“No, indeedy,” replied a negro. “But, ’scuse me, Miss Rose, I done thought I seed some pursons a minute ago when I done flashed de lantern straight ahead.”
“Persons, Ponto? Then for mercy sakes, flash it that way again, and perhaps they’ll tell us where we are.”
Once more the searchlight shone in the faces of the boys and the professor, and this time the girl, who had been speaking to the negro, saw the travelers.
“Can you tell us where we are?” she called, raising her voice to be heard above the roar of the storm.
“On an island in Lake Kissimmee,” replied Jerry. “What boat is that?”
“The houseboat Wanderer.”
“What is it, Rose?” called another girl’s voice from somewhere in the darkness back of the lantern.
“Some boys and a man,” replied Rose.
“Girls! Girls!” exclaimed the voice of the gentleman aboard the Wanderer. “Stop that chattering! If there are persons out in the rain why don’t you ask them to come aboard out of the storm? Ponto, run out the gangplank!”