It was a bitter pill to swallow. To have come so far and surmounted such obstacles only for this! For Ned, against all manner of reason, perhaps, had treasured, deep down in his heart, a hope that, after all, what he thought an island might turn out to be a part of the mainland. He realized that there was no use dwelling in this fool’s paradise any longer.
As he stood there under the stars, without a hope left, a sudden sound was borne to his ears. It was as ominous an interruption to the hush of the night as could be imagined.
The swift, sharp chug-chug of a motorboat’s exhaust.
To Ned, it meant only one thing. Ferriss and his companions were returning. In a few minutes they would have discovered the escape and then would scatter and search the island. In that case, their recapture was inevitable.
“Well, Ned Strong,” said the Dreadnought Boy half-aloud, “this looks like the beginning of a particularly lively end.”
But to Ned’s stark astonishment, the next instant a familiar sound came over the water from the direction in which the approaching chug-chug was manifest.
“Jer-us-o-hos-o-phat, shipmates, my advice is ter cruise back to the submarine. Wherever them varmints has taken Ned Strong and Mr. Lockyer, we won’t be able to find ’em. Not to-night, anyhow.”
“Which is just where you’re wrong, Tom Marlin!” hailed Ned, his voice fairly aquiver with gladness.
“A-h-o-y!” came an amazed hail from the water. “Ned Strong, my hearty, are you there, or is it your ghost?”
“It’s me, dear old Tom; but hurry and get alongside there. Is Herc with you, and young Sim?”