They shook hands on it, and they were in deadly earnest.
They decided not to return to the yacht by the path, but to go over the island and through the woods. Thus, by chance, they followed almost directly in Frank's footsteps.
As they drew near to the dark woods, Browning felt a tightening at his heart—a sensation similar to that he had once before experienced as he stood beside the lonely grave in the dark glade. He sought to throw it off, but could not do so.
"Come," he said.
"Which way?" asked Bart.
"This way."
He seemed to feel something drawing him toward the grave in the glade, and Bart followed without another word.
Unconsciously the big Yale man stepped softly, as if
he feared to alarm somebody or something. The moss beneath his feet gave no sound. Not even a twig snapped. Without knowing that he did so, Hodge imitated Browning's stealthy manner.
The wind soughed through the pines and cedars in a fitful manner. There seemed to be strange rustlings in the air.