Less than a minute later a great dark bulk took shape and form ahead of him. At first it seemed like the edge of a woods, but as the music increased momentarily that was out of the question. No, plainly it was a building, and a big one! And in another minute Tom was standing in a gravel roadway in front of a big hotel which stretched away on either side of him. There were lights inside, and an orchestra was playing merrily. The windows of the lower floor were dimmed with the fog, but he could see the indistinct forms of persons inside and the dancing light of a fire. Directly in front of him was a covered porch and beyond it the wide glass doors.
Tom drew the blanket from over his head, folded it as neatly as he might, laid it across his arm and, bareheaded and bedraggled, crossed the porch, opened the door and went in.
He found himself in a great, luxuriously furnished hall. At the back a wide staircase ascended. In the center a huge fireplace held a pile of blazing logs. Beyond it, half obscured by palms in tubs, a scarlet-coated orchestra was playing. To his right was a long counter behind which two immaculate clerks moved. About the fireplace and spreading across the big exchange were seated many persons. They had been talking very industriously until the door opened. But for some reason at Tom’s advent the conversation lessened and lessened until, as he walked across the shining oak floor, there was an impressive silence. The two clerks stopped their work and gazed at him in amused surprise. Tom, aware of the effect he was causing but caring not at all, stopped at the desk, stuck his hands in his pockets and addressed the nearest clerk in the calmest manner possible.
“I would like to see the manager, if you please,” said Tom.
The fog held close until just before sunset, although there were times when the three on the Vagabond could make out the shore quite distinctly and thereby gained a very fair notion of where they lay. When the mist finally disappeared inland they found their notion to be correct. The launch lay some hundred yards from shore to the east of the river’s mouth. Just how they had managed to reach the position it was hard to say, although Nelson’s idea was that they had become both actually and metaphorically turned around when the launch had gone aground and had subsequently, instead of running upstream, crossed it diagonally and passed out toward the east.
It was a long day. The Vagabond rolled sleepily from side to side in the slow swells and seemed very bored and weary. The boys played cards for a while after luncheon, but, as Dan remarked, there wasn’t a decent game that three could play. So they threw down the cards in disgust and went to writing letters. But, somehow, inspiration didn’t come very well, and finally Nelson gave up the attempt in despair and went out to the engine room and “fiddled with the engine”; the expression is Dan’s. Nelson could always manage to spend an hour or so quite contentedly with wrenches and pliers, oil cans and emery cloth and a nice big bunch of cotton waste. Just what he accomplished this afternoon I can’t say; but he killed fully an hour.
In the meanwhile both Bob and Dan had taken to their bunks and had succeeded in getting to sleep. And so it was Nelson who discovered that the fog was lifting when, his “fiddling” completed, he put his head out of the door to toss a bunch of very dirty waste overboard. As the easiest way to awaken the sleepers he gave a long blast on the whistle. The effect was almost magical. Dan jumped clear out of the bunk and landed very wide-awake in the middle of the floor. Bob managed to escape with a bump on the side of his head. After recovering themselves they descended wrathfully on Nelson, demanding explanations. Nelson, wedged in a corner between the engine and the ice box, explained and was permitted to adjust his rumpled attire. Whereupon all went out to the dripping cockpit and watched the land appear slowly before them out of the gray void. It was like watching the development of a negative in the dark-room. At first there was a blank expanse of gray. Then a shadow appeared, dark and formless. Then a bit of the low-lying shore stood out boldly, its colors still blurred by the dissolving mist. And presently the sun appeared in the west, a hazy orange disk at the end of a funnel of orange light. And then, in an instant, the fog was nowhere to be seen save that here and there on an inland hillside a wisp of gray, like a floating veil, hung entangled amidst trees or bowlders. And with the returning sunlight came a brisk breeze from the south that stirred the oily surface of the water into tawny ripples that began to lap cheerfully against the hull of the Vagabond. Dan started to whistle blithely.
A few minutes later the launch was speeding back across the bar, bound for the little cove where they had left Tom. That young gentleman’s fate had not greatly bothered his friends, although there had been throughout the day much idle speculation as to his probable whereabouts. Tom could look after himself, said Dan, and the others agreed. But when they reached the cove and the little beach with the blackened embers disfiguring the clean gravel and saw no Tommy they were at once surprised and disappointed. Bob was even inclined to be indignant.
“Where the dickens has he gone to?” he asked. “He might have known we’d be back for him as soon as the fog cleared away.”
“Well, I suppose we could hardly expect him to spend the day here waiting for us,” said Nelson. “Probably he found a house where he could get dry and have something to eat. As we can’t see any from here maybe he had to go quite a ways. We’ll wait a while and see if he doesn’t turn up.”
“Bet you he’s asleep in the best bed in the house,” laughed Dan. “We’ll be lucky if he turns up before to-morrow noon. Tommy’s just as likely as not to sleep the clock around if there’s nobody there to wake him up!”
“I suppose,” said Bob, “we might as well have something to eat while we wait.” But Dan demurred.
“No, let’s go back to New London and get a good feed. We’ll wait until six-thirty and if he doesn’t show up by that time—Say, maybe he’s gone back to New London himself!”
“I’ll bet he has,” Nelson agreed. “Let’s go and see.”
So they returned up the broad twilit stream and made their former berth near the ferry slip. A hasty toilet followed and then they hurried up the street to the hotel. But no Tommy awaited them. The clerk assured them that no one answering to the description which they gave had been seen that day. Nor did the register show Tom’s elegant handwriting. But after the first moment of disappointment they comforted themselves with the assurance that the missing member of the crew was quite safe somewhere, and went in to dinner. Nor did anxiety over Tom’s fate interfere with their appetites.
Up until bedtime they expected at any moment to see Tom stumble down the steps, and when, at half-past nine, lights went out it was unanimously decided to leave the hatch unlocked in case he should turn up during the night. Once, along toward morning, Bob was dimly aware of some one moving about the cabin.
“That you, Tommy?” he asked sleepily.
But if there was any answer he didn’t hear it, for he fell asleep again immediately. In the morning, in the act of yawning and stretching his arms over his head, he recollected the noise in the night and looked inquiringly at Tom’s bunk. But it hadn’t been slept in. Bob puzzled over this fact for a moment. Then——
“Where’s Tom?” he asked.
“How the dickens do I know?” asked Dan, sitting up in his berth.
“Didn’t he come back last night? I heard some one and I thought sure it was Tommy.”
“That was me,” said Nelson, opening his eyes. “You asked if it was Tommy and I said No. I was closing the ports. The wind and rain were just drowning me out.”
