“What time did we start?” asked Tom.
“I didn’t notice, but I guess it was about a quarter to three.”
A half hour passed, and another had almost gone, when a faint hail reached them. It seemed at first to come from the sloop, and they put their hands before their mouths and answered as loudly as they could. Then it came again, and unmistakably from behind them. They looked, and presently, like gray wraiths, figures appeared against the sky line.
“They’ve got one!” cried Tom.
Toward them came two persons and a horse drawing a dory.
“Here’s your boat!” called Bob. “And, say, this isn’t an island at all; it’s some old point! This gentleman lives about half a mile down the road, and he’s going to help us.”
The second person proved to be a big chap of twenty-eight or thirty in yellow oilskins.
“How are you, boys?” he said. “Where does she lie?”
They pointed out the location of the sloop.
“Struck on the bar,” said the man. “Well, we’ll have your friend safe in no time. Get up there, Prince!”