While tackling our rations we discussed the plan again and again. I did not want to leave Sylvia another night within the grasp of those fiends, but Smilax insisted; explaining that she was practically safe for three days, at any rate. Of course, each twenty-four hours would make her and Echochee weaker from starvation and, as they would need strength, we dared not wait too long. Immediate help from the _Whim_ was all but a forlorn hope. The rescue had come suddenly up to us, and it must be met without a thought of failure. But as the tiresome afternoon wore on without further incidents to keep us aroused, my fancies drifted from rescues to the rescued; and after a while I whispered: "I'll take that nap now,"--scarcely hearing him reply: "Good." CHAPTER XVI THE CAVE MAN SETS FORTH Close to my ear I heard a warning: "Sh!"--at the same time feeling a hand squeeze my arm. It was dusk. While I slept the shadows had lengthened and blended into those soft gray tones of twilight that give mystery to forests of the South. Cautiously I raised my head and, following the tense stare of Smilax, saw the cause of his agitation. Three men were standing on the larger island, at the spot where Efaw Kotee and Jess had stood, and one held a piece of coiled rope tied to a grappling hook. They were whispering and chuckling. Then he with the iron hook began to swing it back and forth, finally letting it fly across the water into the punt, whereupon they chuckled again. Now they began to haul in the line at a lively rate, doubtless fearing that Echochee, aroused by the noise, would rush out and frustrate them. But the house remained quiet, even dark; and, since the boat's painter was of slim material, there could be only one result when they gave a hard pull--the punt was theirs. This procedure disturbed Smilax, no less myself. There was deviltry afoot, yet hardly a plan for capturing the girl as other punts were available. But the next moment we breathed easier, for the men broke into a boisterous laugh, and one called: "Ole hatchet-face, yo're done out-punted this time!" Another, bending over and slapping his thigh in mirthful ecstasy, guffawed: "Bill says she's done out-_punted_," whereupon they again laughed, and a third called: "This here busts yo' chance of makin' a git-away to-night, yer ole she-devil! The chief's on to yer, he is!" "They expect an escape," I whispered. Smilax nodded. His face was grave.