able to come to any conclusion regarding the matter. Dick's theory, that some criminals (who were either concealed on the island, or who had been on their craft, hidden in some bay) had sneaked out to the yacht when the young millionaire and his chums were prospecting inland, was generally accepted.
"But what can we do about it?" asked Henry Darby, who was intensely practical.
"We'll think of that in the morning," decided Dick, who was both worried and tired. He knew their situation was desperate, for the food supply was very limited, and he dared not think what would happen when it was all gone. And, in a measure, he felt a sense of responsibility for the welfare of the whole party. "Let's get under shelter now," went on the young yacht owner. "It's getting damp and chilly from the dew. In the morning we'll make a better shelter, see what there is on this island to eat, and put up some signals. It will probably be only a short time before we can be taken off by some ship." But, though he spoke thus hopefully, Dick was far from feeling the confidence with which he wished to inspire his companions.
The night under the flimsy shelter would have been uncomfortable to a degree had not the faithful Widdy replenished the fire at frequent intervals. Indeed, he scarcely seemed to sleep, but was up and about all night, piling on wood, and making a roaring blaze the genial heat of which
