A few seconds later two dripping forms did emerge from the water, and, wading rapidly up the beach, vanished in the thick undergrowth.
"And we haven't even got a boat to follow them in!" raged Dampier.
"Well, there's the one that they stole floating about. Peterson," addressing one of the sailors, "swim over yonder and bring that boat back."
The man kicked off his boots unconcernedly, and stripped to his underclothing. He was a strong swimmer, and speedily returned with the small craft.
"Now, then, get aboard," ordered Captain Rangler. "The sooner we take after them the less chance those brats will have to travel any distance."
"Yes; but supposing they discover the—the—you know—the old tower?" questioned Dampier uneasily.
"Pshaw!" scoffed Walstein, "no danger of that. It's too well hidden. Besides, the light hasn't been used, except for our purposes, for years. The path is all overgrown, and nobody who didn't know the way could reach it."
"Just the same, it would be awkward if they did, and were ever able to inform the authorities," spoke up one of the crew.
"That's so. But in that case they would never get away. Eh, Rangler?"
It was Dampier who spoke, his thin, ferret-like features contorted in an evil smile.