"Good."
CHAPTER XVI
THE CAVE MAN SETS FORTH
Close to my ear I heard a warning: "Sh!"—at the same time feeling a hand squeeze my arm. It was dusk. While I slept the shadows had lengthened and blended into those soft gray tones of twilight that give mystery to forests of the South. Cautiously I raised my head and, following the tense stare of Smilax, saw the cause of his agitation.
Three men were standing on the larger island, at the spot where Efaw Kotee and Jess had stood, and one held a piece of coiled rope tied to a grappling hook. They were whispering and chuckling. Then he with the iron hook began to swing it back and forth, finally letting it fly across the water into the punt, whereupon they chuckled again. Now they began to haul in the line at a lively rate, doubtless fearing that Echochee, aroused by the noise, would rush out and frustrate them. But the house remained quiet, even dark; and, since the boat's painter was of slim material, there could be only one result when they gave a hard pull—the punt was theirs.
This procedure disturbed Smilax, no less myself. There was deviltry afoot, yet hardly a plan for capturing the girl as other punts were available. But the next moment we breathed easier, for the men broke into a boisterous laugh, and one called:
"Ole hatchet-face, yo're done out-punted this time!"
Another, bending over and slapping his thigh in mirthful ecstasy, guffawed: