“Well, I’d like to have a closer squint at it,” declared Rawlins. “I vote we go over and say ‘howdy’ to ’em.”
“Odd that there’s no sign of life or smoke,” commented Mr. Pauling. “I don’t see a soul. Surely they must have a boat.”
“He says as how tha’ boat goes out an’ in tha’ cave by water, Chief,” explained Sam. “Tha’s a’ openin’ on tha’ water side also, Sir.”
“Foxy old guys, eh?” muttered the diver. “Don’t intend to be caught in there like rats in a trap. Well, I won’t rest easy till I know they’re there. I’ve a hunch our birds have flown.”
“You’ll never get there without being seen—that is, if there are any men about,” declared Mr. Pauling.
“Not down this way, I admit,” replied Rawlins. “But we can sneak down around the head of the valley, keep back of those thick rose-apple trees that make that hedge above the yam field and work around the base of the hill until—— Thunderation! What’s that?”
From just beyond the brow of the hill, cutting through the clear water, leaving a tiny trail of bubbles behind it, a small object was moving swiftly from the land across the bay. The next instant it was gone.
“Shark!” declared Mr. Pauling.
“Shark nothing!” cried Rawlins leaping up. “It’s another sub! I’ll be jiggered if they haven’t cleared out! Given us the slip! Come on, who’s afraid! Atta boy! I’m going to that cave!”
Before any one could stop him, the diver had burst through the foliage and was tearing down the hillside and so contagious is excitement that, without stopping to think, Mr. Pauling dashed after him with the boys close behind, while Jules and his men, thinking apparently that the signal for an attack had been given, sprang from their hiding places, and with waving, flashing machetes and blood-curdling shouts bounded down the slope with the quartermaster, blowing like a porpoise and crashing through the brush like a herd of elephants, bringing up the rear.