“Rain!” exclaimed Bob and Dan simultaneously. Then——
“Gee, what a storm!” muttered Dan, as he subsided after a glance through the nearest port. “I see where we stay in New London for a day or two.”
“Well,” said Bob philosophically, “it’s better to be here than tied up in some little old cove along the Sound. We can go ashore, at least.”
“That’s so,” agreed Dan. “And maybe there’ll be another show at the theater.”
During the night a heavy gale from the southwest had sprung up and now the rain was beating fiercely against the cabin sides and playing a tattoo on the roof. There was a stiff wind behind it and the waves were running high. Under the double assault the Vagabond was heaving at her lines and grinding dismally against the pier. Nelson, pulled on his oilskins and hurried out to see that the fenders were in place. In a minute he was back, wet and glistening.
“It’s a peach of a storm, all right,” he said, shedding his oilskins. “The old sailors along the Cape used to tell us that a storm from the southeast was good for three days and one from the southwest was soon over. But it doesn’t look like it now.”
It was so dark in the cabin that when Bob brought the breakfast to the table it was necessary to light the lamps in order to distinguish the scrambled eggs from the hashed brown potatoes. But it was very jolly to sit there with the fragrant steam from the coffee cup curling up past their noses and hear the rain rattle and sweep against the boat and see it go trickling down the port lights. Barry sat on the edge of a bunk and stared solicitously at Dan every time the latter raised his fork to his mouth. Dan would never feed him at table, but all of the others did so whenever they thought they would be undetected. Bob believed he saw a chance to transfer a half a slice of bread and butter from his plate to Barry’s mouth, but Dan interposed a quick hand and the bread went flying across the cabin to land face downward on Tom’s pillow.
“If Tommy was here,” laughed Nelson, “I know what he’d say.”
“‘Hope you ch-ch-ch-choke!’” mimicked Nelson. “Barry can have it now, can’t he, Dan?” he continued, as he rescued the bread and wiped the worst of the grease from the pillowcase with his napkin.
“After we’re through,” said Dan inexorably.
“Hard-hearted brute!” said Bob. “Why don’t you change masters, Barry? I’d be dre’ful good to you!”
“Wonder if Tommy’s getting any breakfast,” observed Nelson thoughtfully.
“Of course he is,” answered Dan, buttering another piece of bread. “Why, look at the time! He’s had two or three breakfasts by this!”
“It’s funny, though, that he doesn’t turn up,” said Bob. “If we don’t find him to-day I think we ought to do something.”
“What?” asked Dan disconcertingly.
“Advertise in the Lost and Found column of the local paper,” suggested Nelson.
“We ought to go back and look for him,” said Bob.
“But we did look,” Nelson expostulated. “If he wasn’t there last night it isn’t likely he’d be there to-day.”
“He might have gone somewhere and spent the day,” said Bob. “Then maybe he’d expect us to come back to the cove for him this morning.”
“Well, he isn’t likely to wait for us long in this storm,” commented Dan. “And we couldn’t get down there very well, anyhow. I hope he’s keeping dry and warm, wherever he is, but I do think he was a silly ass to get lost again. This is the third time since we got together.”
“Second,” said Bob.
“Third. Don’t you remember how we lost him in Boston the day we bought things for the boat? And found him sitting in the cockpit eating caramels when we reached the wharf?”
“That’s so,” laughed Nelson. “If we were detectives all we’d have to do would be to go to the candy stores and describe him.”
“Wherever he is,” said Bob, “I suppose he doesn’t know whether we’ve returned to New London or gone on to New Haven or somewhere else.”
“All he has to do is to go back to the place we left him,” said Dan. “And if he ever does come back I vote we forbid him to leave the boat alone. We’ll never get anywhere if we have to stop all along the way and look for him.”
“Well,” said Nelson, “we’ll go up to the hotel again after a while and leave word for him in case he comes there to inquire.”
“It would be just like him to jump a train and go home to Chicago,” observed Dan.
“Don’t believe he has money enough,” Nelson replied.
“He probably didn’t have any with him,” said Bob. “He had his ducks on, didn’t he?”
“No, he wore that old gray suit of his,” Dan answered. “But I guess you’re right about the money. I doubt if he had a cent.”
“Well, he’ll manage all right,” said Nelson cheerfully. “He has plenty of cheek, you know. If he doesn’t show up by afternoon we’d better go and have a look for him just as soon as the weather will let us. We’ll run back to the cove and go ashore. He’s probably in some farm-house around there.”
Just before noon they wandered up the wharf and across the tracks to the station, for want of anything more exciting to do, and stood on the platform for a while watching the trains come and go. Finally Bob said:
“Come on, fellows; if I stay here any longer I’ll just have to get on a train and go somewhere!”
“That’s what I’m going to do,” said Dan resolutely. “I’m going to New York.”
“What?” exclaimed the others.
“I might as well. We can’t get out of here before to-morrow and I can be at home by three, spend the night and get back here by nine or ten to-morrow. Do you fellows mind?”
“Of course not,” answered Nelson.
“You see, I haven’t seen the folks since the Spring recess,” said Dan. “And I’m only three hours from New York, and——”
“Guess I’ll take a run up to Portland,” said Bob with a smile.
“And I’ll go with you as far as Boston,” said Nelson.
“If you really rather I wouldn’t go—” began Dan.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Nelson. “We don’t mind. Go ahead. It’s a good scheme. But mind you don’t forget to come back!”
“Not likely! I’ll be here to-morrow forenoon. Come on over to the boat and help me put some things in a bag. There’s a train in about twelve minutes.”
A quarter of an hour later only Bob and Barry and Nelson remained. They had seen Dan off on the Bay State Limited and were on their way to the hotel for luncheon, the skirts of their oilskins wrapping around their legs and impeding progress at every gust of the wind that tore up the street. They weren’t particularly hungry, but the hotel promised more excitement than the launch on a day like this. After luncheon they went to the writing room and wrote letters to everyone they could think of, Bob supplementing the letters with a number of souvenir post cards. They killed three hours quite easily and went back to the Vagabond at four o’clock. The rain had slackened considerably, but the wind still blew hard and gustily. The dark, leaden clouds which closed down upon the world showed no signs of breaking. They spent the rest of the afternoon as best they might, each rather dispirited and decidedly bored. At half-past five Bob went out and bought supplies for the larder and cooked dinner aboard when he returned. Neither he nor Nelson was very hungry and the meal was rather a silent one. After the things were cleared up they tried to read, but even that didn’t satisfy their restlessness, and when, at a little before nine, Bob wandered out to look at the weather and came back with the information that the moon was almost through the clouds and that the rain had ceased entirely and to the proposal that they take a walk Nelson assented eagerly. They got back into their oilskins and thick shoes, locked the door behind them and started out.
