husband an' father o' a family."

The three now descended to the shore line. They had made their landing in such haste that they had failed to see the little tender lying in the cove a short distance below. Then, presently, the eyes of the three fell on the shack. Roy halted as abruptly as had Ichabod at the sight of Shrimp, though with a vastly more poignant emotion—for in the window he saw the face of the girl he loved. As he saw the smile of recognition and blissful welcoming, he set out on a run for the cabin. A moment later he disappeared within it.

Ichabod and the detective discreetly refrained from following Roy at once. They gave their attention instead to a sailboat that was approaching. They took the newcomer—for the boat had only a single occupant—for a fisherman seeking to win the reward, though they could not understand why he should be coming from the northward. The watchers were still further puzzled when the boat, instead of bearing shoreward, abruptly shifted its course and swung in a wide circle, returning the way it had come. The two men then walked to the tender, which, as it was now low tide, lay fully exposed on the beach. At sight of the shorn propeller, they understood the reason of the interrupted voyage. But they could make no guess as to the whereabouts of Doctor Garnet himself. They waited with feverish impatience for the appearance of Roy, with such information as he should have gathered from Ethel. In the meantime, they kept a sharp lookout all about, in the hope that the physician, being only temporarily absent, might reappear at any moment.

At last, Roy issued from the cabin. He carried a chair in his left hand, while his right arm supported his betrothed. He placed the chair on the shady side of the shack, and tenderly bestowed the girl in it.

Ichabod and Van Dusen came forward. Ethel greeted t............