“That’s where I made it out to be,” agreed Jerry.
It was not easy walking, as the rocks were slippery, and some of them were thick with weeds, for, at very high water, they, were covered by the ocean. Several times Bob slipped and nearly fell.
“Look out,” cautioned Jerry. “We don’t want two wounded persons to look after.”
They paused a moment to get their breath, after a stiff bit of climbing, and, as they stood there in the silence of the night, with the moon fitfully showing through the clouds, they suddenly heard a groan.
“What’s that?” whispered Ned, tensely.
“It must be the man we’re looking for,” replied Jerry. “He’s hurt. Where did the sound come from?”
Ned pointed to a dark spot at the foot of the cliff. The three boys hastened toward it, Jerry flashing his lantern.
When they got to the place they saw, lying huddled up on a bed of seaweed, the form of a man.
As the light flashed on him they noticed that there was blood on his pale face, and one arm was doubled up under him in a strange manner.
“He’s dead!” whispered Bob softly.