“Gee,” said Nelson, “I feel as though I could walk a hundred miles!”
“So do I,” answered Bob. “My legs feel positively rusty. Let’s have a good long tramp. I’m not the least bit sleepy.”
“Nor am I. Which way shall we go?”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s turn down here. It’s no more muddy than any other street, I guess.” So they left the main street behind, turning to the left onto a dimly lighted road which led southward. Overhead the moon gleamed fitfully from between masses of somber clouds. The rain had ceased and the air felt warmer than it had all day. They struck out lustily, splashing through unseen puddles and leaving the town behind them in a jiffy.
“This is something like,” grunted Bob, as he recovered himself from a stumble over a tree root.
“Yes,” Nelson laughed. “If you don’t break your neck, there’s nothing like walking, after all. Remember the dandy times we had last summer.”
“Well, we’ve had pretty good times this summer, too, so far,” replied Bob. “Only, I wish Tommy would show up. I’m beginning to get worried about him. If he doesn’t come back to-morrow we ought to write to his folks, or telegraph, maybe, and see if he’s with them.”
“Oh, tommyrot!” said Nelson. “He wouldn’t go home. Besides, he didn’t have money enough. He’s around somewhere having a good time. I dare say he thinks he’ll get back at us for running away from him.”
“Maybe, but how does he know we won’t go off without him?”
“Well, he knows that he wouldn’t if he was in our place, and doesn’t expect us to.”
“I suppose that’s it. Hello!”
“What?”
“Rain.”
“That’s so. And our friend the moon has retired again. Say, how far from town do you suppose we are?”
“Two miles and a half, maybe.”
“More like three and a half, I’ll bet! Shall we turn back?”
“I suppose so, but I’m not nearly walked out. Maybe it’ll stop raining again in a minute. If there was some place we could go out of the drip for a while——”
“There’s a light over there.”
“Yes, but it’s a half mile away,” answered Bob. “And blest if I know how we’d get to it. Let’s keep on for a bit. It isn’t raining very hard. Besides, we can’t get much wet.”
So they went on, quickening their pace and watching each side of the road for shelter. A minute later the rain began in earnest.
“Aren’t we a couple of idiots?” laughed Nelson.
“Oh, I don’t know; this is more fun than being cooped up in that little old cabin back there. My, but it is coming down some, isn’t it? What’s that ahead there? A house?”
They broke into a run and headed for the dark object in question. It proved to be a tumble-down shed standing back from the road some five or six yards. It was unlighted and their groping hands encountered only a hasp and padlock.
“Locked,” grunted Bob.
“Not a bit of it,” answered Nelson, lifting the padlock out of the staple. “They knew we were coming.” They pulled one of the folding doors open and slipped inside. “Who’s got a match?” Nelson asked.
“I guess I’ve got some somewhere,” answered Bob. “Yes, here we are.”
In the tiny light they saw that the building had at one time been a blacksmith’s shop. The forge and bellows stood in front of them and the floor was littered here and there with old iron. That the roof was not in the best of repair was evidenced by the numerous puddles on the floor.
“How many matches have you got?” asked Nelson as the light flickered out.
“Three or four. Why?”
“Don’t light any more yet,” was the reply. “I saw a piece of paper over in the corner there. If it’s dry maybe we can have a fire and be comfortable.” Nelson crossed the floor, stumbling over discarded wagon tires and old bits of iron, and finally found what he was after. The prize, several sheets of newspaper, was quite dry, and he found his way back to the forge with it. “Now let’s have a light, Bob,” he said. “And we’ll see if we can find some splinters or something.” Luck again favored them, for a piece of soft pine board was leaning against the side of the forge, and while the match held out Nelson whittled diligently with his knife. Afterwards, in the darkness, he gathered paper and whittlings together in the center of the old fire bed, found some likely feeling bits of charcoal and coke and demanded another match.
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Bob. Then, “Thunder!” he exclaimed.
He had scratched it on a damp place and the head had rubbed off without lighting.
“Was that the last?” Nelson asked anxiously.
“No, one more. You’d better do it, Nel.” And Bob handed the precious match over to him.
“If this goes out, too—!” muttered Nelson.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bob presently.
“The blamed thing hasn’t any head on it,” answered Nelson disgustedly. “I’ve scraped it and scraped it and—oh, pshaw, it’s a toothpick!”
“Hang!” remarked Bob feelingly.
“And just when I had a fire all ready! Look through your pockets again, Bob. Maybe you’ll find another.” There was a minute of silence during which each searched from pocket to pocket, broken finally by an exultant exclamation from Bob.
“Here’s a piece of one!” he cried. “And it’s the business end, too. Who’s going to scratch it?”
“Me,” answered Nelson. “I know where the paper is. Hand it over. All right. Now here goes!”
The match lighted and Nelson quickly tucked it under the edge of the paper. There was a breathless moment and then success was assured. The paper was in flames and the splinters were crackling merrily. Nelson seized knife and wood again and frantically split off long pieces to feed the flames.
“See if you can’t find some more wood, Bob,” he said. “Here, light one of these pieces and look around.”
Armed with the small torch Bob explored.
“Fine!” he exclaimed presently from a distant corner of the shed. “Here’s a whole box. Part of it’s kind of damp, but I guess the rest will burn.”
He brought it over and knocked it to pieces and soon there was a generous fire flaring up from the old forge. Nelson seized the bellows and found that they still worked, though somewhat wheezily. “Sounds as though it had the asthma,” he said. Presently the coke caught, too, and when they could leave the fire they rummaged the place from end to end, finding enough fuel of various sorts to last them all night if necessary. A gunny sack in a corner held a few quarts of charcoal, there was a loose beam which came away readily under Bob’s persuasion, and a small box which had once held horse shoe nails was discovered under one of the windows where it had done duty as a cupboard. They took off their oilskins and wet shoes, placing the latter near the flames where they soon began to steam prodigiously.
“Wish we had something to sit on,” lamented Nelson.
“That’s easy,” Bob answered. “Here’s this old anvil over here. If we can get it to the fire it will do finely.”
After several minutes of the hardest sort of work they managed to edge it over to the forge. Then they sat down on it, very close together of necessity, and puffed and blew like a couple of porpoises.
“How long are we going to stay here?” asked Nelson, tossing another piece of wood on the flames.
“I don’t know. Until it holds up a bit, I suppose. Listen to it now, will you?”
The rain was pouring down on the roof like a hundred waterspouts.
