“Who else is on the island?”
“No one so far as I know,” Brad replied, his eyes troubled. “Well, it’s a relief to know the boat didn’t drift off due to our own carelessness. Even so, we’re in a jam.”
Dan nodded, his face sober. The afternoon had grown dark and night would come on earlier than usual. When the sailboat failed to return to the clubhouse, he knew Mr. Holloway would be very worried.
“We’ll be picked up eventually,” he said, shivering in his wet clothing. “Meanwhile, we’re in for an uncomfortable time of it.”
“Let’s find Jabowski’s place,” Brad proposed. “He might be willing to pick up our boat with his raft, or at least take us ashore.”
“Think he’d do it? After the way he set our boat loose—”
“We may suspect he did it, but it could have been someone else, Dan. Anyway, isn’t it better than standing here?”
“Sure,” Dan agreed. “It’s our only chance.”
From the beach, the boys could see no buildings on the island. However, from previous sails in the locality, they knew that the old hotel building was situated in a heavily wooded section to the north.
Setting off diagonally through a thicket of saplings, they found a trail which led in the direction they wished to go. After wading through a patch of weeds and rushes which came to waist-depth, they emerged into an area of thin green turf.