“Well, if them kids is here, they got-a boat, ain’t they? And if they got-a boat, we’ll find it to-morrow, by thunder. I knows her when I sees her. Black she is, with one of them ‘gaff’ rigs.”
“I hear you left your gloves on her last time, Dago!” chaffed the first speaker.
“I hears you ain’t gonna be healthy long, if you keep-a yapping at me, Butch!” growled Dago.
John Tallman was so interested in what was being said that he came within an inch of colliding with the last man of the bunch as they slowed up and stopped. Some sixth sense warned him, and he stopped and listened. He heard bushes rustling, something metallic clanking softly, and then came a noise of men on wooden steps! In a moment the party had disappeared, leaving John Tallman, puzzled and annoyed, standing in the fog alone.
His back running gooseflesh, he pressed slowly and carefully forward, and touched—a door! Investigation with careful finger tips proved it to be a small oblong door of metal without any handle or latch. That it went into an underground tunnel he knew, for the steps had sounded “down,” not up, and besides, as John guessed, the island was a maze of secret passages. How near to the cabin they were, in fact in which direction they had been moving, he had no idea. But he had to find out, because until something turned up, he’d have to follow every clue to find Stanley and try to rescue him.
What lay beyond that door? And how could he get it open? He had no answer to either question, but he had to find some way to get in and discover for himself the answer to the first. Again he ran his fingers over the door, particularly on the side away from the hinges; then he tried pressing in that area and was abruptly rewarded by feeling a tiny square of metal go in under his fingers, and at once the door swung inward!
Darkness as dark as the outside still was there before his eyes, and he stepped forward gingerly. Down several wooden steps he felt his way, stumbled into the wall, and found that the passage now went sharply away to the right. He went along, guiding himself by one hand against a wall, feeling for each of the upright timbers supporting the walls and roof of the tunnel. The air was close and damp, and smelled strongly of sour earth.
How far he went in this manner he was not sure, possibly about one hundred yards without an apparent turn in the tunnel, and then it swung left sharply and went downhill to a slight rate of drop. Faint light showed far ahead, though the distance could not have been above fifty yards further, ending in another curve. There were side aisles now to be dimly seen due to the vague reflection of the lights, and this was extremely fortunate for John Tallman, for he heard footsteps and had barely time to retreat to a side aisle and set an arrow to the notch, when the men approached.
“The kid will be all right with Gagnon,” said Dago, passing down the main tunnel.
“Yeh, he’s that nervous he’d choke the kid if the guy lets a peep out of him!”