Conry came crawling back into the cave.
"Humph! What's come o' the light," grunted Conry.
When he went groping for the lantern, Ray and I scrambled out. We were astonished to find it was night, when we came into the open. We hurried through the forest, not caring what the direction, till we should be safely away from the region.
We made what speed we could for a considerable time amongst the undergrowth; and when at last we came to an open space, we heard the surf close by. And we were a good deal taken aback to see a schooner lying at anchor, some way off from the beach, in the small harbor. The bright moonlight showed her outlines plain to us, and she was neither the Pearl nor the Orion. We had traveled in a circle apparently; and there came the shouting voice of Stephen Conry, nearby, calling his comrades.
"We're back almost where we started from," said Ray.
"Yes," I said. "We'll have to go by the moon, now, or we'll not get anywhere."
We plunged again into the forest, and were careful to keep the moon on our left; this insured our holding our course in a westerly direction. We kept, too, as much as possible to the higher ground, for the going was easier, there being less undergrowth to tangle our feet.
We hadn't been twenty minutes struggling on, when we were startled by a voice just before us. I seized Ray by the arm and dragged him with me into a thick bush.
"It's just like I've been a tellin' ye. The kids' friends tried to sink the other schooner," said the voice of Mullins.
"An' I've been axin' ye," spoke another voice, "for why would they be suddenly—now—be wantin' to sink them. Why didn't they try it afore, if—"