“We could sleep here if we had to,” said Nelson.
“I suppose so,” Bob answered dubiously, “but I guess I’m a little bit like Tommy; I have a weakness for mattresses and bedding. If——”
He broke off suddenly and together they turned toward the door which was squeaking back on its rusty hinges. In the opening there appeared a dark form which, while they stared blankly upon it, shuffled into the shed and closed the door behind it.
It was a strange, uncanny form which stood for a moment in the heavy shadows beside the door ere, with slow and shuffling footsteps, it advanced toward them. Some dark covering fell straight from head to feet, and of the face nothing was visible save the eyes which seemed to gleam balefully from the depths of a hood. At the throat the dancing light fell upon the fingers of one hand which clasped the edges of the garment together.
Nelson and Bob found themselves on their feet behind the anvil, although they afterwards had no recollection of having risen. Nelson edged slowly toward the forge, one hand unconsciously reaching backward for a section of the soap box. Bob held his ground and tried to find his voice, but his mouth opened twice before any words issued. And all the while the mysterious, fearsome figure in the dark drapery moved slowly, inexorably toward them across the floor, its shadow gigantically grotesque and horrible, dancing behind it against the farther wall.
“Wh-wh-who—wh-wh-what—?” stammered Bob nervously.
The figure paused, the eyes glittering menacingly in the light from the leaping flames.
“I come,” said a deep voice, “I come——!”
Nelson seized the stick of wood and held it above his head.
“You come any nearer and you’ll get this in the head!” he cried. The dark-robed figure seemed to pause, and Bob found his courage.
“Who in thunder are you?” he asked angrily. “What do you want here?”
“I come,” began the deep voice again, “I come in three-pound, five-pound, and ten-pound packages; also in glass jars. A rubber band——”
“Tommy!” cried Nelson.
“Tommy!” growled Bob.
The robe, which suddenly turned out to be a much-bedraggled gray blanket, dropped to the floor and Tom’s grinning face confronted them.
“Hello, you fellows,” said Tom. “What you scared of?”
“You, you little knock-kneed, bandy-legged, cross-eyed runt!” answered Bob angrily. “And for two cents I’d——!”
“Hold up, Bob,” interposed Nelson. “It’s only Tommy, and he isn’t accountable for what he does, you know. Where the dickens have you been, Tommy, and what are you doing here? How did you happen to find us?”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a minute,” answered Tom. “But I’ve got to get warm first. I’m wet through and beastly cold. If you think Bob isn’t dangerous I’d like to get to that fire.”
“Oh, Bob won’t eat you,” answered Nelson. “Come on and get dry. Great Scott, Tommy, I should say you were wet! Give me that blanket and I’ll hang it up here over the bellows. You’d better take those shoes off, too; if they are shoes, that is; they look like gobs of mud.”
Tom backed up to the fire and beamed humorously at Bob.
“You’re an awful little ass, Tommy,” said Bob finally, suppressing a smile. “Where have you been?”
“Wait a bit,” Nelson interrupted. “Here’s my oilskin, Tommy. Take off your coat and trousers and slip this on. You’ll get dry a heap quicker.”
Tom followed instructions and then, with his back to the fire, which Nelson replenished with the remains of the soap box, and his hands in the pockets of the oilskin coat, he explained.
“I’ll tell you the story of my wanderings,” began Tom. “When I woke up on the beach—Say, where’s Dan?” he interrupted himself to ask wonderingly. Nelson told him of that youth’s sudden resolution and departure and Tom continued. “Well, I suppose it was Dan that thought up that joke on me. It was awfully smart—I don’t think!”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t appreciate it,” said Bob regretfully.
“You wait till I get him!” threatened Tom. “Well, when I woke up the launch was gone and the fog was so thick I could kick holes in it. I thought you fellows had gone around the point and so I started after you. But I got into the woods and lost my way; fooled around there pretty near half an hour, I guess. Finally I found my way out and trailed across a turnip patch, or cauliflower grove, or something, and came to a golf course. I had a lovely time there. Strolled all over it, I guess, and saw all the sights—which weren’t very many, after all, on account of the fog. And I got very soppy and beastly hungry. If I’d met a caddy it would have been all up with him then and there; I’d have picked his little bones quite clean. But I didn’t meet a soul—except the flag at the fourteenth hole, and that was made of tin and couldn’t be eaten. After a while, I don’t know how long, I heard music. Thought first I’d died and got to heaven; but I hadn’t. I’d only got to the Seamont Inn.”
“What’s that?” asked Nelson.
“Shut up and I’ll tell you. It’s a dandy big old summer hotel with about three hundred swells stopping at it. And palms and orchestra chaps in red pyjamas and all sorts of frills. Well, I butted in out of the fog with my blanket nicely folded over my arm and my feet wringing wet and no cap nor anything and strolled up to the desk. All the old gentlemen around the fireplace were staring at me just as though I was President Roosevelt.”
“I can fancy the resemblance,” said Bob dryly.
“Well, I asked as big as life for the manager and they sent for him. He was a nice-looking young chap and I told him who I was and all about it. He seemed to think it awfully funny and asked me into his private office and made me tell him all over again about it. Then he wanted to know what I was after. I told him I was after something to eat, principally. So he sent me down to what they called the ‘ordinary,’ which is a young dining room where the nurses and kids eat, and pretty soon I was wallowing in coffee and rolls and beefsteak and Spanish omelet and——”
“Oh, hush!” begged Nelson.
“—and some sort of griddle cakes. It was fine. Afterwards I went back to the manager chap and thanked him. ‘And now what are you going to do?’ he asked. Well, I didn’t know. I didn’t feel like setting out to hunt you fellows again and I told him so. But, of course, I didn’t have any money with me, not a red cent, and I told him that, too. So he said I could stay there if I wanted until the next day. But he sort of suggested that I’d better keep out of sight, seeing as I wasn’t exactly dressed for a party. There was an eight-course dinner at one o’clock, although they called it luncheon, and I did pretty well, considering that I’d had my breakfast about two hours before. At the table there was a young fellow about my age and we got to talking. He was the head bell boy; ‘Captain’ he called himself; and he went to school at St. Something-or-other’s in Connecticut. We had a long chin and I found that the bell boys were all schoolfellows, and after luncheon I went up with him and met some of them. They were dandy fellows and I said I wouldn’t mind a job there myself. So the Captain—his name was Roberts—said if I meant it he’d take me on, because they had lost two boys and hadn’t found any new ones yet. So I said ‘Me for the ice-water pitchers!’”
“Well, if you’re not the craziest dub, Tommy!” laughed Nelson.
