"You take a look, Linda," she suggested. "Maybe you can see better."
The other girl eagerly caught the glasses which her companion tossed, and with trembling fingers held them to her eyes. The island was in plain sight now, but it was a ghastly fact that the autogiro had completely disappeared.
Linda continued to gaze at the barren spot, her eyes fixed and staring, as if she were looking at death itself. Then, dropping the glasses into her lap, she seemed to be thinking intently.
"It's true, Dot," she said, in an expressionless tone. "Yet that must be the right island.... Something has happened.... I don't know whether the wind could have lifted the Ladybug—or whether that gangster came back for it.... In any case, there's only one thing for us to do."
"Yes?" faltered Dot, biting her lips to keep back the tears. She must not fail Linda now, in her darkest hour.
"Turn the boat around, and make for the shore. We mustn't waste another drop of gasoline. It—won't last forever."
"Shall we go back to our island—if we can find it?" asked Dot, as she turned the wheel.
"No, we'll go straight west.... Or is that the west? Oh, if we only had a compass, or the sun to guide us.... But that must be the right direction."
Linda was speaking bravely, trying to keep her voice normal, and her companion took heart from her manner. The boat went forward in the opposite direction, presumably towards the coast.