this order they advanced half way through the scrub without coming across any sign of their quarry.
"There's only one thing I'm afraid of," said Chester. "They may possibly have swum for it before sun-up."
"Where to?" Keith asked dubiously.
"They could get to the reef, anyway. I'll have 'em, though, even if they swim for it now."
The black line was going forward steadily. It was shorter now, for the island was narrowing.
"Oya!" yelled Peter Pan suddenly, and in a few moments the two white men were at his side. The black pointed to footmarks in the sand leading into a tangled clump of bushes, and then to a twig which had obviously only recently been broken.
The meaning was clear enough. None but the fugitives could have left these indications, for nobody ever went there. Hearing the sound of their pursuers approaching, they had sought shelter in the clump, and there, in all probability they were still hiding.
Keith and Chester held a hasty consultation and decided to swing forward their right and left flank until this particular thicket was surrounded. Five minutes later there was a living ring round the spot, and two or three of the more courageous blacks pushed their way warily into the bushes. Wild cries of exultation rose from the natives—a savage roar calculated to inspire fear in the heart of any
