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

“I hope we do,” muttered Tom.

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

“No,” returned Joe very quietly.

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

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

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

“Plenty,” Dawson replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Señor Alvarez!” cried the young skipper.

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

CHAPTER XII – JOB HAS HIS COURAGE TESTED

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

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

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

Halstead gave a sigh, then murmured:

“Put me down!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess!” proposed Joe pleasantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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