A dog began to yelp excitedly.
"Sick him, Duke! Sick him! Stop that yawping and grab hold!"
She heard a soft patter of footsteps along the shore, then the staccato note of a gasoline engine.
"Lord! It's a motor-boat! There he goes! Hang that dog, he missed him!"
A fresh volley of shots came from the island.
"Get the launch! Quick! We're almost at the boat-house now! We'll get him yet!"
"Yes, sir, I'm after it."
The motor-boat that Miss Chalmers heard was exploding gasoline in boisterous fashion. She leaned as far as she dared across the gunwale of the skiff and tried to discern objects in the gloom.
It was difficult to distinguish anything save the dark bulk of the island. But the gasoline motor was whirling furiously. Then there were voices again.
"Got her cast off?"