The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

CHAPTER XVII – JOE PLAYS JUSTICE A SCURVY TRICK

Over a sea “as smooth as glass,” thatfateful Monday morning, the “Meteor”made a dashing run to Wood’sHole. It was just five minutes of seven by theclock when the swift craft tied up at the villageon the mainland.

All through the trip Horace Dunstan had remainedseated in one of the armchairs in thecockpit aft. His head had been bowed in sorrow.His face was haggard and ashen, for hehad not slept through the night.

On the pier awaiting him stood Mr. Crane, his lawyer, and Musgrave, who had been incharge of the force of detectives who had beenvainly seeking the young heir.

“You have not a word of hope, of course, gentlemen?” asked Mr. Dunstan in a weak voice.

“There is no news whatever,” replied Musgrave.

“Our only hope,” added Crane, “lies in thebarest possibility that the court may find somelegal excuse for adjourning the matter for a fewdays and giving us a chance for a longer hunt.”

“May I put in a word?” asked Tom, who hadbeen standing close by.

“Yes,” assented Horace Dunstan.

“Now I know, and we all know,” Halsteadwent on, “that Ted Dunstan has been illegallyspirited away and that it is simply impossiblefor his father to produce him in court. It is noguess-work, for I have seen Ted Dunstan, alive, and with Mr. Dunstan’s enemies. If you wereto make the claim, Mr. Crane, and use me as awitness, would that help matters any in inducingthe court to adjourn the matter? Could thecourt then legally postpone the bringing of theDunstan heir into view?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied the great lawyerthoughtfully. “In the first place, the courtwould have only Mr. Dunstan’s word for it thathe is really anxious to produce his son in court.There would be no evidence that could corroborateMr. Dunstan’s statement. As to your testimony,Captain Halstead, if it were admitted atall, it would work us the greatest harm, for youwould be obliged to say, under oath, that Tedtold you he was with those other people by hisown choice as well as at his father’s command.”

Mr. Musgrave nodded. Horace Dunstanbowed his stricken head lower.

“I understand the force of what you say, Mr.Crane,” Tom nodded.

“Hush! Here comes Judge Swan now,”whispered the lawyer. “What can he be doinghere?”

A portly, white-haired man, yet with a fresh, young-looking face, had just stepped onto thepier and came toward them. He was judge ofthe probate court over at Nantucket.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he greetedpleasantly. Then, by a nod, he drew LawyerCrane toward him, though the judge spokeloudly enough for the rest to hear.

“Are you going to have a case to bring beforeme to-day, Mr. Crane?”

“Provided we can find young Theodore Dunstanin time, your honor,” answered the lawyer.“Our search has been unceasing.”

“I wish you the utmost measure of good fortune, then,” replied Judge Swan. “Under theterms of the will, as I understand them, this isthe last day of grace that you have. But remember, court will be open up to the minute of fourthis afternoon.”

Mr. Crane thanked his honor. Every hearerpresent, however, realized that Judge Swan hadanswered, as far as his dignity and officialposition permitted, how any appeal for postponementmust be answered from the bench. Themotion would be denied.

The justice turned to stroll apart from therest, but the lawyer kept at his side.

“Judge,” he asked in an undertone, “sinceyou know the whole of our painful predicament, can you offer me any suggestion?”

“The most I can say, because it is the mostI am able to say,” murmured the judge, “isthat I sincerely trust that Mr. Dunstan andyourself will be able to produce young Theodorein court before four o’clock this afternoon.”

They soon turned, strolling back to the group.

“I feel a good deal annoyed,” said JudgeSwan, presently. “I was in Boston yesterday.My friend, Mr. Percival, was to start over toNantucket with me at six this morning, in orderthat I might open court at nine o’clock. Mr.Percival wired me yesterday that his launch hadbroken down, but the telegram must havereached Boston after I had gone to the train.So I must go over on the forenoon passengersteamer, I fear.”

“If we were going back sooner,” explainedMr. Crane, “my client would be most happy togive you a seat on his boat. But we feel that,if young Theodore Dunstan is found, it will beon the mainland. So we are waiting until thelast moment.”

