the deck of the wreck. Nobody appeared to go ashore.
That night it fell to Sam's lot to be on guard from nine to ten o'clock. The camp-fire was left burning brightly, and the youngest Rover sat near it on a log, a gun in his lap.
"No wild beast shall surprise me," he told himself, and kept his eyes on the jungle back of the house.
His time for guard duty had almost come to an end when a noise down on the beach attracted his attention. By the faint light he made out a raft, which had just come in, bearing the figures of two sailors.
"Stop!" he called out. "Do not come closer at your peril!"
"Don't shoot!" called back one of the sailors. "Don't shoot! We mean no harm."
Sam had backed up toward the house, and now he called to those within. He was soon joined by Captain Blossom, Dick, and several of the others.
"Who is it?" asked the captain, as he came forth, pistol in hand.
"Two of the sailors from the wreck, I think."
"Don't shoot us, captain," called one of the men. "We are unarmed and want to talk with you."
