“It does look pretty dark,” Case admitted, “but we’ll find a way out. Suppose I go down to the river and see what’s keeping Alex? The pirates haven’t captured him, I hope!”
“It’s pretty dark. And pretty wet, too,” replied Paul, loath to lose Case’s companionship for even a minute. “Perhaps he will come back after he has failed to discover the boys.”
Case had his doubts about Alex returning as long as there was any prospect of finding either the boys or the Rambler, but he kept his thoughts to himself. It was very dark when the searchlight was for a moment turned aside, and rain was falling in torrents. The wind, too, was racing over the narrow point of land as if sent for by the Evil One.
It was a wild night for early May, and Case, sitting dejectedly at the side of Paul Stegman, could feel the rain trickling down the back of his neck in streams. It was cold too, and the teeth of both boys rattled like castanets.
“No use trying to build a fire,” Case grumbled, “for what little wood there is in sight is soaking wet. I guess the Rambler made one trip too many!”
There was silence for a minute and then a footfall was heard on the rocky ridge which ran through the center of the peninsula.
“Alex at last!” shouted Case, springing to his feet. “Come forward, give an account of yourself! Did you find any trace of the boys or the boat?”
But the man who appeared a moment later was not Alex. He stood for a second looking down on the boys and started to join them, swinging a pocket dark-lantern as he advanced. But Case was shy of strangers and ordered the fellow back, at the same time switching off his searchlight.
“Oh, all right!” replied the stranger. “I thought you might be in some sort o’ trouble and might need help.”
“We are in trouble, and do need help,” Case answered, “but we mean to make sure first that you are just what you pretend to be.”