Then the next thing they heard was a low muttered word of command, which came from exactly the same quarter as the other noise.
A boat was passing toward the shore they had recently left. It must have come from over the river, and, as the monitor lay in that quarter, evidently those who had been sent out to investigate the status of the motorboat party had seen fit to pull straight across first, intending to follow the trend of the shore up to the camp.
Jack had reason to believe they would pass down before the hostile boat drew close enough for any one to make them out; nevertheless, his heart seemed to cease beating for the moment, such was the intense anxiety that seized upon him.
[CHAPTER XVII]
AMIDST BURSTING SHELLS
Jack did not even dare attempt to draw the push-pole up out of the water, lest he manage in some fashion to strike it against the side of the boat, and in this way draw the attention of the enemy.
Everything depended on luck—and the current of the river. If this latter proved strong enough to draw the motorboat far enough away, so that its outlines could not be distinguished by those in the rowboat, all might yet be well. Certainly if hearty wishes could accomplish anything this end was likely to be achieved, for every one aboard was hoping it would come to pass.
Jack soon began to breathe easier. He felt sure the boat would pass back of them, and at a sufficient distance to avoid discovery, unless something unexpected came about to betray their presence. A sneeze just then would have ruined everything; and Buster felt a cold chill pass over him when he had such an inclination. He managed to ward the desire off by rubbing both sides of his nose violently, just as he had been taught to do by his mother when in church.
So the sounds died out, and they now heard nothing save the gurgle of the water or the sighing of the summer breeze among the treetops on shore.