THE LOST ARE FOUND

“What does it mean?”

“A boat at last!”

“Human beings, anyhow!”

Thus came the excited calls from those in the rowing craft, as it drifted toward the hut on shore—­a palm leaf hut that seemed crudely made.  Russ and Paul had ceased rowing at the sight of the motor boat, and now their own craft was merely drifting.

“Hurry up, there!” begged Alice.  “There must be someone on shore who can put us on the right path.  Oh, what a relief!”

“Isn’t it!” agreed Ruth, with tears in her eyes.  But they were tears of joy, now.

“This came in the nick of time,” murmured Russ to Paul.  “I was about ready to give up.”

“Yes?” agreed Paul, half-questioningly.  “And yet isn’t it queer we don’t see some sign of life?” he asked, in a low voice.  “We have made noise enough, but no one has come out of that hut.  And the hut itself doesn’t seem like a very permanent sort of residence; does it?”

“Indeed it doesn’t,” spoke Russ.  “But it may be one just put up for a night or two by a hunter.  Anyhow, we’ll soon find out what it means, and if anyone is there who can tell us which way to go.”

He and Paul resumed their rowing and a little later were close beside the moored motor boat.  It was a large craft, and well appointed, though now it showed signs of being weather-beaten; it was scratched and marred.  But it seemed to be in good running order.

“Ahoy there!” called Russ, as he made fast their own boat.  “Ahoy in the hut!”

There was no answer.

“Maybe they’re asleep,” suggested Ruth.

“We can apologize for waking them up,” said Alice.  “Oh, to think we have help at last!”

Russ and Paul looked at each other.  They were not quite so sure, now, in view of the silence, that help was at hand.

Still, the fact that the boat was tied showed that it had not merely drifted to the spot.  Some human agency must have been about at some time or other.

With Russ and Paul in the lead the little party made their way to the palm leaf hut.  It was ingeniously made—­a glance showed that.  A palm tree had been taken for the centre pole, and about this had been tied layer after layer of palm leaves, so laid as to shed the rain.

The hut was circular, and at the outer edge of the roof poles had been driven into the ground to support it.  There was a small opening, which necessitated stooping to enter, and this doorway, if such it could be called, was covered by a sort of curtain of palm leaves, made in layers and fastened together with withes and wild leaves, laced in and out.

“Quite a piece of work!” commented Paul.  “Now I wonder how one is to knock at a palm leaf door?”

“Don’t knock—­call,” suggested Russ, and, raising his voice, he fairly shouted: 

“Is anyone here?”

There was no answer.

“I wonder if it would be impolite to open the door, or the curtain, and look in?” suggested Alice.