Finally, the keel grated on shingle; the slight sound was swallowed up in the wash of tiny waves on Dog-face. Patch leapt out, and after a minute or so of whispering it was decided to leave Silver in the boat, ready to push her out and pull for the College. The boat was backed into the beach again so that her stern rested lightly on the shingle; Silver, paddling softly, kept her nose pointed away from the shore.
Then, the three others stole quietly away. Nothing was left to chance; they took ten minutes to approach the entrance to the cave, using the utmost caution, striving to make only the most infinitesimal sounds.
At the mouth they listened for a long, long time; but they could hear nothing.
"We'll just have to chance it," Patch whispered in Jack's ear. "We'll have to go right in. You've got the pistol—let me take the torch and go first. You be ready to let fly if anything happens." Fane gripping a cricket-stump in the manner of a club, brought up the rear.
It needed a fine nerve to enter that noisome cave, at dead of night, and not knowing what dangers attended the act. But the three pals did not hesitate at all. They slipped inside; all was perfectly quiet.
It suddenly occurred to Patch that perhaps they had been wrong from the outset—perhaps their whole supposition was at fault. That would account for the silence—there was nobody here.
"Soon settle that," he murmured. "Ready, Jack?"
"You bet." Jack's voice came back in an unfaltering whisper. He gripped the revolver tightly; he could not deny that it lent him confidence.
Patch pressed over the switch of the electric torch, and swept the cave with light. The place was bare of any occupant. Only, in one corner, what looked like a bundle of rags lay humped up; and Patch tiptoed across.
"Billy!" he said softly. And it was indeed Billy himself. They shook him by the shoulder, heartily glad that he was alive and soon to be at liberty.