His chum turned quickly away and bowed his head upon his knees, while a sound suspiciously like a stifled sob broke the stillness of the night. Jack crept close up to him and slipped an arm about his neck. So, for a long time, they sat in silence.
CHAPTER XXII.—A REPORT FROM THE SEA.
Jack was the first to break the silence that followed the spinning of the fateful coin. He rose, stretched himself, and, pointing to a ruddy glow that had begun to light up the eastern horizon, exclaimed in a voice of undisguised relief:
“Daybreak at last!”
“I only wish it would never come,” his companion rejoined gloomily, turning his gaze upon the unwelcome light—of which, however, he had caught scarce a glimpse ere he sprang to his feet in sudden excitement.
“That's no daybreak, Jack! It's more like the reflection of a fire.”
“I believe you're right,” assented Jack. “It certainly is a fire; but where can it be, that we see only the reflection? Behind Haunted Pagoda Hill?”
“No; this side of the hill, I should say.”