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автор H.Irving Hancock

Hancock H. Irving Harrie Irving
The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket; or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

CHAPTER I – THE PAIR IN THE SEAT AHEAD

“Is the ‘Meteor’ a fast boat?”

“Very fast, indeed.”

“But can she beat anything along thiscoast? That’s what I want to know.”

“Judge for yourself. On her trial trip shemade within a small fraction of twenty-eightmiles an hour.”

“Whew! That’s tremendous speed, even fora fast and costly boat such as the rich build to-day.But how long has she been in the water?”

“Since last March.”

“She may have fouled a good deal since then,or her machinery may be a good deal below themark by this time.”

“Humph! For that matter, something couldbe made to happen to the boat, I suppose.”

Of the two men carrying on this conversationin a day-coach seat on a railway train, one wasfive-foot-seven, florid and somewhat stout, witha bull neck and keen, twinkling eyes. His wholeappearance hinted that he had spent most of hisforty years of life on the open sea. The otherman, who was short, slim and swarthy, with narrow, piercing black eyes, might have been a fewyears older. His every motion betokened greatactivity. One might have guessed him to be aSpaniard. His general attire, though it wassomewhat careless, would place him in the business-manclass.

At the first mention of the name “Meteor”two American boys, seated immediately behindthe men, started slightly and immediately wereall attention. Each boy was about sixteen yearsof age. Tom Halstead was fair, brown-hairedand blue-eyed with a naturally merry look. JoeDawson was darker, somewhat more reserved inmanner and was Tom’s fast chum and greatadmirer.

Yes; readers of the preceding volume in thisseries will recognize Tom and Joe at once asthe young Americans who became the originalmembers of the Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec.It was they who put Broker Prescott’sfast motor boat, the “Sunbeam,” once more incommission; they who went through some mostlively adventures along the coast near the mouthof the Kennebec and who rendered tremendouslyimportant services to Revenue Officer Evans, acousin of the broker, in penetrating the secretof Smugglers’ Island.

Now these same two members of the MotorBoat Club were traveling on business that theybelieved to be wholly commonplace. They wereheaded for the island of Nantucket, south ofCape Cod. The experiences ahead of them, theyimagined, were to be of the most ordinary kind.They had no glimpse, as yet, of the new excitementsthat Fate had in store for them. Theyhad no hint of the startling adventures intowhich they were soon to be plunged.

But that mention of the name “Meteor” hadaroused their instant attention. That was thename of the motor boat that they were to joinand take charge of at Wood’s Hole. The craftwas the property of Mr. Horace Dunstan, oneof the wealthy residents of the island of Nantucket.

An ordinary boy might not have heard thelow-toned conversation of the pair in the seatahead. But Tom and Joe, attuned to the life ofthe sea and with ears trained to note the slightestirregularity of the sound of machinery, possessedacute hearing indeed.

At the first words of that conversation betweenthe unknown pair Tom gave Joe a slightnudge in the side. Dawson’s eyes promptlyclosed, his lips parting, his head sinking slightlyforward. He appeared to be sound asleep. Halsteadseemed to be wholly interested in the newspaperat which he was glancing. Not even whenthe possibility of foul play to the “Meteor”was mentioned did either youngster betray anyfurther sign. Indeed, the men in the seat aheadwere evidently confident that the boys could nothear their low-pitched talk. None of the otherseats near by was occupied.

The accommodation train from Boston, rollingslowly along late in this July afternoon, had just left Falmouth for its run of a fewmiles to Wood’s Hole, the last stop, as thiswould be the end of the mainland route. Acrossthe meadows the hot breath of July camethrough the open car windows. The brightnessof the sunshine inclined one to close hiseyes, so that Joe Dawson’s slumber seemed themost natural thing in the world. Indeed, TomHalstead’s eyes were narrowing; he seemed thenext candidate for a doze. Yet, depend upon it, neither boy had been more awake in his life.The slightest hint of possible mischief to theboat that was soon to be intrusted to their carewas enough to set their nerves a-tingle.

“That was a queer rumpus on Boston Commonthe other day,” began the florid-faced man.The subject had been changed. No furthermention was made of the “Meteor.” Tom Halsteadfelt tremendously disappointed. He hadhoped to hear more that would be of interest tohimself. But the pair in the seat ahead did notagain refer to the “Meteor.” So Tom, afterstealthily making a few pin pricks in his newspaper, settled far down in his seat, holding thepaper before his face as though reading. Inreality he was studying what he could see ofthe faces of the men who had so suddenlyaroused his interest. With the paper closeenough to his face the pin holes were almost asgood as windows.

Over those last few miles droned the train.Tom felt cheated in not hearing more, but toall appearances the strangers had forgotten theexistence of the “Meteor.” When the train wasyet a mile out from Wood’s Hole the twomen arose, going to the forward end of the car.The train slackened in speed, the two mendropping off on the further side of the carfrom where the boys sat. By the time thatHalstead deemed it prudent to slip across toa window opposite, the two men were out ofsight.

“Now what on earth can be the reason forthose two fellows desiring any injury to a gentleman’sprivate yacht?” muttered Tom, rejoininghis chum.

“At all events, it’s handy to be well warnedin advance,” returned Joe with a quiet grin.

“Yes, if we run across that pair within twentycable lengths of the boat we’ll know ’em and beon our watch,” answered Halstead with a meaningflash in his eyes.

They had little more time for puzzling theirheads, for the train was now rolling in at thelittle station at Wood’s Hole. There were lessthan a dozen people to disembark. Out of sucha small crowd anyone looking for two youngmotor boat experts would have little difficulty inselecting the two boys with weather-tinted faces, who wore suits of strong, serviceable navy blue, soft brown canvas shoes and straw hats. So atall, slender man of forty-five, dressed in outinggray and wearing an expensive fine-straw hat, came at once toward them.

“Captain Tom Halstead?” he inquired, lookingfrom one boy to the other.

“That’s my name, sir,” Tom answered. “Youare Mr. Horace Dunstan?”

“Yes. And heartily glad that you did notdisappoint me.”

“There was no good reason why we should, sir,” Halstead rejoined, then presented hischum. Mr. Dunstan shook hands with both verycordially, although he was not able to concealentirely his astonishment at their youthfulness.

“I – er – really expected to find you a littleolder,” Mr. Dunstan admitted with an easylaugh. “However, it’s all right. My friend,Prescott, told me he had found, among the seacoastboys of Maine, some of the best materialfor motor boat handlers in the world. I askedhim to send me the best pair he knew, so, ofcourse, it’s all right, for Prescott never goesback on a friend.”

“We’ve handled Mr. Prescott’s boat in somerather tight places,” said Tom quietly.

“You have your suit cases, I see. There’s noneed to carry them down to the waterfront. Come over here and hand them to thedriver.”

Mr. Dunstan led the way to the solitary hackat the station, though neither sturdy boy wouldhave thought anything of walking and carryinghis baggage.

“Now we’ll drive down at once and you’ll seethe ‘Meteor’” proposed their host. “Perhapsyou will be able to tell, very soon, what ails thecraft. I have had one or two local machinistslook her over and the owner of one small motorboat who thought he knew all about such craft.Yet the engine doesn’t work well enough for meto be satisfied to try to use the boat.”

In a few minutes the three alighted near apier that jutted some hundred feet out over thewater. At the further end lay as jaunty a fifty-footcraft as either boy had ever laid eyes on.

“So that’s the ‘Meteor’? Oh, she’s a dandy!”cried Tom in a burst of enthusiasm.

“Say, look at the beauty of her lines! Whatspeed she ought to be good for, with a strong, well-behaving engine!” came from quiet Joe.

Horace Dunstan smiled with pardonable prideas he led the way down the pier. As far as firstimpressions went the boat was worthy of extendedpraise. Though only five feet longerthan the “Sunbeam,” she had the look of beinga much larger craft. There was more forecastle.The space of the bridge deck seemedbetter arranged. There was an awning overthe bridge deck and another over the cockpitaft. The cabin looked roomier. From davitsat the starboard side swung a natty-lookingsmall boat.

“Gr-r-r-r!” came a warning sound from theclosed forecastle as the trio stepped aboard.

“In the absence of crew I’ve kept my bull pupdown in the engine room,” explained Mr. Dunstan.

“A mighty good idea,” muttered Tom with aswift recollection of the fragments of conversationhe and Joe had overheard on the train.

“Stand back a moment, until I let him outand present you to him,” requested the owner.“Don’t be afraid of him. Bouncer is a veryintelligent dog. Hell understand an introductionas quickly as a human being would.”

One of the forecastle windows was open, togive air to the dog, though it was not largeenough to let him out.

“It’s all right, Bouncer,” called Mr. Dunstanreassuringly, as he fitted a key at the forecastledoor. “Now come out like a four-footed gentlemanand meet some friends of ours.”

Bouncer came nimbly out, a low-built, thicksetbulldog of the finest fighting type. He had asquare-set pair of jaws that looked capable oftaking a tremendous grip. His look, however, under the prompt petting of his owner, waskindly and curious.

“These young gentlemen are all right,Bouncer,” spoke Mr. Dunstan. “Go over andget acquainted with them. Let them pet you.”

Bouncer contented himself with a brief sniffingat each boy in turn. Then he submitted tocaresses, wagging his short stump of a tail.

“He understands. You’ll never need to beafraid of this dog, unless you do some such extremething as to attack me or a member ofmy family,” Mr. Dunstan assured them. “Nowcome down into the engine room.”

“Say, this is something like!” uttered Joeenthusiastically, as he stepped below and stoodlooking about him. Here there was an abundanceof room, for much of the engine was housed backunder the bridge deck. The engineer had plentyof space in which to move about. Forward ofthe engine room, shut off by a curtain, was thegalley. Here were stove, sink, ice box, dishrackand room for a goodly supply of foods.

Through a passageway Mr. Dunstan led themunder the bridge deck. Curtained off from thepassage was a wide berth.

“We generally call this the captain’s berth,”explained the owner.

“I guess my berth will be on one of the engineroom lockers with Joe,” smiled Halstead.

The cabin proved to be spacious and handsome.The four locker seats could be fitted intoberths when cruising. The cockpit aft was largeand contained, besides side seats, half a dozencomfortable armchairs.

“Now suppose we go back to the engine,” desiredMr. Dunstan, turning about. “I’m anxious, indeed, to know whether you can locatethe trouble that has tied this craft up here.”

Returning to the engine room, the boys openedtheir suit cases, taking out overalls and jumpers.Clad in these they were soon armed withwrenches and other tools, exploring the mysteriesof that engine.

“This machine hasn’t had very good care,”spoke Joe after a while. “She’s fouled withdirt and thick oil at a good many points.”

“Has the motor been overheated?” asked theowner.

“I don’t believe so, sir; at least, not to anyserious extent,” Joe stated as his opinion.

“Any repairs to parts going to be necessary?”

“A few, but simple ones, I guess. We oughtto be able to make ’em from the materials athand.”

“You – er – couldn’t run out to-night, I suppose?”

“We shall be very fortunate, sir,” Joe answered,“if we can take this boat out to-morrow forenoon.”

“We’ll stay aboard to-night and work as lateas we can,” Tom explained. “Joe can’t reallytell, until we get started, just how much willhave to be done. But the motor is not hurt pastordinary repair.”

“I was going to ask you over to the hotel fordinner to-night,” hinted the owner.

“There seems to be plenty of everything toeat in the galley,” Tom answered seriously.“So, if you don’t mind, sir, we’ll stay rightby our work and help ourselves to food aswe can.”

“Make yourselves at home, then. Do youmean to sleep aboard to-night?” inquired Mr.Dunstan, as he started up the steps to the bridgedeck.

“I think we’d better, for more reasons thanone, perhaps,” Halstead made answer as he, too, stepped to the bridge deck. “Mr. Dunstan,”he went on in a lower voice, “do youknow of anyone who could have a good reasonfor wanting to injure your boat?”

“Why, no,” replied the owner, though neverthelesshe gave a slight start. “Why?”

Tom described the men and the conversationaboard the train. Mr. Dunstan listened withinterest, though he shook his head when the twomen were described.

“There might be a shadow of reason for theirtalk in one direction,” he admitted, slowly andreluctantly. “But, pshaw, no; I’m dreaming.No, there can’t be any reason for wanting toruin my boat. Very likely you didn’t hear quiteright.”

“At any rate,” Halstead went on, “Joe andI will be aboard to-night, and probably everynight as long as we’re in your employ.”

“You seem to take this thing seriously, Halstead.”

“I don’t believe, sir, in throwing away whatseems like a very valuable hint. It won’t doany harm for us to be watchful, anyway. Bythe way, sir, do you mind letting the dog stayaboard, too?”

“Certainly you may have him,” nodded theowner. “He won’t interfere with you and he’llsleep with one eye and both ears open. Well, make yourselves at home here, boys. Do whateveryou please in the galley and feed and waterBouncer. I’ll be at the hotel this evening incase you should want me for anything.”

After impressing upon Bouncer that he wasstill to remain aboard, Mr. Dunstan strolledleisurely down the pier. Both boys went hardat work.

“What do you make of our new employer?”asked Joe after a while.

“He seems like an ordinary, easy-going man,”Tom replied. “I don’t believe he ever startledanyone by doing anything very original, buthe’s a gentleman, and we’re going to find himconsiderate and just. That’s all we can ask inany man.”

After that there wasn’t much talk, except thefew words now and then that related to takingthe motor to pieces, and repairing and replacingits parts. At the close of day they helpedthemselves to a bountiful meal and made a fastfriend of Bouncer by catering to his healthy appetite.Then, by the light of lanterns, theywent to work again. It was after eleven o’clockwhen they found themselves too drowsy to dofurther justice to their work.

“Let’s go up on deck and get some air. Afterthat we’ll turn in,” proposed Halstead.

“I wonder if we’re going to have visitors orany trouble?” mused Joe. “Somehow I can’tempty my head of that talk in the car this afternoon.”

“If we do have any trouble,” laughed Tomnodding down at the dog dozing on the deck attheir feet, “I’ve a private notion that we’regoing to be able to pass some back – to someone.”

Twenty minutes later the motor boat chumshad made up berths on the engine-room lockersand had undressed and gone to bed. Both weresoon sound asleep. They relied on Bouncer, wholay on the deck just outside the open hatchway,to let them know if anything threatening happened.

CHAPTER II – BOUNCER WAKES UP

While our two young motor boat enthusiastslie wrapped in the first soundslumber of the summer night, lulledinto unconsciousness by the soft lapping of thesalt water against the sides of the “Meteor,”let us take a brief glimpse at the events whichhad brought them here.

Readers of the preceding volume in this seriesare aware of how the Motor Boat Club came tobe organized. It now numbered fourteen members, any one of whom was fully qualified tohandle a motor boat expertly under any ordinarycircumstances.

Every member was a boy born and broughtup along the seacoast. Such boys, both by inheritanceand experience, are usually well qualifiedfor salt-water work. They are aboard ofboats almost from the first days of life that theycan recollect. Seamanship and the work requiredabout marine machinery are in the airthat surrounds their daily lives. It is fromamong such boys that our merchant marine andour Navy find their best recruit material. Itwas among such boys that broker George Prescotthad conceived the idea of finding materialfor making young experts to serve the ownersof motor cruisers and racers along the NewEngland coast.

Tom and Joe were undoubtedly the pick ofthe club for skill and experience. More thanthat, they were such fast friends that theycould work together without the least danger offriction. Though Halstead was looked upon asthe captain, he never attempted to lord it overhis chum; they worked together as equals ineverything.

Mr. Dunstan had long known Mr. Prescott inBoston, where both had offices. So, whentrouble happened in the “Meteor’s” engineroom, Mr. Dunstan had sent the broker a longtelegram asking that gentleman to send by thenext train the two most capable experts of theClub. He had added that he wanted the boysprincipally for running the boat on fast time betweenNantucket and Wood’s Hole, for theowner had a handsome residence on the island, but came over to the mainland nearly every dayin order to run in by train to his offices in Boston.The “Meteor,” therefore, was generallyrequired to justify her name in the way ofspeed, for Mr. Dunstan’s landing place at Nantucketwas some thirty-five miles from Wood’sHole.

Further, Mr. Dunstan’s telegram had intimatedthat he was likely to want the young menfor the balance of the season, though his messagehad not committed him absolutely on thatpoint. The pay he had offered was more thansatisfactory.

Wood’s Hole is a quaint, sleepy little seaportvillage. The main life, in summer, comes fromthe passing through of steamboat passengersfor Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. Thenight air is so quiet and the sea scent so strongthat even the city visitors at the little hotel findit difficult to stay up as late as eleven o’clock.

On this night, or rather morning, at oneo’clock, there were but two honest people in thewhole place awake. Over at the Marine BiologicalLaboratory, Curator Gray and an assistantwere still up, bending drowsily overa microscope in one of the laboratory rooms.But that building was too far from the “Meteor’s”pier for the scientists to have anyhint of what might be happening near themotor boat.

It was the night before the new moon. Thestars twinkled, but it was rather dark when thefigures of two men appeared at the land end ofthe pier. On their feet these men wore rubber-soledcanvas shoes. Not a sound did they makeas they started to glide out on the pier.

But Bouncer woke up.

“Gr-r-r-r!” the bull pup observed, thrustinghis head up, his hair bristling. All this requiredbut a few seconds. In another instant Bouncerwas at the rail, his nostrils swelling as he tooka keen look down the length of the pier. Thenan angrier growl left his throat. It ended ina bound and Bouncer landed on the pier. Hisshort legs moving rapidly under him Bouncerrushed to meet the soft-shoed gentlemen.