“Yet, if heaven favors us,” broke in HoraceDunstan, “we could take my son over on theregular forenoon passenger boat, and be incourt this afternoon. The ‘Meteor’ could beback here soon after the passenger boat leaves.So, Judge, may I offer you the use of the ‘Meteor?’”

“Do you mean that?” asked Judge Swan, looking at the owner in delight.

“Most assuredly,” replied Mr. Dunstan. “Ishall be glad, judge, if you will make use of myboat.”

“Then I shall accept with great pleasure,”replied his honor. “I know how swift yourboat is.”

“Then, captain,” said Mr. Dunstan, turningto Halstead, “you understand your instructions, which are to get Judge Swan in Nantucket beforenine o’clock this morning.”

“It’s the only boat in these waters that coulddo it,” Tom replied, with pardonable pride, ashe sprang aboard.

“Come back, captain, as soon as you landhis honor,” was Mr. Dunstan’s parting word.“If you pass the passenger steamer, watch forme at her rail. I may signal you.”

Before she had left the pier three hundredyards behind, the nimble motor boat was goingat better than twenty miles an hour. Graduallythe speed was increased. Judge Swan stoodon the bridge deck beside Tom.

“It is really exciting to travel on a boat likethis,” commented his honor, presently. “Youmust enjoy it, captain.”

“I do sir, when the engine works all right, which it does usually,” Halstead answered.

The sea as smooth as ever, and no hinderingbreeze blowing, the craft behaved splendidly, making within a notch of her best speed. Intime they left Martha’s Vineyard behind, andheaded out toward the big, green island of Nantucket.

“The engine isn’t likely to break down thismorning, is she?” asked the judge, who hadjust returned from a smoke aft.

“I don’t think so, sir. It would make a sadmix-up in your court work if we got stuck outhere on the open sea, wouldn’t it, sir?”

“I imagine it would annoy my clerk a gooddeal,” replied Judge Swan, reflectively. “Hewould have to sit in court all day withoutme, and then, when four o’clock came, hewould, in my absence, be obliged to declarecourt adjourned until nine o’clock to-morrowmorning.”

“And in that case there wouldn’t be anylegal session of the court to-day, would there, sir?”

“There couldn’t be a legal session in my absence.However, we’ll trust that your enginewon’t meet with any mishap,” replied JudgeSwan, smiling and turning away.

Tom Halstead’s hands began to tremble ashe guided the wheel. There was a queer lookin his eyes; his head was whirling a bit.

Had Judge Swan purposely given him ahint? It was a staggering thought. Halstead, when in doubt, was likely to think and actquickly.

“Come and relieve me at the wheel for a fewmoments, Jed,” he called. Then, in a twinkling, the young skipper was down in the engineroom.

“Joe,” he whispered, breathlessly, to hischum, “the judge just informed me that,if anything went wrong with the engine, andwe couldn’t make Nantucket before fouro’clock, there would be no legal session ofprobate court.”

“Did he mean that for a hint?” queried Joe, his look becoming keen.

“I’ll leave that for you to figure out, chum.”

“Where are we, now?” was Dawson’s nextquestion.

Halstead informed him.

“Say,” muttered Joe, “I wish you’d go upon deck and stay there a while. I want to attendto my work for a while.”

Tom went back up on deck, lounging nearJed, at the wheel. It wasn’t long before thespeed slackened. Then, the boat slowed downto mere headway. Even this soon ceased.

“I’ll try not to hinder you long,” called upJoe, showing his face in the hatchway. “Ithink I can soon get the engine fixed.”

“Use all the speed you can, Joe, but do itwell, whatever has to be done,” Tom answered.Then he made his way aft to report to JudgeSwan that the engineer had said he hoped themotor would soon be in order again.

“Are there any books aboard?” his honorwanted to know.

“There’s a book-shelf in the cabin, sir.”

Judge Swan disappeared into the cabin. Thenext time Halstead looked aft he saw the judgesnug in one of the armchairs, reading.

