Quietly rising, so as not to disturb his friends, he stole down to the beach and stood gazing at the sloop, which now rode calmly at anchor, her bow light still shining.

“And yet it did sound like a motor boat,” he said aloud.

The sound of his own voice, breaking the stillness, almost startled him.  With a short, low laugh at his habit of talking aloud when alone, he turned his back on camp and walked on for some little distance up the beach, until he rounded a curve of the shore and saw before him a narrow channel separating the island on which he stood from another, slightly larger.  Clumps of young palms grew on that other island, taller and greener than those around the camping place.  Hugh had been told that a palmetto bud cut out of a young, fresh, green palm would be fine with a piece of fat pork in making a stew; so he felt tempted to swim across the estuary and gather a choice bud.

The fact is, this desire was chiefly an excuse for a bit of exploration.  Hugh loved to prowl around in unfamiliar places even if he were alone, though he naturally preferred to share a quest of discoveries with some comrade.  So now, shedding his coat, outer shirt, and shoes, but retaining his other garments for protection against mosquitoes, he dived into the inlet and swam across it easily.

Continuing his tramp, he presently found himself on the slope of a sandy mound which formed the northeastern extremity of the small island.  From the top of this he could obtain a good view of the surrounding islands and the mainland.  He sat down to rest on the mound and to enjoy the outlook.

By this time the eastern sky was beginning to show a pale rosy glow, and soon the first rays of the rising sun turned the edges of clouds into flame.  Across this glowing expanse the mainland stretched as far as the eye could see, a dark, low-lying, emerald-hued mass, varied and mysterious.

As Hugh gazed, the sun rose into view, flooding earth and sky and sea with glorious light.  The boy drew a deep breath of wonder and turned to look around him on all sides.  As he did so, his eyes rested on something which changed his breath of admiration into a gasp of astonishment.

At the base of the mound on which he sat, partly hidden by clumps of stunted cypress and palms, was a small hut built of bamboo and thatched with palm leaves.  It was built in the form of a lean-to against the slope of a sand dune near the shore, and at first glance it seemed to be part of the island itself.  Indeed, it was so well concealed that Hugh might never have noticed it at all, save for the fact that he caught sight of a canoe with three men in it approaching the hut, from behind still another island.

Some instinct warned him not to let himself be seen, and he slid down from the top of the mound and lay flat, watching the canoe.  He felt like a scout in the enemy’s territory, or a sentry on duty, stationed there to observe the actions of unknown foes.