“That’s not the island,” he announced. “Look, it’s got palms on it.”
“Jehoshaphat, so it has!” exclaimed Frank. “Say, Tom, we’re lost. We’ll have to use the radio.”
“Yes, I guess we will,” agreed Tom, “if we go back to that lagoon now we’ll never get out until after dark and Dad’ll be worried to death.”
As he spoke, he uncovered the radio apparatus while Frank got out the small portable aerial and erected it over the boat, dropping the ground wire over the side into the water.
Tom picked up the instruments, turned on the rheostat and was about to call into the microphone when his jaw dropped, his eyes seemed about to pop from his head and his hand shook.
“What on earth’s the matter?” cried Frank, alarmed at the strange expression which had come over Tom’s face. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”
“Hssh!” whispered Tom in a shaky voice. “I near them! I heard those Russians! Gosh, Frank! they must be close by!”
CHAPTER IX—PRISONERS
At Tom’s astounding announcement Frank sank limply onto a thwart. But the next instant he was up, and seizing the resonance coil, hastily connected it to the set in place of the aerial.
“Now signal or tell me when you get them,” he said, as, holding the coil horizontally, he commenced moving it in a wide circle. For a time Tom was silent, motionless, listening with every sense and nerve taut; then, as the coil pointed to the right, he raised his hand.