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Maurice was climbing a tall poplar standing on the bank of the creek. "I say, Billy," he cried excitedly. "There she is, jest 'round the bend. They've beached her in that piece of woods. It's Joe LaRose an' Art Shipley that took her, I'll bet a cookie. They're always goin' 'cross there to hunt fer turtle's eggs." "No sir," his neighbor answered promptly, "I should say not." "Oh shucks! What's the use of thinkin' 'bout that now? We've gotta catch them robbers first, ain't we?".
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"It ought'a be dark," protested Billy, "but I'll try it anyway." He lifted the rabbit foot to his face and breathed some words upon it. Then in measured tones he recited: Another call from the mast-head, and yet another and another and another in brief[Pg 391] intervals of scarce half a minute's duration each; and at last fourteen sail were reported in sight on the starboard bow, sailing large, heading north-east or thereabouts so that the course of the Aurora would bring her into the thick of them. "What's gone?" asked his companions in a breath. "She didn't seem as if she even saw me, your honour.".
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