"Let him go. Who wants him?" Marian murmured sleepily.
At that instant Lucile's keen ears caught the groan of oarlocks.
"But I hear oars," she whispered hoarsely. "They've come for him. Someone has carried him away. I heard him try to cry for help. We must stop them if we can find a way."
Catching up their rifles they crept stealthily from their tents.
Nothing was to be seen save the camp and the forest.
"Think we better try to follow them?" asked Lucile, as she struggled into her shoes, wrapping the laces round and round her ankles for the sake of speed.
"I don't know," said Marian. "They're probably rough men and we're only girls. But we must try to find out what has happened."
In a moment they were creeping stealthily, rifles in hand, toward the beach. As they paused to listen they heard no sound. Either the intruders had rounded the point or had stopped rowing.
Lucile threw the circle of her flashlight out to sea.
"Stop that!" whispered Marian in alarm. "They might shoot."
"Look!" exclaimed Lucile suddenly; "our boat's gone!"