"I say, what's happened to Armstrong?" said Warrender. "Surely he hasn't been carried out to sea? Come and help me shove off; I'll run down and see if I can find him. You won't turn in, so you won't mind taking part of my watch."
"Righto! But I dare say Jack's enjoying himself."
They were just about to launch the motor-boat when they caught the dull sound of oars in the distance. They waited. The rising moon struggled through the rack, and cast a faint light on the stream. Presently the dinghy appeared from among the overarching foliage. Armstrong was sculling very quietly.
"Thought you were lost," said Warrender. "It's past ten; your watch starts at eleven-forty."
"All right. Pratt, tie up, will you? Come with me, Warrender."
Armstrong led the way at a long, rapid stride across the clearing and into the thicket. He said nothing, and did not pause until he came to the shore of the western channel.
"Keep well behind this tree," he said, in a whisper, placing himself in shadow.
In a few minutes they heard the splash of oars. A boat emerged from the shades down stream, lit up fitfully by the transient moonbeams. It passed close beneath their hiding-place. It held a single oarsman, whose thickset frame would have been unmistakable even if the moonlight had not touched his face. He pulled out of sight.
"What's he been up to?" said Warrender.
"Let's get back," replied Armstrong. "I wanted a second witness. Pratt will wish to start a new career now, I expect."