Night came and went, and still the chums remained prisoners of the savages.
Pat Stoodles spoke to them a long while in the morning, and at last appeared to believe their story of a ship.
"I will be afther lookin' fer her," he said. "But it's more likely a drame. I used to be afther dramin' loike that meself." And then he disappeared.
The morning slipped by, and the boys were thoroughly miserable. At first the natives left them alone, but presently they came on one after another and pulled their noses, their ears, and their hair. One savage doused them with dirty water from the lake, and all laughed loudly at the trick.
Noon had come and gone, when of a sudden several shots sounded in the distance.
The shots were followed by a loud yelling of natives, and at once those surrounding Dave and Bob ran off to learn the cause of the conflict.
"Something is up!" cried Dave. "What can it mean?"
"I reckon we'll soon learn," answered the young engineer.
A few more shots followed, and soon after all became quiet, the stillness lasting for over an hour.
Then a chanting was heard, and a body of savages appeared, having in their midst two prisoners.