To his great surprise, Uncle Prudent had not even to push Frycollin's
door. It was open. He stepped into the doorway and looked around.
"Nobody here!" he said.

"Nobody! Where can he be?" asked Phil Evans.

They went into the bow, thinking Frycollin might perhaps be asleep in
the corner. Still they found nobody.

"Has the fellow got the start of us?" asked Uncle Prudent.

"Whether he has or not," said Phil Evans, "we can't wait any longer.
Down you go."

Without hesitation the fugitives one after the other clambered over
the side and, seizing the cable with hands and feet slipped down it
safe and sound to the ground.

Think of their joy at again treading the earth they had lost for so
long--at walking on solid ground and being no longer the playthings
of the atmosphere!

They were staring up the creek to the interior of the island when
suddenly a form rose in front of them. It was Frycollin. The Negro
had had the same idea as his master and the audacity to start without
telling him. But there was no time for recriminations, and Uncle
Prudent was in search of a refuge in some distant part of the island
when Phil Evans stopped him.