“It beats me,” he said as Roy stepped close by his side. “I was looking in the same direction from which the sound seemed to come, and failed to see anything.”
“Then perhaps you won’t make so much fun of me after this,” Vance suggested in a trembling voice as he timidly ventured outside with his companions. “You can laugh about ghosts as much as you please, but how else can you account for the noise now, when it is light enough to see every inch of the island?”
“I’ve always heard it said that ghosts walk, if it is possible for them to do such a thing, only in the night, and yet this one seems to be prowling around while the sun is shining. There must be something in the grove, an’ I’m goin’ to have a thorough look at the place before I’m willin’ to admit the men we buried can come back to make trouble for us.”
Ned advanced boldly as he spoke, but his companions did not follow.
It seemed to them as if the tent, frail though it was, might afford some protection against the unearthly visitant, and they preferred to remain where it would be possible to beat a retreat if necessary.
Ned did not pause because of being thus abandoned, as it were, but continued straight on through the underbrush, overturning every fallen branch, or poking amid the creeping vines in the hope of disturbing the author of the terrifying noises.
Twice while engaged in this work did he hear the groans, and on each occasion they sounded as if coming from the rear, much nearer the tent.
“It’s no use to hunt here any longer, for whoever is kicking up the row must be behind me.”
Now he also was becoming disturbed in mind.
There could be no question but that the unearthly sounds came from that portion of the key where was not the slightest shelter for man or beast, and he began slowly to retrace his steps.