“Look!” she exclaimed softly, pointing toward the distant island. “What’s that strange light?”
“Light?” Johnny spun round. “Oh! Say—that is strange! It’s green. A green light.”
“Like an arrow,” the girl whispered. “Green arrow of the Tropics. Quite romantic! But what can it be?”
“It’s not for us,” said Johnny. “It—it seems to blink. Wait!”
Retracing his steps he went to a box of life-preservers where he had left his heavy field glass. He returned quickly to her side.
“Now,” he invited, “have a look!” He held the glass in position for her.
“It—it does blink,” she murmured. “It’s like an electric sign. Some lights go off; others go on!”
“Let’s see.” Johnny took the glass. “Why—it’s some sort of signalling,” he decided at once. “But not for us!”
Instinctively they turned to scan the sea.
“There’s no other boat out there,” said Johnny. “At least there wasn’t any at sunset. If one had moved in, we’d see the light.”