For a few seconds the two combatants fought strenuously in the darkness.
"Now, I've got you!" growled the assailant, wrapping his arms around
young Captain Halstead.
But that astounded youth only gasped:
"Joe!"
"Tom! Pompey's ghost! Is this you?"
Joe Dawson rolled swiftly from his point of vantage, and the chums
sprang instantly to their feet.
"That was Ted Dunstan who got away," quivered Halstead.
"I know it," admitted Joe. "I thought you were one of the other crowd. I
had eyes only for him, when I saw him."
"Quick, then!"
They could hear Master Ted running, somewhat uncertainly, in the woods,
with which he seemed to be unfamiliar. Yet he was nearing the opening
where the house stood.
After him pelted both motor boat boys. Ted heard them coming, of course,
and increased his speed. Yet Ted must have gotten into the opening, but
for an accident. One of his feet tripped over something. Down he went,
and, with his hands tied behind him, it was not the simplest task in the
world for him to get on his feet again. Just as he did accomplish it,
Tom and Joe reached him, grasping him on either side. Ted made a slight,
useless struggle, but what he did succeed in doing was to kick a tree
rather resoundingly.
The busy eight, unsuspicious until then, had just returned to the rear
yard. Some of them heard that kick against the tree.
"What was that noise?" demanded Don Emilio.
"Nothing," replied Jonas French.
"Come on! I want to make sure, anyway. Hasten!"
Tom, leading the way, and Joe, bringing up the rear with Ted Dunstan
gripped in his arms, were in motion, but Don Emilio and several of his
comrades pursued at lively speed.
"There's some one running in these woods," called back Don Emilio.
"Spread out, and travel fast!"
When they had gone some little distance Tom fell back, snatching Ted
from Joe's arms. They ran until they came to a low-hanging thicket.
Burdened as the motor boat boys were, the race must prove an unequal
one. Joe halted at the thicket, holding out his arm to stop Tom. The two
crept in under there with their burden, Joe holding the Dunstan heir's
feet.
And just in time, too, for Don Emilio and Jonas French went by within
striking distance.
"Whoever it was didn't get as far as the road," the boys heard Don
Emilio declare, not far away. "French, you stay here. If you see a
living figure in the road you'll know what to do. I'll send another man
to watch with you. These woods have got to be searched."
Just at that moment some one else must have reached Don Emilio Alvarez
and must have reported, for the Honduran's voice screamed:
"What do you say? The youngster's gone from the attic? Listen, men! Let
nothing stand in your way, now. We must have that boy back. We'll watch
the road and drag the woods. Waste no sympathy on any meddler you find!"
It was at once made plain to the motor boat boys that Don Emilio and his
comrades were now frantic. Everywhere could be heard the steps, or the
low voices of the searchers. Tom and Joe dreaded capture at each
instant. Dawson had made it his task to secure Ted's feet again, and to
hold them doubly secure with his own hands.
Once, as some of the searchers went by, Gambon's voice was heard. Joe
nudged his chum; the latter understood how the young engineer of the
"Meteor" had come so handily upon the scene through trailing the
Frenchman here. Not once, after they had hidden themselves, did the
motor boat boys dare to stir. Their covering, though dense enough in the
dark, was thin at best. Two or three times some of the searchers passed
by within a yard of those they sought. At such times Ted Dunstan's body
shook with suppressed emotion. But he was so tied and held that he could
not make a sign to betray himself. Whenever the seekers came close
Halstead reached out a hand holding the young heir's nostrils closed, so
that he could not even sniff.
The conviction of Don Emilio that his longed-for prey was close at hand
was shown by the repeated searchings over an area of barely more than
five acres. The time even slipped into hours without the hunt being
abandoned.
Half the time Tom and Joe felt as though their hearts were up in their
throats, so close did discovery seem. The first gray streaks of dawn
showed at last, but Don Emilio would not agree that the chase extend
beyond this strip of lonely woods.
