Standing among the thickets at the base of the steepest slope, was a man.
He was very tall and he wore a black felt hat, the wide brim of which obscured the upper part of his face. His countenance was tanned and weatherbeaten, his lips were thin and cruel. He wore a short black jacket, and he stood with his hands plunged into the side-pockets and his feet spread wide apart, in the manner of a seaman.
He was standing there quietly, gazing at them without a shadow of expression on his sinister face, as motionless as a statue.
When he saw that he was observed he called out:
“Leave this place!”
Tony throttled down the engine. The three boys stared at the man in the black hat as though he were an apparition.
“Leave this place!” he repeated, in a curiously metallic voice.
“We aren’t doing any harm,” replied Frank.
“Not now,” said the stranger. “But don’t land here.”
“Why?”