“Sure; but you know how Black Cove is, hidden away! They either forgot it or passed it up as a hiding place somehow, for they did not sight any suspicious boats! I guess that police boat crew is still wondering where the ‘pirates’ came from!”
After some more conversation the boys went ashore in their little tender which they had carried on the port side of the deck, upside down, during the run from Zenith, and carried it up the beach and into some bushes to hide it before hunting for a trail inland. Soon they were moving along a trail, bows and arrows in hand, flashlights in pockets, and fingerprint outfits and the spare camera along, too. Thus laden, they got over the Island under the starlit sky and were soon close to the cove.
Moving cautiously and slowly, they came along the path upon which their adventures had begun, and down through bushes to the shore. There they had a grand stand seat from which to study the activity on the scow. The scow was anchored in its regular spot for night work, and lights glimmered and men moved about!
They stayed there for some time consumed by unsatisfied curiosity.
From that spot, unchallenged, they passed through a maze of paths to the south ridge back of the cabin and were going along in the dark, when Stan grasped John by the arm.
“A tunnel, for sure, John!” he said.
It was indeed a half concealed entrance to a tunnel, and the two boys stood before it, nervous and eager.
“Shall we go in?” John asked, in a whisper.
“Why not?”
“Go ahead!” said a voice from the darkness, close by. “But I’m going with you!”