“Well,” laughed Nicky, “if ghosts want to be as friendly as to light a beacon, I’m their friend! Thank you, ghosties!”
“Sh-h-h!” whispered Sam. “Please, sar—don’t!”
“But they did us a favor,” said Nicky. “They gave us a much better ‘lead’ than the one we had. I say it again.”
He faced the little key and cupping his hands, sent out a hail.
“Ghosties—thank you!”
Even Nicky was electrified in the next instant.
From somewhere—they could not say where—came a sephulchral, gurgling answer.
“You—welcome!”
CHAPTER VIII
CROCODILE KEY
Like a jackrabbit, Sam, in two moves, dived into the cabin. His first jump took him from the deck to the cockpit; his body hardly landed, facing astern, before he doubled on himself, snakelike, and shot himself through the narrow door.