"And now, what do you suppose he's doing on that island then?" asked Norris.
"He's burying his gold, of course," said Ray.
"Or maybe he's just after provisions," I suggested.
"And he sent that old fellow in the boat on his errands," offered Robert.
Carlos, appealed to, avowed that this explanation was not unlikely, since there was a bit of a hamlet far down the bay.
When the hot tropic sun had mounted to the zenith, Norris' restlessness seemed to be approaching a climax. It was with some difficulty we dissuaded him from a notion that had taken him, to make a trip back into the hills in search of that golden creek of his. And it was then there came a wet squall out of the west that drove us under the shelter of our over-turned boat till it went by. The monotony of that wait, too, was a bit relieved by the return to the island of that boat that had gone down the bay in the morning.
Before dark came I got Jean Marat aside and communicated to him an idea that had grown in my head that afternoon.
"Captain Marat," I began, "it is going to be very dark nearly all of tonight, and it will be hard to see, at that distance, when Duran leaves the island—if he does."
"Yes," returned Marat, "I have think of that."
"Well," I continued, "even in the dark it won't be safe to row over to the island. Duran might happen to be on the shore and so see us."