“Wait here, it will be safer,” he said. “There may be white men there—those shots sound like it, but again there may not. I want to find out before they see you, whoever they are.”
The sound of firing had ceased now, but loud yelling was distinctly audible from down the river. Byrne took a step down the bank toward the water.
“Wait!” whispered the girl. “Here they come now, we can see them from here in a moment,” and she dragged the mucker down behind a bush.
In silence the two watched the approaching party.
“They're the Chinks,” announced Byrne, who insisted on using this word to describe the proud and haughty samurai.
“Yes, and there are two white men with them,” whispered Barbara Harding, a note of suppressed excitement in her voice.
“Prisoners,” said Byrne. “Some of the precious bunch from the Halfmoon doubtless.”
The samurai were moving straight up the edge of the river. In a few minutes they would pass within a hundred feet of the island. Billy and the girl crouched low behind their shelter.
“I don't recognize them,” said the man.
“Why—why—O Mr. Byrne, it can't be possible!” cried the girl with suppressed excitement. “Those two men are Captain Norris and Mr. Foster, mate of the Lotus!”