“The idea!” said Anne. “Of course I sha’n’t scream any more than you will. I didn’t scream before.”
In ten minutes or so they had rounded several points, and had passed a cove or two which they had seen before. Then the cliffs grew higher; the mountain seemed to come down close to the water. A series of closely-packed islands near the shore looked as if they had toppled from the cliff in early days. It was a wickedly dangerous place for boats. One felt that it was wise to keep outside these islands. But Dick had already investigated in his light canoe, and knew that it was safe enough for him.
“I’m going in here,” he said suddenly, rounding the end of what turned out to be an island; though at a distance it had seemed part of the solid shore. Behind this island was another, the edges “overlapping” as it were, so as completely to conceal what lay beyond. Around this too Dick curved. And lo, there they were in the entrance to a narrow slit of a cove, running slantwise into the land, in such a way that no one would ever suspect its existence, unless he should come upon it as Dick had done, in a stealthy, threading canoe. The Indians might have known it long ago. But there seemed no reason why white men should ever find it, except by an accident. At the head of the cove was a beach of sand strewn with pebbles; quite deserted.
“Well?” said Dick, waiting for Anne to exclaim. “Well,” she answered, slowly, “is this my beach? You know I didn’t really see anything except from the shore. Oh yes, there’s the cave!”
As the canoe touched the sand, there to the left yawned the cave. Anne pointed to the great entrance of rocks, black and romantic-looking. The pair stole up to it very cautiously, half expecting something to dart out at them. But no, it seemed quite empty. Only a few boxes lay about, with broken sides; some ropes and pots of paint; empty gasolene cans; jugs, broken bottles, a sack of straw. “This might be to make somebody a bed,” said Dick. “But it hasn’t been slept on yet.”
The cave was some ten feet deep with a roof high enough for a tall man to stand upright. There was a hole through the roof in one place, a natural chimney, and it looked as if fires had been built there.
“It’s a regular pirate cave!” said Dick. “But there aren’t any interesting relics at all; not even a powder-keg or a cutlass.”
“You really thought there were pirates?” said Anne. “Well, I didn’t.”
“That man was up to some mischief, though,” argued Dick. “He couldn’t be a fisherman. There are no lobster-pots around, or fishing nets, or floats. Though it seems a likely cove for lobsters, too.”
“Here’s the path I came down,” said Anne, who had been investigating. “It goes up through these bushes. You wouldn’t notice it if you didn’t know just where to look.”