The men in the room leaped to their feet and dashed out of the house. Shirley ran after them.
“You may not be able to find the place in the dark,” she said, “but I think I can show you the way. My sense of direction has always been good.”
In spite of the protests of the others, she went with the men while they hauled a large rowboat out of a nearby shed and dragged it to the water’s edge.
Here, launching it, they all climbed in. Shirley would have followed, but one man objected.
“You are worn out now,” he said. “You had better get to bed.”
But Shirley was not to be denied.
“This is my adventure,” she said warmly, “and besides, I can probably help you locate the Hendersons. My eyes are unusually sharp.”
She stepped into the boat in spite of all protests, and soon, under the strong arms of the men, the little craft leaped out over the water.
It was pitch dark, and almost impossible for the occupants of the boat to see their hands before them. A lantern in the prow of the boat only seemed to make the darkness more intense.
After half an hour’s rowing the men rested on their oars and listened. There was no sound. They rowed for perhaps another quarter of an hour, and again paused to listen. Just as they were about to go on again, Shirley’s ears caught the sound of a distant hail.