CHAPTER XXII.
HEAPS OF MONEY
Mont was right. Far out on the fast-darkening waters of the stream was a small rowboat, with Corrigan at the oars, and poor Deb huddled up on the stern seat.
Jack's heart sank within him.
"He's out of reach," he groaned. "Oh, what fools we were to let him dupe us at the mill."
"I suppose he was afraid to trust us to let him go," said the young man. "Can't we do something?" he asked, disconsolately, as he stepped to the top of a rock to get a better view.
"Come down!" cried Jack, pulling him by the coat. "It's no use letting him know that we have tracked him so far, or he'll do his best to mislead us."
"That is so," returned the young man, and he hurried into shelter. "I suppose he intends to join Mosey and Pooler."
"It's a good thing he didn't know we had been to the island," said Jack. "Suppose we take Meg's boat and follow?" he added, suddenly.
"We would never be able to cope with those three men. If we had arms it might be different. But we haven't as much as a toy pistol."