"Sounds like shouting," said Lucile, after a moment's silence.
"What do you suppose?"
"We'd better move around to a better position."
Cautiously they worked their way through the dense undergrowth.
Pausing now and again to listen, they laid their course by the sounds.
These sounds resolved themselves into bursts of song and boisterous
laughter.
"They're drinking," said Lucile with a shudder.
"If they are, we daren't get near them," whispered Marian.
Closer and closer they crept until at last they expected at any moment to come into view of the camp.
"It's no use," said Lucile at last, shrinking back into the brush. "I can't go on. They're drunk, and all drunken men are dangerous. It is no use risking too much for a motorboat."
Wearily then they made their way back through the brush. So sore were their muscles by this time that every step gave them pain. Missing their way, they came out upon the beach a hundred yards from their boat. There, behind the sheltering boughs of a dwarf fir tree they threw themselves upon the bed of pine needles to rest.
"Look!" exclaimed Lucile suddenly. "What's that out there?"