“I know, but they might not be by morning. Let’s just make sure.”
“Suits me,” Jim acquiesced. Her Highness was brought about and was soon circling over Fisher’s Island, which was more than half submerged, but it did not look as if anyone on it would be in any immediate danger. Soon Bob picked out a landing spot on an open space where the ground was high and fairly smooth. Presently the plane was on the ground, and the boys began to look about. It did not take them long to locate the foreign man, who came to meet them.
“Burnam left?” he questioned anxiously.
“He surely did. Went on to Canada, and he can’t get back because both bridges are closed until the flood goes down,” Jim explained.
“It is good that he is gone, but we cannot get away,” Corso said, and he scowled thoughtfully. “It may not be many days before he discovers that you tricked him, then he will come back. He is very determined.”
“I guess it must be pretty bad with you if you feel that way,” Bob put in quickly. He couldn’t help wondering why the man was afraid.
“It is much bad, Sirs.”
“Tell you what, we’ll take you across to New York. Will that help?” Jim offered cordially.
“It would be much help. Come.” He led the way through a strip of woods and around a boulder, where the man stopped, gave a low whistle, waited for a response, then they went on and in a minute they came to a well sheltered spot where the trees grew high and thick and the cliff formed a semi-circle protection with an overhanging top.
“Whew,” whistled Bob in astonishment. Back from the opening stood the mysterious boy, straight as a die, but instead of overalls and brown shirt, he wore a long white garment of some very fine material, and over that was a richly embroidered coat, brilliant with peacock-feather trimming. On his head was a deep fringe arrangement and at his feet a strong box. The lid was open and its contents made the brothers think of some Arabian Night treasure.