Away in the woods went the echoes, resounding from tree to tree. “Go back!”
Cato dropped his paddle with a yell; the others sprung to their feet, nearly upsetting the dug-out, and looked around. The other two parties heard the voice and were gazing round in surprise. But Cato’s fear was strong and violent, and he trembled; for the voice was the same magnetic, terrible voice he had heard at the Tree.
“Did ye hear that?” asked Jeffries, in a whisper. “Say, did ye?”
It was the same he heard the evening by Hans Winkler’s cabin. It had followed him wherever he had gone, at intervals ringing out its wild cry. What was it?
Cato landed the party, then went back for the few remaining. Then all assembled on the shore, on the border of the robber stronghold.
“Now, boys,” said Sol, “jest hyar’s the place whar them robbers air, I’ll bet money. P’rhaps they’re watchin’ us right now. Wal, boys, I reckon leetle Katie’s hyar, an’ we’d better skulk along toward the middle of the island.”
They crept stealthily on from willow to willow, Sol keeping the reluctant black before him. Suddenly one of the party drew back, with an exclamation, and pointed toward a distant object. Peeping through the saplings, they saw an open space cleared and stumpy. Almost in the center were two large cabins, one of a light color, the other dark. A man with a pale face was leaning in the doorway of the first building, apparently in a brown study, with a pipe in his mouth, evidently unlighted.
They watched the quiet scene before them for some little time; then Sol whispered:
“Thar’s the robber den; thar is a band of robbers, sartain.”
“Ay, but where are they?” asked Walter. “Only one man is visible.”