The Boy Scouts on Picket Duty | Page 7

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.
To his surprise, the canoe came to land directly in front of the hut, and
the three men sprang out into the shallow water and drew it up on the
beach. From the bottom of the canoe they lifted a long object rolled in
canvas. Suspending this from their shoulders, they disappeared into the
hut.

CHAPTER IV
THE HUT ON THE BEACH
Hugh was agog with curiosity. He felt that he must find out who were
those three stealthy strangers and what they were doing there.
"Perhaps they're smugglers," was his first thought. "If they are, I'd be
doing a real service to Uncle Sam if I could report their whereabouts to
the Petrel when she comes back this way. Gee! it's worth the risk! Here
goes!"
Without stopping to think much more about it, Hugh began to creep
forward on hands and knees down the mound and quite close to the
bamboo lean-to. Though usually unwilling to play the part of an
eavesdropper, he felt justified in his present impulsive venture by the
actions of the three men, for they seemed to be engaged in some
underhand work which would not stand the light of day. So hiding
himself behind a cypress stump, Hugh listened eagerly, straining his
ears to catch every word.
The men spoke in low voices so he could not hear everything, but he

heard enough to convince him that they were indeed smugglers. They
were arranging to convey a cargo of dynamite from a point near the
mouth of the little stream Sandgate on the peninsula (Florida) over to
this retreat on