“There isn’t any path around here, that’s certain,” remarked Jack, at last. “Do you know what I begin to believe?” he added.
“What?” questioned his cousin.
“I believe we are cast away on a small deserted island.”
CHAPTER XXII
ABOUT A PIRATES’ TREASURE
Morning found the five castaways resting as comfortably as they could in the jungle on the edge of the sandy beach. The storm had passed completely, and only a mild wind had succeeded the hurricane. But the waves were still angry and foamed and boiled as they struck the keys beyond the beach.
Utterly exhausted, one after another of the Rover boys had dropped to sleep. The last to lie down had been Jack. The young major had found some rain water in a hollow between the trees and bushes, and had given Ira Small a drink. The old sailor was still suffering, but none of the boys knew what more they could do for him, except to place him upon as comfortable a couch as the edge of the jungle provided.
It was a sorry looking crowd that came together for a consultation shortly after the sun arose. The boys were still wet to the skin, but as it was comparatively warm, they did not mind this a great deal. They hung up their jackets and took off their shoes and socks and thus proceeded to dry themselves as best they could.
“It certainly does look lonely around here,” remarked Fred, after taking an observation in every direction. “Not a settlement nor a craft of any kind in sight!”
“It looks like a deserted island to me,” remarked Jack. “Or, otherwise, it’s an unusually lonely bit of coast.”