"Not by those fellows, we don't," Bob agreed.
The boys, tired out with the day's adventure, went to bed soon after supper, but it was a long time before either of them could sleep. They were fully aware that they had a very narrow escape, and for an hour or more they talked it all over again. In his prayer that night Bob thanked God that he had spent so many hours in the years past practicing sleight of hand, for he realized that his proficiency in the art had saved them. It seemed to him that he had hardly fallen asleep when he heard his name called.
"Bob."
"What's up?" he whispered rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Listen."
For an instant he could hear nothing, then, seemingly from a long distance, came a series of peculiar cries.
"What is it?" he asked, sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor.
"Sounds like someone shouting from the island," Jack told him.
"Perhaps we're going to be attacked."
"That's what I was thinking."