“Roberts handed me out a nice little plum-colored uniform; long trousers, a monkey jacket with four thousand little round brass buttons down the front and a funny little round cap with a line of gilt braid chasing over the top of it. And a fellow named McCarthy lent me a pair of shoes, because mine weren’t fit to be seen. So I was fixed. But the sad part of it was that as soon as I got to be a bell boy I didn’t eat in the ordinary. And we didn’t get any of the frills. But there was enough of it; you could have all you wanted, you know. I went on duty at six o’clock. There were seven of us and I tell you we were busy! Along about nine o’clock everything began to happen at once; ice water, find the chambermaid, bring sea water in a bucket, find out why the electric light didn’t work, get a plate of oatmeal crackers, find lost kids and—oh, everything! And the bell in the office was thumping holes in itself. But it was pretty good fun. And when you got to the fourth floor you could slide nearly three flights on the banister rail—if no one saw you. But along about twelve or half-past I thought my legs were coming off. They wouldn’t let us ride on the elevator unless we were showing some one to his room and the stairs were fierce. They let me off at one o’clock and I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off. I guess I’ve lost ten pounds.”
Nelson hooted.
“Where did you sleep?” asked Bob.
“In the Servants’ Hall, as they called it; a building back of the hotel with a lot of little rooms with iron beds in them. I could have slept on the office floor or on top of the elevator cage that night! To-day I didn’t have to go to work until twelve o’clock, and I was glad of it, I tell you, for my legs were stiff as anything! They’re stiff yet,” added Tom, stretching them carefully as though he was afraid they might break off, “but not so bad; they’ve got limbered up now.”
“Did they let you off early?” asked Nelson.
Tom shook his head smilingly.
“No,” he answered. “I severed my connection with the Seamont Inn at exactly half-past eight. It was this way. I got a call to Room 86. When I went up there an old codger with a white mustache and a red face lighted into me for not coming sooner; said he’d been ringing for ten minutes and I was the slowest boy he’d ever seen and needed to have some of the fat worked off me. I said I’d bet I could beat him to the end of the hall and back and he got waxy about it; said he was going to send for the manager and have me discharged. I told him to go ahead. So I went downstairs and resigned before the old codger could report me. The manager chap said he guessed I wasn’t cut out for a bell boy. I asked him if I owed him anything and he said No, I’d worked it off. He was very decent about it. I told him I’d be glad to pay him, though, if he thought I owed him anything and he wanted to know how. ‘Thought you said you didn’t have any money?’ said he. I told him I didn’t have any when I got there, but that I’d made four dollars and seventy-five cents in tips. He thought that was funny, too; he had a keen sense of humor for a hotel man. But he said we were square, and so I thanked him and shook hands with him and changed my clothes. Roberts was sorry I was going; said they all had trouble with the red-faced old idiot.”
“He ought to have spanked you, just the same,” said Bob.
Tom grinned.
“He’d have tried it, I guess, if he’d had any clothes on to speak of. Well, I called up the hotel in New London on the ’phone and asked if you fellows had been there and they said you had and had left word that I was to come to the wharf by the ferry slip. So when it stopped raining I started to walk it; they said it was only three and a half miles. But about the time I was half way it began to pour like anything. I got under a tree for a while, but that wasn’t any good and so I came on. When I saw this light I thought it was a house. But while I was trying to find the doorbell I heard you fellows talking. I heard Bob say ‘I guess I’m like Tommy.’ Then I opened the door a bit and peeped in. That’s all.”
“And you thought it would be a fine joke to scare the life out of us, eh?” asked Bob.
Tom nodded.
“Well, you came pretty near to doing it. I never saw a more outlandish object than you were when you came through the door!”
“Why didn’t you go back to the cove yesterday afternoon?” asked Nelson.
“I was bell-boying,” answered Tom calmly. “Besides, you fellows were having your joke and I thought you might as well enjoy it.”
“It would have served you jolly well right,” replied Bob severely, “if we’d gone on and left you.”
“I wouldn’t have cared.”
“Oh, no, I suppose not,” said Nelson sarcastically. “I’d like to know what you’d have done.”
“Stayed right there until I’d made another dollar or two and gone on to New York to Dan’s house.”
“Huh! Dan’s father would have thrown you off the doorsteps! Think he’d have taken in such a looking thing as you were?”
“I’d have risked it,” laughed Tom. “When’s Dan coming back?”
“To-morrow morning. And as soon as he does we’re going to make trades for New Haven. I’m tired of loafing around here doing nothing but hunt for idiots,” said Nelson.
“Meaning me, dearie?” asked Tom. “Hope you choke. Say, can we get back to the boat to-night? It’s raining harder than ever.”
“What time is it?” asked Nelson. “Got your watch on, Bob?”
“Quarter to twelve,” answered Bob. “I vote we stay here and be as comfortable as we can. Is there any more wood?”
“Plenty. There are two or three old gunny sacks around and we can spread those out, put our oilskins on top and sleep finely. We can spread Tommy’s blanket over us.”
So, after building the fire up high, they followed Nelson’s plan and, lying close together for warmth, were soon asleep, with the rain pelting a lullaby on the leaky roof.
They awoke shivering at seven o’clock and started back to town. The sun was out bright and a mile of the muddy road warmed them up. They reached the hotel at half-past eight and went through the entire bill of fare. But it took time and consequently it was almost ten when they crossed the railroad tracks at the station and walked down the wharf. They had left Barry on board the evening before and Bob was calling himself names for deserting him for so long when Nelson, who was a few yards ahead, uttered a cry of astonishment and stopped dead in his tracks.
“What’s the row?” asked Bob, hurrying to his side.
Nelson looked dazedly at Bob and then at the water below them. And Bob and Tom, following his eyes with their own, understood. The Vagabond had disappeared.
“Are you sure you left her here?” asked Tom. “Don’t be a fool, Tommy, if you can help it,” answered Bob shortly. “Of course we’re sure.”
“Then—where is she?”
“Well, if we knew we wouldn’t be standing here answering your idiotic questions,” replied Nelson. After which he and Bob, each having sat on Tom, regained some of their equanimity.
“You don’t suppose anyone has swiped her, do you. Nel?” Bob asked anxiously.
“Looks like it,” was the answer. “Only—how could they get in to start the engine?”
“Are you sure you locked the door?”
“Positive. And here’s the key. And the only other one is in the cabin, unless Dan has it; he had it a couple of days ago.”
“They might have burst the locks, I suppose,” said Bob. But Nelson looked doubtful.
“They might break the padlock on the hatch, but the door lock is a pretty stiff one to get at. I suppose they might have picked it, though.”