That last, angrier note from the bull puproused Tom Halstead as a bugle call might havedone. He leaped to his feet, snatching at histrousers. Joe stirred, half alertly. When heheard his chum’s feet strike the engine-roomfloor Dawson, too, sprang up.

“Mischief, just as we thought!” breathedTom.

Down at the land end of the pier there was asudden mingling of startled human voices.

“Por la gracia de Dios!” sounded an excited, appealing wail.

“Get away, you beast, or I’ll kill you!”roared another voice in English.

Bang! That was the noise from the throatof a big-calibered pistol. It was followed, justas Tom bounded to the deck, pursued by Joe, bythe rapid pounding of a horse’s hoofs and therattle of wheels.

“There they go!” cried Tom, leaping to thepier in his bare feet and racing shoreward overthe boards. But it was too late for the boys toovertake the prowlers, who were now behind afast horse.

“Did they shoot that fine dog?” growled Joe, his voice rumbling with indignation. Bounceranswered the question for himself by running tomeet them, his tail a-wag, guttural grunts ofsatisfaction coming from his throat, while asignal flag of information fluttered from hismouth.

“He took hold of one of ’em,” chuckled Tom.“Good old fellow, you’ve brought us a sampleof their cloth. Good boy! May I have it?”

Tom bent down to stroke the dog, who submittedvery willingly. When Halstead tookhold of the large, irregular fragment of cloththe bull pup grunted once or twice, then let go.

Back all three went to the boat. Tom lighteda lantern, then held the cloth forward.

“Brown, striped trouser goods,” he chuckled.“Joe, whom have we seen with trousers of thispattern?”

“That Spanish-looking chap in the seat aheadon the train,” muttered Dawson grimly.

“Now if Mr. Dunstan doubts that some onewants to put his boat out of commission we’llhave something definite to call to his attention,”uttered Tom excitedly. “Bouncer, you stockylittle darling!”

Joe looked the dog over carefully to makesure that a bullet had not even grazed that reliable, business-like animal.

“If they had touched you, old splendid,”growled Joe, “we’d have had a good clew ortwo for avenging you. But those rascals didn’teven hurt your grit. You’re ready for ’emagain – if they come!”

For some time the boys were too excited tolie down again. When at last they did, theykept their trousers on, ready for any furthersurprise. Bouncer took up his old post on thedeck above, seemingly free from any trace ofexcitement.

It was nearly half-past six in the morningwhen Joe next opened his eyes. In a hurry heroused his chum. Donning bathing trunks andshirts both dropped over the side for a refreshingswim. Then after drying and dressing, Halsteadwent forward into the galley, while Joesnatched a few minutes at the work left overfrom the night.

Breakfast was a hurried affair, for there wasstill much to do about the motor. It was afternine o’clock when Tom stood back, looking oninquiringly while Joe put on the finishingtouches.

“Now I’ll turn on the gasoline and see ifwe can get any news,” proposed Joe. Afew moments later he started the ignitionapparatus and gave the drive wheel a fewturns.

Chug! chug! the engine began slowly. Joe, oil can in hand, looked on with the attention ofa scientist making an experiment. Bit by bit heincreased the speed of the engine, smoothing thework with oil.

“Give us a little time and the old motor’llmote,” observed Dawson quietly.

“Yes,” nodded Tom equally observant.

Had they been more of amateurs at the workthey would have felt elated, for the engine respondedto all increased speeds that were tried.But these two had worked enough about motorsto know that such an engine may come to acreaking stop when everything appears to berunning at the best.

Chug! chug! It was a cheery sound as theminutes went by and the motor did better andbetter.

“I’m almost hopeful that everything is inshape,” declared Dawson at last.

“Good morning, boys!” came a pleasant hailfrom the pier. “I see everything is in fine trim.”

“It looks that way, Mr. Dunstan,” answeredTom, stepping up above and, by way of salute, bringing his hand to the visor of the Club’s uniformcap that he had donned this morning.“But motors are sometimes cranky. We don’tdare begin to brag just yet.”

“This morning’s mail brought me a letterfrom Mr. Prescott,” went on the owner, holdingup an envelope. “He has written me sevenpages about you. It seems that you are greatpets of my friend’s. He tells me that I canplace every confidence in you.”

“Why, that’s mighty nice of Mr. Prescott,”replied Tom quietly. He was greatly pleased, nevertheless, for he could now see that Mr. Dunstan’sopinion of them had gone up severalnotches.

“Well, well,” continued the owner, as heglanced smilingly down into the engine room;“are you going to cast off now and take me overto Nantucket? It’s four days since I’ve seen myhome and that lucky little rascal, Ted.”

Tom didn’t know or inquire who Ted was orwhy that “rascal” was so very fortunate. Insteadhe replied:

“We were thinking of a little trial trip first, sir, just to see how the craft will behave underway.”

“Good enough,” nodded the owner. “ButI’m aboard, so why can’t I go with you?”

“Of course you can, sir.”

Tom ran ashore to cast off while Joe did somelast fussing over the motor. Having cast thestern-line aboard and coiled it, Tom now cameforward, throwing off the bowline, boardingwith it.

“Start her up at very slow speed ahead, Joe,”called down the young captain, taking his placeat the wheel and throwing it over a little.

With the first throbs of the propeller the“Meteor” began to glide away from the pier.Mr. Dunstan had taken his post at Halstead’sright. The water being deep enough, the youngcaptain moved out confidently.

“Just a little more speed, Joe,” Tom called, when the pier end was some two hundred yardsastern.

A little faster and still a little faster the propellershaft turned, until it settled down to goodwork. The “Meteor” was moving at abouttwelve miles an hour.

“Fine!” cried Mr. Dunstan joyously.“We’re all right now.”

“We’re not yet quite out of the – well, I won’tsay woods, but sea woods,” smiled Tom quietly.

“I’m forgetting my duty,” cried Mr.Dunstan in sudden self-reproach. “I mustact a bit as pilot until you know these watersbetter.”

“Why, I studied the chart, sir, nearly all theway from Portland,” replied Tom. “I thinkI am picking up the marks of the course allright.”

“You can’t see Nantucket from here, but canyou point straight to it?” inquired Mr. Dunstan.

“I’m heading straight along the usual coursenow,” Tom replied.

“Right! You are. I guess you know yourway from the chart, though you’ve never seenthese waters before. Keep on. I won’t interfereunless I see you going wrong.”

“Shall I head straight on for the island?”asked Halstead. “Or would you rather keepclose to the mainland until we see how theengine behaves?”

“Keep right on, captain, unless your judgmentforbids.”

Tom, therefore, after a brief talk with hischum through the open hatchway, held to hiscourse, to the south of which lay the big islandof Martha’s Vineyard, now well populated bysummer pleasure seekers.

Notch by notch Joe let out the speed, thoughhe was too careful to be in a hurry about that.He wanted to study his machine until he knewit as he did the alphabet. Every fresh spurtpleased the owner greatly.

“Your Club has some great fellows in it ifyou two are specimens,” said Mr. Dunstan delightedly.“Prescott knew what he was writingwhen he told me to stand by anything youwanted to do.”

By the time when they had the Vineyard fairlysouth of them and the craft was going at morethan a twenty-mile gait, Tom judged that heshould inform the owner of the happening of thenight before. He therefore called Joe up fromthe motor to take the wheel. Then Halstead toldMr. Dunstan what had taken place, exhibitingthe fragment of cloth secured by Bouncer andconnecting this, in theory, with the swarthy manthey had seen aboard the train.

Bouncer, looking up in his master’s face andwhining, seemed anxious to confirm Tom Halstead’snarration.

“Why, there’s something about all this thatwill make it well for us all to keep our eyesopen,” said Mr. Dunstan.

Tom, watching the owner’s face, felt that thatgentleman had first looked somewhat alarmed, then much more annoyed.

“There’s something that doesn’t please himand I shouldn’t think it would,” the young captainreflected. “Yet, whatever it is he doesn’tintend to tell me, just yet, at all events. I hopeit’s nothing in the way of big mischief thatthreatens.”

“Of course I’d suggest, sir,” Tom observedfinally, “that Dawson and myself sleep aboardnights.”

“You may as well,” nodded the owner, andagain Tom thought he saw a shadow of worrimentin the other’s eyes.

“Are you going to let Bouncer stay aboard, too, sir?” Tom asked.

“Ordinarily I think I’ll let the dog sleep atthe house nights,” replied Mr. Dunstan, immediately after looking as though he were tryingto dismiss some matter from his mind.

Joe, too, had been keen enough to scent thefact that, though Mr. Dunstan tried to appearwholly at his ease, yet something was giving thatgentleman a good deal of cause for thought.Mr. Dunstan even went aft, presently, seatinghimself in one of the armchairs and smokingtwo cigars in succession rather rapidly.

“We’ve put something into his mind thatdoesn’t lie there easily,” hinted Joe.

“But, of course, it’s none of our business unlesshe chooses to tell us,” replied Halstead.

A little later Joe Dawson went down into theengine room to get the best reasonable work outof the motor. Even at racing speed the “Meteor’s”bow wave was not a big one. Therewas almost an absence of spray dashing overthe helmsman. Tom did not need to put on oilskins,as he had often done on the “Sunbeam.”The “Meteor’s” bow lines were so beautiful andgraceful, so well adapted to an ideal racingcraft, that the bridge deck in ordinary weatherwas not a wet place.

As they neared cool, wind-swept Nantucket,Mr. Dunstan came forward once more, to pointout the direction of his own place. This lay onthe west side of the island. As they ran incloser the owner pointed out the mouth of a cove.

“We’ve come over in two hours,” announcedMr. Dunstan, consulting his watch as theyneared the cove.

“Now that we understand the boat and theengine,” answered Tom, “we ought to go overthe course in less than an hour and a half.”

“Fine!” pronounced the owner. “That’swhat the boat was built for. Do that and I canmake the trip to my Boston offices every weekday – if I decide that it’s best to do so.”

Tom noted a certain hesitancy about those lastfew words. Again he felt sure that some mysterythreatened the owner’s peace of mind.

Into the cove and up alongside the pier the“Meteor” was run. From here large and handsomegrounds and a huge white house, the latterwell back from the water, were visible.

“We’ll leave Bouncer on board for the present,”said Mr. Dunstan. “I’ll take you up tothe house so you can get used to the place. Byand by we’ll have lunch. And I want to showyou my boy, Ted.”

CHAPTER III – THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD

Hardly had Mr. Dunstan’s new boatcrew followed him ashore when awhooping yell sounded from up theroad that led to the house. Then into sightdashed a boy mounted on a pony. On they cameat a full gallop, the boy reining up with a jerkwhen barely six feet from his father.

“Careful, Ted!” warned Mr. Dunstan laughingly.“Don’t ride me down. You’re notyet through with your use for a father, youknow.”

“I was trying to show you, dad, how Sheridanand I are learning our paces together,” repliedthe youngster. He was a rather slightly builtboy, with clustering yellow hair and gray eyes.He wore a khaki suit and a sombrero modeledafter the Army campaign hat. Even his saddlewas of the Army type, being a miniature McClellanin model.

Tom liked this lad after the first look. Therewas something whole-souled about this little fellowwith the laughing eyes. And, though hehad been reared in a home of wealth, there wasnothing in the least snobbish in the way hesuddenly turned to regard the Motor Boat Clubboys.

“Ted, Captain Halstead and his friend, Dawson,”said Mr. Dunstan. “You’ll be glad toknow that they’ve got the ‘Meteor’ in runningorder again.”

Ted was careful to dismount before he offeredhis hand, with graceful friendliness, toeach of the boys.

“You’ve made dad happy if you’ve got hisboat to running again,” laughed Master Ted.

“And you? Aren’t you fond of motor boating?”queried Tom.

“Oh, yes; after a fashion, I suppose,” repliedthe Dunstan hopeful deliberately. “Butthen, you see, I’m cut out for a soldier. I’m togo into the Army, you know, and anything to dowith salt water smacks a bit too much of theNavy.”

All of which remarkable declaration MasterTed made as though he imagined these new acquaintancesunderstood all about his futureplans.

“The Army is fond of the Navy, of course,”the lad added by way of explanation. “Yet, toa soldier, the Army is the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see,” smiled Captain Tom, though intruth he didn’t “see” in the least.

“Yes, Ted’s to be a soldier. He’s doomed – or destined – tothat career,” nodded Mr. Dunstangood-humoredly. “There’s a whole longstory to that, Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawsonshall hear the story later. But for nowwe’d better get up to the house.”

Master Ted evidently took this as a hint thatthe subject was to be pursued no further forthe present, for he merely said in a very graciousway:

“Of course, I shall see you again. So nowI’ll take myself off – with Sheridan.”

Resting his left hand through the bridle andgripping the pony’s mane, Master Ted used hisright hand to strike the pony a smart blow overthe rump. As the pony bounded forward thelad made a flying leap into the saddle. It wassuch a flying start as almost to startle Tom andJoe.

“He rides like a cowboy,” declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted youngster outof sight.

“He has need to, I fancy,” replied Mr. Dunstangravely. “That is, since he’s going intothe Army, for Ted wouldn’t be satisfied with beinganything less than a cavalryman.”

As Mr. Dunstan’s last words or the tone inwhich they were uttered seemed to dismiss thesubject, Halstead and his chum knew that theywere not to be further enlightened for the present.They followed their employer up to thehouse.

He took them into a roomy, old-fashionedlooking library, with heavy furniture, and, excusinghimself, left them. He soon returned tosay:

“The family are now at luncheon, all exceptMaster Ted, so I have given instructions to haveluncheon served to us in here presently.”

In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstanand the boys. It tasted rarely good aftertheir hasty snatches of food aboard the boat.When it was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair onthe porch, lighted a cigar and said:

“I’m going to take it easy for a while.Would you like to look about the grounds?”

Tom and his chum strolled about. They foundit a delightful country place, covering someforty acres. There was a large stable, a carriagehouse and a garage which contained abig touring car. There were greenhouses, apoultry place and a small power house thatsupplied electric light to the buildings andgrounds.

“It looks like the place of a man who hasenough money, but who doesn’t care about makinga big splurge,” commented Joe.

“It also looks like the place of an easy-goingman,” replied Halstead. “I wonder how a manlike Mr. Dunstan came to get the motor-boatcraze?”

“Oh, I imagine he likes to live out on thisbeautiful old island, and merely keeps the boatas a means of reaching business,” suggestedDawson.

After an hour or more they returned to thehouse to find Mr. Dunstan placidly asleep in thesame porch chair. So the boys helped themselvesto seats, kept quiet and waited. Theywere still in doubt as to whether their employerwanted to use the boat later in the day. Theirswas a long wait, but at last Mr. Dunstan awoke, glanced at his watch and looked at the boys.

“Becoming bored?” he smiled.

“Oh, no,” Tom assured him, “but I’ve hadhard work to keep from falling sound asleep.”

“Have you seen Master Ted lately?”

“Not since we first met him down by thepier.”

“That’s a youngster with quite a picturesquefuture ahead of him, I imagine,” continued Mr.Dunstan. “I call him the luckiest boy alive.Perhaps he is not quite that, but he is going tobe a very rich man if he follows a certaincareer.”

“It must be an Army career, then,” hintedHalstead.

“It is, just that. And I suppose I might aswell tell you the story, if it would interest youany. A lot of people know the story now, sothere’s no harm in repeating it.”

Their host paused to light a cigar before heresumed:

“Ours used to be a good deal of a militaryfamily. In fact, every generation supplied twoor three good soldiers. There were five Dunstans, all officers, serving in the War of theRevolution. There were four in the War of1812, two in the War with Mexico and two inthe Civil War. We gradually fell off a bit, yousee, in the numbers we supplied to the Army.The two who served in the Civil War wereuncles of mine. My father didn’t go – wasn’tphysically fit. There were three of us brothers,Gregory, Aaron and myself. Both were olderthan I. Aaron would have made a fine soldier, but he was always weakly. The fact that hecouldn’t wear the uniform almost broke hisheart. Yet Aaron had one fine talent. He knewhow to make money almost without trying. Infact, he died a very rich man.

“Greg, on the other hand, was what I expectyou would call the black sheep of the family. Hewent to Honduras years ago. He’s a planter, doing fairly well there, I suppose. He’s prettywild, just as he used to be. He’s always gettingmixed up in the many revolutions that they havedown in that little republic of Honduras. Oneof these days I’m afraid he’ll be shot by a fileof government soldiers for being mixed up insome new revolutionary plot.

“My brother Aaron never married. Greghas two daughters, but no sons. Ted is my onlyson and Aaron just worshiped the lad as thelast of the race. Aaron wanted Ted to becomea soldier and keep the family in the Army. Theyoungster was willing enough, but I didn’twholly fancy it. However, my brother Aarondied a little while ago and I found he had fixedthe matter so that Ted will have to be a soldier.”

“How could your brother do that?” askedTom.

“Why, you see, under the will, brother Gregis let off with one hundred thousand dollars andI get the same. But there’s a proviso in thewill that if, within ninety days from Aaron’sdeath, Ted appears in probate court with me orother guardian, and there both Ted and myselfpromise that he shall be reared for the UnitedStates Army, then half a million dollars is tobe paid over to myself or other guardian, intrust for the boy. The income from that halfmillion is to be used to rear and educate him.But Ted, as a part of his promise, must makeevery effort to get himself appointed a cadet atWest Point.”

“Some other boy might get the cadetshipaway from him,” suggested Joe Dawson.

“In case Ted simply can’t win a West Pointcadetship,” replied Mr. Dunstan, “then, at theage of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him toenlist in the Army as a private soldier and doall in his power to win an officer’s commissionfrom the ranks.”

“Even then, there’s a chance to fail,” hintedTom.

