“Even in this enchanted land,” concluded Harry.
Frank put all further speculation to rout by exclaiming, as the hoot was repeated from a further recess of the forest, and yet again in the still further distance:
“That is not an owl’s hoot, boys. It’s a signal given by some human being.”
No wonder the boys looked startled. After the adventure of the previous night they had good reason to distrust any human being they might encounter on the island. Whoever the inhabitants were they certainly had no good will toward the young adventurers, so much at least was patently evident.
“Well, come on, boys,” cried Frank at last, “There’s no use stopping here,” he added, as the “hoo-hoo” sounded uncannily from right behind them, “our escape to the boats is cut off.”
With grave looks they followed their young leader down the blind trail that led to they knew not what. Suddenly, and without an instant’s warning, a number of wild-looking, unkempt men and youths sprang out of the dense growth as if they had sprouted from the earth. They all carried ancient Winchesters and one or two even had an old-fashioned flint-lock. Their clothes were ragged to a degree. As ragged in fact as their hair and beards. With their thin, peaked noses, sunken cheeks, and wild, hawk-like eyes they were sinister looking specimens.
“What d’ye want y’ar, strangers?” demanded one in a high nasal voice.
“We came ashore on a hunting trip,” rejoined Frank.
At this all the crackers set up a loud roar of laughter.
“You ’uns are hunting big game, we reckon,” remarked a gangling youth in tattered blue homespun.