Jerry slammed on the foot brake and the car came to a jerky halt at the curb. Leaping out, they stood for a moment listening.
“Don’t hear anything now!” the reporter muttered.
“Let’s take a gander down the beach,” Penny proposed. “The sound seemed to come from that direction.”
Hand in hand they cut across a vacant lot where dead weeds came waist high, then followed a sloping path to the beach. The long stretch of sand was deserted.
“We must have imagined those drums,” Jerry said, pausing. “Or maybe it was the Legion fife and drum corps having a night practice.”
“It was the beat of a jungle drum.” Penny turned to gaze toward the Rhett mansion on the wooded hillside. All the windows, save one in an upstairs bedroom, now were dark.
By the light of a three-quarters moon which was rising over the pines, she could see the wooden steps that led from the estate down to the beach. On either side extended tiers of twisted limestone rock. It occurred to Penny that somewhere among the crannies, a cave might be tucked away. She spoke of it to Jerry.
“Maybe,” he agreed, “but I never heard of one around here.”
A gust of wind caught Penny’s felt hat, carrying it cartwheeling down the beach. She and Jerry raced in pursuit, colliding as they pounced on it together. They laughed, and as the reporter pulled the hat over Penny’s flying hair, he kissed her quickly on the cheek.
Then before she could reprimand him, he exclaimed: “Wow! That wind really is getting strong! Let’s get back to the car before we blow away!”