“If the lad fails absolutely to get a commissionin the Army,” responded Mr. Dunstan, “hewill lose a lot of money – that’s all. There isanother fund, amounting to two and a half milliondollars, that is to be kept at interest untilthe young man is thirty. By that time themoney, through compound interest, will bemuch more than doubled. On Ted’s thirtiethbirthday all that huge sum of money is to beturned over to him if he has won, somehow, acommission as an officer of the Army. If he hastried, but failed, then the money is to be devotedto various public purposes.

“But if Ted fails to go into probate court ontime, with myself or other guardian, and havethe promise made a matter of record, thenhe loses everything. In that case I get thesame hundred thousand dollars as otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only ahundred thousand is to get a cool milliondollars.”

“Isn’t your brother Gregory likely to contestsuch a will?” asked Tom thoughtfully.

“The will provides that, if he does contest, heshall lose even his hundred thousand dollars,”Mr. Dunstan replied. “I have had great lawyersgo all over the will, but they can’t find asingle flaw through which it can be broken. Yousee, the will is right in line with what lawyerscall ‘public policy.’ It’s altogether to the publicinterest to have the boys of our best old families,as of the best new ones, brought up with theidea that, they’re to give their lives to the serviceof their country. So the will is bound tostand against any contest, and if Greg or myselftried to break it we’d only cheat ourselvesout of goodly sums of money.”

“Then Master Ted, of course,” pursued Tom,“has been or is going before the probate courtto have the promise recorded.”

“To-day is Tuesday,” answered Mr. Dunstan.“The ninety days are up next Monday. On thatday there will be a short session of probate courtand Ted and I are going to be on hand.”

“Is this the first time probate court has beenin session since the will was read, sir?” askedHalstead.

“Oh, no,” replied their employer in his mosteasy-going tone. “But there was no hurry andI wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time toconsider the matter. Next Monday, beingwithin the required ninety days, will do as wellas any other time.”

“Well, of all the easy-going men!” gaspedTom inwardly. “To think, with such a big fortuneat stake, of dilly-dallying until the very lastday of all!”

“So, you see, Ted really is a very lucky boy,”finished Mr. Dunstan.

“I should say he is!” breathed Halstead, hisface flushing at the thought. He would havebeen happy over a West Point cadetship withoutany enormous reward.

“The luckiest boy I ever heard of!” ventedJoe, his nerves a-thrill over this story of one ofFortune’s greatest favorites. “No wonder yourson, sir, is so eager about being a soldier.”

“Is your brother Gregory in this countrynow?” asked Tom slowly.

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” almostdrawled their employer. “The last I heard ofhim he was still on his plantation in Honduras, probably hatching more revolutionary plots andgiving the government a good excuse for sendingits soldiers to shoot him one of these days.But I do know that, for a while, Greg had Americanlawyers hard at work trying to find someway to smash Aaron’s will. They gave it up, though, and so did Greg, after hearing from methat Master Ted was wild to follow a soldier’scareer.”

Both boys were silent for some time. Yet, ifthey did no talking, their thoughts very nearlyran riot. To them it seemed that Ted Dunstan’slot in life lay in all the bright places of gloryand fortune. How they would have relishedsuch a grand chance!

“By the way,” said Mr. Dunstan, risingslowly and stretching, “I haven’t seen theyoungster in hours. I think I’ll locate him andbring him around here.”

He went into the house. Within the next tenminutes two of the men servants left the house, running hurriedly out of sight in different directions.At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Dunstanhimself appeared, looking actually worried.

“We can’t seem to find Ted anywhere,” heconfessed uneasily. “The young man hasn’tbeen seen since he stabled his pony at half-pasttwelve. I thought he would lunch with Mrs.Dunstan; she thought he was lunching with us.We’ve sent all about the grounds, we’ve telephonedthe neighbors and the town, and all withoutavail. The pony is in the stable and theyoung man seems to have disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” repeated Tom Halstead, springing to his feet, electrified by the news.“Don’t you think it more likely, sir, he’s beenhelped to disappear?”

“You think he may have been spiritedaway?” demanded Mr. Dunstan. “But why?”

“Haven’t you yourself told us, sir, that itwould be worth some one’s trouble, to the extentof nine hundred thousand dollars, to havethe boy vanish?” asked Tom breathlessly.

“You suspect my brother?”

“Pardon me, sir, for forgetting that GregoryDunstan is your brother,” Tom went on whitening.“Yet that talk about disabling the ‘Meteor’!The man who looked like a Spaniard – butthe people of Honduras are of Spanish descent.Why should anyone want to disable the‘Meteor,’ unless to stop a pursuit by water?You yourself have told us that your brother hasa weakness for mixing up in revolutions downin Honduras.”

All this Halstead had shot out jerkily, thinkingeven faster than he spoke.

“But at this very moment Greg is down inHonduras,” objected Mr. Dunstan.

“Even if he is, wouldn’t friends of his, whomay want funds for a new revolution, see howeasy it was to get the money through gettingTed out of the way?” asked Tom quickly.“Grant that your brother is wholly innocent ofany plot about your son. Wouldn’t supposedfriends of his perhaps be willing to spirit theboy away, knowing that if the big money prizewent to your brother, Gregory Dunstan couldafterwards be persuaded to throw his fortuneinto some new revolutionary cause?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all possible – horribly possible,”admitted Mr. Dunstan, covering his facewith his hands. “And Greg, who is a citizenof Honduras now, has even had aspirations inthe way of becoming president of Honduras.Halstead, I will admit that I had even thoughtof the possibility of some just such attempt asthis, and yet in broad daylight I dismissed it allas idle dreaming. And now Ted’s gone – heavenonly knows what has become of him!”

“Of course,” put in Joe coolly, “it may turnout that the youngster just went fishing. Hemay walk in any moment for his supper.”

“But he went without his lunch,” retortedMr. Dunstan. “That was wholly unlike Ted.”

“The ‘Meteor’ may be disabled now,” brokein Tom. “If she isn’t, won’t it be more thanwell worth while to get the craft out and goscouting through these waters?”

“Yes, yes!” cried Mr. Dunstan. “Come on, boys.”

As they raced down through the groundsthey espied the coachman returning.

“Come along, Michael!” shouted Mr. Dunstan.Then, to the boys he explained:

“If the ‘Meteor’ is fit to go out, Michael cango along with you. If there’s any fighting he’sa heavy-fisted, bull-necked fellow who’d face aregiment of thieves.”

Joe had the key of the engine-room hatchwayout in his hand before they reached the pier.In a jiffy he had the sliding door unlocked, almostleaping down into the engine room. Withswift hands he set the engine in motion.

“All right here,” he reported, while Bouncer, just liberated, frisked about his master’s legsand then whined.

“Keep the bulldog aboard, too, Michael,”called Mr. Dunstan, as he stepped ashore.“Start at once, Captain Halstead. Go as farand wide as you can and hail any craft youthink may have news. Michael, I rely upon youto use your fists if there’s need.”

“If there’s the chanst!” grinned the Irishmanreadily.

“I’ll run back to the house and get in touchwith the police,” Mr. Dunstan shouted backover his shoulder.

Tom sprinted aft along the pier, throwing thestern-line aboard. He leaped aboard forwardwith the bowline, not stopping then to coil it.

Not even calling to Joe, whose head wasbarely six feet away, young Captain Tom Halsteadgave the bridge bellpull a single jerk. Asthe response sounded in the engine room alertJoe gave the engine slow speed ahead. Tomthrew the wheel over and the fine boat glidedout from her berth.

Two bells! Full speed ahead! The “Meteor”forged forward, gaining headway everymoment. The hunt for missing Ted Dunstanwas started in earnest.

CHAPTER IV – SIGHTING THE “PIRATE”

“How much speed do you want for thistrip?” asked Joe, poking his headup through the hatchway as soon asthe “Meteor” was running smoothly northward.

“On a hunt like this I think Mr. Dunstan willwant us to burn gasoline,” Tom answered.“Give her about all the speed she can make.”

“That means twenty-five miles – or more?”insisted Dawson.

“Twenty-five will be close enough to goingfast,” Tom replied.

Almost immediately the fast motor boat beganto leap through the water. Though the boatminded her helm sensitively, Halstead restedboth hands upon the wheel, watching intentlyahead.

“Hey! What you trying to do? Swamp us, with your wake?” demanded an irate fishermanin a dory, as they raced past him.

But they had gone only close enough to enablebig Michael, standing on the deck house, topeer at the inside of the dory.

Several other small craft without cabins theyran close to in the same manner, making surethat no stolen boy was on any of them.

Up near Great Point they encountered a cabinsloop. Michael, however, recognized a clergymanfriend as one of this party, so Halsteadpassed them with only a friendly toot from theauto whistle.

Then down around the east coast of Nantucketthey sped, further out to sea now, since inshoreno craft were observed. They kept on untilthe south coast, too, had been passed, but therewas no sign to gladden their eyes nor arousetheir suspicions. Next along the south shore ofthe island the “Meteor” raced, and on out toMuskeget Island. From this point they hadonly to round the latter island and steer straightback for the inlet where Mr. Dunstan’s pier lay.

“Sure, I don’t like to go back stumped likethis,” growled Michael.

“No more do I,” rejoined Tom. “Say, we’vegot daylight enough; I’m going to retrace ourwhole course and keep in closer to shore.”

Joe, who for some time had been on deck, nodded his approval. Cutting a wide sweep,Tom headed back, going now within a quarterof a mile of the shore.

“It begins to look,” hinted Joe, “as thoughwhoever is leading the young Dunstan heirastray hasn’t taken him off the island of Nantucketat all.”

“There are plenty of hiding places on Nantucket, aren’t there?” inquired Tom, turning tothe big coachman.

“Plenty,” nodded Michael, “if the rapscallionsknew their way about the old island. But,by the same token, the rascals would be in plentyof danger of being found by the constables.”

“Of course Mr. Dunstan is having the localofficers search,” pondered Tom aloud. “Hesaid he would. He can telegraph the mainlandfrom the island, too, can’t he, Michael?”

“Sure,” nodded the coachman.

“Then Mr. Dunstan must have waked upsome pretty big searching parties by this time, both on the island and on the mainland,” Halsteadconcluded. “But see here, Michael, whywouldn’t it be a good plan to put you ashore?You can telephone Mr. Dunstan and see ifthere’s any news.”

“And if there ain’t any,” suggested the Irishman,“I might as well be going home acrossthe island on foot, and keeping me eyesopen. I can ask questions as I go along, andmaybe be the first of all to find out any ralenews.”

“That’ll be the best plan of any,” approvedHalstead. “It begins to look more sure, everyminute, that we’re not going to need your finelot of muscle.”

At the lower end of the east coast of the islandTom remembered having seen a pier that wouldserve them for landing the Irishman. Theymade for that pier accordingly and Michaelleaped ashore.

“I’ll telephone and then come back withinsight,” the coachman called back to them, ashe started. “If ’tis good news I’m hearing, I’llthrow up me hat two or three times. If ’tis nonews, I’ll wave a hand.”

The “Meteor” then fell off, but kept to herbearings while ten minutes passed. ThenMichael appeared in sight from the shore. Hewaved one hand and signed to the boys to keepon their course.

“Too bad!” sighed Tom. “But it makes itmore certain than ever now, doesn’t it, Joe, thatsome real disaster has happened to young TedDunstan? It’s past the lad’s dinner time now.No healthy boy goes without either luncheon ordinner, unless there’s a big reason for it.”

“Unless Ted has merely gone to some friend’shome and has forgotten to notify his parents,”suggested Dawson.

“But Ted doesn’t strike me as the boy who’slikely to do that. He’s a fine little fellow, andI don’t believe he’d be guilty of being so inconsiderateas to leave home for hours withouttelling some one.”

They had the “Meteor” under full headwaynow. Tom, with one hand on the wheel, kept akeen lookout. They had run along some mileswhen Halstead gave a sudden gasp, made adive for the rack beside the wheel that held thebinoculars and called sharply:

“Take the wheel, Joe!”

With that Tom Halstead bounded down intothe engine room. Over at one of the openportholes he raised the marine glasses to hiseyes.

“What’s the matter?” called down Joe, filledwith the liveliest curiosity.

“Matter enough!” came his chum’s excitedrejoinder. “Don’t look when I tell you. Keepyour eyes on your course ahead. But you sawthat little pier over at port?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you noticed a man sitting there?”

“I did,” Joe admitted.

“When I first saw him,” Tom went on, showinghis animated face at the hatchway, “I didn’tthink much about him. But the second time Ilooked I thought I saw something that broughtback recollections. That was why I came downhere for a near-sighted peep through the glasses.The fellow couldn’t see me down here and soought not to suspect that we have noticed himparticularly.”

“But who is he?” cried Joe eagerly.

“Oh, he’s the right man, all right,” Tom retortedperhaps vaguely. “He’s got on eitherthe same pair or another pair just like ’em.”

“Pair? Of what?” demanded Joe.

“Trousers, of course, you dull old simpleton!”whipped out Halstead. “Joe, it’s thesame old pattern of brown, striped – ”

“The Span – ”

“The pirate, I call him,” growled Halstead, stepping up on deck and replacing the binocularsin their rack without another look ashore. Theywere rapidly leaving astern the solitary oneseated against the pier rail.

“Do you think – ” began Joe, but Tom gavehim no chance to finish.

“I don’t think anything,” broke in Halstead, alive with energy. “I am going to know – that’swhat.”

Tom took the wheel himself, swinging thecraft around a point of land just ahead.

“Look back, Joe. This shuts us out from thesight of that striped pirate, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” nodded Dawson.

Tom shut off the speed, adding:

“Stand ready, Joe, to use speed or wheel, andkeep her about so-so. I’m going to lower thedingey into the water and row ashore. I’ll riga line to her stern, so you can haul her back.Don’t bother to get the small boat up at thedavits. Just make her fast astern. Andthen – ”

“Wait here for you,” guessed Joe.

“No, as soon as you get the dingey made fast, put on headway and run the boat back to Mr.Dunstan’s pier. Report to him, telling him justwhat I’m doing and assure him I won’t be afraidto telephone if I learn anything worth while.I’ll get over to his place as soon as I can, laterin the evening.”

Tom got the small boat into the water, leftone end of a small rope in Joe’s hands androwed somewhat more than a hundred feet tothe beach. From there he waved his hand. Joebegan to haul in on the line. Within thirty feetof the beach the woods began; Halstead wasquickly lost to his chum’s sight.

Full darkness came on while Tom was stillin the woods heading cautiously south. As hehastened along, making little or no noise, Halsteadwondered what he would do with the manin case he discovered him to be really one ofthe pair who had sat in the seat ahead on thetrain.

“I suppose I’d better wait and make up mymind after I’m sure it is the same fellow,” Tomconcluded.

The young skipper did not, at any time on thisswift walk, move far from the shore line. Atlast he came to the edge of the woods, a veryshort distance from the pier he was seeking.There was still a man there, seated on the railof the pier. There were some bushes, too, to aidin shielding the boy’s forward progress if heused care. Tom went down, almost flat, thencrept forward, moving swiftly, silently, betweenbushes.

At last he was near enough to be sure of hisman, trousers and all. It was the same manHalstead had seen on the train. The “pirate”was at this moment engaged in rolling a cigarette.

CHAPTER V – A JOKE ON THE ENEMY

The slight, swarthy stranger rolled hiscigarette up nicely, moistening the edgeof the paper, stuck the thing between hislips, lighted the tobacco and began to smoke inevident enjoyment.

“That’s my party, all right,” quivered Tom.“And now I’ve found him what on earth am Igoing to do with him?”

That was a new poser. Halstead had been sointent on identifying his suspect that, now herecognized him, he must figure out what wasto be done.

“If the fellow is all right he ought to haveno objections to going along with me and answeringquestions. If he won’t do that” – hereTom’s eyes began to flash – “I believe I’ll makehim. This is a business that calls for sternmeasures. This fellow belongs to the crowdthat must know all about Ted Dunstan’s disappearance.”

Yet, to look at him, one would hardly suspectthe swarthy man leaning against the pier railof being a conspirator. As he smoked he appearedto be wholly at peace with himself andwith the world. He did not seem to have a careon earth.

As he still crouched behind a bush, watchingthe nearby fellow in the dark, an impulse ofmischief came to Tom Halstead. He rememberedthat night prowling about the “Meteor”over at Wood’s Hole, and he remembered howBouncer had frightened this same man.

“Gr-r-r-r!” sounded Tom suddenly from behindthe bush. “Gr-r-r-r! Woof! Woof!”

It was a splendid imitation of the growl andbark of a bulldog. At the same instant Tommade a semi-spring through the bush.

The “pirate” uttered a wordless howl offright. He lurched, attempted to recover himselfand leap at the same instant, and —

Splash! There was another howl of terroras the man slipped over backward, then, head-first, struck the water at the side of the pier.

“Help! I drown!” came in a muffled voice, and a new note of terror sounded on the night.

Now drowning anyone was as far from TomHalstead’s mind as could be. With an upwardbound he sprinted out onto the pier, bendingunder the rail close to where the frightened onewas making huge rings on the water in hisstruggle to keep up.

In his efforts the fellow reached one of thepiles of the pier, hanging to it in mortal terror.

“Help, help, kind sir!” he pleaded hoarsely.“Not a stroke do I swim. Pull me out before Idrown.”

Throwing himself upon the pier, Tom bentdown with both hands.

“Here, catch hold,” he hailed. “You’re inno danger. I’ll pull you out all right.”

It was some moments before Tom could persuadehis “pirate” to let go that frantic clutchat the pile. But at length Halstead drew hisdripping suspect up onto the boards of thepier.

“Where is that terrible, that miser-r-rabledog!” panted the swarthy one, glaring abouthim.

“That’s all right,” Tom answered composedly.“There isn’t any dog.”

“But – but I heard him,” protested the other, still nervous, as he stared suspiciously aroundhim. “The wr-r-retched animal sprang for me.His teeth almost grazed my leg.”

Such was the power of imagination – a finetribute to Tom’s skill as a mimic.

“Aren’t you thinking of the other night, overat Wood’s Hole, when you tried to get aboardthe ‘Meteor’ to wreck the engine?”

Halstead shot this question out with disconcertingsuddenness. The young skipper lookedstraight, keenly, into the other’s eyes, standingso that he could prevent the stranger’s suddenbolt from the pier.

“I? What do you talk about?” demanded theforeigner, pretending astonishment.

“Oh, I know all about you,” nodded Tom.“You’re the party.”

“Be careful, boy! You insult me!” cried theother angrily.

“That’s all right, then,” Tom went on coolly.“Now maybe I’m going to insult you a littlemore. The trouble is, I need information, andyou’re the best one to give it to me. Where’sTed Dunstan?”

“I – I – you – ” stammered the foreigner.“What do I know about Ted Dunstan? No, no,no! You are wrong. I have not seen the boy – donot know him.”

“Yet you appear to know that he is a boy,”insisted Tom sternly. “Come, now, if you won’ttalk with me you’d better walk along with me, and we’ll find some one you’ll be more willingto answer.”

“How? I walk with you? Boy, do not be afool,” retorted the swarthy one angrily. “Ishall not walk with you. I do not like yourcompany.”

“I’m not sure that I like yours, either,” retortedthe boy. “But there are times when Icannot afford to be particular. Come, whyshould you object to walking along with me?All I propose is that we find the nearest constableand that you answer his questions. Theconstable will decide whether to hold you ornot.”

“Step aside,” commanded the swarthy manimperiously. Full of outraged dignity he attemptedto brush past the young skipper. ButTom Halstead, both firm and cool, now that hismind was made up, took a grip on the fellow’sleft arm.

“Take your hand off! Let me go!” screamedthe fellow, his eyes ablaze with passion. “Outof my way, idiot, and take yourself off!”

As the swarthy one struggled to free himselfTom only tightened his grip, much as the bullpup would have done.

“Don’t be disagreeable,” urged Tom.“Come, my request is a very proper one. I’monly asking you to go before one of the officersof the law. No honest man can really objectto that.”

“You – ” screamed the foreigner.

He shot his right hand suddenly into a jacketpocket. But Tom, watching every movementalertly, let go of the fellow’s left arm, makinga bound and seizing his right arm with bothstrong hands. There was a fierce struggle, butHalstead’s muscles had been toughened byexercise and by many days of hard work at a steeringwheel in rough weather. This slight manfrom another country was no match for theAmerican boy.

Down they went to the flooring of the pierwith a crash, but young Halstead was uppermost.In another twinkling he was bending theswarthy one’s right arm until that fellow wasready to sue for a truce.

Tom now held him helpless, kneeling on him.

“What were you trying to fish out of thatjacket pocket?” demanded the young motor boatcaptain, thrusting his own hand in. He drewout something and held it up briefly – a claspknife.

“A coward’s tool!” uttered Tom, his voiceringing scornfully. Then he threw the claspknife far out so that it splashed in the water.“Why don’t you cultivate a man’s muscle andfight like a man, instead of toting around thingslike that? Come, get up on your feet.”

Bounding up, Halstead yanked the other upright.In a twinkling the swarthy man brokefrom him, sprinting off the pier.

“You haven’t learned to run right, either,”grinned Halstead, dashing after the “pirate”and gripping a hand in his collar.

That brought them facing each other again.How the swarthy one glared at his resoluteyoung captor! They were about of a height, these two, and might have weighed about thesame. But the man possessed nowhere near thestrength of this sea-toughened boy.

“Now see here,” spoke Tom more pleasantly,“I’m doing what I think is right or I wouldn’tventure to be so rough. Walk along with mesensibly, until we can find out where a constablelives. I’ve got the best of you and you realizeI can do it again. But I don’t want to be roughwith you. It goes against the grain.”

The swarthy one’s only answer was to glareat the young skipper with a look full of hate.

Tom suddenly changed his tone.

“I know what you’re thinking of, myman,” he cried tauntingly. “You are justthinking to yourself what a fine time you’dhave with me if you had me down in Honduras – whereyour friends do things in a differentway!”

The taunt told, for the stranger’s eyesgleamed with malice.

“Ah, in good Honduras!” he hissed. “Yes,if I had you there, and – ”

He stopped as suddenly as he had begun.

“That’s just what I wanted to know,” mockedHalstead. “Honduras is your country, and nowI know to a dot why you’re interested in havingTed Dunstan vanish and stay vanished for awhile. Come along, now. We’ll keep right onuntil we find that constable!”

Tom seized the stranger’s right arm in earnestnow. The other held back, as though hewould resist, but suddenly changed his mind.

“You are somewhat the stronger – withhands,” he said in an ugly tone. “So I shall gowith you. But perhaps you will much regretwhat you are doing to-night.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Tom jeered cheerily. “Atall events I’m doing the best I know how. AndI’m glad you’re not going to make any fuss. Ihate to be cranky with anyone.”

The place to which the pier belonged looked, from what Tom had been able to see of it, likea run-down coast farm. Away up on a hill tothe left were a dilapidated old farm house andother buildings. Halstead feared, though, thatthe stranger might have friends up at that houseand so decided to keep on through the woods atthe right.

Before long they struck a fairly well definedroad through the forest, a road that lookedas though it might lead to somewhere in particular.

“We’ll keep right on along this road, if youdon’t mind,” said the boy. He kept now only afair hold of the other’s wrist. As the swarthyone offered no opposition, they made passablygood speed over the road. But Tom, though helooked unconcerned, was wholly on the alert forany sudden move on the part of his captive.

“If I find I’m wholly in the wrong,” saidTom pleasantly, after they had gone at least aquarter of a mile in this fashion, “there isn’tanyone in the whole United States who’d bemore glad to make a complete apology.”

“But that will not save you from trouble,”breathed the swarthy one angrily. “The lawsof your country do not allow such high-handeddeeds as you have been guilty of.”

“Down in Honduras the laws are a bit different, aren’t they?” asked Halstead very pleasantly.

“Down in Honduras, they – ”

The swarthy one checked himself suddenly.

“That is the second time you have asked meabout Honduras,” he went on presently. “Whydo you say so much about Honduras?”

“I’ve trapped you into admitting that it’syour country,” laughed Halstead. “And thattells me, too, why you are so interested in havingTed Dunstan kept out of sight for the nextfew days.”

“What’s all this talk about Honduras?” demandeda gruff voice. The challenge madeboth jump. A stocky figure stepped alertly outfrom behind a tree. It was the solidly built, florid-faced man – the other of the pair Tomhad first seen in the seat ahead.

“Oh, you, you, you!” cried the swarthy onedelightedly, as he wrenched his captive wristfree from Halstead’s weakening clutch. “Youhave appeared in time, my friend!”

“So?” roared the florid-faced one, taking abusiness-like grip of Tom Halstead’s collar.“What was this young cub doing?”

“Doing?” cried the swarthy one, dancing inhis wrath, his eyes gleaming like coals. “Hehad the impudence, this boy, to say he wouldtake me to a constable. He insists that I knowall about one Ted Dunstan.”

“Does, eh?” growled the powerful, florid-facedone, giving Tom a mighty shake. “Thenwe’ll take care of this young man! Oh, we’llgive him a pleasant time!”

“Yes, yes! Just as we would in Honduras!”laughed the swarthy one gleefully. “He hasbeen asking much, just now, about the way theydo things in Honduras.”

“Then he’ll be sure to be just the lad who’llappreciate a little information at first hand!”jeered Tom’s captor.

CHAPTER VI – TOM HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR

“So the youngster was going to be high-handedwith ye, was he?” demandedthe florid-faced one, and despite the intensedarkness there in the woods, Tom Halsteadcould see the ugly gleam in his strong-handedcaptor’s eyes.

The swarthy one stepped to the other side ofhis friend and whispered something in thatworthy’s ear. It was a rather long communication.Though he tried with all his might tooverhear some of it, Halstead could not distinguisha single word. Yet, as the narrationproceeded, Tom felt that powerful grip on hiscoat collar increase in intensity.

“Well, we’ll take care of you, youngster,”declared the florid-faced one at last. “You’retoo big a nuisance to have at large! And asyou’ve been giving your time to other folks’business, we’ll take good care of your time afterthis! Come along now!”

Tom had not tried to resist and for a most excellentreason. He well knew that his presentcaptor could fell him like a log. Here no contestof muscles was to be thought of. Craft mustbe substituted for strength.

In the boy’s brain revolved swiftly many plansfor escape. Just as the florid-faced one startedto force him over the path lately taken the rightidea came to the young captive. He puckeredhis lips, emitting a shrill whistle.

Nor had he guessed wrongly. There was anecho here. Back on the air came almost theexact duplicate of the whistle Halstead had letloose.

In a jiffy both of his captors halted. Perhapsthey suspected it to be only an echo, but theywanted to make sure.

Quicker than a flash, though, before theycould make any tests for themselves, Halsteadshouted:

“Fine! Rush ’em quick, fellows! Jump on’em and hold ’em down. Don’t let either rascalget away!”

His voice was so joyous, so exultant, that itcompletely fooled the pair for an instant.Though the florid-faced one did not release thetightness of his grip on the young skipper’scoat collar, he, like the swarthy one, used hiseyes to look about in all directions.

That moment was enough for Tom Halstead, doubly quick-witted in his peril. His hands flewup the front of his uniform coat, ripping buttonsout of button holes at one swift move. Wrench!Tom slipped out of his coat, springing aheadunder the trees.

“Here, you! Come back here!” roared theflorid-faced one absurdly, as he plunged afterthe young fugitive. The swarthy one, too, joined in the chase, freeing himself of a torrentof Spanish words.

Tom Halstead had just a few seconds’ start, aided by the darkness that enveloped them all.A hundred yards or so Tom dashed, rathernoisily. Then, off at right angles to his formercourse he sped on tip-toe, nor did he go muchmore than fifty yards ere he landed up against astraight tree whose low-hanging limbs bore anabundant foliage.

Up this tree-trunk, without hesitation, shinnedthe young skipper, drawing himself well upamong the leaves in what he felt must be recordtime for such a feat.

For a few moments more he could hear hispursuers stumbling along the wrong course.Then he knew, by the sounds, that they hadturned back and were keeping well apart in thehope of covering more ground. But the uncertaintyof their steps, however, told the boy upthe tree that his pursuers were wholly off thetrail and giving up the chase. Then, veering, the florid-faced man and the swarthy one cametoward each other. They halted almost squarelyunder the tree that held young Halstead.

Tom’s first, throbbing thought was that theyhad tracked him here. He did not stir, but thegrim lines around his mouth deepened. Letthem try to get him then. They would have toclimb the tree to get at him and he meant tomake use of his hands and feet in defendinghimself.

“I can give them all they want for a while,”he told himself between his teeth. In fact, in hisexcitement he all but made his remark halfaloud.

“Well, he’s got away from us, all right,”growled the florid-faced one in a tone of mingleddisappointment and rage.

“We shall at least know him well after this,”sighed the swarthy one in a sinister tone.

“And I hope you’ll have your wish,” flaredlistening Tom indignantly, “though I’ll try tocontrol the time and place of meeting.”

“I’d rather have lost a thousand dollars thanthat boy,” went on the larger man gruffly.

“A thousand?” sneered the other. “Diablo!I’d give five thousand to have him in our handsthis moment.”

“And I believe I’d give more,” echoed Tomsilently, “to keep out of your clutches – if I hadthe money.”

Then, drawing closely together, the pair conversedin whispers. Again Tom groaned overhis hearing which, keen as it was, could get nothingconnected from the low tones of the pair onthe ground. Whatever they were saying, theseplotters must be terribly in earnest over something.In his eagerness Tom bent too far forward.His foot slipped. Frantically he clutchedat a branch overhead to save himself fromplunging to the ground. Of course the movemade some noise.

“Diablo! What was that? And so close, too!” demanded the smaller man.

“What?” demanded the larger man.

“That noise! Some one must be prowlingabout here,” continued the swarthy one in awhisper just loud enough to reach Tom’s ears.

As he spoke the Spaniard’s head turned insuch a way as to show that he was looking upinto the tree in which Tom stood. It was becominga truly bad quarter of an hour for theboy.

“I heard nothing,” said the other one gruffly.“Leastways, nothing more than some night animalstirring, maybe.”

“Let’s make a search of these trees,” proposedthe Spaniard.

Tom shivered. Danger was again comingmuch too close to please him.

“Come along,” rejoined the florid-faced oneimpatiently. “We’re wasting too much time, listening to the whisperings of the wind. Comealong, Alvarez.”

After a brief objection the one addressed asAlvarez turned and stepped off with his friend.They had not gone far when Tom Halsteadslipped down the tree trunk. Alarmed as hehad been when danger threatened most, he nowknew that he must follow them.

“For they may lead me straight to Ted Dunstan,”he thought eagerly.

Naturally he did not think it wise to get tooclose to the pair. Captured again, Tom Halsteadknew that he was not likely to be able tobe of any further service to his employer. Besides,in escaping and leaving his coat in thehands of the enemy he now remembered how hiswhite shirt might betray him if he got too closeto them.

“It’s a wonder they didn’t see all this whitewhen I was up in the tree,” he muttered, as hestole along in pursuit. “The leaves must havecovered me mighty well.”

For perhaps five minutes Halstead keptsteadily behind the pair, guiding himself by thedistant sound of their steps, for they did notkeep to any path. Then suddenly the boyhalted. The noise of footsteps ahead had diedout. Tom stood, silent, expectant, but no soundcame to his ears in the next two or three minutes.Then a disagreeable conclusion forceditself on the young skipper’s mind.

“Gracious! They’ve slipped away from meor else they’re at the end of their tramp.”

Again Halstead stole forward on tiptoe. But, though he spent nearly the next half-hour inexploring, he found nothing to reward hissearch. He came at last to a road which hejudged to be the same one along which he hadstarted with the Spaniard. Taking his coursefrom the stars, seaman fashion, Halstead keptalong. Within ten minutes he was upon a roadthat looked like a highway.

“Say, but how good that sounds!” he thrilled, suddenly halting. He had the presence of mindnext to slip behind the trunk of a big tree.

A horse was moving lazily along the road.There was the sound of wheels, too, thoughabove all rose a cheery whistling, as thoughthe owner of that pair of lips were the happiestmortal alive. It was a good, contented whistling.It had about it, too, the ring of honesty.The cheery sound made Tom Halstead feel faithat once in the owner of that whistle.

Then there came into sight a plain, much-wornopen buggy, drawn by a sleek-looking grayhorse. Seated in the vehicle was a youngsterof about Tom’s own age, who looked much likea farmer’s boy. He had no coat on, his suspendersbeing much in evidence. On his headhe wore a nondescript, broad-brimmed strawhat of the kind used by haymakers. At least itlooked as though it might once have been thatsort of a hat, but its shape was gone. Fromwhere Halstead stood not much of a glimpsecould be had of the boy’s face.

“Good evening, friend,” Tom hailed, steppingout from behind the tree.

“Evening! Who-o-oa!” The other boyreined up, peering down through the semidarkness.“Want a lift?”

“Just what, if it happens that you’re headedtoward the town of Nantucket,” Tom replied.

“That’s just where I’m headed. But holdon – gracious! I came within an ace of forgetting.I’ve got to turn back and drive to Sanderson’sfor a basket of eggs. Won’t take me long, though. Pile in.”

Tom gladly accepted the invitation. After hislate experiences it seemed good to be againwith some one who appeared to be wholesomeand friendly. The other boy turned about, layingthe whip lightly over the horse.

“Look as if you were off of some yacht,”commented the other boy, noting Halstead’sblue trousers and cap.

“I’m the skipper at present on Mr. Dunstan’s‘Meteor,’” Tom explained.

“Say, that’s the man whose son disappearedto-day,” exclaimed the other boy.

“Then you’ve heard about it?”

“Yep; it’s all over the island now, I guess.Constables been going everywhere and asking aheap of questions. Have they found youngTed?”

“I’m afraid not,” sighed Tom.

“Too bad. But who could have wanted himto disappear?”

“That’s a long story,” Tom answered discreetly.“But say, where are you going?”

For the young driver was turning off theroad to go to the very farmhouse to which thepier seemed to belong.

“To Sanderson’s, as I told you,” replied theother boy.

“Does that pier down at the water front belongto him?”

“Yep, though I guess he don’t have muchuse for it.”

“What sort of man is Sanderson?”

“Good enough sort, I guess.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He farms some, but I guess that don’tamount to a lot,” replied the young driver. “Ihear he’s going into some new kind ofbusiness this fall. Some kind of a factory he’sgoing to build on the place. I know he’s beenhaving a lot of cases of machinery come overon the boat from Wood’s Hole lately.”

“Machinery?” echoed Halstead. Somehow, from the first, that word struck a strange notewithin him.

“There’s Sanderson, now,” continued theyoung driver, pointing toward the house withhis whip.

Then the buggy drew up alongside the backporch. Halstead had plenty of chance to studythis farmer as he greeted the young driver:

“Hullo, Jed Prentiss. After them eggs?”

“Yes; and nearly forgot ’em.”

“I reckoned you’d be along about now. Well,I’ll get ’em.”

Farmer Sanderson appeared to be about fiftyyears of age. He would have been rather tallif so much of his lanky height had not beenturned over in a decided stoop of the shoulders.He had a rough, weather-beaten skin that seemedto match his rough jean overalls and flannelshirt. The most noticeable thing about this manwas the keenness of his eyes. As the farmercame out again to put the basket of eggs in theback of the buggy Tom Halstead asked suddenly:

“Do you know a man who looks like aSpaniard and wears brown striped trousers and ablack coat?”

Farmer Sanderson, so the young captainthought, gave a slight start. Then he unconcernedlyplaced the basket in the buggy beforehe answered:

“Can’t say as I know such a party. But I’veseen a fellow that answered that description.”

“When, if I may ask, and where?”

“Why, late this afternoon I saw such a partyhanging around my pier. I s’posed he wasfishing, but I didn’t go down to ask any questions.”

Tom put a few more queries, though withoutbetraying too deep an interest. Farmer Sandersonanswered with an appearance of utterfrankness, but Tom learned nothing from thereplies.

“I wonder,” ventured Jed Prentiss, afterthey had driven some distance along the road,“whether you think your Spanish-looking partyhad anything to do with Ted Dunstan’s beingmissing?”

Tom laughed good-naturedly, but made noreply, thinking that the easiest way of turningoff the question.

“Say,” broke in Jed again after a while, “Iwish you could get me a job aboard the ‘Meteor.’”

“What kind of a job?” inquired the youngcaptain.

“Why, I’m generally handy aboard a boat.Been out on fishing craft a good deal. The jobI struck Mr. Dunstan for, some weeks ago, wasthat of steward. You see, I’m a pretty fair seacook, too. But Mr. Dunstan said he didn’t needa steward or a cook aboard. I wonder if he’dchange his mind.”

“He might,” replied Tom.

“Do you think you’d like to have meaboard?”

“From what I’ve seen of you, Jed, I think Iwould,” replied Tom Halstead heartily. “Atany rate, I’ll speak to Mr. Dunstan about you.”

“Will you, though?” cried Jed delightedly.“Say, I’d give my head – no, but the hair offthe top of my head – to go cruising about on the‘Meteor.’ It must be a king’s life.”

“It is,” Tom assented.

Then, for some time, the two boys were silentBut at last Tom Halstead, after some intensethinking, burst out almost explosively:

“Machinery? Great Scott!”

“Er – eh?” queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.

“Oh, nothing,” returned the young skipperevasively. “Just forget that you heard me sayanything, will you?”

“Sure,” nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaint little old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom’s glancealighted on a bicycle shop, still open. ThankingJed heartily for the lift, Halstead hurriedinto the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle, agreeing that it should be returned in themorning. Then, after some inquiries as to theroad, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.

He got off the road once, but in the end foundthe Dunstan place all right. At the gatewayto the grounds Halstead dismounted. For afew moments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which was lighted.

“Machinery?” repeated the young skipper tohimself, for the twentieth time. “Machinery?Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and, what’s more, we’ve got to know. Machinery!It pieces in with some other facts thathave come out to-day.”

Then mindful of the fact that the news he borewas, or should be, of great importance to thedistracted master of the house beyond, TomHalstead, instead of remounting, pushed hiswheel along as he walked briskly up the driveway.

“Machinery!” he muttered once more underhis breath. He could not rid himself of themagic of that word.

Yet it was a huge pity that the young motorboat captain could not have possessed sharpenough vision to see into the heart of a denseclump of lilac bushes that bordered the driveway.Had his vision been that keen he wouldhave seen his very Spaniard crouched low inthe clump.

That worthy saw the boy and watched himwith baleful, gleaming eyes. It was a look thatboded no good to the young skipper.

“You are too wise, young gringo, and, besides, you have struck me down,” growledAlvarez. “But we shall take care of you. Youshall do no more harm!”

CHAPTER VII – “THE QUICKEST WAY OF WALKING THE PLANK”

It was Tuesday when Ted Dunstan disappeared.Now, Saturday had arrived.

On Monday the heir must appear, withhis father, in the probate court, or the greatfortune would be forever lost to the young man.

The days from Tuesday to Saturday hadbeen full of suspense and torment to thosemost interested. Horace Dunstan had lost hiseasy-going air. He started at the slightestsound; he hurried up whenever he heard otherstalking. Every new sound gave him hope thathis son was about to appear in the flesh.

Far from slow had the search been. Mr.Dunstan’s messages had brought a score of detectivesto the scene. Some of these, aided bythe local constables, had scoured the island ofNantucket unavailingly. The greater numberof the detectives, however, had operated onthe mainland, their operations extending evento Boston and New York.

Yet not a sign of the missing boy had beenfound. There was not a single clew to his fate, beyond the little that Tom Halstead and JoeDawson had been able to tell concerning Alvarezand the florid-faced American.

Halstead’s notion about Farmer Sanderson’s“machinery” had crystallized into the beliefthat the cases of “machinery” received by thefarmer were in reality cases of arms and ammunition, intended to be shipped to aid some newrevolution in Honduras. Alvarez and theflorid-faced man, the latter undoubtedly a seafaringman, might justly be suspected of beingemployed in some scheme to smuggle militarysupplies to Honduras. Tom had read in thenewspapers, more than once, that filibusterssending military supplies to Central Americanrepublics label their cases of goods “machinery”in order to get past vigilant eyes unsuspected.Gregory Dunstan was known to beinterested in revolutionary movements, andFarmer Sanderson might be suspected of helpingAlvarez and other filibusters by havingarms and ammunition shipped to him as machinery, and afterwards slipped out of the countryfrom the end of the farmer’s pier on somedark, stormy night. Moreover, Gregory Dunstanand his friends were the sole ones whocould be interested in having Master Ted vanishat such a time. All parts of the theoryfitted nicely together, Tom thought, and HoraceDunstan agreed with him.

Yet anything relating to attempts by filibustersto ship arms secretly to another countryshould be brought to the notice of the UnitedStates Government. So Mr. Dunstan wrotefully to the authorities at Washington, who,so far, had not taken the pains to reply to hiscommunication.

During these days the “Meteor” had beenalmost constantly in service. Tom and Joefelt nearly used up, so incessant had been theirwork. Jed Prentiss was now aboard, for, withdetectives arriving and departing at all hours, there was frequently need of serving a visitorwith a meal while the “Meteor” dashed overthe waves to or from Nantucket. Jed was enjoyinghimself despite his long hours and hardwork. He even found time to hang about Joeand learn much about the running of themotor.

By Saturday noon Horace Dunstan, whoseemed to have aged much, gave up the notionthat his detectives could aid him at Nantucket.The last three on the island were sent over toWood’s Hole on the “Meteor,” with instructionsto help the men at work on the case onthe mainland.

“Thank goodness, we’re through with ’em,”grunted Jed, leaving the galley and coming upthrough the engine room hatchway. “I hopewe’ll get a breathing spell to-morrow.”

“We’ve had a brisk four days of it,” noddedTom. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, if onlywe had gotten any nearer to finding Ted. Butall this work and nothing gained is enough towear a fellow out.”

It was a part of Tom’s nature that he feltkeenly all of his employer’s worries over themissing Ted, It worried Halstead, too, tothink of any boy hopelessly losing such a hugefortune as was at stake.

“If only we could find Alvarez, and get agood grip on him,” growled Halstead, as Joecame up on deck, “I’d feel almost warranted intorturing him until he told all he knew.”

Joe nodded gravely, then suddenly grinned.

“I can imagine anyone as big-hearted as youare, Tom, putting any human being to the torture.”

“I said I’d almost be willing to” insistedTom.

“Well, you won’t find Alvarez, so what’s theuse of arguing?” asked Dawson, slowly. “Heand his red-faced friend have skipped awayfrom this part of the country, I believe.”

“And Mr. Dunstan has only until Monday,”sighed Halstead. “And Ted to lose millions!Did you ever hear of a case of such tough luckbefore?”

Jed began to whistle sympathetically. He, too, would have given worlds to be able topounce upon the vanished Ted. For youngPrentiss was all loyalty. Having entered theDunstan employ, he felt all the sorrows of thefamily. The more he thought about the affairthe more restless the whistling boy became.

“How long are we tied up here for?” demandedJed, at last.

“Until the late afternoon train gets in fromBoston,” Tom answered, listlessly. “Mr. Dunstanis expecting Mr. Crane, his lawyer, along.If Mr. Crane doesn’t arrive we’ve got to comeover again to-morrow morning.”

Jed glanced at the clock before the steeringwheel.

“Hours to wait,” he went on, dismally.“Well, I’m going ashore to stretch my legs,if there’s no objection.”

“None at all,” Halstead replied, “if you’reback on time.”

Jed was over the rail in no time, whistling ashe went. A few minutes later Tom Halsteadfound himself bored by this inactive waiting, and so, as Joe had some cleaning to do on theengine, the young skipper decided to take astroll ashore.

In the village all looked so decidedly dull, this hot July afternoon, that Tom walked onthrough and beyond the little place. After hehad gone the better part of a mile he seatedhimself on a tumble-down bit of stone wall betweentwo big trees. It was cool here, andshady. The drone of insects soon made theboy feel drowsy.

“Here, there mustn’t be any of this,” mutteredHalstead, shaking himself awake. “Imustn’t fail to get back to the boat on time.”

After that he was wide awake. But thegreen, the quiet and the cool air made the youngcaptain feel that he did not care to leave thisspot until it was necessary. For perhaps fifteenminutes more he sat chewing at a wisp ofgrass and thinking – always of the missingheir.

Then the sound of a short little cough madehim look up. Some one was coming along theroad. That some one came in sight. Almostchoking with astonishment, Halstead wentbackward over the wall. It looked as thoughhe had fallen, but it was all part of his franticwish to get out of sight.

“Alvarez, by all that’s unbelievable!” hegasped, as he lay utterly still behind that wall.“It doesn’t look like him, but it’s his size, hiscarriage, his walk, his little tickling cough ashe inhales his cigarette!”

The man was coming nearer, walking at asteady though not rapid gait. Tom huggedhimself as close to the ground as he could, peeringbetween two stones in the wall. For aninstant, as the other went by, Halstead had agood glimpse of the fellow. Where Alvarezhad but a moustache, this man had a full blackbeard. Gone were the brown striped trousers, for this man wore a blue serge suit. But theface was swarthy; there was the same gleamin the dark eyes. Even the way of holdingthe fuming little cigarette was the same.

“It’s Alvarez, or his double, disguised,”breathed Halstead, frantic with joy. “I’ll jumpon him, and pin him to the earth!”

On swift second thought the excited boychanged his mind. It might serve a far biggerpurpose to follow this swarthy little rascal, ifhe could do so undetected.

Alvarez, apparently, wasn’t suspicions of beingtrailed, for he kept steadily on. Halsteadfollowed on the other side of the wall, ready todrop out of sight at the first sign of the other’sturning. When the wall ended the boy foundother shelter, and followed on. It was but ashort chase. A quarter of a mile further onthe Spaniard left the road, pushing his waythrough the bushes and undergrowth of a patchof woods until he came to a small, almost hiddencove. And in this cove, her stern withinstepping distance of the land, lay a yellow-hulledsteam launch.

Tom sank low behind the bushes, and peeredthrough. He could see all that followed.

“Pedro!” called Alvarez, softly.

A man who had been dozing up in a seat bythe bow of the boat now awoke and turned, displayingthe face of a negro. He was a big andstrong built fellow. And Tom, the instant heheard that low call from the bearded stranger, knew it to be Alvarez’s voice.

Pedro hurried to the stern. Some talk betweenthe two followed, but in tones so low thatHalstead could understand not a word of it, until the Spaniard, half turning away, finishedby saying:

“I’ll be back soon. Be ready – and be watchful.”

The negro nodded heavily as the Spaniardstarted away. But this time Tom Halsteadmade no effort to follow the swarthy one. Ifthe Spaniard was to return, that would not benecessary.

“I wonder how fast I can return to Nantucket, and then be ready to chase this craft when sheshows her nose outside?” wondered the boy.“For it’s five to one this launch will make forAlvarez’s hiding-place, and that is where TedDunstan is to be found. Yet – confound it all! – ifI give chase in the ‘Meteor,’ Alvarez certainlywon’t lead us to the place.”

It was a puzzling, an immense problem. Andwhatever was to be done must be decided uponinstantly. While Halstead still pondered, acheering sound came to his ears. “Whirr-ugh!Whirr-ugh!” The negro, in his former seatat the bow of the launch had proved his watchfulnessby going sound asleep and snoring!

“Oh! If I could only get through to Alvarez’shiding-place on this boat!” thought Tomwildly, his breath coming hard and fast. Notime was to be wasted in doing nothing. Assuringhimself that the negro was still soundlyasleep, Halstead stepped forward, cat-footed.

Still the black guardian of the boat slumbered.Tom, as he reached the water’s edge, prayed that nothing would disturb the fellow’ssleep. The launch was not a cabin affair, butthere was a covered deck at the bow, and, underit, a hatchway leading into a little cubby.As the negro sat sleeping, his legs crossedsquarely before the entrance to that cubby.Then Halstead edged around until he made surethat there was another little cubby under thestern-sheets of the launch.

“If I could only get in there and hide!”breathed the young skipper, fervently. Hardlyhad he formed the wish when he steppedstealthily to the boat. His eyes watchfully onthe negro, Tom gained the stern hatch. He bentdown before it to inspect the space beyond.The space in there was small, and much of ittaken up by the propeller shaft boxing. Itlooked like taking a desperate chance to tryto fold himself up in that tiny space.

“But this is a time to take desperatechances!” gritted the young motor boat captain.“And it’s the only chance I see that looksgood!”

Another glance at the snoring negro, andTom Halstead stealthily worked his feet inthrough the hatchway. His body followed. Hetwisted and wriggled until he had got himselfas far back into the limited space as was possible.His head was where he could gaze out intothe cockpit of the launch.

“I know just what a sardine feels like, anyway, after the packer gets through with it,”reflected the boy, dryly. He stretched a little,to avoid as much as possible the cramping of hisbody.

Then he had a wait of many minutes, thoughat last the hail of Alvarez was heard from theshore. It took a second call to rouse the sleepingPedro.

“Now, quick out of this,” ordered the Spaniard.“Get up the anchor. Then take yourplace by the engine.”

Alvarez himself went forward to the wheelat the bow. The launch was soon under way, moving at what appeared to be its usual speed, about six miles an hour.

“Neither one has seen me in here,” thoughtTom, tensely. “Oh, what huge luck if they gothrough the trip without seeing me!”

Though Halstead could not even guess it, from where he lay, the launch took a north-easterlycourse along the coast, and was presentlyabout two miles from shore.

“Pedro,” chuckled the Spaniard, at last, looking back at the negro who squatted by theengine, “if my own father saw me now wouldhe know me for Emilio Alvarez? Would he?”

“He’d be a wondahful smart man if he did,fo’ shuah,” grinned the negro.

“In this disguise I would hardly be afraidto walk about in Nantucket,” continued SeñorAlvarez. “I doubt if any of my enemies wouldrecognize me. They – ”

Alvarez’s lips shut suddenly with a snap.While he was speaking he had been lookingastern. Tom Halstead now squirmed as he sawthe Spaniard’s startled gaze fixed directly onhim.

“Pedro!” shouted the swarthy one. “Looksharp, man. There’s some one in that cubbyastern!”

Alvarez had started himself to leave the wheel.Then, realizing that the boat would run wildwithout some one at the helm, he pointed dramatically.

Though Halstead had trusted to the darknessand the shadow in that cubby, the discovery thathe dreaded had happened. Not willing to becaught in there, like a fox in a trap, he made alively scramble to get out. He was on his feetin the cockpit by the time that Pedro, staringas though at a ghost, leaped up and faced him.

“Grab the boy!” shouted Alvarez in glee.“Nab him and hold him fast. Pedro, you shallhave a present for this!”

As Halstead scrambled out he had looked forsome object with which to defend himself.There was nothing at hand. He was obligedto face his bigger assailant with nothing but hisfists.

“Keep off!” warned Halstead, throwing uphis guard.

As the negro leaped for him Tom shot outhis left fist, landing on the side of the blackman’s head. The blow had no effect, save thatit angered Pedro, who struck out with his ownright. It was a powerful blow. Halsteaddodged so that he received it only glancingly, but the act of dodging threw him off his balance.He toppled, then plunged swiftly overboard, sinking from sight.

“Stop the engine! I want him alive!”screamed Alvarez, leaping away from the wheel.

Pedro responded swiftly, stopping the speed, then reversing the engine briefly. The launchwas brought to, almost stationary, close tothe place where Tom Halstead had fallenoverboard.

“Get the boat hook,” commanded Alvarez.“Jump in after him if necessary. I want thatmeddling boy. I’ve a score to settle with him.”

But, though both remained at the rail forsome time, peering down into the water, TomHalstead did not reappear.

“Fo’ goodness’ sake,” chattered the blackman soberly, “dat boy done sink, fo’ shuah. Heain’t gwine come back, boss.”

“The propeller must have struck him on thehead,” declared Alvarez thoughtfully. Then, with a white face and an attempt at a lightlaugh, he added:

“After all, what does it matter, Pedro?That’s the quickest way of walking the plank.We didn’t mean to drown him – but we’re rid ofhis meddling!”

CHAPTER VIII – TOM DISCOVERS THE HEIR

Tom Halstead wasn’t drowned – notquite. The wicked seldom find safetyin believing that their evil work hascome out in the way that will most benefit them.We shall presently see what did happen to Tom.

