"I will be. I won't shoot you, either, Linda—you can count on me for that."
Climbing out of the autogiro they walked towards the center of the island where the sand was soft and the underbrush thick. Perhaps, thought Linda, there might be more hiding places than the one hole which she knew; it would be worth while to make a thorough search. On and on they plodded, the sand sinking into their shoes, the sun beating down upon them with full blast, for what trees there were, were not high enough to afford much shade. It was difficult to find the hiding place in such monotonous desolation, but at last she came to the spot.
"Somebody's been here since I came with the police!" she said to Dot, "because we left the stones as we found them. But it looks as if the hole is empty."
She was correct in her surmise. After five minutes of pushing the sand away, Linda had assured herself that nothing was there.
"Let's go down to the opposite shore from the one we came in on," suggested Dot. "And explore that."
"All right," agreed Linda. "If you can stand walking through this sand again...." She stopped abruptly, peering towards the shore. An instant later she dragged the other girl to the ground. "The Doc!" she whispered, hoarsely. "I saw him down by the water—maybe there's a boat coming!"
"What shall we do?" demanded Dot, clutching her revolver tightly.
"Wait till he gets on—and follow in the autogiro. I've got plenty of gas.... Let's be creeping back to the Ladybug."
The girls kept well hidden behind the underbrush, crawling along on their hands and knees. Suddenly Dot stopped; she had struck something solid. A canvas bag—two bags, stuffed full with something. Could it be the money?
Breathless, they both stopped while Linda untwisted with her pen-knife the coarse pieces of wire around the tops of the bags, and dumped out the contents. Money in an amount they had never seen before! Hundred dollar bills in rolls that they had no time to count, bonds in thousand-dollar denominations!