The party from the
ship headed toward the source of the other sound.
In half an hour Cochrane was about to fire again. But they heard the
hysterical rat-tat-tat of firing. It seemed no nearer, but it could only
be Johnny Simms.
Cochrane and Holden fired together for assurance to Johnny. Bell took
pictures.
Again they marched toward where the shots had been fired. Again they
trudged on for a long time. Seemingly, Johnny had moved away from them
as they followed him. They breasted a hill, and there was a breeze with
the smell of water in it, and they saw that here the land sloped very
gradually toward the sea, and the sea was in view. It was infinitely
blue and it reached toward the most alluring of horizons. Between them
and the sea there was only low-growing stuff, brownish and sparse. There
was sand underfoot--a curious bluish sand. Only here and there did the
dry-seeming vegetation grow higher than their heads.
More shots. Between them and the sea. Cochrane and Holden fired again.
"What the devil's the matter with the fool?" demanded Holden irritably.
"He knows we're coming! Why doesn't he stand still or come to meet us?"
Cochrane shrugged.
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