“I’ve got an idea,” Jimmie answered, “that we ought to go to the south, but I’m going to break this for once and stay right here. We’re not far from the home of the smugglers, and, on the theory that thieves flock together, our outlaws ought to be in the vicinity.”
“That suits me,” Kit answered. “I’m dead tired.”
“If we hadn’t gone to sleep to-night,” mourned Jimmie, “We wouldn’t be here now. That nap just spoiled everything.”
“What could we have done if we had remained awake?” Kit demanded. “When that blond brute arrived, we’d have got our heads knocked off and that’s about all.”
“In just a little while now,” Jimmie declared, “I’m going to trail over to Monterey and see if I can find any trace of Mr. Havens or the boys. It’s just rotten the way Ben and Carl are staying away!”
As soon as the boy finished speaking, Kit grabbed him by the arm and pointed to the west.
“There’s your light!” he said.
The light referred to sat on a peak some distance to the west, very near to the sheer descent into the Pacific, in fact, and was slightly lower than the one upon which the boys had rested. It was, however, above the clouds and the moon, pushing her way through the mists, shone full upon the shining planes of a flying machine.
Only one artificial light was in sight, and that appeared to come from the aeroplane lamp stationed just above the seats.
“That’s the Louise, all right enough!” exclaimed Jimmie. “Now I wonder what they are staying there for! It seems to me that they ought to be getting out of this country just as fast as gasoline can carry them.”