"Take it easy," Rick whispered. "They may be outside."
As they drew closer they could see that the lights were in the front rooms of the house. The back was dark, except for light that came through open inner doors.
"Wait." Scotty whispered. "I'll see if they're out front."
Rick sat down to wait as Scotty vanished. Few could equal his pal when it came to moving silently and invisibly.
In a surprisingly short time Scotty reappeared. "No one out front," he reported. "They're all in the living room."
Rick rose, and together they walked swiftly and silently to the rear of the house. The door of the room in which the diving gear was stowed opened into the living room. Perhaps they could see in there.
A card game was in progress by the light of a kerosene lamp. Rick studied the face of a heavy-set, dark-haired man who sat facing him. The man wore a T shirt that displayed the heavy muscles of arms and chest. His face was square-jawed and powerful, the eyes set deep under bushy eyebrows. His hair was short and curly, sprinkled with gray. He looked like one used to command. Rick's quick imagination pictured him on the quarterdeck of a slaver, ruling his cutthroat crew with iron fists.
The others were not visible through the door. The boys moved silently to the side of the house and drew back so they could look through the living-room window. The second man was visible now. He was young, perhaps in his twenties, and he had an unruly shock of blond hair. Once he might have been good-looking, but a scar crossed a nose that had been badly broken.
The third man sat with his back to them. Rick touched Scotty's sleeve and they went around the house via the back. The view was blocked by an open door.
Scotty put his lips close to Rick's ear. "The front."