Time was beginning to hang heavy on the hands of the five scouts. They missed the delightful surroundings which they had enjoyed while camping each night, during the time they were moving northward in the canoes. It was so different here in this dingy old cabin, when they would have enjoyed seeing the trees waving above their heads, and felt the springing turf underneath their bodies, as the time came to seek their blankets under the shelter of the khaki-colored waterproof tents, now alas, gone no doubt forever.
Frank, seeing that his chums were not feeling in a very merry mood as they tried to settle down as comfortably as they could, wandered outside to the sloping deck to talk with Francois, who had taken the Indian guide's place on watch.
He had hardly been gone three minutes when they heard him coming down the companionway in great haste. Somehow, everyone of the others seemed to understand that the terrible stagnation was about to be broken up.
When Frank burst into the cabin his face told the story. He was bringing them news of some sort, for his eyes were glowing and his face flushed.
"What ails you, Frank?" asked Jack, as they scrambled to their feet.
"After all, it begins to look like we needn't bother about how we're going to sleep to-night, standing or sitting!" the newcomer announced, breathlessly.
"How is that?" asked Jimmy.
"Why, there are lights coming along the shore right now—lanterns I should say, at a rough guess," Frank went on; "chances are the miners have learned about our being aboard this old wreck, and mean to gather us in before morning!"