“Maybe they didn’t start the engine,” said Tom. “Maybe they just towed her away as she was.”
“That’s right, Tommy!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s just about it. If she’s been stolen that’s the way they’ve done it. Besides, even if anyone could get the door open Barry wouldn’t let them stay in the engine room long enough to turn the wheel over. He’d scare ’em out in no time. He wouldn’t let anyone but you or Tommy or me go down those stairs.”
“Or Dan,” suggested Tom thoughtfully.
“Dan, of course,” answered Bob.
“And Dan had the other key, maybe,” continued Tom.
“Yes, I think so,” said Nelson. “By Jove, Tommy, you’re right! Perhaps Dan has gone off with her!”
“Nonsense!” said Bob. “He wouldn’t know how to start her, to say nothing of running her after she was started!”
“I’m not so sure,” answered Nelson. “He’s watched things pretty carefully lots of times, come to think of it. Besides, it wouldn’t make much difference to him whether he knew how or not. If he wanted to do it he would, and he’s a lucky beggar.”
“But could he have got back as early as this?” asked Bob.
“Let’s go over to the station and find out,” suggested Tom.
“You and Bob go,” Nelson said, “and I’ll see if I can find anyone around here who saw the Vagabond go out.” At the station Bob consulted the ticket agent.
“First train leaves New York at 4.54,” said the agent, “and arrives here at 9.45.”
“He wouldn’t take that,” said Bob to Tom. “He’d have to get up at four o’clock. Besides, we were at the wharf at a quarter to ten. What’s the next one?”
“Eight o’clock from New York, arriving here 10.45,” answered the agent. “Another at 10.00, arriving 12.45, another at 10.02, arriving——”
“Thanks,” interrupted Bob. “Those would be too late. There’s no train, then, except the 4.54 which gets here before 9.45?”
Their informant shook his head impatiently and they moved aside.
“That disposes of Dan,” said Bob. “It isn’t the least bit likely that he’d get up at four o’clock to take a slow train when he could wait until eight and get one reaching here only an hour later. And if he has taken the eight o’clock he won’t be here for nearly three quarters of an hour. So it looks as though some one had deliberately run off with the boat.”
“Gee!” said Tom. “Won’t we be in a fix? Do you suppose we’ll ever find it and get it back?”
“I don’t know,” replied Bob. “I should think, though, that a thirty-six-foot launch would be a pretty hard thing to hide.”
“But the fellow who took it could paint out the name and fix her up a little differently and no one could tell she was stolen.”
“Yes, if we gave him time. But what we’ve got to do now is to get busy. There’s Nel over there.”
Nelson’s report was not comforting. No one had seen the launch that morning, and one old fellow who had rowed across the river at seven o’clock and whose skiff was now tied at the end of the wharf declared that the launch had not been there when he arrived.
“That means,” said Nelson, “that she’s been stolen some time in the night. The man over at the ferry slip says I ought to tell the police and the harbor master at once and telephone up to Norwich and to New Haven and Stonington. So I guess we’d better get busy. Of course they could tow the launch over to some place on Long Island just as easily as they could take her to New Haven, and we can’t very well telephone there, I suppose.”
“Of course you can,” said Bob. “They’ll give you connection at New York. But I think you might as well save your money. If she’s been stolen there’s just one place the thief will take her to, and that’s New York or somewhere around there.”
“Maybe,” replied Nelson dolefully. “Thunder! If we don’t find her I’ll hate to go back home and face the pater!”
“We’ll find her,” said Bob earnestly. “Do you know where the police hang out?”
“Yes, the man told me where to go,” answered Nelson as they left the wharf.
“If she was towed away,” said Tom, “they must have used a launch, I suppose.”
“Probably,” Bob agreed. “They wouldn’t be likely to use a rowboat and a sailboat wouldn’t be much better. If the wind died out they’d be caught.”
“Unless they started early last night and got over to Long Island or down the shore somewhere while it was dark,” said Nelson. “They might put in at some little out-of-the-way place and no one would think of looking for them.”
“Well, if it was a launch,” said Tom, “wouldn’t it be a good plan for the police to find out whether any launch is missing?”
“I should think it would,” said Bob, and Nelson agreed. “We’ll suggest it to them. Have you any more of those clever ideas, Tommy?”
“Well; I think we ought to hire a boat of some sort, a launch if we can find one, and hunt around ourselves. It wouldn’t be much of a trick to run up to Norwich, and it wouldn’t take long to search the shore around here.”
“That’s a scheme!” cried Nelson. “Tommy, you’re a brick! It will keep us busy, besides, and I’d go crazy if I had to sit around the hotel here and wait for the police to do things!”
“How about money?” asked Bob.
“Thunder! That’s so! They’ve got our money, too! How much have you got, Bob?”
“Two or three dollars.”
“And I’ve got four-seventy-five,” said Tom.
“That’s about seven,” said Nelson, “and I’ve got about a dollar in change. Eight dollars won’t go very far, though, when it comes to telephoning all around the country and renting a launch!”
“You forget Dan,” said Bob. “He’s sure to have a lot of tin on him.”
“That’s right. And look here!” Nelson stopped and looked back toward the railroad station. “What time is it, Bob?”
“Almost half-past ten.”
“Then one of us ought to go back to the station and meet Dan. If he goes down there and finds the launch gone there’s no knowing where he will wander to. Will you go down and wait for him, Tommy? Tell him what’s up and hold him at the station until we get back.”
“All right,” answered Tom. “And we might be making inquiries about a launch, eh?”
“Yes, but be back on the platform by eleven.”
Tom retraced his steps to the station, leaving the others to go on in search of the police officials. He passed a fruit and candy store on the way and was sorely tempted to buy some of the latter, but he told himself resolutely that what money he had ought to be expended toward recovering the Vagabond and so fought off the temptation. The Mayflower Limited rolled in on time to the minute and Tom watched the steps of the long line of parlor cars in expectation of seeing Dan descend. But no Dan appeared. After making certain of this fact Tom went into the station and studied the time-table.
“Now he can’t get here until a quarter to one,” he said disgustedly. “And we need his money like anything! I dare say he didn’t want to pay the extra fare on the Limited, the stingy beggar!”
He went down to the wharf to make sure that Dan had not somehow managed to get off of the train on the other side and gone to look for the Vagabond. But the wharf was empty, and so Tom set out on the search for a launch to rent.
Twenty minutes later the three met again on the station platform, all more cheerful for having accomplished something. Bob reported smilingly that the wheels of justice were in motion and that already the local sleuths were on the trail. Nelson had sent telephone messages up and down the Sound and over to Long Island. Tom had found the very thing they wanted in the way of a launch.
