“Cooey! Cooey!” came again.
“All right, mate,” said the big driver, in a low voice. “You must find your own way now. That last bit of tongue meant, look out for squalls.”
“Anybody hurt?” came in a well known voice now from close at hand, and Dan hurried up.
“I think not, Dan,” whispered Mark, and then he stretched out his hand and felt for the little sailor. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir. I fired off all my cartridges.”
“Here’s someone else coming, gentlemen,” said Denham, in a low, deep tone. “They are your two lads, I think.”
“Yes,” cried Dean eagerly. “Nobody else would have cried cooey, unless it was little Dan.”
“Yes, I might, but I didn’t to-night; I have been too busy.”
“That you, Peter. Where’s Bob Bacon?”
“Me, Mr Mark, sir?” said the latter. “Here I am, as large as life. We have been at it pretty warm. But I want it to grow light, to see if we can retrieve any of the game.”