"It is more important than anything else could be that we should find
the boy," Tom heard the Honduran explain to Gambon. "And daylight will
show that they have not gotten away from here. It was here that the
sounds of flight stopped. Somewhere, within a stone's throw or two we
shall yet come upon the meddlers in hiding. I shall not give up."
"Confound him," whispered Joe, a little later, in his chum's ear.
"Before this I always admired persistency."
Following the first dawn the light came in more strongly. Now, the two
chums crouched more closely than ever, also seeing to it that Master Ted
was forced to lie as flat as possible.
Joe Dawson, lying flat on his stomach, peering out beyond their retreat,
moved one of his feet restlessly. Something made him turn to glance
behind him. With that he began to slide slowly backward. His feet went
further and further into a narrow hole. Then, after nudging Halstead in
one leg, Dawson crept back until only his shoulders were exposed. Tom
watched his chum in overjoyed wonder. Joe's next performance was to
vanish from sight. Then, very soon, he wriggled silently out again,
until his lips were beside one of his comrade's ears.
"There's a hole running into that hummock there," Dawson explained. "It
is a crampy little bit of a hole, but it will conceal all three of us.
Let's work Ted in there first."
This they proceeded to do, though with intense stealth and no hurry.
They got Ted out of sight under the ground, at last, then more speedily
concealed themselves.
"Fine, Joe, fine!" cheered Halstead, in a chuckling whisper. "Our
chances of not being found have improved a hundred times!"
"If only Alvarez and his infernal crew will get away from this spot,"
Joe whispered, in answer. "But the day that is beginning is absolutely
the last day to save Ted's fortune to him. If we trip up to-day there
isn't a chance of any kind left. He'll simply lose!"
Tom kept his face close enough to the opening in the ground so that he
could see outside for some little distance, and yet was sure that he
himself was enough in the shadow not to be seen from outside.
By the time that the sun was well up Don Emilio insisted on another keen
search. This time French and Gambon even trod through the edge of the
thicket that had concealed the boys during the darkness. But the mouth
of the hole under the hummock was still hidden from their eyes by other
bushes.
By the time that the sun had been up for some time quiet had fallen in
these woods. Tom and Joe might have felt tempted to make a sudden break
for freedom, but the scratch of a match, not far away, warned them that
at least one watcher was still in hiding.
"I wonder what time it is," thought tormented Halstead, his mind ever
upon that fateful session of probate court over at Nantucket. He got his
watch out, holding it before his face. Then he made an appalling
discovery. He had forgotten to wind up the time-piece, and it had run
down.
"Your watch going, Joe?" the young skipper asked.
"No," Dawson whispered back, after a moment spent in investigation.
"This is a pretty fix. We can't even guess how much time we have left to
get out of here and over to Nantucket."
It was not long after that a gentle sound attracted Halstead's notice to
his friend. Sleepless and worn out, Dawson had fallen into slumber.
"That'll be all right," thought Tom, "if only he doesn't snore. If he
does, I'll have to hold his nose and pull him out of it."
As for Ted, the idea of making a snoring sound didn't seem to have
occurred to him, or he would have tried it. Tom moved closer to the
little fellow, that he might be at hand to prevent any such attempt to
send warning outside their cramped retreat.
Whizz-zz! It was an automobile going by at high speed. It passed and was
gone, almost at once, but the sound gave Tom a good idea how close they
lay to the road. Yet it was surely a lonely road, little traveled, for
time went dragging by without any other sound of travel.
"I'd feel starving if I weren't so fearfully anxious," thought Tom. "Joe
is lucky that he can sleep. He'll forget how awfully hungry he is. As
for poor Ted, his mixture of feelings must be something wonderful!"
In time, Halstead found himself fighting drowsiness. The very thought
that he might fall asleep so filled him with fright that he became
alertly awake. Slumber and a snore or two might be enough to break their
last slim chance of winning out for the Dunstans.