“Oh bother! You need not be so particular now. We’re right away from all the houses. Nobody would be down here.—I say, Ned, how do you like your walk?”
“It’s very dark and awkward,” said Ned; “but I don’t mind. I should like to be able to tell uncle where the boat is.”
They had now reached a part where trees were growing pretty thickly, and it was only by keeping close to their guide that they were able to make their way onward; but this confusing part of their journey was soon over, for Hamet suddenly stood fast as if puzzled, and uttered a word or two in a tone full of vexation.
“He can’t find it after all,” cried Frank. “Oh, what a bother, to drag us all this way for nothing.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the Malay, and catching Ned’s hand, he drew him through the trees at right angles to their former course, and again suddenly stopped.
“Well, which way now?” asked Ned. “Can’t you find it?”
“The boat—the boat!” whispered Hamet, and drawing Ned’s arm out to full length, he made him stoop a little in the black darkness, with the result that the boy’s hand rustled among the leaves of the attap covering.
“It’s here, Frank,” he said excitedly, and pressing down now with both hands, he felt the boat yield and then stop.
“Yes, that’s a boat, sure enough,” said Frank, who now felt about the top of the awning. “Yes, and I can feel the poles and oars. Why, this is quite a narrow ditch, only just wide enough to hold it. I’ve got hold of a rope, too. It’s tied up to a cocoa-nut palm; I know the thing by the feel.”
“Yes; the boat,” whispered Hamet.