e his instinct told him the
mainland must lie, even if some miles distant.

So, too, he decided later that the suspicious sounds kept growing
louder, from which fact he judged the speakers were slowly but surely
approaching his hiding place.

"All right, let 'em come along," Perk muttered grimly as he clutched
that deadly little hand machine-gun with which he could pour a rain of
missiles in a comparatively speedy passage of time. "They can't ditch
me, I kinder guess, an' nobody ain't agoin' to grab this crate if I have
to shoot up the hull mob o' galoots."

Nevertheless, since there was always a fair chance that the secreted
sloop might escape discovery, Perk finally concluded to dispose of his
own person, at the same time meaning to keep in readiness to give the
intruders a hot reception, did the occasion warrant such a course.

Then he could hear what he knew to be the splash of oars, and squeaking
sounds of the row-locks. But he had already discounted this fact,
knowing as he did the impossibility of anyone ever reaching the fringe
of that vast wilderness of mangrove islands in which many a fisherman
had been lost, never to find his way out of the myriad of zigzag
channels without the possession of some manner of boat.

On they came until finally Perk realized they were just around the
corner, for he could pick up every word that was uttered as well as see
specks of foam from the working oars as it carried past, the tide being
on the ebb just then.

"Told yuh it was a steamer runnin' past thet sent up yer smoke trail,
Zeb," a harsh jeering voice was saying, accompanying the words with a
string of oaths as though he felt more or less "mad" because of the
exertion necessitated in working at the oars so long and on a bootless
errand at that.

"Wall," came another drawling voice in which keen disappointment could
be detected. "I judged it shore lay in this direction, but like yuh
says, it must'a ben a steamer out yonder on the gulf--mebbe thet rev'nue
boat they done tole us to watch out fur er else some o' them spongers
frum up Tarpon Springs way. Anyhow, I got all I wants o' exercise so I
move weuns call hit a day an' get back to the shanty."

"Yas, thet's the best thing we kin do," agreed the other, with a snarl
in his heavy voice, "we got heaps o' work ahead tonight, if so be thet
Fritz airpilot does drop over with his batch o' yeller boys like weuns
been told he'd do. I'd like tuh see the whole caboodle o'