"They must be coming back," said Songbird. "It didn't take them long."
They listened, and set up a call, but no answer came back. Then they looked around searchingly.
"That's funny," murmured Fred.
"I don't think it's funny," was the low answer. "Something is wrong."
"Help! My foot is caught!" came presently, in a muffled voice. "Hello, the launch! Help me somebody, quick!"
"Who is that calling?" asked Songbird.
"Somebody of our crowd and in trouble," answered Fred, and leaped ashore with Songbird at his heels.
The call had come from a thicket about a hundred feet away, and in that direction dashed the two unsuspecting youths, never dreaming of the plan laid to trap them. As they ran into the thicket four persons came behind them, and in a trice each was thrown violently forward on the ground and held there.
"Wha—what does this mean?" gasped Fred, as soon as he could get his breath.
"It means that you are prisoners," came in the voice of Gasper Pold.
"Keep quiet now, it will be best for you."