And that was the thought in Ruth's mind. Unless Crab had sailed out and put Nita aboard a New York, or Boston, bound steamer, it seemed impossible that the girl could have gotten very far from Lighthouse Point.
"Shall we take one of the rowboats in tow, Ruth?" queried Tom, before they left the Stone dock.
"No, no!" returned the girl of the Red Mill, hastily. "We couldn't land on that island, anyway."
"Only at low tide," rejoined Tom. "But it will be about low when we get outside the point."
"You don't really suspect that Crab and Nita are out there, Ruth?" whispered Helen, in her chum's ear.
"It's a crazy idea; isn't it?" laughed Ruth. Yet she was serious again in a moment, thought, when Mother Purling spoke of his going there so much, that maybe he had a reason—a particular reason."
"Phineas told me that Jack Crab was the best pilot on this coast," remarked Tom. "He knows every channel, and shoal, and reef from Westhampton to Cape o' Winds. If there was a landing at Thimble Island, and any secret place upon it, Jack Crab would be likely to know of it."
"Can you sail us around the Thimble?" asked Ruth. "That's all we want."
