“Good idea.”
They spent a restless night in their cramped, wet quarters. Daylight, with a bright sun already sending up steam vapors as it dried the wet mountain side, was a welcome relief.
The first thing both men did was to scan the shore line again with their binoculars, searching for the Easy Action. Failure to spot her increased the worry in both men’s minds. Neither spoke of the matter. Each knew how greatly concerned the other was. But there was no point in dumping one worry upon another.
“Come on, Hank. Let’s get back on down. The boys may be there when we arrive.”
They started on down the side of Mauna Loa. At an elevation of about one thousand feet, almost directly opposite the anchored black power boat, they halted for a breather. They were only a mile or so from the shore. Their intention was to cut to their left, now that the going was easier at the lower altitude. The descent was no longer so precipitate.
They headed almost due south now. They stayed at the same elevation, stopping now and again to sweep the coast line with their glasses. At one halt, Tom Brewster placed a retaining hand on Mahenili just as he started off.
“Hold it a moment, Hank,” Tom said in a low voice. “Hear anything?”
Hank Mahenili listened. In a few moments, he nodded his head.
“Sound like voices to you?”
“Yes. And angry ones.”