While Calvert and Hagan were following a clearly defined plan, they knew “there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.” They had high hopes of finding the other boat at the spot which Calvert had facetiously named the Beautiful Isle of Somewhere, but it might well happen that they would be disappointed. At the first sign of danger the Deerfoot would run away and her superior fleetness would leave her pursuers hopelessly behind. Above all, it was important that the criminals should not discover their peril in time to get away.
“Noxon,” said Calvert, leaning forward, “let us know when we are near the cove.”
“We are within less than a mile of it now. It is just ahead on the right.”
Each officer flung his stump of a cigar overboard and slipped from his chair to the bottom of the boat. Inasmuch as their interest was centred on one side of the boat, they crowded each other a little. They removed their headgear and permitted only their crowns to show a few inches above the rail as they peered over. They held themselves ready at the same time to duck into complete invisibility.
“The cove is in sight,” announced Noxon, slightly turning his head. “Better keep down.”
A few minutes later they felt the change in the course of the launch. They were entering the inlet and the officers raised their heads barely enough to peer alongside of the steersman, over the front and beyond the flagstaff with its fluttering bunting.
“There it is!” whispered Calvert to his friend.
“I see it,” said the other, “the Beautiful Isle of Somewhere; we are closer to it than I supposed.”