"It looks bad," Charley admitted, gravely. "We must talk it over carefully and decide what is best to do. But where's Chris? It's funny he don't show himself. Something must be the matter."
With a sudden alarm, Charley hastened up for the cabin, followed by his chums.
As soon as he came in sight of the hut, he slackened his speed with a sigh of relief for the little negro was seated in the doorway with the rifle in his hands.
"Good work, Chris," he exclaimed. "Your shots came just in the nick of time. I am glad you didn't hit any of them though."
"I ain't shot none, Massa Chas," protested the little negro. "You dun tole me to stay right hyar till you whistle an' you ain't whistled yet."
"Then where did those shots come from?" Charley demanded.
"Hit sounded like dey come from where you-alls was," Chris declared.
"Then they must have come from the fringe of palms close to the beach," Charley decided. "Well, some one on the island has done us a good turn and we better look him up and thank him. Likely he didn't want to be seen and recognized by Hunter."
But at the end of an hour they were back at the cabin, a thoroughly mystified little group. They had been all over their little domain but no sign of a human being had they discovered.