The place was ideal for such a breakdown.The “Meteor” lay almost motionless upon thesmooth sea, miles from land, with no troublesomereefs near. Under the awnings it wasdelightfully cool.

For an hour Joe remained in the motor room, neither Tom nor Jed bothering him with theirpresence. Then Tom went aft to see if theirguest was comfortable. Judge Swan looked upwith a pleasant smile.

“If I didn’t have that session of court onhand, captain, I wouldn’t mind if this breaklasted all day.”

“It wouldn’t be bad,” the young skipper assented.“We have a good larder and a fineyoung cook aboard.”

“How serious is the break?” inquired hishonor.

“Why, Dawson reports that he hopes verysoon to be under way again.”

“I hope he won’t hurry enough to interferewith thorough repair,” pursued JudgeSwan.

When Tom went forward again it occurredto him to take a look down into the engineroom. The sight that met his gaze was a surprisingone. Joe was lying on his back on oneof the lockers, the first time he had ever beenasleep at his post!

The time dragged on slowly. His honor, beingwholly comfortable and well occupied wherehe was, didn’t come forward to ask any questions.

“There’s the forenoon boat coming,” whisperedJed, at last.

“Confound it,” muttered Tom. “I wish Ihad thought to keep better out of her track.”

The passenger steamer soon signaled. Tomanswered on the auto whistle.

Then the passenger steamer ran in closer tothe motor boat. The captain of the steamer, standing before the pilot house, megaphone inhand, called over the waters:

“Are you in distress?”

“Only a temporary break in the engine,”Tom answered, through his megaphone.

“Do you need any assistance?”

“No, thank you,” Halstead responded.

“Do you wish to transfer any passengers?”

Judge Swan came forward to the young skipper.At the same time Tom saw Mr. Dunstanand Mr. Crane at the rail, among the boat’spassengers.

“How soon before you’ll be under way, CaptainHalstead?” asked his honor.

Now, Joe being fast asleep, Halstead had toanswer for his friend.

“Judge, we ought to be under way soon.”

“Then tell the captain of the steamer you’veno passengers to transfer,” directed his honor, next starting aft once more.

“No passengers to transfer, captain, thankyou,” Tom answered.

“All right, ‘Meteor.’ Wish you good luck!”A moment later, after both craft had whistled, the passenger steamer continued on her way.

Now, it was too bad, of course, but noon cameand found the “Meteor” still unable to proceed.Soon after that Jed appeared, setting up a tablein the cockpit. A cloth was laid, and apleasing luncheon spread before the delayedjudge. Joe came to at the first mention of food, and the three members of the crew ate forward.

“It’s a mean thing to have such a break outon the open,” Joe complained, as he finished eating.“However, I’ll do the best I can for you.”

The afternoon began to slip by. It was considerablyafter three o’clock when Joe thrust hishead up through the hatchway to say:

“Captain, if you’ll be satisfied to go at slowspeed, I think we can make a start now.”

“Then start her, and keep to whatever speedyour judgment decides upon,” Tom replied.Making his way aft he informed Judge Swan.

“I am delighted to hear it, of course,” repliedthat gentleman. “I must, however, give youcredit for commanding a boat aboard which avery pleasant day of idleness can be enjoyed.”

The “Meteor” was soon going at a speed thatseemed lame and halting for her. She made theharbor at Nantucket, however, at 4.20, andlanded her distinguished passenger. JudgeSwan shook hands with all three boys, thankingthem for his pleasant day.

Knowing that Mr. Dunstan was not at Wood’sHole, Tom decided to make the run straight tothe home pier. Leaving Jed at the wheel, afterthey were out of the harbor, the young skipperwent below.

“Joe,” he asked soon, “what was wrong withthe engine?”

“The vaporizer,” Joe replied briefly.

“What ailed it?”

“Why, you see,” Dawson replied calmly,“after the speed stopped I disconnected thevaporizer and put it in one of the lockers. Then, somehow, I forgot all about that vaporizer forsome hours. When I thought of it I got it outof the locker, wiped it off on some waste, connectedit again – and then the engine began tobehave fairly well.”

