Sharp and distinct upon the night air there floated up from the darkness of the ravine the report of a gun.
Don felt his heart stand still with dread, then race at lightning speed.
“An attack!” he cried hoarsely; “and Jack alone! Hurry, captain!—for God's sake hurry!
Easier said than done. Haste only added to the difficulties of the way. It seemed to Don that he should never shake off the retarding clutch of the jungle.
At last their weary feet pressed again the sands of the little beach. But now a new terror seized them. The beach was illuminated by a ruddy, fitful glow..The cutter was on fire!
Don cleared the sands almost at a bound.
“Jack!” he shouted, leaping the cutter's rail, and with lightning glance scanning the bottom of the boat, and then the cuddy, for some sign of his friend. “Jack, where are you? Captain, he's not here! and—my God! look at this!”
Upon the bottom of the boat, showing darkly crimson in the ruddy firelight, lay a pool of blood, and beside it a discharged musket.