The day was rapidly drawing to a close and the two Overland men began to feel considerable concern. There was little hope in their minds that they were going to get out of their present situation that night. Tom and Hippy discussed the situation, and considered the idea of creeping away in the night, but finally concluded that their greatest safety lay in keeping out of sight and awaiting developments.
“It is their move first,” declared Tom. “And when they do start something we shall be on the job, though I am a little concerned about our ammunition. We have none to waste. It seems to me that there ought to be some in that cave, if the scoundrels are half as prudent as we think they are.”
Hippy called softly to Nora, asking her to have a thorough search of the cave made to see if ammunition might not be found. Half an hour later Nora reported that they could find none.
“Then we shall have to get along with what we have,” decided Tom Gray. “With what we have we ought to be able to give a pretty fair account of ourselves.”
Night fell, with the lake and the mountainsides bathed in a flood of moonlight, for the moon was full and well up. The fire in the cave had long since been put out so that the besiegers might not smell the smoke, and, shortly after dark, the girls passed out a luncheon, taken from the stores of food that Stacy Brown had discovered on his first visit to the cave. Tom and Hippy were munching this eagerly, when Tom uttered a suppressed exclamation.
“Look yonder!” he whispered.
“It’s the dugout!” breathed Hippy.
The dugout, with three men in it, was being rapidly paddled out into the lake, which was now quiet, a gleaming sheet of silver in the bright moonlight. The paddlers went straight to the log and began hauling up on the rope at one end.
“They are after the chests. What would you advise, Tom?” asked Hippy eagerly.
“We are going to shoot, that’s what,” answered Tom Gray, leveling his rifle. “I don’t want to hit anyone, but I do want to give them a scare.” Taking careful aim at the canoe, he fired—and missed. Tom shot again, and this time his bullet reached its mark—the dugout.