“She’s a little bit of a thing, only eighteen feet long,” he explained, “but she can go like anything. And we can hire her for six dollars a day. I tried to make him take five, but he wouldn’t. She’s right up here at a wharf. Come on and look at her.”
The Sylph proved to be a very smart-looking little craft, built of white cedar and mahogany. Her engine took up a good deal of space, but there remained room for four passengers. The owner had built her himself and was very proud of her, so proud that when Bob and Nelson became enthusiastic over her lines and finish, and when he had learned why they wanted her, he voluntarily knocked off a dollar of the renting price.
“Call it five dollars for to-day and the same for to-morrow if you need her again,” he said. “I guess you can run the engine all right, but I’ll show you one or two things about it that you probably aren’t used to.”
The one or two things proved to be small improvements of his own devising and it took some time for Nelson to understand them. But at a quarter to twelve they had paid their five dollars and were in possession of the Sylph. They ran her down to the wharf where they had left the Vagabond and found that she went finely.
“Shall we wait for the 12.45 train and get Dan?” asked Nelson. “Or shall we leave word for him somewhere and start out now?”
“Let’s get at it as soon as we can,” answered Bob. “Dan can look out for himself.”
So Nelson was left in charge of the launch while Bob went to the station to telephone a message to the hotel in case Dan turned up there looking for them, and Tom hurried to the nearest store after crackers and cheese and cookies. For with only sixty cents left between them there was no use thinking about an elaborate luncheon. When they returned in the evening they would go to the hotel and live on credit until Nelson’s father sent them some money. Bob and Tom were soon back and the Sylph headed up the river.
Bob had been in favor of searching downstream and along the shore east and west of the river mouth first, but Nelson said he had a feeling that the Vagabond had been taken toward Norwich, and Tom threw his vote with Nelson’s. It wasn’t likely that the thief would leave the launch anywhere around the town, but they searched the waterfront thoroughly to be on the safe side and then ran across the river to the Groton shore. After a search there the Sylph was again headed upstream. Twice in the ensuing half hour they approached the east shore to examine boats which, seen from the middle of the river, seemed to bear some resemblance to the Vagabond. But in each case they were doomed to disappointment, the craft proving on closer acquaintance to be very little like their missing launch. They went slowly in order that they might search each bank of the stream carefully and at half-past one they had only reached the second bend in the river. For some time past they had seen no launches either in the stream or moored along the banks and Bob suggested that Nelson send the Sylph at a faster pace so that they would have more time to look around and make inquiries at Norwich before it was necessary to turn homeward.
“All right,” Nelson answered. “I guess she isn’t hidden around here anywhere.”
It didn’t seem likely, for the banks were devoid of coves, and field and forest came straight down to the water’s edge. Nelson was just reaching forward to advance the spark, and the Sylph was just swinging around the turn in the river, when Tom began to sputter.
“Lu-lu-lu-lu-look!” he cried.
“Where?” asked Nelson and Bob with one voice, turning their heads excitedly from side to side. Tom pointed across the stream toward the west bank.
“Th-th-there! Su-su-su-see that bu-bu-bu-boat under the tu-tu-tu-trees?”
“Jove!” exclaimed Bob.
“The Vagabond!” cried Nelson, turning the wheel over fast.
“Looks like it,” said Bob excitedly, “but what’s she doing there? I don’t believe it is her after all, Nel.”
“I know it is,” was the reply as the Sylph, headed obliquely across the river, chugged her fastest. “I’d know her anywhere!”
“Wu-wu-wu-well,” stuttered Tom, “I du-du-du-don’t pr-pretend to knu-knu-know the bu-bu-boat, bu-bu-but I knu-knu-know the du-du-du-du-dog!”
“He’s right,” exclaimed Bob. “That’s Barry on the cabin roof!”
“Then they did get into the engine room,” said Nelson, his eyes fixed intently on the distant craft, “and they didn’t tow her. I wish,” he added, “that we had that revolver of yours, Bob.”
“So do I,” answered Bob gravely.
The little Sylph, as though comprehending the impatience of those she carried, dashed across the river.
The Vagabond lay anchored close to shore, her nose pointing upstream and shaded by the drooping branch of a willow tree. Beside her, tugging gently at the painter, was the tender. On the cabin roof, stretched out at full length in a patch of hot sunshine, lay Barry. No other life was visible, and had it not been that the tender was tied to an awning stanchion and that the cabin door and hatch were wide open those on the Sylph would have concluded that the person who had run away with the Vagabond had rifled her of money and other valuables and abandoned her here. But at least a dozen yards separated her from the land and it was not likely that the thief would have swam ashore while there was a tender handy. “No, it was evident to the party on the Sylph that whoever had taken the Vagabond from the wharf at New London was still on board, and when they had approached to within a hundred yards Nelson slowed down the engine, resolved to get as near as possible to the Vagabond without detection. Bob and Tom silently peeled off their coats, and Nelson followed suit, cinching in his leather belt in a businesslike way.
“It’s funny about Barry,” said Nelson softly. “You’d think they’d have got rid of him.”
“Oh, he probably made friends,” answered Bob. “I’m glad he did. They might have thrown him overboard.”
“How many do you suppose there are?” asked Nelson as he opened the switch, shut off the gasoline and allowed the Sylph to glide silently toward the enemy. Bob shook his head. Tom wanted to talk but realized that in his present excited state it would be idle to make the attempt. “I don’t believe there are more than two,” continued Nelson. “If there were, one of them would be sure to be up on deck.”
“Suppose they’ll show fight?” asked Bob.
“I hope they do,” answered Nelson earnestly, “I just hope they do!”
“Well, but I don’t want any pistols flashed on me,” muttered Bob. “Get ready, Tommy. I’ll go forward and make fast. If we can sneak on board quietly and shut the doors and lock them maybe we can make terms.”
“Good scheme,” whispered Nelson. “You and Tom keep her from bumping and I’ll make a stab at it.”
The Sylph was scarcely more than moving now and for a moment or two it looked as though she would not reach the other boat without having her engine started again. All three kept very still, their eyes fixed intently on the nine oval port lights. They were all open and every moment Tom expected to see a revolver spring into glittering view through one of them. But they all remained empty and the two boats were less than three yards apart when their plan to maintain silence was frustrated by Barry.
Once as they approached he had raised his head lazily and viewed them with calm indifference, promptly returning to his slumber or day-dreaming. But now he suddenly sprang to his feet and gave the alarm in the form of a challenging bark that was half a growl. Bob raised a warning hand.
“Barry!” he whispered hoarsely. “Shut up, sir!”
