They were impulsed to get up and run for their lives, but their fears held them chained, glued to the spot.
Having waited long enough to assure himself that there was nobody about, the murderer crept to the water’s edge. They could hear him softly washing his hands, and then at last he sneaked away in the thick darkness.
The younger boy, overwrought and almost crazed with fear, commenced sobbing bitterly.
Tom held him in his arms and tried to soothe him in hollow whispers.
His own voice was broken and hysterical.
“Let us go home and tell them,” sobbed Dave. “I wish I hadn’t come. Oh! I wish I hadn’t ever gone piratin’, I do! It’s awful!”
Tom thought a while.
“No,” he muttered. “We better not do that; not yet.”
“Why?” asked Dave. “Why not? I will if you don’t!”