Tom’s lips puckered. Whistling, he turnedhis face away from his chum, looking outthrough one of the portholes.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Dawson, lookingup in some surprise.

“Joe,” retorted the young skipper, “don’tyou think that was rather a scurvy trick to playon justice?”

“Trick?” repeated Joe in an injured voice.“Well, if you call that a ‘trick,’ my captain, thenall I have to say is that Judge Swan didn’t seemto be very much upset about it.”

“There having been no legal session ofprobate court to-day,” Tom went on, “that givesour friends one day of grace in which to findTed Dunstan.”

“I wish it were a year more, instead of aday,” sighed Dawson.

“I wonder,” muttered Tom, as though talkingto himself. “I wonder whether Judge Swanhinted himself aboard the ‘Meteor’ just so Joecould play that scurvy, unmannerly trick againstthe blind goddess of justice? I wonder!”

CHAPTER XVIII – THE MESSAGE UNDER THE ROCK

“And so you’ve gained until another day, anyway, sir,” Tom wound up his accountof the “accident” to the “Meteor’s”motor.

“I fear it will do us but little good,” sighedHorace Dunstan. “I feel that possibility in theway of search has been exhausted. It looks asthough we were doomed to defeat.”

“I don’t like to think, Mr. Dunstan, that anysuch thing as defeat is possible as long as there’smore time left us,” was Halstead’s answer.

“I trust, my young friend, that your faith willbe justified.”

“Any instructions for to-night, sir?”

“No; nothing remains to be done and youyoung men deserve your rest at last.”

“Then Joe and I may stretch our legs onshore.”

“That will be all right, as long as Jed Prentissand Bouncer remain aboard to watch theboat.”

Joe started first that night, hurrying awaybefore Gambon had left his cottage. Tom remainedbehind, in hiding near the gate, to followthe Frenchman. Gambon came out, half anhour after dark, armed with the same heavywalking stick. As before, he turned straight inthe direction of Nantucket the young skipperfollowing just out of sight.

To-night there seemed to be more need ofcaution. Several times the Frenchman turnedor halted and listened, but each time the youngskipper was not to be seen.

Just before Gambon reached the grove wherethe rock lay Joe stepped up beside his chum.

“There’s a message there and I read it,”whispered Joe.

“What was it?” Tom eagerly demanded.

“Simply this: ‘Oceanside, 332.’”

“What do you make of that, Joe?”

“Telephone number is my guess.”

“It must be. You put the message back underthe rock?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Then, see here, Joe. I’m going to slip intothe woods and hurry on ahead to Nantucket. I’llfind out where ‘Oceanside, 332,’ is. You followGambon, and see if he goes to a telephone. Ifhe does, try to hear what’s said. Whatever youdo to-night, though, Joe, don’t let Gambon getout of your sight. Remember, slim as it is, it’sour last chance!”

“And you?”

“All I can say,” Tom replied, “is that you’llsee me again, old fellow, whenever and whereverwe happen to meet. Good-by, now, and besharp to-night.”

“Good luck to you, Tom.”

Moving through the woods, Halstead wasquickly in Nantucket. In a drug store he pickedup the telephone directory, scanning the pagesuntil he located “Oceanside, 332.” He couldhave jumped from sheer excitement. It was thetelephone number of the farmer, Sanderson, onthe east side of the island. Sanderson was theman who had been receiving so many cases of“machinery” from the mainland.

Slipping out of the drug store, Halstead wentswiftly down one of the side streets. He did notwant to run any risk of encountering Gambon.

“So the scene shifts back to Sanderson’s?”thought the young skipper excitedly. “Then ifDon Emilio’s crowd isn’t there, there must atleast be some one there who has authority totelephone orders to Gambon. Whatever thoseorders are Joe will have to find out – if he can.”

Down at the further end of this side street,as Captain Tom knew, was a shop where a bicyclecould be rented. Within two minutes theboy felt the saddle of a wheel under him. Hepedaled fast, yet he did not take the principalhighway that led past Sanderson’s.

“There’s too much chance of being seen bythe wrong folks if I go openly on the mainroad,” Tom told himself.