Although he tried to pretend that he was notaffected by the tragedy that he believed had justbeen enacted, Señor Alvarez, when he returnedto his seat by the wheel, did not at once call forspeed ahead. Instead he rolled a fresh cigarettewith trembling fingers, spilling so much ofthe tobacco that he had to make a fresh start.When, at last, he had the thing lighted and hadtaken a couple of whiffs, he turned to the blackman to ask:

“After all, Pedro, what difference can itmake if the meddling boy chose the ocean to ourcompany? Am I not a gentleman of Honduras,Don Emilio Alvarez? Am I not descended fromSpanish grandees? Why should I bother myhead because one of the American riff-raff hasgone overboard!”

“Dat’s a fac’, boss. Why should yo’ botheryo’ haid?” responded Pedro, though he did notsay it very heartily.

Don Emilio smoked for some moments in silence.Then the sight of a cabin sloop roundinga point of land to the northeast of them claimedhis attention.

“Pedro,” he called, pointing, “that sloop carriesthe red jack fluttering from her bowsprittip. That, then, is our boat.”

“Fo’ shuah, boss. An’ I done hope dat Cap’nJonas French done got some good news ob dekind dat we wanter heah.”

“Give us some speed and we’ll soon be alongsidethe sloop.”

The launch was soon going along at her usualspeed of some six miles an hour, veering inshore somewhat to cross the course of the sloop.As they came to close quarters a voice from theother boat called:

“The news is all right, Alvarez.”

It was the voice of the florid-faced one, yet he, too, had changed almost as much as had thegentleman from Honduras. Captain French’scheeks were no longer deep red in color. Hisskin had more of a bronze hue. As such changesdo not occur naturally within a few days, it wasevident that the captain must have employedsome dye with much skill. Even the tint of hishair was changed.

“I have something to discuss with you, myfriend,” replied Don Emilio. “I will comeaboard for a while. Throw off your mainsheetand lie to, so that I can come alongside.”

Pedro slowed down the speed considerably.Don Emilio, with a skill that spoke of somepractice, ran the launch around to leeward andup under the sloop’s quarter. The two crafttouched lightly and at that instant Alvarezstepped aboard the sloop. Pedro, with his handon the starboard wheel rope, eased gently awayfrom the sailing sloop.

“Now run into the cove, Pedro,” called backDon Emilio. “Wait there until I come to you, unless danger threatens. If you see signs oftrouble, act in whatever way you may need toact.”

“I’se understand yo’, boss,” replied theblack man.

As Captain Jonas French hauled in his mainsheetand the sloop’s sail filled, Pedro madeobliquely for shore. Having no need of speed,he made less demand on the engine than he hadbeen doing.

Some time later Pedro ran halfway into alittle cove that dented the mainland of Massachusetts.Stopping the speed he stepped forwardand cast over an anchor, reeling in theslack and making fast. This done, the darkydrew out an old pipe, filled it and lighted it, settlingback for a lazy smoke.

And Tom Halstead? He was doing his bestnot to pant and betray himself, but his had beena rough experience. None but a boy as much athome in the water as on land could have stoodthe strain of this performance.

When Tom went overboard, striking thewater, the cold shock had aroused all his faculties.He went over the starboard gunwale and, finding himself going, had had the sense to diveas deeply as he could. He passed under thehull, coming out at port. Then he turned, keepingstill under water until one of his handstouched the port side of the hull.

Just as this happened Halstead’s other handstruck a line trailing in the water. Then theboy was forced to come up for air. As he didso he heard the voices of the pair aboard overat the starboard gunwale. That gave Tom asafe chance to give the trailing rope a pull.It held, showing that it was made fast on board.

Necessity makes one think fast. To Tom thediscovery of this rope was a most unexpectedbit of good fortune. As soon as he had time toget his breath, he tied a loop in it securely.Through this he could thrust one or both arms,at need.

The trailing overboard of a line in this fashionwas a piece of disorderly ship’s housekeeping ofwhich an American skipper would hardly beguilty. But the sailors of the Latin races areless particular. That line might have been overthe gunwale for hours or even days, but a manlike Alvarez would give little heed to it.

When the launch went on her way again Tomhad his right arm hooked well through the loop.He floated, his feet astern along the side, thoughin no danger from rudder or propeller. Hishead, out of water, was hidden by the bulginglines of the launch’s side hull. He was not likelyto be discovered unless one of the occupants ofthe launch leaned well out and looked down.

“If only they’d run a little slower this wouldbe about as easy as lying in a soft bed,” chuckledthe young motor boat captain gleefully. Hehad grinned broadly at Don Emilio’s seemingunconcern over his fate.

“I reckon where they go I’m going too,” Halsteadtold himself with great satisfaction. Hisclothing, filled with water, would have been uncomfortable, even dangerous, had he attemptedto swim far, but as it was the launch’s enginewas doing all the work. Tom simply allowedhis rather buoyant body to be towed. None theless the speed of the towing, so greatly in excessof a swimmer’s speed, began to tell uponhis endurance. Later that cabin sloop wasbriefly in the boy’s sight. Halstead was forcedto lower his head all he could in the water, butCaptain French, having no reason to scanthe launch’s water line, did not happen to detectthe strange “tow.” As the two boatswent alongside it was the launch’s starboardbow that touched, so that Tom, at port, wasin no danger of being seen from the othercraft.

Nor was the young motor boat captain againin sight after the two craft parted. Pedro’sslower speed, making for the cove, came as ahuge relief to the “boy overboard.”

While the anchor was being dropped, Halsteadhad opportunity to see how wild and deserteda bit of nature the surroundings were.There was not a house or other sign of humanhabitation anywhere in sight.

While Pedro sat up forward, smoking, a voicesounded that thrilled Captain Tom Halsteadwith instant wonder.

“Hullo, Pedro! What a nap I must havehad.”

“Yo’ shuahly did sleep fast, chile.”

“I’m coming out, now.”

“Ef yo’ do, young boss, be kyahful,” warnedthe black man.

“Oh, there’s no one around here to see me,”contended that other voice, and now it soundedas though the owner were in the bow of thecraft.

“Ef Ah done thought Ah could trust yo’ Ah’dtuhn in in dat forrad cubby mahself,” declaredthe negro. “Ah’s powahful drowsy.”

“Go ahead, Pedro,” agreed the other speaker.“You needn’t be afraid of me. I’ll keep abright lookout.”

There was the sound of the negro stowinghimself away in the forward cubby, muchroomier than the one Tom had tried at thestern.

Halstead had heard the conversation with afeeling at first as though his brain were whirlinginside his head. The long dousing in the waterwas beginning to make itself felt in a chill, butit was not wholly this that made the young skippershake.

“That’s Ted Dunstan’s voice,” he told himself, trembling. “He’s on board this very craft.I’ve found the missing Dunstan heir.”

Soon Pedro’s snores could be heard. ThenTom Halstead hauled himself up along the ropeuntil he could just peer over the gunwale. Hislast doubt vanished; he could no longer questionhis ears, for now his glance fastened uponthe living heir of the Dunstans!

CHAPTER IX – TED HURLS A THUNDERBOLT

The youngest of the Dunstans was sittingwhere Pedro had been seated only ashort time before. Ted held a book inhis hands, his gaze fixed on one of the pages.

“He’s playing crafty,” thought Tom. “He’swaiting until he’s sure that black man is sound, sound asleep. Then he’ll make his dash forfreedom. Oh, if he only knew how close afriend is!”

“Whirr-ugh!” Pedro’s snore smote heavilyon the air.

“He’ll sleep now, as only a colored man cansleep,” thought Tom jubilantly. “There’s onlyjust one time to do this thing, and that’s now!Here goes to let Ted Dunstan know that help isright at hand.”

Yet Tom’s teeth were threatening so persistentlyto chatter that he had to hold his jawsfirmly together for a moment before he daredattempt a slight signal.

“Pss-sst!” It was a low signal indeed. TedDunstan half raised his gaze from the printedpage, then glanced down again.

“Whirr-rr-ugh!” came the noisy safety-signalfrom Pedro.

Tom ventured to raise his head a trifle higherabove the port gunwale.

“Pss-sst! pss-sst!” he hissed desperately.

Ted Dunstan looked up now, his glance travelingswiftly astern. Then he caught sight ofthe eager face of the “Meteor’s” young skipper.At sight of the peeper’s face the Dunstanheir’s face was a study in amazement. Atfirst he just stared, as though suddenly in adaze.

“Come here!” whispered Tom ever so softly.

Ted laid his book down, shot a swift, uncertainglance at the cubby in which Pedro lay, thenrose uncertainly. Tom hauled himself up, perchinghimself on the gunwale.

“Be quick and silent about it,” whisperedTom, as Ted reached him and stood staring withall his might. “Can you swim?”

“Why?” demanded Ted curtly, and not exactlyin a whisper, either.

“If you can we’ll be ashore in a jiffy,” Halsteadresponded eagerly.

“Ashore?” demanded Ted.

“Why, of course. I’ve come to rescue you.There’s nothing to fear if you’re quick about it.But be lively. If you can’t swim, then justslip down into the water and trust yourself tome. I’ll manage it for both of us. Be quickabout it, though, for every minute counts.”

“There’s some mistake, somewhere,” pronouncedTed, a decided coldness in his tone.

“Mistake?” echoed Halstead, as though theother had struck him. “What do you mean,Ted? Don’t you remember me? I’m in chargeof your father’s motor boat. I’ve been lookingfor you for days, and now you can escape.”

“But I don’t want to escape,” declared MasterTed coolly, almost sneeringly. “Besides, there’s nothing to escape from.”

“Nothing to escape from?” echoed Tomaghast. “Why, Ted Dunstan, you simply can’tknow what you’re saying. Look how this crowdhave used you.”

“Well, then, how have they used me?” Tedchallenged coolly. “I am having the time ofmy life.”

“The time of your – Say, Ted Dunstan, have you any idea how nearly crazy your fatheris over your absence?”

“That’s strange,” mocked the Dunstan heir.“My father knows perfectly well where I am, and just why, too.”

This was uttered so candidly that Halsteadwondered if he had taken leave of his ownsenses. There could be no doubt at all thatyoung Dunstan believed every word he was uttering.

“Your father knows you’re here?” Tom insistedquestioningly.

“Of course he does. It’s by his orders thatI am here and that I am keeping quiet. Andnow, clear out. I’ve talked to you more than isright. I know what you and your chum are – apair of slippery eels!”

“You say your father knows – You say heordered you – ” Tom went on vaguely. “TedDunstan, do you think you’re telling the truthor anything like it? And who on earth shouldyou – ”

“Clear out of this,” ordered the Dunstanheir firmly. “I don’t like to see you get intoany trouble, but I’m not going to listen to youany longer. My father can tell you about this,if he has a mind to. I’ve no right to talk aboutit and I won’t. Now if you can swim as well asyou say you can, prove it and reach shore onthe double-quick. Pedro! Pedro! Wake up!Now you git, Halstead!”

“But Ted – ” persisted the dumfoundedyoung skipper.

“Well, stay, then, and let Pedro get his handson you,” defied the Dunstan heir. “Pedro!Aren’t you going to wake up?”

“Coming, chile,” sounded a drowsy voice, followedby the noise of heavy movements.

Dazed, thunderstruck, his mind wholly befuddledby this astounding turn to the mystery,Tom Halstead did not linger. He knew too wellwhat was likely to happen to him if he fell intoPedro’s hands.

Slipping over the side, Tom cast off from therope, striking out strongly, swiftly for the shorewhich was distant not more than one hundredand fifty feet.

“That’s him!” cried Ted Dunstan, pointing, and forgetting his grammar in his excitement.“That’s one of those slippery boys. He had thecheek to say he had come to rescue me.”

“He did, hey? Huh! I’se gwine fix him!”uttered the black man savagely. “Jest yo’ wait, chile, twell I’se bring out dat shotgun.”

“Oh, no, no, Pedro! Not that!” pleaded Tedin sudden dismay and terror.

But Pedro dived back into the forward cubby.All this conversation the young motor boat captainhad heard, for it passed in no low tones.Just as Pedro reached the cubby Tom scrambledup on the beach. Before him were the deepwoods. In among the trees he plunged. Theinstant he was satisfied that he was out of sightof the launch, he turned at right angles, speedingswiftly for some hundred and fifty yards.Then he halted to listen.

“Where he done gone?” demanded Pedro, reappearing on deck, gripping a double-barreledshotgun.

“I’m not going to tell you,” retorted Tedsulkily. “Shooting is not in the game.”

Tom heard the murmur of the voices – nothingmore. A minute later he heard the steadychug! chug! of the launch’s steam engine asthat craft started. Then the noise ceased as thecraft got smoothly under way. But Halsteadwas up a tree, now, where he could watch.

“Heading out to sea, are you?” he chuckled, despite his great anxiety. “And in a six-mileboat. Hm! I think the ‘Meteor’ can overtakeyou and at least keep you in sight. For thatmatter, three boys can fight better than one!”

Tom didn’t linger up the tree to think all that.Ere he had finished speaking to himself he wasdown on the ground, making speedily for wherehe judged the road to be. As he came in sightof the road he heard another chug! chug! thatmade his heart bound with delighted hope.

“Hi, there! Stop there, please!” shouted theyoung motor boat captain, waving his arms ashe sighted a touring car headed toward the village.

There was only the chauffeur on the front seatand an elderly man in the tonneau. The chauffeurglanced back at this other man, then sloweddown the auto.

“If you’re going into Wood’s Hole, take mewith you?” begged Tom so earnestly that theolder man swung open the door, saying crisply:“Jump in!”

Nor did Halstead lose a second. He plumpeddown into the seat by the door and the car wasoff again, going at some twenty miles an hour.

“I hope you won’t mind my wet clothes inyour car,” hinted Tom apologetically. “I gota big drenching in the ocean and there wasneither chance nor time to make a change.”

“You’re in a hurry to get to the village, eh?”smiled the elderly man.

“In as big a hurry as I ever was to get anywhere,”breathed Halstead fervently. Theelderly man smiled, though he evidently wasnot curious, for he asked no further questions.Halstead sat there delightedly watching the distancefade. Even to his anxious mind the tripseemed a brief, speedy one. As the car ran inby the railway station Halstead saw thelate afternoon train slowly backing down thetrack. It had been in, then, for three or fourminutes.

“Thank you, thank you!” breathed Tom fervently,as he threw open the door to leap out, then closing it behind him. “You haven’t anyidea what a huge favor you’ve done me.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to be of some usein the world to-day,” laughed the old gentlemanpleasantly.

But Tom, bounding across the tracks and overthe ground, hardly heard him. The young skipperhad but one thought at this moment – to getaboard and have his craft under way at theearliest possible second.

As Halstead neared the pier he saw Joe andJed seated on the deckhouse, while Mr. Crane, the Dunstan lawyer, arrived on the train, waswalking along over the boards.

“Joe, get the engine started on a hustle!”bellowed Tom, using both hands to form atrumpet. “Jed, on the pier with you and standby the stern-line, ready to cast off!”

Both boys leaped to obey such crisp commands.Lawyer Crane, having reached theboat, turned on the pier to look inquiringly atthe racing young skipper.

“Get aboard, sir, as quickly as you can, if youplease,” requested the young skipper all butbreathlessly.

“May I inquire – ” began the lawyerslowly.

“Yes, sir; when we’re under way. But wehaven’t a second to lose in starting. Get aboard, sir, if you please.”

In his eagerness Tom almost shoved the legalgentleman over the side. Mr. Crane, not a littleastonished at the hasty procedure, looked asthough about to resent such treatment, but fortunatelychanged his mind.

Tom himself seized the bowline and threw off.He and Jed sprang aboard, fore and aft, atabout the same instant. The “Meteor’s” enginewas already chugging merrily.

“Slow speed ahead, Joe,” bellowed downCaptain Tom, and the “Meteor” swung gracefullyout. “Now work her up to good speed,”he called, a few moments later. “We’re on thegrand old chase!”

CHAPTER X – OVERHAULING THE MYSTERY

“And now,” demanded Lawyer Crane, inhis calm, heavy voice, “may I askwhat all this chaos and confusion isabout?”

“In just a minute or two, sir, I’ll be hugelydelighted to have you listen,” Halstead answered.“But I want to get out of this coveand clear of coast shoals and ledges first.”

Joe had already begun to make the engine“kick” somewhat, and the boat was movingfast, leaving behind her a graceful swirl ofwater. Jed, after coiling the stern-line, hadcome forward, and, though he asked no questions, that youth was whistling a ditty of fastmovement, the surest sign of all that he sharedin the unknown excitement.

“There she is!” cried Halstead, suddenly, taking his right hand from the wheel to pointout over the water.

“She?” repeated Mr. Crane. “Who?”

“That boat! Don’t you see the steam launchwith the yellow hull?”

The launch was some two or more miles away, heading over the waters in a direction thatwould carry her past the northern end ofMartha’s Vineyard. Mr. Crane adjusted hisglasses, staring hard. At last he made out thelow-lying hull.

“I see some sort of a craft out there,” he repliedslowly. “But I must congratulate youon having very good eyes, Captain Halstead,if you can make out the fact that she is paintedyellow. However, what have we to do with thatboat?”

“We’re going after her,” responded Tom, briefly. He was wondering just how to beginthe wonderful story of his late adventure.

“Going after her?” repeated Mr. Crane, inslow astonishment. “Why, I was under theimpression that your present task related tocarrying me over to Mr. Dunstan’s home.”

“That comes next,” replied Tom. “Mr.Crane, hardly twenty minutes ago I was aboardyonder boat, and was talking with Master TedDunstan.”

The lawyer gasped, then rejoined, slowly:

“That’s a most remarkable statement, to saythe least.”

But Joe Dawson and Jed Prentiss, who knewHalstead better, were staring at him with eyeswide open and mouths almost agape.

