"What sort of a place is it in there?" asked Jack.
"It is one of the nameless islands of the Babuyan group," Ned answered. "Like most of the others, it is of volcanic formation. There is a central elevation, and a stream of good size starts up there somewhere and runs into a bay farther north. I was thinking of speeding up and trying to get into the interior by way of the river."
"With the engine barking like a terrier in a rat pit!" said Frank.
"For once," said Ned, with a smile, "you have said a good thing! We've got to lie here and wait until dark. Then we can advance through the jungle and look for their campfire."
"Perhaps they won't build a fire."
This from Frank, who was stuffing his pockets with cartridges.
"Of course they will!" Jack put in. "They will have to keep the wildcats away."
"Wildcats!" laughed Frank. "There isn't a wildcat within a thousand miles of this island."
"Don't you ever think it," Jack insisted. "There are plenty of wildcats in the Philippines, and snakes, and lizards. In fact, the islands are not unlike the Isthmus of Panama in this regard. And monkeys! Well, we've heard enough chattering already to put us wise to them."
As the boy spoke a great chattering broke out in a thicket only a few rods away from the beach. The monkeys seemed frightened, and moving toward the shore.