not counted on. Hardly had they decided to wait for their chief when a thought had struck Nicky. “If we were detectives, now,” he mused, “we could find out what all this mystery is concealing.”

“Well, we have nothing better to do,” Tom suggested. “Let’s try our hand at ‘detecting!’”

“Good idea!” Cliff agreed. “First off, that boat, last night, didn’t come back into the Sound. And there’s signs enough that real people were here. Where did they go? Where did they take the boat? And what did they do with the chests?”

“That’s easy!” Nicky declared. “They went up this little river, and they either put the chests back in their boat or in another one, that had that funny light on it.”

“But where did they go, then,” demanded Tom.

“Up the inlet, I said,” Nicky retorted. “We can’t get through the mangroves and the tangle of brush, but a boat—or boats—could go up as far as that bend yonder.”

“I wonder what’s beyond the bend,” reflected Tom.

“Let’s see—while our clothes dry!” Nicky urged, slipping into the water.

“No—wait!” called Cliff. “Look out for water snakes!”

“Or—crocodiles!” added Tom.

“I will,” laughed Nicky, turning and swimming slowly up the inlet.

They watched him anxiously. He waved an arm reassuringly and in a hundred easy strokes was at the point where the inlet turned out of their sight.

“Don’t go around there by yourself!” called Cliff.

“It’s just the same, around the bend,” Nicky said as he trod water for an instant. Then he swam out of their sight.

“Nicky!” called Tom anxiously.

There was a moment of silence, then a faint answer came. The place seemed suddenly to be spooky and queer. Of a sudden there was a sharp, low cry, and then silence. Tom and Cliff looked at each other.

“Nicky!” shrilled Tom.

They strained their ears.

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