Anne turned to look. She too caught the flash of a lantern moving slowly along the shore.
“It must be Jack French or Bill Ramey,” she said with an attempt at carelessness. “I’ll call.”
Her voice carried clearly out over the water but no answering call greeted the “hallo.” The light stopped moving, as though its owner had turned to survey the lake. Then the lantern went out.
CHAPTER VIII
A Night Caller
It was too dark for the girls to distinguish objects either on the water or along the shore, but a moment after the light went out they distinctly heard the sound of oars working in their locks. Apparently, someone was trying to get away from the island before their arrival.
“Let’s find out who it is,” Madge said in a low tone.
She snatched up the paddle again and sent the canoe skimming through the water. Presently she paused to listen.
“I can’t hear a thing now, Anne. Can you?”
“No, the boat must have pulled up along the mainland somewhere. I’m afraid we’ve lost him.”
Anne paddled slowly along the shore, peering toward the dense fringe of trees and underbrush. There was no sign of a boat.