“Hold on a minute, and listen,” suggested the life saver. “Maybe we can hear them talking.”
They paused, but the only sound that came was the booming of the surf on the rocks below.
“Can you see anything of a light?” asked Mr. Boundley.
“Not a thing,” replied Joe, glancing all about him.
“Look up,” directed Tom Cardiff. “That’s the best way to locate a light that you can’t see directly. You may catch its reflection on the night mist.”
But the night was black all around them. Not a gleam could they make out. Once more they advanced until Joe and Blake recognized the place where they had been hiding, and whence they had looked into the open place where the wreckers had been putting up their false light.
“It’s here!” whispered Blake.
“Just ahead there,” added Joe.
“Get ready, men!” exclaimed Tom Cardiff, in a tense whisper. “We’ll rush ’em before they know it—if they’re here.”
Stout clubs had been brought along in anticipation of a hand-to-hand struggle, it being decided that these weapons were best, safest and most effective at close quarters.