“Cabins. Cabins and cottages, fireplaces, blankets, easy chairs, and things to eat; not so near, but not so far away, either.”
Red stared at her in silence. Did this girl speak from knowledge of the island, or was she romancing, bolstering up courage with dreams that might prove false?
He dared not ask. Putting his stout shoulders to work at shoving off the raft, he had it afloat at once. Then, after selecting a stout spruce pole and assisting the girl to a place beside him, he shoved away toward that other shore that, looming dark and distant, seemed to beckon and to whisper of “cabins and fireplaces, blankets, easy chairs, and things to eat.”
“Well,” he sighed, “thus far we get the breaks.”
CHAPTER VII
A JOURNEY IN THE NIGHT
While Drew Lane sat meditating on the various aspects of the kidnaping, Tom Howe groaned and sat up.
“Drew,” he drawled, rubbing his head, “I’ve been felled by a ghost, a galloping ghost.”
“You don’t mean to say you believe that stuff!” Drew held up the pink sheet.
“I believe,” said Howe with a wry grin, “that I have a large lump on the top of my head and that it’s sore. I believe it was put there by a thing that looked like a ghost. That’s all I have to say about that.”
“Well, then, what have you to say about this?” Drew held up the envelope containing the shavings and bullet.