“See anything unusual?” he asked.
“Hush!” came in a whisper. “I dink a Chink vos schwimmin’ out dare!”
At once Gilbert became silent, and felt of his pistol to see if the weapon was ready for use.
A few minutes passed,—just then the time seemed much longer,—and Carl pointed to a spot just beyond the reeds. “See dot?” he asked lowly. “Is dot a log of vood?”
Gilbert did not reply immediately, for he was straining his eyes to pierce the semi-darkness. He felt certain that what the German soldier saw was a log of wood; but it was moving along in an uncertain fashion, as if the tide was sending it one way and some unknown agency another.
“Something is under or behind it,” he answered at last, in a voice which Carl could scarcely hear. “Perhaps the log is hollow.”
“Chust vot I vos dinkin’,” replied the regular. “Und I vos dink der vos von Chink under dot log, hey?”
“I shouldn’t be much surprised. Have you a bit of rope handy?”
“Rope?”
“Yes; a piece about thirty feet long?”