Suddenly Billy seized Frank's arm.
"Look," he exclaimed, pointing to a low ridge that stood out blackly in the moonlight.
Behind the low eminence Frank could distinctly see a head cautiously moving about, seemingly reconnoitering the two ships. In a few seconds it vanished as the apparent spy retreated behind the ridge.
"That must have been a Patagonian," said Frank.
"Just think, they are so near to us and we cannot go ashore," sighed the professor, who was one of the group. "I wonder if they have any dogs with them?"
"I have a good mind to go, anyway," said the old man, suddenly, "I would like to write a paper on the habits of the Patagonians and how can I if I don't study them at first hand?"
"What if they chopped your head off?" asked Billy.
"They would not do that," rejoined the scientist, with a superior smile. "I have a friend who lived with them for a time and then wrote a book about them. According to him Captain Hazzard is wrong; they are not hostile, but, on the contrary, are friendly to white men."
"Then you think that Captain Hazzard doesn't know much about them?" asked Billy.
"I did not say that," replied the professor; "but he may be mistaken just like I was about the electric ray, which I thought was a South Atlantic skate. Just the same, I mean to find out for myself," he went on. "To-night when everyone is asleep but the man on duty, I am going to watch my opportunity and go ashore in the boat the carpenters left at the bow this afternoon. There are ropes hanging from the prow down which I can climb."