Instantly one of the three rascals came forth from the hut.
"Hello, Durgan!" he called, not at all loudly, through his cupped hands. "What's the news?"
"Beat it!" was Durgan's warning answer. "Thar's a campin' party on th' island below here—-I seen 'em 'bout ten minutes ago—-old Cap'n Lem Vinton, an Injun, an' four or five boys."
"Lem Vinton, eh? All right, Joe, we're going. Can you tow us around Spider Key?"
"Nope. I'm goin' home now," Joe Durgan replied tersely, with the abruptness of one who has done an irksome duty and would avoid further responsibility for the present.
Suiting actions to words, he quickened his engine and made off toward the Florida shore.
His boat had scarcely become a speck on the water, when Hugh began to crawl back to the other side of the mound. Joe Durgan, who was evidently not nearly so "looney" as represented, had warned the smugglers of the presence of the Arrow near their retreat, and Hugh realized that no time should be lost if Vinton were to spread sail and go in pursuit of them or of the Petrel.
"Now's the time for me to beat it, too," he resolved. "While they're talking they won't hear me or see me, and I can hurry back to the place where I left my coat and shoes."
When he had gone some little distance without being discovered, he fancied he was safe and rose to his feet, intending to run as fast as his legs could carry him—-which was no snail's pace, indeed! Scarcely had he begun to move forward, however, when he heard a shout, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.
Being fleet of foot and having no desire to be caught and treated as a spy, he set off running at full speed. The ground was quite rough and he had to turn aside to avoid bushes and hollows, yet he had no difficulty in keeping ahead of his pursuers. The very impediments in his way served to retard pursuit, and he did not despair of escaping. He had to cross over a ridge, at the top of which he was exposed to view. He had just reached it, when he heard some one shout: