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Draw one line from Clayton, N.Y., northeast, 47-1/2 degrees from perpendicular; another from Rockport, Ontario, southeast, 11 degrees from perpendicular; another from Gananoque, southeast, 76 degrees from perpendicular. The intersection of those lines will indicate the island those messages came from." "He was on an island, was he?" asked Hal. "Sure, or on a boat," was the reply.
Sherlock Holmes isn't in it there." "Hooray!" shouted Bud, as he finished jotting down the last sentence. "There are three amateurs, one in Clayton, N.Y., one in Rockport and one in Gananoque, Ontario, who have radio compasses and they worked together to locate the fellow on the island," continued the informant with the eagerness of fraternal interest and generosity. "I will give you their calls "
On the 20th of July, some cruisers from Sackett's Harbour, succeeded in surprising and capturing, at daybreak, a brigade of batteaux laden with provisions, under convoy of a gun-boat. They made off with their prize to Goose Creek, which is not far from Gananoque.
It was a healing voyage, and one in which enterprise was so allied with beauty that no utilitarian philosopher could raise a question as to the market value of the latter. The voyage continued as far as Gananoque, in Canada, where the passengers went ashore, and wandered about in a disconsolate way to see nothing.
That afternoon, when they returned from Gananoque he accosted an old fisherman who sat in his boat at the wharf awaiting a customer. "I suppose there is fishing here in the season?" The man glanced up, but deigned no reply to such impertinence. "Could you take us where we would be likely to get any muskallonge?" "Likely?" asked the man. "What do you suppose I am here for?" "I beg your pardon.
But cold Reality said in her chillin' practical whisper, "It's nothin' but Gananoque or Clayton," and she went on, "They hain't anything like the New Jerusalem, either of them." Alas for us poor mortals! who drive or are driv by the two contendin' coharts of Imagination, Idealized Fancy and practical Reality.
The prisoner squirmed about for a time, successfully evading the inquisitorial probe aimed at him, but at last he "confessed" as to his name and address. He said that his name was Grant Howard and that his residence was at Gananoque, Ontario.
Next he performed a similar operation with the center of the diagram over Rockport and next with the center of the diagram over Gananoque, following instructions in each of these cases with reference to the direction lines to be drawn. The result was that the intersection of the three lines was at approximately the point indicated by the Rockport amateur.
It was a healing voyage, and one in which enterprise was so allied with beauty that no utilitarian philosopher could raise a question as to the market value of the latter. The voyage continued as far as Gananoque, in Canada, where the passengers went ashore, and wandered about in a disconsolate way to see nothing.
That afternoon, when they returned from Gananoque he accosted an old fisherman who sat in his boat at the wharf awaiting a customer. "I suppose there is fishing here in the season?" The man glanced up, but deigned no reply to such impertinence. "Could you take us where we would be likely to get any muskallonge?" "Likely?" asked the man. "What do you suppose I am here for?" "I beg your pardon.
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