“That goes without saying,” Oscar told him. “One look at the boat would tell the story, for you can see it’s a fine mahogany one, and a small gasolene launch at that.”
“There are three men aboard, two of them using the oars, and the other sitting in the stern-sheets taking care of the rudder. I can see him looking back most of the time, as if he wanted to steer in a certain course, so as not to come out where our people on the float might glimpse the launch. But I say, Oscar, tell me, will you, what are those ninnies doing all that rowing for when they could go off in fine style if they only started up their engine?”
“For the same reason, I take it, Ballyhoo, that the steersman is keeping the Key between himself and our float—he doesn’t want to have his presence known if he can help it. And you ought to remember, that muffler or no muffler, most of these gasolene engines have a way of making a great puttering noise when they work. Why, you can sometimes hear them three miles away. Perhaps a little later they’ll think it safe to start up.”
“They’re heading right for that other Key far away off yonder, too, Oscar. Here, take the glasses and see for yourself. Well, this is a great mystery, believe me.”
A minute later and Oscar uttered a snort as of satisfaction.
“The boat turned just then, when one of the men stopped rowing to light his pipe, and I had a chance to make out a name that is painted up at the bow,” was what he told his mate, who, of course, immediately exclaimed:
“And what was that name, Oscar—the Dauntless?”
“You have said it, Ballyhoo, for that was just what I saw there,” said Oscar.
CHAPTER XI
EQUAL TO THE EMERGENCY
“Whee! then there’s a nigger in the woodpile, I should say!” burst out the impulsive Ballyhoo. “That smart old Badger has been too tricky for our skipper. Why, if those fellows have been on the island all the while, of course it’s dollars to doughnuts they’ve watched everything we’ve done, and know that we’re working on that old hulk of a wreck!”