“Hear what?”
“Hush! that’s somebody getting up a sail. Can’t you hear it?”
Wyn listened, and then murmured: “Your ears must be sharper than mine, Polly. I hear nothing but the slap of the water.”
“No. There is another sailboat under weigh. Where can it be from?”
“You don’t suppose your father was aroused, and is coming after us?” asked Wyn.
“Of course not. Beside, the Coquette is the only sailing boat–except a canoe–that we have at present. The other cat is loaned for a week. And I heard the hoops creaking on the mast as a heavy sail went up.”
“Some crowd of fishermen?” suggested Wyn.
“But where’s their light?”
Wyn stared all around. “You’re right,” she gasped. “There isn’t a single twinkling lantern–except ashore.”
Polly, sitting in the stern seat, reached for their own lantern and smothered its rays. “We won’t show a gleam, either,” she muttered.