But the new owner of the island was even more of a boor than we had anticipated. As soon as he landed he wanted to know what we were doing on his property, and peremptorily ordered us off. Bill answered that we were camping there, and politely asked if we couldn't stay out the summer. But Gill would not listen to the idea. We must get off the island that very day or he would see to it that we did.
I tell you it made us boil. We were just itching to give the pompous little man the sound thrashing he deserved, but knew that we would stand a very small show against his three powerful companions. At any rate, we were determined not to leave at once. Instead, we repaired to Kite Island, taking our belongings with us. Then we cut away the suspension, spar and pontoon bridges, so that we would not be annoyed by any of the Gill crowd. We were resolved that they should not benefit by any of the things we had built.
At the dead of night we paddled back to Willow Clump Island, crept past the slumbering intruders and waded out to the old water wheel. After a good deal of exertion we managed to dislodge the smaller tower, letting the wheel drop into the river and float away. Then we made for the cantilever bridge. It didn't take us very long to cut away the wire bindings, unhook the frames and drop them into the lagoon. But the task was quite a perilous one, as the night was pitch black. Finally, nothing remained of the bridge but the two towers, which were left as monuments to mark the spot where our last piece of engineering on the island was done.
[Illustration: Building the Cantilever Bridge over Cedar Brook.]
We spent several days on Kite Island, knowing that we were safe from intrusion, because the Gill crowd had but one boat, and that was on the Jersey side of the island. We felt confident that they would not take the trouble of wading around Point Lookout with their boats, as we had done; nevertheless, to prevent a surprise, we kept a sentry posted on the Lake Placid side of the island and gathered a pile of stones for ammunition. But our fun was spoiled, and we finally decided to break camp and bid farewell forever to Willow Clump Island and its vicinity. Our goods were ferried over to Jim Halliday's farm, where we were given shelter. The windmill, as I have already stated, was sold to a farmer at Lumberville, and we were kept busy for several days carting it over and setting it up in place. When everything had been done we stole back to Kite Island and set fire to the log cabin. The next day Mr. Schreiner took us home in a couple of his wagons. Thus ended our "investigation, exploration and exploitation of Willow Clump Island." The work of two summers was practically all destroyed in a few days.