“You must have been mistaken.”
“It seems so, but I could have sworn I heard the voices of men.”
They moved on a few steps, and then up before them rose a dozen white objects that fled away into the cedars with a scurrying sound.
“Whew! What were those?”
Hodge was startled; his voice betrayed it.
“Sheep,” laughed Frank. “They gave me a start. The first one jumped out from under my feet.”
“They looked like spooks, but the rattle of their feet was no spookish sound. My heart tried to play leap-frog with itself.”
“There may be a sheep pen of some sort on the island. If so, we’ll be able to find some timbers for bumpers. Let’s look for it.”
They continued their search, passing on over the ridge of the island and making their way through the cedars, where they fancied they might find the sheep pen they sought.
They had not gone far on that side of the island before both halted, and Hodge whispered: