The youngest of the Dunstans was sitting where Pedro had been seated
only a short time before. Ted held a book in his hands, his gaze fixed
on one of the pages.
"He's playing crafty," thought Tom. "He's waiting until he's sure that
black man is sound, sound asleep. Then he'll make his dash for freedom.
Oh, if he only knew how close a friend is!"
"Whirr-ugh!" Pedro's snore smote heavily on the air.
"He'll sleep now, as only a colored man can sleep," thought Tom
jubilantly. "There's only just one time to do this thing, and that's
now! Here goes to let Ted Dunstan know that help is right at hand."
Yet Tom's teeth were threatening so persistently to chatter that he had
to hold his jaws firmly together for a moment before he dared attempt a
slight signal.
"Pss-sst!" It was a low signal indeed. Ted Dunstan half raised his gaze
from the printed page, then glanced down again.
"Whirr-rr-ugh!" came the noisy safety-signal from Pedro.
Tom ventured to raise his head a trifle higher above the port gunwale.
"Pss-sst! pss-sst!" he hissed desperately.
Ted Dunstan looked up now, his glance traveling swiftly astern. Then he
caught sight of the eager face of the "Meteor's" young skipper. At sight
of the peeper's face the Dunstan heir's face was a study in amazement.
At first he just stared, as though suddenly in a daze.
"Come here!" whispered Tom ever so softly.
Ted laid his book down, shot a swift, uncertain glance at the cubby in
which Pedro lay, then rose uncertainly. Tom hauled himself up, perching
himself on the gunwale.
"Be quick and silent about it," whispered Tom, as Ted reached him and
stood staring with all his might. "Can you swim?"
"Why?" demanded Ted curtly, and not exactly in a whisper, either.
"If you can we'll be ashore in a jiffy," Halstead responded 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 just slip
down into the water and trust yourself to me. I'll manage it for both of
us. Be quick about it, though, for every minute counts."
"There's some mistake, somewhere," pronounced Ted, a decided coldness in
his tone.
"Mistake?" echoed Halstead, as though the other had struck him. "What do
you mean, Ted? Don't you remember me? I'm in charge of your father's
motor boat. I've been looking for you for days, and now you can escape."
"But I don't want to escape," declared Master Ted coolly, almost
sneeringly. "Besides, there's nothing to escape from."
"Nothing to escape from?" echoed Tom aghast. "Why, Ted Dunstan, you
simply can't know what you're saying. Look how this crowd have used
you."
"Well, then, how have they used me?" Ted challenged coolly. "I am having
the time of my life."
"The time of your----Say, Ted Dunstan, have you any idea how nearly
crazy your father is 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 Halstead wondered if he had taken
leave of his own senses. There could be no doubt at all that young
Dunstan believed every word he was uttering.
"Your father knows you're here?" Tom insisted questioningly.
"Of course he does. It's by his orders that I am here and that I am
keeping quiet. And now, clear out. I've talked to you more than is
right. I know what you and your chum are--a pair of slippery eels!"
"You say your father knows----You say he ordered you----" Tom went on
vaguely. "Ted Dunstan, do you think you're telling the truth or anything
like it? And who on earth should you----"
"Clear out of this," ordered the Dunstan heir firmly. "I don't like to
see you get into any trouble, but I'm not going to listen to you any
longer. My father can tell you about this, if he has a mind to. I've no
right to talk about it and I won't. Now if you can swim as well as you
say you can, prove it and reach shore on the double-quick. Pedro! Pedro!
Wake up! Now you git, Halstead!"
[Illustration: "Clear Out of This!" Ordered the Dunstan Heir.]
"But Ted----" persisted the dumfounded young skipper.
"Well, stay, then, and let Pedro get his hands on you," defied the
Dunstan heir. "Pedro! Aren't you going to wake up?"
"Coming, chile," sounded a drowsy voice, followed by the noise of heavy
movements.
Dazed, thunderstruck, his mind wholly befuddled by this astounding turn
to the mystery, Tom Halstead did not linger. He knew too well what was
likely to happen to him if he fell into Pedro's hands.
Slipping over the side, Tom cast off from the rope, striking out
strongly, swiftly for the shore which was distant not more than one
hundred and 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 the cheek 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 Ted in sudden dismay and terror.
But Pedro dived back into the forward cubby. All this conversation the
young motor boat captain had heard, for it passed in no low tones. Just
as Pedro reached the cubby Tom scrambled up on the beach. Before him
were the deep woods. In among the trees he plunged. The instant he was
satisfied that he was out of sight of the launch, he turned at right
angles, speeding swiftly for some hundred and fifty yards. Then he
halted to listen.
"Where he done gone?" demanded Pedro, reappearing on deck, gripping a
double-barreled shotgun.
"I'm not going to tell you," retorted Ted sulkily. "Shooting is not in
the game."
Tom heard the murmur of the voices--nothing more. A minute later he
heard the steady chug! chug! of the launch's steam engine as that craft
started. Then the noise ceased as the craft got smoothly under way. But
Halstead was up a tree, now, where he could watch.
"Heading out to sea, are you?" he chuckled, despite his great anxiety.
"And in a six-mile boat. Hm! I think the 'Meteor' can overtake you and
at least keep you in sight. For that matter, 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 was down on the ground, making speedily for where
he judged the road to be. As he came in sight of the road he heard
another chug! chug! that made his heart bound with delighted hope.
"Hi, there! Stop there, please!" shouted the young motor boat captain,
waving his arms as he sighted a touring car headed toward the village.
There was only the chauffeur on the front seat and an elderly man in the
tonneau. The chauffeur glanced back at this other man, then slowed down
the auto.
"If you're going into Wood's Hole, take me with you?" begged Tom so
earnestly that the older man swung open the door, saying crisply: "Jump
in!"
Nor did Halstead lose a second. He plumped down into the seat by the
door and the car was off again, going at some twenty miles an hour.
"I hope you won't mind my wet clothes in your car," hinted Tom
apologetically. "I got a big drenching in the ocean and there was
neither 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. The elderly man smiled, though he evidently was not curious,
for he asked no further questions. Halstead sat there delightedly
watching the distance fade. Even to his anxious mind the trip seemed a
brief, speedy one. As the car ran in by the railway station Halstead saw
the late afternoon train slowly backing down the track. It had been in,
then, for three or four minutes.
"Thank you, thank you!" breathed Tom fervently, as he threw open the
door to leap out, then closing it behind him. "You haven't any idea what
a huge favor you've done me."
"I'm glad I've been able to be of some use in the world to-day," laughed
the old gentleman pleasantly.
But Tom, bounding across the tracks and over the ground, hardly heard
him. The young skipper had but one thought at this moment--to get aboard
and have his craft under way at the earliest possible second.
As Halstead neared the pier he saw Joe and Jed seated on the deckhouse,
while Mr. Crane, the Dunstan lawyer, arrived on the train, was walking
along over the boards.
"Joe, get the engine started on a hustle!" bellowed Tom, using both
hands to form a trumpet. "Jed, on the pier with you and stand by the
stern-line, ready to cast off!"
Both boys leaped to obey such crisp commands. Lawyer Crane, having
reached the boat, turned on the pier to look inquiringly at the racing
young skipper.
"Get aboard, sir, as quickly as you can, if you please," requested the
young skipper all but breathlessly.
"May I inquire----" began the lawyer slowly.
"Yes, sir; when we're under way. But we haven't a second to lose in
starting. Get aboard, sir, if you please."
In his eagerness Tom almost shoved the legal gentleman over the side.
Mr. Crane, not a little astonished at the hasty procedure, looked as
though about to resent such treatment, but fortunately changed his mind.
Tom himself seized the bowline and threw off. He and Jed sprang aboard,
fore and aft, at about the same instant. The "Meteor's" engine was
already chugging merrily.
"Slow speed ahead, Joe," bellowed down Captain Tom, and the "Meteor"
swung gracefully out. "Now work her up to good speed," he called, a few
moments later. "We're on the grand old chase!"