“It’s certain we haven’t visitors, and the best thing we can do is to go to bed again.”
“I shan’t be able to get another wink of sleep to-night,” Vance said in a voice that trembled woefully.
“Then you’ll be on hand to let us know if it comes again. But I won’t make fun of you,” he added as he saw the look of horror on his companion’s face, “for it was enough to frighten a wooden man, and I was as badly scared as any one. There’s no use in staying out here any longer now we’re certain nothing’s in sight.”
Ned led the way back to the tent, and once there Roy took good care to light two lanterns.
“It won’t do any harm to leave them burning,” he said half-apologetically. “If we hear the noise again we can at least see each others’ faces, and there’ll be some little comfort in that.”
Neither of the party felt very much like indulging in slumber for a long while, and they sat cross-legged on their beds talking in whispers of what was to them, as indeed it might have been to any one, the most profound mystery.
No reasonable theory could be formed regarding it, and after an hour had passed with nothing to cause additional fear, one after another of the little party began to grow sleepy, until all were slumbering soundly once more.
If there were any more groans on the island during the night the castaways were in blissful ignorance regarding them, and not until the sun had been up from his bath in the sea fully an hour did either of the party awaken.
Ned was the first to open his eyes, and after rousing his companions he ran out of the tent to look for strange footprints in the sand.
If their unwelcome visitor had come from the sea there must have been some signs left behind, yet Ned failed to find any.