"Go where I tell you!" he ordered.
"I haven't much gas," she protested.
"I've got an extra flask here. But I'm not pouring it in till we need it, which I don't think we will. The camp ain't far—on Black Jack Island."
"Black Jack Island," Linda repeated to herself. "What an appropriate name!"
She was terrified, of course, but there was nothing to do except follow directions, and in a few minutes she brought the plane down on the island that the man had specified.
"Leave the Bug here, Linda," he commanded, as he lifted Susie out of the plane. "And go ahead of me, as I tell you."
For several minutes the little procession made their way to the center of the island, over the white sand towards the cypress and pine trees that grew in greater profusion. Linda did not look back, but she knew that while "Slats" carried Susie with one arm, he kept his pistol at her back with his other hand.
At last, by the aid of her flash-light, Linda spied several tents set up near together, and a welcome smell of food cooking greeted her as she advanced.
"Stop here!" came the order. "This is where you spend the night!"