They looked at each other, a nameless fear
stirring at their hearts. Then Frank shook himself and laughed.
"Pshaw," said he, "this lonesome place seems spooky. I know what it
must have been. It must have been Tom shouting a farewell to the
fellows."
"Reckon you're right," said Stone, brightening. "Sure, that must be
it. Well, let's go back. We'll be starting in a couple of hours, if
all goes well."
"All right," said Frank, reaching to pluck one of the oil flares out
of the ground.
Stone halted him. Again he looked anxiously toward the cave.
"Let's not take the torches," said he.
"Why not?"
"Just playing a hunch," said Stone. "I have the feeling that all may
not be well up at the cave."
Frank dropped his voice unconsciously, as if fearing eavesdroppers in
that lonely spot.
"To tell you the truth," said he frankly. "I feel the same way. I say!
I have an idea. Let's edge out of the light without hurry, not toward
the cave, but out that way," pointing in the direction taken by the
airplane. "We'll put our hands up to our eyes and pretend to be
watching the sky for the airplane's flight. It would be natural for us
to want to get beyond the light of these torches, if we were trying to
follow the boys with our eyes.
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