“Yes.”
“These fellows are our foes. They are led by Jerry Dooley, one of my ship’s crew, who has come back here for the gold. They will give us trouble.”
Barney had crept up behind the tree. He skilfully cut the prisoner’s bonds.
“Now, sor,” he whispered, “whin the omadhouns ain’t lukin’ at all jest slip into the bushes and cum wid us. Shure we must be afther gittin’ back to the air-ship.”
“All right, Barney,” agreed the captain.
And at the right moment he obeyed the suggestion. In the undergrowth he joined Barney and Frank.
The trio ran hastily along the shore in the verge of the palms. They had made several hundred yards before a loud roar announced that their escape had been discovered.
Then came pursuit.
But they had start enough to keep out of the way. And right here Frank employed a stratagem.
Showing themselves for a moment on the beach, the fugitives next dashed into a copse near. Here they hid while their pursuers ran by them.