“I saw Ted Dunstan,” repeated Tom, firmly.“Moreover, he gave me the jolt of my life.”

“Did he incidentally throw you overboard?”asked the lawyer, eyeing Tom’s wet garments.The sun and wind had dried the first greatsurplus of water out of them, but they werestill undeniably more than damp.

“That was all part of the experience,” Halsteadanswered, annoyed by the impressionthat the lawyer thought him trying to spin amere sailor’s yarn. “Do you care to hear whathappened, sir?”

“Why, yes, assuredly, captain.”

Tom reeled the story off rapidly. The lawyergasped once or twice, but certainly the youngskipper’s wet clothing gave much of an appearanceof truth to the “yarn.”

“And now, sir, what do you think of MasterTed’s claim that he was having the time of hislife, and was hiding by his father’s orders?”Tom wound up, inquiringly.

“Really, I shall have to think it all over,”replied the lawyer cautiously. “And I shallbe much interested in hearing what Mr. Dunstanhas to say about it all.”

“Say, that’s queer,” broke in Joe, suddenly, staring hard at the launch, now not much morethan half a mile distant.

“What is?” asked Halstead, who had kepthis mind on what he was telling the lawyer.

“That launch is following an almost straightcourse. Yet I don’t see a soul at the wheel, nor a sign of a human being aboard,” Joe replied.

“Say, there isn’t anyone in sight, is there?”demanded Jed, stopping his whistling and staringthe harder.

“It will certainly complicate the adventure,”commented Lawyer Crane, “if we overhaul acraft navigated by unseen hands.”

Halstead didn’t say any more. He didn’tlike the half-skepticism of the legal gentleman.The young skipper held straight on until theywere astern of the yellow-hulled launch andcoming up on the windward quarter.

“Get out on the deck forward, Jed,” directed,Halstead. “Stand up as straight as you can, and get the best look possible as I run upclose. See if you can spot anyone hiding inthe boat.”

“Look out,” cautioned Joe Dawson, dryly,as Jed Prentiss started to obey. “Someone onthe other craft may open fire.”

Jed halted, rather uneasily, at that sinistersuggestion. Then, meeting Tom’s firm glance, the boy got well forward and stood up, whileJoe dropped down into the engine room to meetany order that might come about stoppingspeed.

“I hardly fancy anyone aboard that boatwould dare threaten us with firearms,” saidthe lawyer, slowly. “There are too many witnesseshere to risk such a serious breach of thelaw.”

“Mm!” chuckled Captain Tom grimly, tohimself. “I wonder if this learned gentlemanimagines that everyone has the wholesome respectfor the law that possesses him?”

He leaned forward, to reach the bell-grip, steering, after the “Meteor’s” headway hadbeen all but stopped, so that they would passwithin a dozen feet of this mysterious craft.

“Say,” hailed back Jed, “I don’t believethere’s a soul on board that craft. I can seethe bottom of the inside of the boat.”

“Get the boat-hook, then,” ordered Halstead.“We’ll lay alongside and make sure that she’sdeserted.”

Jed jumped down nimbly. Apparently hewas glad to provide himself with so handy aweapon as the boat-hook. With this he steppedout forward again. Tom ran the Meteor inuntil the two craft almost bumped.

“Ugh!” grunted Jed. “It looks almost uncannyto see that engine pumping right alongwith no sign of human care.”

Gradually he drew the bow of the movinglaunch closer.

“Go aboard,” directed Tom.

Jed stood up high on his toes, to take a lastcareful look. Then he leaped to the other craft, bounding down into her cockpit. There hestood still for a few moments, tightly grippingthe boat-hook in an exaggerated attitude of defence.

“Are you afraid?” hailed Halstead.

“Well,” admitted Jed, candidly, “I’ve nonotion for being pounced on or shot from ambush.”

“That would have happened already, if itwas going to,” Tom rejoined with a smile.“Stop the engine, and then we’ll make fastand all come on board.”

That Jed accomplished with one hand, whileJoe did the same with the “Meteor’s” engine.Then Prentiss reached over with the boat-hook, gradually hauling the smaller craft up to the“Meteor.”

Leaving Joe behind on deck, the young skipperfollowed into the launch. A quick searchmade it plain that there was no human being ineither the forward or after cubby.

“The wheel was spiked,” discovered Tom.“You see, the boat was started on her courseand then her spiked wheel held her rather closeto it. Whoever was aboard, after having fixedwheel and engine, got off. This was done tofool us, and we’ve had a fine old chase.”

Lawyer Crane, on the deck of the “Meteor,”opened his mouth. He was about to offer anopinion, but thought better of it and closedhis lips.

“Mr. Crane,” asked Tom, after a few moments,“what are our rights? We can takethis abandoned boat in tow, can’t we, and takeher over to Mr. Dunstan’s pier?”

“Clearly,” assented the lawyer, slowly.“And there’s a right to salvage if theowner of this derelict appears and claimsthe boat.”

Tom clambered back aboard the “Meteor,”and, going aft, threw a line to Jed, whomade fast around a butt at the bow of thelaunch. Then Jed came back.

“Now, Mr. Crane,” smiled Captain Tom, “weare again at your orders. Unless you think ofsomething better, we can keep on to Nantucket.”

“Decidedly,” replied the lawyer. “We mustacquaint Mr. Dunstan with this whole prepos – unaccountablestory.”

As soon as the “Meteor” was well underway, on her homeward course, Halstead calleddown:

“Joe, I’ve stood this drenched clothing aslong as I think is good for me in this sea wind.Take the wheel, please, and I’ll go below andget a rub and some dry clothing.”

“I’m going down with you,” broke in Jed.“There’s hot water, and you ought to have somecoffee.”

Jed even helped vigorously in the rub-down.Tom’s teeth were chattering at the outset, butthe friction warmed his blood. He put on dryclothing, of which he had enough aboard. Andnow Jed came out of the galley with a cup ofsteaming coffee.

“Say, Jed, what made you look so skittishwhen you boarded that other boat?” asked theyoung skipper, smiling. “Were you reallyafraid?”

“Afraid?” repeated Jed, looking sheepish.“Well, Tom, I’ll tell you how it is. Whenthere’s no danger near, and I’m thinking overbrave deeds, I’m a regular hero, and no mistake.But when I get right down where I thinksome one may be a going to open on me withboth barrels of a shotgun, then I get – well, Iwon’t say afraid, but tormentingly nervous!”

Halstead laughed heartily.

“I guess that’s the way with the whole humanrace, Jed. The man who lugs off the reputationfor being brave is the man who won’t run, because he is ashamed to let anyone see howmortally afraid he is.”

“But what do you make of Ted Dunstan’squeer talk?” asked Jed Prentiss. “Do you believehis father really did give him orders togo off with that crowd?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Halstead answered.“Mr. Dunstan is our employer.”

“But young Ted always has been a mightytruthful boy,” pursued Jed, wonderingly. “Oh,it’s all mighty queer, whatever’s the truth.”

“I guess we’d better let it go at that laststatement,” proposed Tom; “at least, untilwe’ve heard what Mr. Dunstan has to say.”

With three or four caps of coffee down, Halsteadfelt so much warmer that he returnedto deck to take the wheel. The “Meteor” wasnecessarily going much more slowly than usual, with her tow astern. The trip was bound tobe such a long one that Jed started things inthe galley, then went back through the passagewayto the cabin, where he set the folding tablewith a white cloth. When Lawyer Craneseated himself at supper he was astonished tofind how excellent a meal could be preparedin short time aboard this craft.

It was nearing dark when Captain Halsteadguided the “Meteor” in toward the Dunstanpier.

While the boat was being made fast by Joeand Jed, Mr. Crane stepped hurriedly ashore.

“Come along, Captain Halstead,” said theman of law. “Mr. Dunstan must hear yourremarkable story without a moment’s delay.”

CHAPTER XI – WHERE THE WATER TRAIL ENDED

Horace Dunstan, pausing in his excitedwalk in his library, stopped andstared in amazement when Tom cameto one point of his strange recital.

“Ted said I gave him instructions to go withthat crowd?” he demanded.

“He made that point extremely plain to me, sir,” Halstead insisted.

“But I – I never gave him any such instructions,”cried Mr. Dunstan, rumpling his hair.

“It seemed unbelievable, sir. And yet yourson struck me as a truthful boy.”

“He is; he always was,” retorted the father.“Ted hated a lie or a liar, and yet this statementis wholly outside of the truth. I assureyou – ”

“If you’ll permit me, sir,” broke in the lawyer, who had been listening silently up to thispoint, “I’ll indicate one or two points at whichyoung Halstead’s most remarkable – ”

“Crane,” broke in the master of the house, with unlooked-for sternness, “if you’re aboutto throw any doubt around Tom Halstead’sstory, I may as well tell you plainly that you’regoing a little too far. Halstead has been mostthoroughly vouched for to me. If you haveany notion in your mind that he has been yarningto us, I beg you to let the idea remain inyour mind. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hm!” said the lawyer, and subsided.

“Captain Halstead,” went on Ted’s father,“my son’s statement is so extraordinary that Idon’t pretend to fathom it. But I give youmy word, as a man of honor, that I am as muchat sea in this matter as anyone could be. ButI must get in touch with Wood’s Hole at once.”

There was a telephone instrument in theroom that speedily put the distracted father incommunication with one of his detectives overon the mainland. A long talk followed, theupshot of it being that the detective in chargeof the search asked that the “Meteor” be sentover to Wood’s Hole at once, that she mightbe ready for any sea-going following-up of cluesthat might be necessary.

“For, of course, we’ve got to find that cabinsloop,” finished Detective Musgrave. “If thesloop isn’t at sea, then the chase undoubtedlymust be followed on the mainland. If we havethe ‘Meteor’ here we can do quickly anythingthat may appear necessary.”

So Tom received his instant sailing orders.As he hurried from the house, down throughthe grounds, the young skipper felt relieved atone point. With his belief in Ted’s honesty hehad been inclined to suspect that Horace Dunstan, for some unknown reasons of his own, such, for instance, as a distaste for having hisson go into the Army, might have brought abouta pretended disappearance.

“But now I know,” muttered Tom, “thatMr. Dunstan is just as honest in his declarationsas Ted appeared to be in saying the opposite.If Horace Dunstan has been lying to mejust now, I’d have very little further faith inhuman honesty.”

The “Meteor” was speedily on her way.First Joe, and then Tom, was served in the littlegalley, Jed getting in his mouthfuls as besthe could before the motor boat was tied up atWood’s Hole.

Before Tom had time to land a keen-eyed, smooth-faced man of thirty-five, broad-shoulderedand a little above medium height, steppedforward out of the darkness and over the rail.

“Do you know me, Captain Halstead?” heasked, in a low voice.

“Yes, I think so,” Tom answered. “You’reMr. Musgrave, one of the detectives sent downfrom New York at Mr. Dunstan’s request.”

“I am in charge of the case at this point,”said Musgrave. “Lead me below.”

Tom conducted his caller down into the engine-room, thence through the passageway intothe cabin.

“Now, tell me all you can of this affair, andtalk as quickly as you can,” directed the detective.

Tom told his brief but potent narrative withoutpausing for breath.

“I have telegraphed or telephoned men fromour agency, so that many points are coveredfor some distance north along the coast,” murmuredMr. Musgrave. “We are also havingthe islands watched as far around as BlockIsland. But, since the launch was found runningwild and the cabin sloop was not sighted,I am inclined to believe that the trail runs somewhereon the mainland. If you’ll take yourfriend, Joe Dawson, along with you, I’ll sendalso one of the Wood’s Hole constables, a mannamed Jennison. If you run into any of thatcrew, Jennison has power to make arrests, andhe’s the sort of man who wouldn’t back downbefore a cannon. I have an automobile ready, and Jennison knows what’s expected of him.You’re to search up along the coast, to see ifyou can find any trace of that cabin sloop.”

“Do you think Jed Prentiss will be sufficientguard to leave with the boat?” questioned Halstead.“The Alvarez crowd would like nothingbetter than to disable this fine craft if theygot a chance to sneak aboard.”

“I’ll send down one of the hotel employés tokeep Prentiss company, then. Now come along,Halstead. Jennison and the automobile arewaiting.”

Two minutes later Tom and Joe found themselvesspeeding along a road that led up alongthe coast.

“There’s no use stopping the first mile or so,”explained Constable Jennison, a slight but wiry-lookingman of rustic type. “We’ve been overthe near ground already. But we’ll go fortymiles or more before we give up the search forthe home berth of that sloop.”

Just below Falmouth the auto-car turnedfrom the road to run down to a cove whereseveral sailing craft and two launches were atanchor. The owner was found. He did notown or know of any such sloop as Halstead described.

On again they went. There was a chauffeuron the front seat The constable and the boyswere in the tonneau. Two more boat-letting resortswere visited, but without success. The constable, however, far from being depressed, becamejovial.

“Are you armed, Halstead?” he inquired, atwinkle in his eyes.

“No; I have no use for boys that carryguns,” replied Tom.

“You’re sensible enough,” responded theconstable seriously. Then, resuming his banteringtone, he went on:

“But you ought to be ready for anything to-night.Here, put this in your pocket.”

“What’s this thing supposed to be good for?”Tom demanded dryly, as he took from the officera cheap little bronze toy pistol. It was modeledafter a business-like revolver, but a glanceshowed that it was meant only to explode papercaps.

“It belongs to my five-year-old boy,” laughedJennison. “He knows that I often carry apistol and he doesn’t know the difference betweena real one and his Fourth of July toy.So to-night, when I was leaving the house, heinsisted on my taking his pistol and I had toin order to keep him quiet.”

“It looks dangerous enough in the dark,” remarkedJoe, bending over and taking the“weapon” with a laugh. He looked it over, then returned it to Tom, who, in turn, offeredit to the officer.

“Drop it in your pocket,” said the latter. “Itought to make you feel braver to feel such athing next to your body.”

With a laugh Tom did as urged. The automobilesoon made another stop at a boatyard.Here, again, the search was useless, so they kepton. A fourth was visited with no better result.They were now ten miles from Wood’s Hole, butthey kept on. A mile further on the car descendeda low hill, toward the water, then turnedalmost at right angles. Just as they roundedthis bend in the road Halstead leaned suddenlyforward.

“Stop!” he called to the chauffeur.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jennison, as thecar halted.

“As we came around the bend the searchlightthrew a ray between the trees, and I’m sureI saw a cabin sloop down in the offing,” Tomexplained.

“I didn’t see it.”

“And I got only a brief glimpse,” Halsteadrejoined. “But don’t you think it’s worth ourwhile to get out and go down to the water’sedge?”

“Of course,” nodded the constable. Thethree piled out of the tonneau, leaving the chauffeuralone. Tom led the way, going straightbetween the trees down to the water.

“That’s the very sloop, I’d almost swear,”whispered Tom, pointing to a craft at anchora hundred yards or so from shore. A smallboat lay hauled up on the beach. Not far fromwhere the three stood was a ramshackle littleshanty from which no light shone.

“We’ll give our attention to the house, first,”declared the constable. Accordingly theystepped up to the door, Jennison knockingloudly. From inside came a snore. The summonshad to be repeated before a voice insidedemanded:

“Who’s there? What’s wanted?”

“A traveler who wants to speak with you,”replied the officer.

There were sounds inside. Then the dooropened. They were confronted by a white-hairedold man, partly dressed and holding alighted lantern. He made a venerable pictureas he stood there in the doorway.

“Well?” he asked.

“That’s your sloop out in the offing?” Jennisonasked.

“Yes.”

“Did you use her to-day?”

“No; I rented her to a stranger, who wantedto go fishing. I didn’t know he had returned.Said he might be out most of the night, and thesloop wasn’t back when I turned in at dark.”

“Wasn’t, eh?” asked the constable, with quickinterest. “Now will you tell me what thestranger looked like?”

“Why, he was about forty-five, I guess.Rather heavily built. His skin was well-bronzed – ”

“That’s the man, French,” whispered Tom, nudging the officer. “His face had been staineda good bronze color.”

“Did the stranger give any word about comingback at some other time?” asked Jennison.

“No; he paid me for the afternoon and theevening,” replied the old man. It was plainthat he had told all he knew about the stranger.The old man stated that he himself was a fisherman, but that in summer he often made moremoney taking out parties of summer boarders.

Joe, in the meantime, had gone down to thebeach to watch the sloop. There appeared tobe no one stirring aboard the craft, but, as aprecaution, Jennison and the boys rowed out, thus making sure that the sloop was deserted.They hurriedly returned to shore. Jennisonnow displayed his badge, asking permission tolook into the shanty. The old man readily gavethe permission, adding, somewhat shakily:

“I’m not used to having my house suspected, but I’m glad to give the law’s officer any privilegeshe may want here.”

The search was unavailing. Jennison and hisyoung companions hastened back to the automobilewhere they stood deliberating.

“That sloop has come in since dark,” observedHalstead. “That old man looks asthough he could be thoroughly believed. Yetthat’s the very sloop. I’m positive about that.So the rascals can’t have had much the start ofus.”

“They’re a needle in the haystack, now, anyway,”sighed Constable Jennison. “We’re atthe end of the water trail and we know wherethey landed.”

“But we also know that they’re on the mainland;at least it looks mighty certain,” suggestedTom Halstead.

“That’s true,” nodded the officer. “Well,Mr. Musgrave must know of this at once. Thenext village is less than three miles away. I’mgoing there in the auto as fast as I can andtelephone him.”

“You’ll come back this way?” hinted Tom.

“Yes, without a doubt.”

“Then leave us here. We’ll hunt for anysigns we can find of them while you’re gone.”

“But how’ll I find you on my return?”