From Jed he had learned the lay of the roadsin that part of the island. Well trained to sailingby chart, Halstead found that he could pickhis roads and paths, even at night, from themental map of the east side of the island thatJed had supplied him.

When he dismounted it was on a side road, ata distance of a quarter of a mile from Sanderson’shouse. Most of the land between was coveredby young woods.

First of all, Halstead looked about for athicket that offered a secure hiding place forhis rented wheel. When that had been stowedaway the young skipper secured his bearingsonce more.

“And now to see what’s going on at Sanderson’sto-night, and who’s there,” Halstead toldhimself, as he plunged through the woods inwhat he knew must be the right direction.

After a few minutes he came out in the open.Ahead the well-remembered old farmhouseshowed dimly in the darkness.

The night was so dark that Tom could easilyapproach the house, though he kept a keen lookoutagainst running unexpectedly into anyone.Cautiously he surveyed the house from all sides.The two lower floors were in darkness and hada closed-up appearance. Through one of therear attic windows, however, a bright lightshone and the sash was raised.

“Sanderson, Don Emilio and some of theothers may be meeting up there,” thought Halsteadwith a sudden thrill of wonder. “Oh, ifI can only find a way to get up there and listen!”

As he stood, well in the shadow of a carriageshed, staring up at that lighted window, a humof low voices came to his ears.

“Gracious!” muttered the young skipper, stepping further back into the shadow.“There’s crowd enough down here on theground.”

On came a group of men, trudging like laborersgoing to their toil. Dark as the night was, not one of them carried a lantern. From theircourse it looked as though they came up fromthe shore. In his eagerness Tom bent forwardmore, that he might scan them. His eyes werekeen-sighted in the dark.

“There’s Don Emilio,” Halstead told himself.“I’d know him by his size and his walk.And there’s Jonas French. There’s the littlebrown chap, I think, who helped to capture Joethe other night. And that stooping figure at therear is Sanderson. But there are four others.”

“I am not used to this hard work, but I willdo all I can,” Tom heard Don Emilio complain,as the group stopped before one of the largeroutbuildings, while Sanderson drew out a keyand unfastened a padlock.

“Whew!” Tom Halstead thrilled more intenselythan before when he saw the men comeout of the other building, two and two, each paircarrying a long box. “This must be one of theirbig nights. Yet what on earth is up?”

He was destined, soon, to be able to make agood guess.

CHAPTER XIX – THE SIGHT BEHIND THE ATTIC LIGHT

“All right?” asked Farmer Sandersonquestioningly.

“All right,” agreed Don Emilio.Click went the padlock.

“All wrong, I’ll bet a hundred cookies,”mocked Tom Halstead under his breath.

“Come along, now,” directed Don Emilio.He seemed to be the leader in to-night’s work.

“I don’t believe I’m included in that invitationto ‘come along,’ but I’m going to cheek myway along,” grinned the young skipper.

He had no need to keep them exactly in sight, these industrious workers in the dark. Ladenas they were, it was enough to keep withinsound of the rather regular shuffle of their feet.

As Tom had surmised, the four pairs of men, keeping together, proceeded toward the shore.Once, on the way down the slope, they halted togive the weaker ones an opportunity to rest theirmuscles. Then, picking up their heavy casesonce more, the men went on down the slopetoward the pier.

“That is the stuff that was billed under ‘machinery’labels!” muttered the young skipperto himself. “I’ll wager those boxes contain gunsand cartridges to start a new revolution withdown in stormy Honduras. But is their filibusteringcraft here? Are they getting ready tosail before daylight? If that’s the game, then Imust get awfully busy.”

As Tom, taking advantage of the unevenground and dodging behind bushes and trees, followed unobserved and came within sight ofthe pier he made out with certainty that no craftwas tied there.

“That doesn’t prove a lot, though,” he reflected, watching the procession of toilers frombehind a bush. “If they have a tug or someother steam vessel it could slip in here two hoursbefore daylight and be away again in anotherhour. But what’s that? Where are they goingnow?”

In the darkness it was not quite easy to seemore than that the procession had moved intothe shadow of a depression in the ground nearthe pier. Crawling that he might not be seenagainst the dim skyline, Halstead secured anotherpoint of observation. He thought, now, hecould make out the outlines of a small building.

“I’ll wait until the crowd gets away fromthere before I try for a closer look,” thought theyoung motor boat skipper.

Nor had he long to wait ere the same eightfiled by not far from his hiding place. Halsteadwatched until they were out of sight behindSanderson’s house.

Then the youthful investigator slipped downthe slope and into the shadow. He went cautiously, though, for fear that Don Emilio mighthave posted a guard below.

There was none, however. Tom found himselfstaring at what looked like a newboathouse on shore, such as is used for the winterstoring of yachts or motor boats. There wereno windows. The door, a strong affair, wassecured by a padlock.

“If they’re putting the stuff in there andlocking it up, then they don’t intend to ship itto-night,” Halstead wisely decided.

He had learned, apparently, all that was to belearned at this point. To keep his eyes upon thecase-carrying toilers might mean only to witnessa repetition of the same monotonous workthrough all the night.

“That one bright light up in the attic,” Halsteadwondered, the memory of it coming backto him. “I wonder what’s going on up there?And I mean to know, too.”

Satisfied that he knew all about the waterfrontbusiness, Halstead took such a wide, curvingsweep in getting back to the farmhousethat he ran no risk of running into the busyeight.

Once more he sought the deep shadow of thewagon shed, from which point he stared longand wonderingly.

Beneath that attic window was a kitchenannex of one story. And Tom made out, presently, that a lightning rod ran down the backof the main building close to that brilliantlylighted window on the third floor. The rodtouched the roof of the kitchen annex, runningthence down to the ground.

“It’s a job for stocking feet, anyway,” Halsteaddecided at last. Having removed hisshoes and feeling about in the dark, the youngskipper ran his hand against a coil of rope hangingon a peg.

“Good enough!” he cried inwardly. “I don’tbelieve there are many climbing jobs where arope won’t come in handy.”

As he removed the coil of rope from the peghe discovered a few lengths of cord. These hestuffed into one of his pockets.

“For I can’t tell what kind of a sling I mayneed to rig before I get through,” he thought.

The busy eight were returning from still anothertrip to the water front. Halstead stoppedall movement, remaining utterly quiet until theyhad started shoreward with the next load.

“Now I’ve got to work fast,” thought CaptainTom thrilling. “I reckon it’s about fifteenminutes between their arrivals here. Thatmeans fast work, my boy.”

Shoes in hand, the coil of rope fast at hiswaist, Halstead stole out toward the southernside of the kitchen annex. Leaving his shoeson the ground Tom found it an easy task toclimb up onto the roof of the annex. Now he feltcarefully of the lightning rod, next giving itharder and harder pulls, to make sure that itwas strong enough to hear his weight. Thatpoint settled, Halstead began to ascend. It wasnot a difficult task for a boy trained aboard seagoingcraft.

Up and up he went, making little if any sound.At last he was able to lean outward from therod, resting one elbow on the ledge of the lightedwindow. Yet, on peering into the room theyoung skipper received a shock that almostcaused him to lose his hold on the lightning rod.

At the further end of the bare-looking atticstood a plain pine table, which held a readinglamp that gave a strong light. With his backto the window, seated in a rocking chair andhis feet on another chair, lounged a boy, reading.

Even with his back turned, the unseen facebent over a book, that boy was known beyondthe possibility of a doubt to Tom Halstead.

“Ted Dunstan, himself!” the young skipperalmost cried aloud.

Not for one moment did Halstead even thinkof slipping down from the window and runningfor help. If he did so Ted was as likely as notto be gone upon his return.

“I’ve got to get him out of here, and on thejump, too,” puzzled the young captain. “Buthow is the thing to be done?”

An appeal to young Ted himself would beworse than useless. That young heir, as thespy at the window knew, had altogether toocomplete a faith in his present comrades.

While Tom still hung on there another happeningcaused his heart to bump against hisribs. The busy eight were returning. He couldhear the light tread on gravel under their feet.

Not a second was to be lost. Inwardly breathinga prayer, Halstead raised himself to thewindow sill with the utmost stealth. In anothermoment he was over the sill and in the roomon his stockinged tip-toes. Ted did not turn.Plainly he was too absorbed in his book to suspectany other presence. Not daring, of course,to remain near the window, which would placehim in sight of the busy eight in the yard, assoon as they should reach the outbuildings, Halsteadslid noiselessly along the wall, pressinghis hands against it. His strained, intense lookwas all the time on the unsuspecting Dunstanheir.

“Ho, ho, ho!” chuckled Master Ted, throwinghis head back, but he did not look around. Evidentlysomething in the book on his lap amusedhim immensely.

Tom stood there, still praying under hisbreath, praying that the eight might quicklytake up their new burdens and hasten shoreward.

At last there came the sound of crunchingagainst gravel. Tom, trying to stifle the soundof his own breathing, listened intently until thedying out of sounds outside made him believethat the men were once more out of the way.

Now trembling in every muscle, Halstead stoleforward toward the Dunstan heir. The floorcreaked; he stopped short in great alarm. ForHalstead felt certain that, somewhere near athand, there must be some one intrusted with theresponsibility of watching over this young heir.

Master Ted, however, did not turn. Takingheart Tom stole forward as softly as ever Indiantrod. Crouching, he was near enough nowto reach out and touch the back of young Dunstan.

Of a sudden Halstead made the plunge. Heleaped forward with the agility of a panther, fairly yanking Ted Dunstan out of the rockingchair and dropping him softly on the floor besideit.

Taken in this fashion, Master Ted would havelet out a lusty yell. Yet the instant he openedhis mouth Tom Halstead’s fingers gripped athis throat, shutting off the youngster’s wind.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” whispered Halsteadsharply yet half apologetically. “ButI’ve got to keep you quiet no matter what I haveto do to you.”

Ted’s face betrayed absolute fear as well asunmistakable loathing, as that choking shut offhis breath. His mouth opened, his tongue lollingout.

“Now you may breathe again, if you’ll keepquiet,” Tom informed him. “But, remember – Iwon’t have any noise!”

As soon as he could breathe again pantingTed’s wits also began to clear. He raised oneof his feet, as he lay prostrate with Halsteada-top of him, and brought that heel down againstthe floor. Halstead promptly threw his ownbody so that Master Ted could not again raiseeither foot.

“I see that I’ve got to go to extreme measureswith you; you don’t understand that I’m deadlyin earnest,” panted Tom, finding that this wiry, out-of-door, agile boy of ten could be wonderfullyslippery. “Now listen, Ted Dunstan. Ifyou don’t want me to be ugly and to choke youuntil your senses fade, then prepare to mindme. Now then roll over on your face – and don’tyou dare to make any noise doing it.”

A good deal cowed by the fierce glint in Tom’seyes, Ted almost passively obeyed, though theyoung skipper was obliged to roll the young manhimself.

“Keep those feet quiet now,” whispered Tomin the little fellow’s ear. “We’ve got to thepoint where nonsense won’t be safe for you.Now open your mouth!”

Ted firmly pressed his lips together, grittinghis teeth. Yet Tom knew a trick of wrestlingthat forced the young man to open his mouth.Plump into that mouth went one of Halstead’swadded handkerchiefs, stopping the youngster’stongue down and holding his jaws apart.

Satisfied that Ted was gagged, Tom forcedanother handkerchief between the teeth, knottingit behind the smaller boy’s head. Then, with abrupt suddenness, the young skipper bentthe little fellow’s hands behind him, though nottoo roughly, and bound the wrists in the bestsailorman’s fashion. Now Tom turned about, using more of the cord in his pockets to lashthe heels of the Dunstan heir securely together.This accomplished, Captain Tom examined allhis knots to make sure that none of them wasso poorly tied as to cause him regret later on.Then, on tip-toe, he stole over to the door.There was a bolt on it unsecured. Tom softlyslipped the bolt into place. There was now nodanger of unannounced interference from thatdirection.