“I’m inclined to think we can’t get out of here in the dark anyhow, Stan, so we’ll have to stay here——”
“It’s a cinch we’d have trouble finding the channel, as I said a few minutes ago on deck, John.”
“—And maybe daybreak will show us up as a couple of scatterbrained kids. Sweet spirits of the briny deep—why should anyone hurt us? We’re only bent on pleasure!”
Stan grinned wryly.
“Sure we’re only pleasure bent, but—what about our detective stuff, and just supposing that whoever is here is up to something evil and recognizes us as the two kids who got their pictures in the papers over the Hogan case?”
“You’re right, Stan. What’ll we do?”
“My idea is this, John. Let’s up anchor and move over under sail to the far side of this cove away from the lights we saw and stay there to-night. We’ll keep quiet, keep turns watching, and, unless some one starts something, we’ll let well enough alone till dawn.”
“I’d sure like to have my bow and arrows on watch, Stan! Remember how they worked against Hogan that night he tried to snoop around at the float-stage back in Centerport?”
They both grinned with delight at the remembrance of the snooper who dashed off in his boat, stung in the pants’ seat by a well aimed arrow! Stan nodded agreement to John’s suggestion of a defensive weapon, and they prepared to up anchor and cross the cove.
On deck they took their positions, Stan at the wheel and the main sheet, John at the jib and staysail sheets, and the anchor cables. Quietly Stan gave the command, and John hove in on the anchor. Slowly the dripping cable came inboard foot by foot, and was coiled on deck as the youth hauled at it, then it tightened as the anchor took up the slack. He heaved hard—but the anchor did not budge.