He neglected no detail, even to sweeping of the floor, lest any evidence of trampling feet should remain in the dust.
It was nearly midnight before Petit loped off into the bush with a bundle over his shoulder.
He strode forward without once looking back. As he turned northward, heavy drops of rain began to pelter down from a passing thundercloud, which had suddenly obscured the stars, and a ghastly grin of appreciation crossed his face when a livid flash of lightning reddened his path.
The elements were with him.
Before an hour a violent rainstorm had washed out all tracks, and the Tiger of Paris curled up in the shelter of an overhanging rock, slept as calmly untroubled by remorse as any other beast of prey.
Chapter XIII.
CAPTURED.
Tom Pagdin admitted afterwards that when he looked through the lantana on the island, he wished he had borne with paternal corrections, and never gone pirating.
Dave, who was in front, actuated by kindred sentiments, tried to push past Tom; but the latter was ahead of him, and broke for the boat first.