“A searchlight in this deserted region?” inquired Ned. “Guess again, Jerry.”
No sooner had he spoken than there came the intense white glare again. This time there was no mistaking it. It was the flare of an acetylene gas lantern.
“An automobile!” cried Bob.
“On the lake?” asked Ned. Then suddenly changing the subject; “Wow! I wish I had an umbrella for a few minutes!” He felt a stream of water running down his back.
The white shaft of light played about, now on the trees, now on the water, and again full into the faces of the bewildered travelers, who stood in the downpour, not knowing what to do. Then, from out of the darkness behind the shaft of illumination were heard the clear tones of a girl’s voice calling:
“Well, dad, we’ve struck land at any rate!”
“It’s a boat!” exclaimed Jerry. “Somebody has landed here in a boat!”
“Girls and women in it,” added Ned, as sounds of several feminine voices were noted. A moment later a man’s tones asked:
“What sort of land have we struck, Rose?”
“Can’t tell, dad,” was the reply. “It’s solid enough at any rate, judging by the way the Wanderer hit it. The searchlight doesn’t show anything but trees, does it Ponto?”