“And I’ve got a good club,” came from Larry Dixon.
“We can arm ourselves with clubs,” said Dick. “But the main thing just now is to keep those rascals in sight. If they slip us, there will be no telling where they will go to.”
With eyes and ears on the alert, the whole party made its way through the big cave, coming out of the main opening, not far from where the campfire still lay smouldering.
“They certainly left in a hurry,” remarked Tom, as he gazed around. “They didn’t wait to pick up all of their provisions.”
“I guess they got scared,” murmured Dick. “Well, they’ll get more scared when they find we are so close on their heels.”
“Where do you suppose they went to?” asked the captain.
“I don’t know. But I think the best thing to do is to go down to where that motor boat was tied up. I don’t think they can leave unless they use that boat—unless, of course, they have some craft we haven’t as yet seen.”
There was a well-defined path running from the cave down to the shore of the island. This they followed, through the patch of woods and over some rocks. Then they came to an opening where were located several dilapidated buildings. Not far from one building were the remains of a recent camp.
“I believe this was the camp Darkingham and those with him made!” ejaculated Dick. “They have gone—maybe they have left the island!”
“Come on, I don’t like this!” put in Tom, and broke into a run for the old dock, and the others followed on his heels.