“Then they came by boat.”
“Yes. Come on!” Once more she gripped his hand and this time they advanced slowly, cautiously. Not a twig snapped.
Once again they paused as a low, bumping sound reached their ears.
A moment more and they came out of the jungle, on a broad, sandy beach. Instantly Johnny’s well-trained eyes swept the sea. The moon was just rising. It painted a golden path across the waters, far into the distance. But there was no sign of a boat.
“Can you beat that!” Johnny murmured, softly.
“We must have been mistaken,” said Mildred, wonderingly.
“Only we were not!” Johnny thought. But he made no comment.
Gripping his arm, the girl led him along the beach until they came upon a mark in the sand.
“A boat was pulled up here,” she said, positively.
Johnny threw a gleam of light on the spot. “Queer sort of mark,” he murmured. “No regular boat! It’s like the mark a white man’s boat would make—or perhaps a collapsible boat.”