The move the scout had planned was a reckless one. Yet, nevertheless, he proceeded to carry it out with all his usual determination.
Picking up one of the kegs, he stepped out on the causeway. The wooden slabs gave slightly under his feet, but, by moving swiftly, he did not sink more than an inch on any one of them.
Swiftly he crossed to the other end of the peculiar bridge and stepped off upon the rocky shore with his keg. There he set the keg down and deftly removed the plug from the bung-hole, allowing the water slowly to trickle out.
He did not start back across the causeway again. That had not been his intention. Now that he was on the island, he would take a look around.
The little area of rocks, he discovered, was even smaller than he had calculated it to be from the opposite shore. Fifty steps, he believed, would have measured its diameter. It was slightly conical in shape, and seemed to be the peak of a hill pushed up through the shifting sands.
On the top was the heap of boulders referred to by the man, who had called from the island’s shore, as the “breastworks.”
To penetrate directly into the breastworks would have meant instant discovery by Bascomb and Bernritter. To avoid this, and yet develop some information that might later prove useful, the scout began crawling around the island’s shore on his hands and knees.
This maneuver presently brought him to the side of the island where the moonlight lay full upon the rocks. What he saw in the moonlight gave him a start.
By a boulder, just below the breastworks, sat a woman.
Her hands were lying in front of her in her lap, and the scout could see that they were bound. Her ankles, stretched down the flinty slope, were also bound. In addition to these cords, a rope was tied about her waist and passed around the boulder.