“Why, if you stop here, and honk your horntwice, we’ll come running to you.”

“You might run into the rascals,” mused Jennison.

“I hope we do,” muttered Tom.

“See here,” demanded the officer curiously,“aren’t you boys afraid to take a chance likethis?” His glance fell on Joe Dawson.

“No,” returned Joe very quietly.

“Well, it may not be a bad idea to leave youhere until I return,” said Jennison briskly.“You may pick up some sign. Anyway, I hopeyou don’t get into any trouble. Good-by for afew minutes.”

The car sped out of sight, but neither boywaited to watch it.

“It’s a pretty fair guess, Joe,” said Tom,“that Alvarez and French came up this wayfrom the shore. Now, that way, the road leadsto Wood’s Hole. And there’s the opposite direction.Alvarez has a little foot like a woman’s;French has a very large foot. Now if we canfind two such foot marks together, it wouldlook as though we could find the direction ourmen have taken. Have you any matches?”

“Plenty,” Dawson replied.

“So have I. Then suppose you go that way,”pointing toward Wood’s Hole. “And I’ll gothe other way. We can light matches every twoor three hundred feet and examine the ground.One of us may pick up the trail we want tofind.”

“Good enough,” was all that came from quietJoe, as he started at once.

For a few minutes the boys could see eachother’s lights when matches were struck. Thenthe winding of the road hid them from eachother.

Twice the young skipper had found imperfectfootprints in the sandy road, but they were notclear enough for him to be sure that these werethe tracks he sought. Now Tom stopped again, striking a match and walking slowly along ashe shielded the flame from the light breeze withhis hands. Then suddenly he came to a briefhalt, as his gaze traveled across the road. Hesaw an object on the ground in front of a bush,an object that caused him to bound across theroad.

“Great! Fine!” breathed the boy jubilantly.“I’d know this little article anywhere. It’s thetobacco pouch of – ”

“Ah, good evening, my friend,” broke in ataunting voice. “It’s the meddling boy himself!”

Halstead, even before he could straighten up, found himself staring between the branches ofthe bush into a pair of gleaming, mocking eyes.

“Señor Alvarez!” cried the young skipper.

Then something struck Tom heavily from behind, felling him to the ground, unconscious.

CHAPTER XII – JOB HAS HIS COURAGE TESTED

When young Halstead next knew anythinghis mind was hazy at first.He realized dimly, and then moreclearly, that he was upon some one’s shoulder, being carried. There was a buzzing, too, overhis right ear, where his head throbbed dully andached.

As he opened his eyes wider he saw that hewas being carried along under trees and overrising ground.

Then his thoughts became clearer and he feltcertain it was none other than Captain JonasFrench who was carrying him. Some one else, probably Alvarez, was treading the ground behindhim.

Halstead gave a sigh, then murmured:

“Put me down!”

They were luckless words, for French ventedbut the one syllable, “Right,” then droppedhim to the ground and sat on him.

“Don’t make the mistake of trying to makeany noise, either,” growled the once florid-facedone. “No one could hear you here except us, but we’ll take noise as an evidence of unkinddisposition on your part.”

“Tie him,” murmured Don Emilio, standingover the boy.

Without making any response in words,French rolled the boy over on his face. Tomdidn’t attempt to resist. He was too weak; hisstrength was just beginning to come back.French knotted a rope around his wrists, heldbehind him, then quickly lashed the young skipper’sankles together.

“And this!” insisted Alvarez. A gag composedof two handkerchiefs was forced betweenHalstead’s lips and made fast there.

“Now, my meddling boy, you may be as unpleasantas you please,” mocked Don EmilioAlvarez, bending over and smiling into Halstead’sface. “Ah, you have been troublesometo us – very. And you have inquired what Iwould do to you if I had you down in Honduras, where they do things differently. Ah, well!Perhaps, my meddling boy, you shall discoverwhat I would do to you! Will you, my largefriend, lift him and carry him on again? Weare not far from the place where we can keephim securely enough.”

With a grunt French once more shoulderedhis burden, tramping on through the forest, Alvarezstill bringing up the rear. Then, from thecrest of a rise they pressed between a fringe ofbushes and next began to descend a narrow, rocky path. They stopped in a ravine, denselygrown with trees.

“Even in the daytime this place is hardlylikely to be found by prying eyes,” laughed Alvarezconfidently. “And now, my captain, youmight rid yourself of the meddling boy.”

French dropped Tom at the base of a youngspruce tree, knotting another cord to his feetand passing it around the trunk of the tree.

“He won’t get away – can’t, even though wewere to leave him here through the night,” mutteredFrench gruffly.

“And I, since my meddling boy found for methe tobacco pouch that I dropped in his path forbait, will enjoy a smoke once more,” laughedSeñor Alvarez. He rolled a cigarette, whichhe soon was puffing. French, having filled a pipe, lighted that and stretched himself at full length.Thus several minutes went by. Tom Halstead, unable to talk, spent his energies in wonderingwhether Ted Dunstan was anywhere in the nearneighborhood.

After many minutes had passed the deep silenceof this wild spot was broken by an owlhoot. Alvarez, raising his head, answered by asimilar hoot. Then from the distance came twohoots.

“Come, we will go forward to meet ourfriends,” proposed the swarthy little maneagerly, as he sprang to his feet. French gotup more lumberingly, though almost as quickly.Together they trod up to the head of the ravine.Out of the darkness ahead came Pedro and alittle brown man who looked as much like aSpaniard as Alvarez did.

“We’se done brought yo’ dis,” stated Pedrowith a grin that showed his big, white teeth.

“This” was Joe Dawson, his hands tied behindhim, his face as sullen as a storm cloud ina summer shower. Joe was walking, led byPedro, and pushed at times by the brown man.

“Ho, ho!” laughed Alvarez, in keen relish.“You have not done badly. You bring me theother meddling boy. Halt him here – so. Tiehim against this tree that he may have a chanceto lean.” Alvarez watched until Joe had beenmoored fast, then asked:

“How many did you come out with to-night?”

“Guess!” proposed Joe pleasantly.

“Don’t dare to be impertinent, boy!” warnedDon Emilio, his eyes flashing. “Answer mestraight, and – what do you call it? – to thepoint, as you Americans say.”

“Lemon?” laughed Joe Dawson coolly. “No, thank you. I always take vanilla.”

“Boy, if you get me any more angry,”stormed Don Emilio, “you will regret it.”

But Dawson merely looked at the swarthy, false-bearded little man with an air of boredom.

“Let me handle him,” proposed JonasFrench, stepping forward.

“I’ll be glad if you will wait on me,” drawledJoe, looking at the larger man. “I don’t believethis little fellow knows his business orhis goods.”

With an angered cry Don Emilio darted in, striking his cool tormentor across the face.

“Hold on,” objected Joe lazily, “I didn’t askto be called until nine o’clock.”

“Are you going to stop this nonsense?”demanded Don Emilio, his voice quavering withwrath.

“Dawson,” remarked French, “you don’t appearto realize your fix.”

Joe stared at him haughtily, remarking:

“My bill is not due until the end of the week.Go away and let me read in peace.”

Pedro, in the background, was holding onehand over his broad mouth to hide his expansivegrin over this cool nonsense. But DonEmilio was fast losing his not very certain temper.

“Go and bring that other boy Halstead,”ordered Alvarez. “When the two of them seeeach other they’ll know their game is up, andthey’ll come to their senses. If not, nothingwill make any difference to them after a fewminutes more.”

Without a word French turned, treadingdown the ravine. Just a little later he reappeared, looking bewildered.

“Alvarez,” he gasped, “come here. Thatother boy isn’t where we left him. Hurry!”

Uttering an exclamation of amazement, Alvarezdarted after his friend. Pedro and thelittle brown man, caught in the astonishment, bolted after their leaders.

Joe could not get away from the tree to whichhe was bound, but he stood there grinning withcool enjoyment. In another moment he felt alively sound at his back. Then Halstead whisperedin his ear:

“I’m cutting you loose, old fellow! Boltwith me!”

Dawson, straining at the cords while Tomslashed at them, was quickly free.

“Come along,” begged Tom. “Never mindstopping to leave cards or writing a note of regret.Hustle – this way!”

Halstead led in the swift flight in the directionthat he judged the roads to lie. They triedto go noiselessly, but they had not gone far whena shout behind showed them that their flighthad been detected.

“Sprint, old chum!” floated back over Halstead’sshoulder.

In looking back, the young skipper stumbled.Joe had to pause long enough to drag his comradeto his feet. That lost them a few preciousseconds, but they dashed onward once more.As they ran they heard the feet of the pursuersbehind. From greater familiarity with theground some of those in chase were gaining onthe fugitives.

Joe now led in the chase, with Tom at hisheels. They, came to what appeared to be thewooded slope leading down to the road. Joeran up against a wall almost sooner than he hadexpected. He nearly fell over it, but recoveredand jumped. Halstead landed in the roadbeside him.

There was another flying figure in the air, and Pedro was beside them, reaching out. Behindwere French and Don Emilio.

“Yo better stop, fo’ shuah!” called Pedro, parting his lips in a grin of huge enjoyment.“Dere ain’t no use in tryin’ to git away from me.”

CHAPTER XIII – A CAPTURE IN RECORD TIME

“Look out! He’s mine!” shouted Joe.

But Tom Halstead had sprung inthe same instant at Pedro. The resultwas that the combined assault of the boys borethe fellow to the ground, and Tom, remembering, just in the nick of time, the toy cap pistolthat Jennison had handed him, and which hadescaped discovery a few minutes before, hauledthat ridiculous “weapon” out, pressing itagainst the temple of the black man.

“Don’t you stir, if you know what’s best foryou,” warned the young skipper sternly.

Joe, seeing the lay of the land, leaped up tomeet Captain French, who was just reachingthat wall.

At that moment the noise of a speeding autowas borne to them, while around the bendwhizzed the machine, sending its strong searchlightray ahead to illumine the scene.

The yells of its occupants caused the otherpursuers of the boys to halt in confusion. Beforethey had time to think what to do the automobilewas racing up to the spot and stopping.Alvarez and his two companions bore away upthe wooded slope as fast as their alarm couldspur them.

“What’s this going on here?” demanded ConstableJennison, as he leaped out into the road.

“You’ll find some of the rascals up thereamong the trees,” replied Tom, coolly. “Ihave one of ’em here, but he’s tame now.”

Pedro, in fact, in his dread lest he be shot, was lying on his stomach, his face between hiscrossed arms, while Halstead stood over him, holding that wholly useless “pistol.”

“Just move that car a few yards ahead, willyou?” begged Tom of the chauffeur, fearingthat in the strong light, Pedro might steal alook sideways and find out what a comical“weapon” had scared him.

“There are three of the crowd up there,”added Joe. “They were chasing us, but yourarrival scared them off.”

“I’ll make sure of the one we have, first,”returned the constable, going toward the prostratenegro. “My man, put your hands behind you, and be quick about it.”

Pedro obeyed without a murmur, the constablesnapping handcuffs on him without lossof an instant. “Now, help me lift him intothe auto – front seat,” directed the officer.But Pedro, seemingly afraid of the consequencesof any stubbornness, aided his captors.

“Can you keep him, Jack?” asked the constableof the man at the steering wheel.

“I can bring him down, if he tries to bolt,”came the quick retort from the chauffeur.

“’Fore hebben, Ah won’t try nothing funny,”protested Pedro, solemnly. He was seeminglystill afraid that the slightest defiance wouldcost him his life.

“See that this fellow is locked up, Jack,”commanded Jennison, in a low voice. “Speedsome, too, and get back here as fast as you canwith some more men. It may be that there’sgoing to be a fight.”

Just as the car started two sharp reports rangout from the hillside above. There were twoflashes, and bullets whizzed ominously over theroad. One of them pierced Tom’s uniform cap, carrying it from his head.

There being nothing he could do, Dawsonthrew himself to the ground, out of harm’s way.Tom, crouching low, darted across the roadafter his hat. But Jennison leaped forward, weapon in hand, letting three shots fly back toanswer the defiance from under the trees.

“Come on! We’ll close in on ’em and mow’em down if they don’t surrender!” shoutedthe officer.

His call to the boys was intended for thehearing of those above. He had no notion thatthe boys, unarmed, would accompany him.Yet, as Jennison bounded over the wall, thetwo young motor boat boys were behind himon either side.

“Now, then, you fellows up there, throwdown your shooting irons and prepare to giveyourselves up,” called the doughty constable.“If you don’t – ”

Four shots answered this demand, the bulletsclipping off leaves so close to the trio thatthe boys crouched lower almost instinctively.

“All right, then, I’m coming up to get you!”shouted the constable running forward, weaponin hand. But he halted at length, well awayfrom the road, uncertain which way to turn.

“What are you boys doing here, unarmed?”he whispered, facing them in surprise.

“We’re as safe here as we’d be anywhereelse hereabouts,” Tom whispered back.

“Yes, I don’t know but that’s so. Butwhere can the scoundrels be? Do you knowanything about the lay of the land here?”

“I think we can find the ravine where theytook us,” suggested Joe.

“Try to, then.”

Both boys now went a bit in advance of theofficer, but he kept close to them, in order tobe on hand if they ran into any danger.

The ravine proved to be empty, however.Tom pointed out where he had slashed Joe’sbonds away. “And over yonder,” he added,“I guess I can show you the rope I worked myown wrists out of. Once I worked my handsfree it didn’t take me long to cut away the restof the tackle.”

Though they searched for upwards of an hour, they were unable to find any further trace ofthe scoundrels. Nor did they come upon anyplace that looked as though it had been used asa hiding place for the missing Dunstan heir.

Then a loud honking from the road recalledthem. The chauffeur was there with the machine, from which were alighting four deputieswhom he had brought out with him fromWood’s Hole.

“I’m going to leave you men here to carryon the search,” explained Mr. Jennison. “Keepit up all through the night, and through thedaylight, too, if you run across anything thatlooks like a trail. These young men will describeto you the fellows you’re expected tofind. I’ll be back bye and bye, but don’t waitfor me.”

Tom and Joe quickly described the threefugitives from justice. Then Jennison turnedto the chauffeur to inquire:

“Could you work any information out of thatblack man?”

“Not a word,” came the grumbling reply.“After a few minutes he got over being soscared, but he couldn’t be made to say a wordabout his crowd. Just closed his mouth, andwouldn’t talk. Musgrave has him in hand now,at the station house, but not a word can the fellowbe made to say.”

“I’m going back with you, now,” proposedJennison, “to see what I can get out of him.You boys may as well come with me. It lookslike a losing chase here. If we can get somethingout of the chap, Pedro, we’ll have somethingreal to come back with.”

So Tom and Joe piled in with their newfriend. In less than half an hour they had enteredthe little guard-room of the police stationat Wood’s Hole. Pedro, still manacled, was seated in a hard wooden armchair betweentwo constables, while Detective Musgrave pacedthe floor before him.

“He’s trying a crafty game,” smiled Musgrave,as the newcomers entered. “Once in awhile the prisoner talks, but when he does it’s toshake his head and mutter a string in Spanish.”

“He understands English well enough,” answeredTom. “He has talked a whole lot of itto me.”

“Of course he understands English,” laughedMr. Musgrave. “I know his type of coloredman well. He’s a Jamaica negro, born andbrought up with English spoken around him.Afterwards he went over to Central Americaand picked up Spanish.”

“No sabe,” broke in the negro, lookingblankly at those who surrounded him.

“Oh, you savvy plenty well enough,” Tom retortedtartly. “And see here, Pedro, you’re apretty cheap sort of rascal anyway. You rememberhow Joe and I caught you, and how Iscared you cold? Do you know what it was thatscared your grit away from you? Just a plain, ordinary, every-day joke of a cap pistol!”

Pedro started, his lips opening in a gasp atthat information.

“Oh, of course you understand, just as wellas anyone else in the room,” Halstead went on.“And here’s the young cannon that made youlie so still in the road.”

With a short laugh Tom produced the cappistol, holding it before the astonished blackman’s face. Pedro’s disgusted expression wasenough to make them all laugh.

“He can’t even pretend he doesn’t understandEnglish now,” snorted Mr. Musgrave. “Comenow, my man, open your mouth and talk to us.It may help you out a bit when you come to betried.”

Still, however, the black man refused to say aword. Constable Jennison tried his hand atmaking the fellow speak, but without success.At last they gave it up. The negro was taken toa cell, left under watch, and the others went outside.

“I’m going back up the road,” Jennison announced.“Want to come with me, boys?”

“I think they’d better stay by the boat, in caseanything turns up that we want the craft,” Musgravebroke in.

So Tom and Joe struck out for the pier, findingJed mighty glad to have them back oncemore. For an hour the three boys sat on the“Meteor’s” deckhouse and talked. After thatthe time began to hang heavily on their hands.

Broad daylight came with still no word fromthe seekers, nor from any other point. At alittle after four o’clock Mr. Musgrave camedown to tell them that they might as well returnto Nantucket.

It was six o’clock when the “Meteor” berthedat the island. Jed had served a breakfast on thetrip over. As soon as the boat was docked Jedhurried into the broad bunk off the cabin passageway, while Tom and Joe, yawning withweariness, lay down on the engine-room lockers.

“This is Sunday morning and to-morrowmorning Ted Dunstan must be in court withhis father or lose a tremendously big fortune,”groaned Tom. “Oh, when we’ve been so nearto rescuing him, why can’t we have him safelyhome under his father’s roof?”

“Maybe I’ll have the answer thought out bythe time I wake up,” gaped Joe Dawson. “Butjust at this present moment I’m so tired I don’tknow whether I’m an imitation engineer or aclambake.”

Then another sound came from his berth.Dawson was snoring.