"I'm on the mainland, that's certain," he told himself. "I guess the best thing I can do is to wait for daylight before going further. I may only—Hullo, a light!"
Dick had emerged from a grove of trees and now saw a light streaming from the window of a cottage but a short distance away. The sight of this caused him to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Some farmer's place, I suppose," he murmured. "Well, anything will do. I can get a place to sleep, and the farmer can testify to it that I haven't been drinking, as Lew Flapp and his cronies will want to prove."
A curtain was drawn over the window of the cottage, so that Dick could not see into the room. The cottage was small, with but a single doors and on this the youth rapped loudly.
The rapping was followed by a commotion inside of the cottage and Dick heard two persons leap to their feet.
"Who's there?" demanded a rough voice.
"A stranger," Dick answered. "I have lost my way in the darkness," and without waiting he tried the door, and finding it unlocked, opened it.
"Dick Rover!"
The cry came from one of the occupants of the room, a tall, awkward-looking young man, much tanned by exposure, and with a pair of dark and wicked-looking eyes.
"Great Scott!" gasped Dick, falling back a step. "Am I dreaming or is this really Dan Baxter?"