Now they were nearing the city. For some time they had been seeing the jagged line of sky scrapers. Now they could catch the outline of the beach by the dry dock. Toward this they pointed the prow of the O Moo. A wireless telephone message had made known to Dr. Holmes the probable hour of their arrival. Old Timmie would doubtless be prepared to get the O Moo back upon her trestle.
“But what makes the shore all around the dock look so black?” puzzled Lucile.
Just then there came a succession of faint and distant pop-pop-pops.
“Someone coming to meet us,” Lucile decided, pleased at the thought.
Then there came another set of poppings, another and another, all in slightly different keys.
Now they could see the gasoline launches coming toward them. Seeming but sea gulls for size at first, they grew rapidly larger.
“Six of them,” murmured Marian. “I didn’t know we had that many friends.”
Their amazement grew as three other boats put out from shore. Then Lucile, who had been studying the beach exclaimed:
“I do believe that black spot about the dry dock moves. It seems to contract and expand, to waver backward and forward. You don’t think it could be—be people?”
“Why no, of course—yes! I do believe it is!” cried Marian.