"All right," returned Marat. And he rowed away.
The two crawled into the shelter of the brush. In time, they had gained the clearing in which stood the little hut. No gleam of light shone there. Creeping close, they could hear the snoring of one, and the heavy breathing of another sleeper within. This was enough. They got to the shore again, and found where the skiff of the isle was lying on the beach.
"Well, Carlos," said Robert, "suppose we have a snooze. There won't be anything going on till daylight."
"Yes," agreed Carlos.
And they crawled into a close piece of underbrush.
Carlos was the first abroad when day had come. Robert missed him when he opened his eyes; but he had hardly finished rubbing the sleep from them when Carlos appeared, to say that the negro was already setting off in the skiff for a trip to mainland.
"That Duran is sending him off on an errand again," observed Robert, "so he will be alone to bury the gold."
"Yes," said Carlos. "I heard Duran say to him that he must not forget to bring the drug. He say something about someone who do not work anything without he have the drug."
Robert puzzled a moment over this intelligence, and then, seeming to give up the problem, he said, "well, let's have a bite and then see what Duran's up to."
Presently they got themselves behind a shelter, whence they could look out into the little clearing. Duran was nowhere in view. They waited patiently some minutes, and were rewarded with the spectacle of Duran coming into the clearing from a point to their left, and bearing on his back a heavy pack. He passed the cabin and moved to its north side. In ten minutes he returned without his burden, going back the way from which he had brought his load.