“You really expect, sir, that we can locate the smugglers’ place in the darkness?” asked Jack.
“Thanks to the sound detector which you boys were instrumental in discovering,” said the Secret Service man, “I believe the smugglers are on the island of Santa Cruz. And such being the case, they probably are in one certain spot, as I told you before. But, come into the cabin and I’ll show you a map.”
He led the way to the tiny cabin, the boys at his heels, and while unrolling a large map of the Channel islands, continued:
“I had hoped, after leaving you this afternoon, to obtain a guide. But the old Mexicano who earlier had told me about the topography of the island, was aghast at the proposal that he should accompany us. He was very superstitious, I could see. Apparently,
he feared some sort of ghost said to roam over the island. I couldn’t make much sense of what he said. At any rate, I had to give up the idea of obtaining him as guide, and, as it was too late to look for another, I came off without one. However, I believe we shall have little difficulty making our way. Now, here is the island.
“You see from this map,” he continued, “the coastline of the mainland is not north and south here, but almost due east and west. The islands are south of Santa Barbara. Here is Santa Cruz, and this is its northern shore, about twenty-seven miles in length.
“It is on this northern shore that we will land one party, while another slips around West Point, the extremity of the island. The land party will make its way through the hills to the headwaters of this little stream emptying into the ocean on the southern shore. The boat will continue around the extremity of West Point to that stream. Thus we will have the enemy between us.”
“You feel that somewhere up that stream the smugglers are located?” asked Bob.
“Yes, and probably near its mouth. The old Mexicano told me the stream broadened out to considerable width, making a small bay in which several schooners could ride.”
“And which party will we go with?”