"How?" demanded Susie. "Not in that boat?"
"Nope. Maybe the yacht will be along early, but it ain't likely. It usually runs after dark."
Dumping his bags in the sand not far from the hole, he tried to think what would be best to do.
"We gotta act quick, Susie—if the cops come. No use tryin' to put up a fight—with only one gun, and them two bags to guard.... You watch on that other shore, and I'll go back to the one we came in on. Whatever they come in—airplane or boat—we gotta swipe. Hide if you see anything comin', give 'em a chance to get into the island—and grab their boat. Give me a signal——"
"How?" she interrupted.
"You take the gun, and shoot when you're ready to push off.... If I see anybody on my side, I'll whistle, as near like a bird as I can." He grinned to himself; if the police came in anything but an airplane, he wouldn't bother with Susie. Let her face the music!
"O.K. But I couldn't run, Doc. Don't forget that."
"I ain't forgettin'," he returned.
They separated, and for two hours waited tensely, keeping a sharp look-out for the rescuing yacht, hoping against hope that it would arrive before the police. But at three o'clock their worst fears were realized. Susie saw the autogiro coming towards them, and hobbled off into the depths of the island to conceal herself. Lying flat on the sand, she was not able to identify the people who got out of the plane, but she could see that they both wore riding-breeches, and she believed they were men. So she kept still until they had disappeared into the underbrush. Then she began to creep laboriously, in a round-about fashion, to the autogiro.
Susie's progress was slow; she did not reach the plane until after Linda and Dot had succeeded in emptying the bags of the money, and refilled them with sand. The girls had just recognized the man on the shore, and were creeping farther into the island, out of sight of him, when the shot of the pistol rang out above the roar of the ocean. They had no way of knowing that Susie had fired it.