“There goes the signal again, and here comes that boat!” exclaimed Helen suddenly.
“What boat?” demanded Ruth, looking in the direction of the distant Canadian island, toward which the canoe, with Totantora and Wonota in it, had now disappeared.
“Turn around—do!” exclaimed Helen. “This way. That is the same boat we saw going by some time ago. The boat with the yellow lady in it, as Wonota called her.”
“This is very strange,” murmured Ruth.
“But the yellow lady is not with those men now,” said Helen.
“I do not see any woman aboard,” admitted her friend.
The boat—going not so fast now—crossed their line of vision and finally rounded the end of the island on which the two chums believed the queer old man resided. At least, somebody had uttered the strange, shrill cry from that very spot.
“Oh, dear! If we were not marooned here!” grumbled Helen.
“What would you do?”
“If we had a boat—even a canoe—we could follow that motor-launch and see if those pirates make a landing.”