Henry Mahenili was made of stout stuff, too. He also knew that, when faced with a situation where there was no immediate out, the best thing to do was to face up to it and hope for the best.
Tom Brewster changed the subject.
“I’ve an idea, Hank. I base it on seeing that black power boat anchored off shore.”
“What is it, Tom?”
“I think that Perez Soto and whoever is working with him must be ashore. I think they must have Dr. Weber with them. It would be too easy to spot someone being held captive in as confined a space as a boat.”
“I’m with you in that thinking, Tom.”
“Tell me this, then. Don’t you think they must have a hideout somewhere nearby? They wouldn’t want to be too far from their anchorage. They’d want to be able to get to their boat quickly if any definite news came about the location of Huntington’s sunken sloop.”
“There are all sorts of places around here, Tom. Lean-tos, shacks. Finding one certain hideout won’t be simple. There’s also a lot of the Mauna Loa, too. Don’t expect too much too soon.”
“I know. But I won’t rest until I’ve made every effort to find Dr. Weber.”
“Well, Tom, if we don’t rest now, we won’t have the strength to continue our search. Let’s try to get some sleep.”