One evening they started right after supper, while it was yet light, paddled down along the shore to the Narrows, carried across, and paddled down the island for some three miles. Then they landed and hid their canoe, as was their custom, and stretched themselves out on the beach to rest and enjoy the lights far out on the water.
It was a clear starlight night, with the bay still and restful, save for a quick gust of wind that came now and then, only to blur its surface for a moment and leave it smooth again.
“I guess we have tried this thing about often enough, haven’t we, Bob?” asked Tom, finally. “We don’t seem to be a success as man-hunters.”
“I’m about ready to quit,” answered Bob, yawning and stretching. “The fact is, we really get enough exercise through the day. Here we’ve been swimming, bicycling, helping the Warrens get up driftwood, paddled over to the cape, all in one day,—and here we are at it again at night. Yes, I think it’s time we gave this up.”
“Then supposing we do call it off,” said Tom. “I’ve had paddling enough for one day. What do you say to going up along the beach for a mile or two, and then taking the shortest cut home and coming down for the canoe to-morrow? I think I’m kind of tired, myself, though I didn’t notice it when we started out.”
“All right, that suits me,” replied Bob. “I don’t mind saying that I’m a bit tired, too. That last mile came hard, and no mistake.”
So they rose and sauntered along the beach toward the Narrows, till they had come to within about half a mile of it, and then sat down once more for a brief rest before going home.
“It seems almost too bad to go home to bed such a beautiful night as this,” said Bob. “These are the kind of nights that make me wish we had the old tent back again, so we could lie on our bunks and look out on the water, as we used to do before we went to sleep.”
The night was indeed singularly calm and peaceful. The bay was still, and the water as it came up the beach with the tide made only a small rustling, creeping sound, as it covered the sand inch by inch. As for the island, it always seemed asleep after nightfall, and to-night there was scarcely a sound of life anywhere to break the stillness.
But then, all at once, as they sat there looking out upon the water, out of the silence there arose a cry, faint and smothered, but a cry for help.