The terrier recognized them then, but he didn’t shut up. Instead he went quite crazy with delight and ran barking joyously along the edge of the cabin roof, Nelson, Bob, and Tom entreating and threatening him with bated breath. Then Bob and Tom brought the two boats softly together and Nelson made a flying jump on to the Vagabond and scrambled noiselessly down to the cockpit, Barry leaping ecstatically at him.
It was the work of an instant to close the doors, and then, in the act of drawing the hatch shut, Nelson peered quickly into the engine room. It was empty and the door into the stateroom beyond was closed. Nelson hesitated a moment. There was a bolt on each side of this door and if he could reach the door without alarming the occupants of the stateroom and slip the bolt on his side he would not only make them prisoners but be able to run the engine and so get back quickly to New London. Opening the doors again, he stepped softly down into the engine room and across the floor. There was no sound from beyond the door. Noiselessly he slipped the bolt into place and hurried back to the deck.
Bob and Tom had pulled the Sylph toward the stern of the larger boat out of range of the port lights and were making her fast. Nelson explained what he had done.
“That’s good,” said Bob. “Although, of course, we could have towed her back with the Sylph.”
“And been plugged full of holes, maybe, from one of the forward ports,” added Nelson. “No, thank you! I don’t see, though, why they haven’t heard us if there’s really anyone down there!”
“Let’s find out if there is anyone on board,” said Bob. “I’ll creep up and look.”
So very softly he made his way along the side until he reached the first port in the stateroom. Then he stooped and peered down into the dim cabin. The opposite bunks were both empty. It was impossible to see the ones below him from where he was, so he silently crept back and around to the corresponding port on the other side of the boat, Nelson and Tom watching anxiously from the stern.
In a moment he was crawling back, one finger up-raised.
“There’s only one there,” he said softly, “and he’s fast asleep in Dan’s berth. It’s too dark to make out anything about him, and he’s got his face toward the wall, but he looks like a pretty husky chap. Now what shall we do?”
“Get the anchor up, take the tender back of the Sylph and make her fast there and go home.”
“Can we tow the Sylph and the tender too?” questioned Bob.
“Sure. We’ll keep as quiet as we can about it, but I don’t think it matters whether the chap down there wakes up or not. He won’t be a match for the three of us, I guess. I’ll stay below and if he tries to break through the door I’ll lay him out with a wrench. You and Tom get the anchor up and the other boats fixed. Don’t give the Sylph much rope; about four feet will do; we don’t want to get it wound around the propeller. For the love of Mike, Barry, get out from under my feet! Yes, I’m awfully glad to see you, of course, but I’ll tell you about it later.” And Nelson crept back to the engine room.
Presently Bob put his head down and whispered that all was ready. Nelson, listening for sounds from beyond the door and hearing none, prepared to start the engine. Bob took the wheel and Tom was stationed at the stern to keep the Sylph from bumping as they turned. Bob waited. So did Tom. Then Nelson’s head appeared at the door.
“No wonder he stayed here,” he said angrily. “The blamed idiot went and balled the vaporizer all up! Had it screwed around so she wasn’t getting any gasoline! I’d like to break his head!”
“Can’t you fix it?” asked Bob anxiously.
“I have fixed it,” was the reply, “but I’m going to tell him what I think of him before he gets away. It’s bad enough to swipe the boat, I should think, without trying to queer the engine!” And Nelson went back still muttering vengefully. Bob and Tom exchanged grins. Then the Vagabond, which had been slipping downstream for several minutes, turned her nose toward the middle of the Thames and swung about to the tune of her chugging engine, the Sylph and the tender following behind in single file. Presently Nelson wiped his hands on a bunch of waste and seated himself on the middle step where he could at once keep his eye on the engine, watch the stateroom door, and converse with Bob and Tom.
“Don’t see why he don’t wake up now,” said Bob, when they were making for New London. “Maybe he’s dead.”
“Ku-ku-killed by ru-ru-remorse,” suggested Tom.
“Steal around and have a peep at him, Tommy,” said Nelson. Tommy looked doubtful.
“Du-du-do you think he’s got a gu-gu-gu-gun?” he asked.
“No, and, anyway, he’s asleep, isn’t he?” answered Nelson.
“That’s what I du-du-don’t know,” replied Tom.
“Well, go and see,” laughed Bob. “You don’t have to climb through the port; just take a peek.”
So Tom obeyed, not overanxiously, and displayed splendid caution in the matter of approach. For fully half a minute he leaned over the port. Then he came back, looking excited.
“He’s still asleep! And wh-wh-wh-what do you th-th-think?”
“I don’t think,” answered Bob. “Out with it, and don’t drop too many stitches or he will wake up and murder us all before you’ve unburdened yourself of your fearful secret.”
“He was all ready to su-su-skip out,” said Tom. “There’s a suit case on the floor by the du-du-door and I’ll bet it’s all packed with our things. And he’s got on a pu-pu-pu-pair of Dan’s trousers!”
“How do you know?” asked Nelson.
“Saw them; those woolly, grayish, checked ones.”
“Sorry to queer your little yarn, Tommy,” said Bob, “but you’re letting your imagination run away with you. Dan wore those trousers to New York yesterday.”
“Du-du-du-did he, Nel?” appealed Tom. Nelson nodded.
“Well, they look like those. Anyway, I’ll bet he’s got all our money and things in that su-su-su-su-su——”
“Suit case, Tommy,” said Nelson. “You’re welcome.”
“Well, it won’t do him any good now,” said Bob. “He won’t get it off this boat except over my dead body.”
“What became of that cheese and the crackers and things?” asked Tom suddenly.
“By Jove, that’s so!” exclaimed Bob. “We haven’t fed!”
“Well, we don’t need to eat crackers and cheese unless we want to,” said Nelson. “There’s real grub in the ice box. What do you say, Chef? Do we get anything cooked?”
“I don’t mind cooking if you’ll stay there and see that he doesn’t jump out and scalp me,” answered Tom.
Nelson promised faithfully and presently there was a subdued bustle in the “galley.” Beyond the bolted door all remained as silent as a tomb. The Vagabond and her tows were by this time within sight of the bridge.
“Coffee or tea?” asked Tom softly.
The verdict was coffee and Tom’s fork got busy in the bottom of a cup with half an egg.
“Don’t make such a silly lot of noise,” whispered Nelson.
“It isn’t me,” replied Tom, “it’s the egg cackling.”
“Where are we, Bob?” asked Nelson.
“Just passed the Navy Yard,” was the answer. “Hadn’t you better slow her down a bit?” Nelson followed the suggestion.