"All the rope is not here. If it had slipped from the anchor we cast ashore among the rushes, or if the anchor had slipped, it would be."
"Perhaps some animal chewed it."
"We'll soon see that. Who's got a match?"
Tom struck a lucifer. As it flared up, Mr. Dacre took the end of the rope in his hand. A single glance sufficed. The rope had been severed so cleanly that there was no question that it had been done by a sharp knife. No animal's teeth could have made that neat, clean incision.
"Well, what do you think of that?" demanded Tom.
"Who could hae done it?" wondered Sandy.
"I know." Jack interjected the remark with confidence.
"Who?"
"Those natives. That bunch that raided our pantry."