“I had just decided that we ought to go out in search of you,” the former said, as the cook and Jenkins threw themselves on the ground nearly exhausted by the long, rapid tramp.
“That would have been a foolish proceeding, even if we had got into trouble,” the mate said, with a laugh. “If the scoundrels could down us, it is safe to say you’d hardly been able to render any assistance. It’s all right, though, an’ we can count on being left to ourselves until morning at the earliest.”
Then Jenkins told the boys of what had been done, and once more Nelse and Gil began to have hopes that a search might be made for the supposed treasure.
“Can we have something to eat now?” Nelse asked.
“Wait till dark, honey, an’ den I’se gwine ter git up a reg’lar jubelee feast. We kin build a fire, an’ dey can’t see de smoke.”
“The flames will show more plainly.”
“Dey won’t, kase I’se de boy what knows how ter fix sich t’ings.”
They were well aware that Andy understood best what should be done, and both tried to wait patiently until the time when their hunger could be appeased without too great danger.
When the sun set the strength of the wind seemed to increase, and Jenkins stated as his opinion that another twenty-four hours must elapse before the yacht could be brought to the old anchorage.
“It don’t make so much difference, now that the blacks are frightened, and we can defend ourselves in reasonably good shape,” he said, cheerily. “Unless they contrive to surprise us, I’ll answer for it that we will hold our own against twice the number.”