He stopped at the water's edge, and stood there watching them, his form standing clear-cut and lonely against the dazzling whiteness of the sand.
Jim drew his breath with a long hiss of apprehension, and Broncho fumbled his Winchester uncertainly as he gazed at the apparition.
Tari, at the steering-oar, gave a queer grunt of alarm, and with a rapid gesture, murmured in dialect to the rolling-stone, who, helpless in his blindness, lay silent and worried.
"Carryin' a war club!" exclaimed the cowpuncher significantly, in a low voice.
It was a moment of great suspense. Who knew what lurking savages lay hid behind the ambush of that brushwood, ready as the boat's keel grated on the shore to shower a flight of poisoned arrows upon the strangers?
What would be the next move of the decoy in the foreground? Was he about to entice them ashore with friendly gestures? What blood-thirsty design had he planned for their entrapping? They could not tell. They could only trust to Providence and await the issue.
Suddenly the solitary figure moved, flourished an arm, and hailed them.
"Boat ahoy!" came thundering down the wind.
The effect of the two English words was electrical.