He and Dave had been plunging along through the forest and across several clearings for the larger part of an hour. They had found what looked to be a trail, but it had suddenly come to an end in front of a small cave that looked to be the lair of some wild animal, and they had gone on once more. Now the darkness of the tropics shut out the surrounding landscape.
Link Merwell certainly looked the picture of misery. His clothing was much tattered and still wet, and his forehead was swollen from contact with the rocks. One of his shoes was so cut that his bare foot was exposed.
“It looks as if we were lost,” replied Dave. “In this darkness it will be difficult to go much further. But I had hoped, by keeping in a straight line, that, sooner or later, we’d reach the shore of the island.”
“I reckon we didn’t walk in a straight line—most folks that get lost in a woods don’t.”
“You are right in that, but I kept as straight as I could, Link. However, that is neither here nor there. If we have got to stay here all night we may as well try to make ourselves comfortable. But I wish the others knew I was safe.”
“Can’t you fire your gun? It ought to be dry by now.”
“I’ll try it.”
Dave sat down and commenced to work over the fowling-piece. In a few minutes he tried it. Bang! went the gun, the shot echoing far and wide through the forest and among the rocks. Then both boys listened for a reply.
“Nothing doing,” muttered Merwell, after a minute of utter silence.
“I am sure the others would fire a shot in return if they heard that,” said Dave. “We must be further from them than I expected. Well, I don’t see what we can do excepting to try to make ourselves comfortable. We might climb one of these tall palms and take a look around.”