“But what are they doing?”
“I reckon old Andy is the only one of our folks who can answer that question.”
“It begins to look as if we had good cause to be afraid,” Gil said, gloomily.
“Not a bit of it,” the mate replied, cheerily. “We have only to loaf around here two or three hours, and then some one will come ashore to look for us. The most serious portion of the whole business is that the captain is bound to haul us over the coals for losing the boat and putting him to so much trouble.”
Owing to the darkness and the distance, it was not possible to see even the outlines of the yacht; but the forlorn party knew in what direction she lay, and they seated themselves on the sand just outside the fringe of bushes, straining their ears to hear the first sound which should tell that friends were coming.
Half an hour elapsed.
Mr. Jenkins had just ascertained this fact by looking at his watch, when the sound of oars caused all three to leap to their feet in joy.
Surprise and delight that the time of waiting had been so short prevented them from noticing that the craft was coming from a direction opposite the location of the schooner, and as they went to the water’s edge, Gil hailed:
“Boat ahoy! Here we are! Our craft was stolen, and to save ourselves from possible trouble, we didn’t try to attract your attention.”
Then he paused for a reply; but none came. The light splashing of water told that the boat was still approaching, and Mr. Jenkins cried, impatiently: