Then he ran to Barbara's--it, too, was unoccupied.
They had gone!
All during the painful trip from the village to the island
Billy had momentarily expected to meet a party of rescuers
coming back for him. He had not been exactly disappointed,
but a queer little lump had risen to his throat as the days
passed and no help had come, and now this was the final
blow. They had deserted him! Left him wounded and dying
on this savage island without taking the trouble to assure
themselves that he really was dead! It was incredible!
"But was it?" thought Billy. "Didn't I tell them that I was
dying? I thought so myself, and there is no reason why they
shouldn't have thought so too. I suppose I shouldn't blame
them, and I don't; but I wouldn't have left them that way and
not come back. They had a warship full of blue jackets and
marines--there wouldn't have been much danger to them."
Presently it occurred to him that the party may have
returned to the coast to get the marines, and that even now
they were searching for him. He hastened to return to the
mainland, and once more he took up his wearisome journey.
That night he reached the coast. Early the next morning he
commenced his search for the man-of-war.
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