“They don’t know that, I suppose,” broke in the Little Captain.
“But if their purpose is to steal,” argued Mollie, “why in the world do they always run away when they find they are discovered?”
“Maybe they think we’re armed,” suggested Grace, and in spite of her alarm, Betty’s eyes twinkled.
“We are,” she said, patting the pocket where the toy pistol reposed.
“Maybe,” said Amy, thoughtfully, “these tramps belong to the same gang as those we had the row with on Triangle Island.”
“Perhaps,” Mollie took her up eagerly, “they’re the very same ones. We’re not so very far from Triangle Island, you know.”
“If that is true,” said the Little Captain whimsically, “maybe the toy pistol is serving as our protection after all. If they think we’re armed, they’ll be mighty careful how they get too close to us.”
“I only hope,” said Grace, and again her tone was prayerful, “that they don’t think to call our bluff.”
There followed a long silence during which the girls tried to take up their reading again and did not make much of a success of it.
Outside the storm raged with undiminished fury, the wind threatening any moment to tear the tent from over their heads. The rain continued to fall in torrents.