“You mean the remains of that mission that the early missionaries from Spain built here?” asked Nat, referring to a jumbled pile of adobe ruins which were supposed to mark the site of one of the early religious houses of California.
“That’s what. See, they’re striking off to the right.”
“That is the direction, sure enough, but what would they want there?”
“We can only find out by following them. Hullo, what are they doing now?”
The group ahead had halted not far from the pile of debris and heaped-up stone and wood that marked the remains of the monks’ establishment.
One of them stooped low while the others shielded him from the wind. Then came a sputter of flame as a match was struck, and then the steady glow of a lamp or lantern. With this means of illumination kindled, the party that the boys were breathlessly trailing proceeded once more.
Suddenly Nat stopped short and seized Joe’s arm.
“The lamp, Joe, it’s gone!” he cried, pointing to the midst of the ruins where the lamp had been last seen.
Sure enough, the lantern had suddenly vanished, leaving the boys deeply mystified as to the cause of its sudden disappearance.
“They must have some hiding place among the ruins,” exclaimed Nat excitedly, “That is why old Israel was so mad about our being on the island! What shall we do?”