“Why, to go in, of course. It’s the only way.”
For a moment the two girls stood there undecided. Then Florence whispered:
“Oh, come on. It’s not rough. Might as well see it through.”
CHAPTER XVI
NIGHT VISITORS
A moment later they were listening to the creak of rusty oarlocks and the almost inaudible dip-dip of the oars as the child herself sent the boat out from the beach to bring it half about and skirt the shore.
The boat was some sixteen feet long. A clinker-built craft, it was light and buoyant, but for all that, with three persons aboard, the rowing of it was a tax on the strength of the child’s slender arms. To add to her troubles, the water began to rubber up a bit. Small waves came slap-slapping the boat’s side. Once a bit of spray broke in Florence’s face.
“Here,” she whispered, “it’s too heavy for you. Let me have the oars, then you tell me which way to go.”
“Straight ahead, only not too close in. There’s a wall.”
“A wall?” Lucile thought to herself. “Sounds like a prison. There’s a parole camp out here somewhere. It can’t be!” she shuddered. “No, of course not. What would that old man and child have to do with prisons?”
Then, suddenly an ugly thought forced its way into her mind. Perhaps after all these two were members of a gang of robbers. Perhaps a member of the gang had been in prison and was at this moment in the parole camp. What if this turned out to be a jail-breaking expedition?