Charley bent down and examined the sand carefully. A glance assured him that Chris' story had some basis in facts for numerous footprints were impressed upon the firm, white sand. He studied them with eager interest. They were not fishermen's tracks, or those of his companions, for the fishermen all wore big, heavy boots, and he and his chums were shod in rough, broad-toed, working shoes, while the tracks indicated a small shoe—possibly a number seven—and their shape suggested expensive footwear.
"If I were a story book detective, Chris, I could tell from these tracks the age, size, and color of the one who wore them; his height, the color of his hair, and what he ate for breakfast; but, as I am only a common, every-day mortal, all I can make out of them is that your ghost was a man, and a pretty heavy one, too, judging from the way his feet sank into this hard sand; see, our shoes hardly make an impression. If his clothes matched his shoes, he must have been well dressed. I should say that he wasn't very old either for here is where he jumped at least five feet. That must have been when you worked your charm or rabbit's foot on him."
"I say hit was a ghost," persisted Chris, stubbornly. "Hit was white, all white, an' hit vanished jes' like that."
"And here's where it vanished," said Charley, following a line of the footprints to where they led up into the fringe of palms. "He might as well have vanished, though, for we cannot track him in this hard ground; so we may as well go back to the cabin. Hereafter, Chris, just as soon as it comes dark, go into the cabin and bar the door and nothing will hurt you. The charm will guard you from any stray ghosts and the bars and rifle will keep anything else out."
"Dat's all right, Massa Chas," said the little negro, bravely. "I ain't scared much ob de ghost now, I'ze seed how dat charm works. An' golly! I reckon dat ghost is de only thing dis nigger ever was scared of."
Vain as was this boast, Charley knew it was true. He had seen the plucky little negro in many dangers and had never known him to show a sign of fear except at the unknown which excited all the superstitious fears of his race.
It still lacked an hour to time to go fishing and Charley lay down on his couch but he could not sleep. He lay quiet, puzzling over Chris' experience. Coupled with the mysterious shots of the day before, it made a problem that defied all his attempts at solution. "Who could the unseen one be? Certainly not one of the fishermen, the tracks proved that. Chris' oft-repeated declaration that the ghost was all in white suggested that it might be a tourist. Tourists often dressed in white duck or linen in the tropics, while thinner-blooded natives always wore warmer clothing at this season of the year. But what would any tourist want on the island, and above all, why remain hidden. After all, the mysterious one was friendly to them so why worry about the matter? But was he friendly? Might not those mysterious shots have been aimed at them as well as the fishermen?" And then a startling thought occurred to the lad. "Might not it be an escaped lunatic?" That would explain the queer actions for which he could find no other logical reason. The thought was most distasteful. A lunatic at large on the island, and armed with a deadly weapon was more to be feared than all the hostile fishermen. With an effort, Charley shook off his gloomy speculations and rising, proceeded to don his fishing clothes. He was dead tired and would gladly have staid in this night but he felt that he must not hold back. They must fish every night while the weather was fine and they could get out. There would be stormy nights when they could not get out and they must work their best to make up for their lack of experience.
When he was fully dressed, he aroused his companions. They were still stiff and sore from the unaccustomed labor and their hands were swollen and painful from the many pricks they had received, but their long sleep had refreshed them and they attacked with ravenous appetites the hearty supper Chris had cooked.
"I am going in the opposite direction to-night," Charley announced, as they took their places in the launch and started out. "I got a wireless message to-day telling me that there is a big bunch of fish to the north of us. It's a fact," he replied, in answer to his companion's questioning looks. "All day there has been a big flock of pelicans hovering over the water in that direction. They often follow up large bunches of fish to pick up the ones wounded by sharks."
They had run but a little way when he gave the order to cast anchor. "I think we have gone far enough," he said. "It is easier to find a big school at night than in the day time and I do not wish to run by them in the launch. Somehow, I've got a hunch that we are going to strike a big bunch, from the space those pelicans were spread out over the water."