"I must have been mistaken," said Bob, smiling; "for it would be next to impossible for any one to be out here on this island right now."
"But did you think you heard some one call?" persisted Sandy.
"Yes, it sounded like a shout. But no doubt it was some hawk that has found shelter, like ourselves, on the island. If we watch we will likely see him fly away, now that the rain has stopped."
Bob had hardly spoken when both brothers half sprang to their feet.
"It was a cry for help!" exclaimed Sandy, looking at his brother, as usual expecting Bob to take the initiative in the emergency.
"Some one is in trouble!" said the other, "and it is up to us to see if we can do anything for him. Remember how we would have been crazy with joy had there been a helping hand held out when all seemed lost!"
"There it comes again! And from the same place! Whoever it is, he cannot be going past the island."
"No," cried Bob, "I think he must have been thrown ashore among all that trash at the upper end, and, unable to help himself, is in danger of drowning there, caught in the piled up tree-tops. Come, we must get there and lend a hand."
"It may be an Indian, and a hostile," reminded Sandy.
"I do not think so, for the shout seemed to call for 'help!' But even if it is an Indian, surely you have reason for knowing that all Indians are not cruel and merciless. Remember the gratitude of Blue Jacket. Come, Sandy!"