CHAPTER VI--TOM HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR
"So the youngster was going to be high-handed with ye, was he?" demandedthe florid-faced one, and despite the intense darkness there in thewoods, Tom Halstead could see the ugly gleam in his strong-handedcaptor's eyes.
The swarthy one stepped to the other side of his friend and whisperedsomething in that worthy's ear. It was a rather long communication.Though he tried with all his might to overhear some of it, Halsteadcould not distinguish a single word. Yet, as the narration proceeded,Tom felt that powerful grip on his coat collar increase in intensity.
"Well, we'll take care of you, youngster," declared the florid-faced oneat last. "You're too big a nuisance to have at large! And as you've beengiving your time to other folks' business, we'll take good care of yourtime after this! Come along now!"
Tom had not tried to resist and for a most excellent reason. He wellknew that his present captor could fell him like a log. Here no contestof muscles was to be thought of. Craft must be substituted for strength.
In the boy's brain revolved swiftly many plans for escape. Just as theflorid-faced one started to force him over the path lately taken theright idea came to the young captive. He puckered his lips, emitting ashrill whistle.
Nor had he guessed wrongly. There _was_ an echo here. Back on the aircame almost the exact duplicate of the whistle Halstead had let loose.
In a jiffy both of his captors halted. Perhaps they suspected it to beonly an echo, but they wanted to make sure.
Quicker than a flash, though, before they could make any tests forthemselves, Halstead shouted:
"Fine! Rush 'em quick, fellows! Jump on 'em and hold 'em down. Don't leteither rascal get away!"
His voice was so joyous, so exultant, that it completely fooled the pairfor an instant. Though the florid-faced one did not release thetightness of his grip on the young skipper's coat collar, he, like theswarthy one, used his eyes to look about in all directions.
That moment was enough for Tom Halstead, doubly quick-witted in hisperil. His hands flew up the front of his uniform coat, ripping buttonsout of button holes at one swift move. Wrench! Tom slipped out of hiscoat, springing ahead under the trees.
"Here, you! Come back here!" roared the florid-faced one absurdly, as heplunged after the young fugitive. The swarthy one, too, joined in thechase, freeing himself of a torrent of Spanish words.
Tom Halstead had just a few seconds' start, aided by the darkness thatenveloped them all. A hundred yards or so Tom dashed, rather noisily.Then, off at right angles to his former course he sped on tip-toe, nordid he go much more than fifty yards ere he landed up against a straighttree whose low-hanging limbs bore an abundant foliage.
Up this tree-trunk, without hesitation, shinned the young skipper,drawing himself well up among the leaves in what he felt must be recordtime for such a feat.
For a few moments more he could hear his pursuers stumbling along thewrong course. Then he knew, by the sounds, that they had turned back andwere keeping well apart in the hope of covering more ground. But theuncertainty of their steps, however, told the boy up the tree that hispursuers were wholly off the trail and giving up the chase. Then,veering, the florid-faced man and the swarthy one came toward eachother. They halted almost squarely under the tree that held youngHalstead.
Tom's first, throbbing thought was that they had tracked him here. Hedid not stir, but the grim lines around his mouth deepened. Let them tryto get him then. They would have to climb the tree to get at him and hemeant to make use of his hands and feet in defending himself.
"I can give them all they want for a while," he told himself between histeeth. In fact, in his excitement he all but made his remark half aloud.
"Well, he's got away from us, all right," growled the florid-faced onein a tone of mingled disappointment and rage.
"We shall at least know him well after this," sighed the swarthy one ina sinister tone.
"And I hope you'll have your wish," flared listening Tom indignantly,"though I'll try to control the time and place of meeting."
"I'd rather have lost a thousand dollars than that boy," went on thelarger man gruffly.
"A thousand?" sneered the other. "_Diablo!_ I'd give five thousand tohave him in our hands this moment."
"And I believe I'd give more," echoed Tom silently, "to keep out of yourclutches--if I had the money."
Then, drawing closely together, the pair conversed in whispers. AgainTom groaned over his hearing which, keen as it was, could get nothingconnected from the low tones of the pair on the ground. Whatever theywere saying, these plotters must be terribly in earnest over something.In his eagerness Tom bent too far forward. His foot slipped. Franticallyhe clutched at a branch overhead to save himself from plunging to theground. Of course the move made some noise.
"_Diablo!_ What was that? And so close, too!" demanded the smaller man.
"What?" demanded the larger man.
"That noise! Some one must be prowling about here," continued theswarthy one in a whisper just loud enough to reach Tom's ears.
As he spoke the Spaniard's head turned in such a way as to show that hewas looking up into the tree in which Tom stood. It was becoming a trulybad quarter of an hour for the boy.
"I heard nothing," said the other one gruffly. "Leastways, nothing morethan some night animal stirring, maybe."
"Let's make a search of these trees," proposed the Spaniard.
Tom shivered. Danger was again coming much too close to please him.
"Come along," rejoined the florid-faced one impatiently. "We're wastingtoo much time, listening to the whisperings of the wind. Come along,Alvarez."
After a brief objection the one addressed as Alvarez turned and steppedoff with his friend. They had not gone far when Tom Halstead slippeddown the tree trunk. Alarmed as he had been when danger threatened most,he now knew that he must follow them.
"For they may lead me straight to Ted Dunstan," he thought eagerly.
Naturally he did not think it wise to get too close to the pair.Captured again, Tom Halstead knew that he was not likely to be able tobe of any further service to his employer. Besides, in escaping andleaving his coat in the hands of the enemy he now remembered how hiswhite shirt might betray him if he got too close to them.
"It's a wonder they didn't see all this white when I was up in thetree," he muttered, as he stole along in pursuit. "The leaves must havecovered me mighty well."
For perhaps five minutes Halstead kept steadily behind the pair, guidinghimself by the distant sound of their steps, for they did not keep toany path. Then suddenly the boy halted. The noise of footsteps ahead haddied out. Tom stood, silent, expectant, but no sound came to his ears inthe next two or three minutes. Then a disagreeable conclusion forceditself on the young skipper's mind.
"Gracious! They've slipped away from me or else they're at the end oftheir tramp."
Again Halstead stole forward on tiptoe. But, though he spent nearly thenext half-hour in exploring, he found nothing to reward his search. Hecame at last to a road which he judged to be the same one along which hehad started with the Spaniard. Taking his course from the stars, seamanfashion, Halstead kept along. Within ten minutes he was upon a road thatlooked like a highway.
"Say, but how good that sounds!" he thrilled, suddenly halting. He hadthe presence of mind next to slip behind the trunk of a big tree.
A horse was moving lazily along the road. There was the sound of wheels,too, though above all rose a cheery whistling, as though the owner ofthat pair of lips were the happiest mortal alive. It was a good,contented whistling. It had about it, too, the ring of honesty. Thecheery sound made Tom Halstead feel faith at once in the owner of thatwhistle.
Then there came into sight a plain, much-worn open buggy, drawn by asleek-looking gray horse. Seated in the vehicle was a youngster of aboutTom's own age, who looked much like a farmer's boy. He had no coat on,his suspenders being much in evidence. On his head he wore anondescript, broad-brimmed stra
w hat of the kind used by haymakers. Atleast it looked as though it might once have been that sort of a hat,but its shape was gone. From where Halstead stood not much of a glimpsecould be had of the boy's face.
"Good evening, friend," Tom hailed, stepping out from behind the tree.
"Evening! Who-o-oa!" The other boy reined up, peering down through thesemidarkness. "Want a lift?"
"Just what, if it happens that you're headed toward the town ofNantucket," Tom replied.
"That's just where I'm headed. But hold on--gracious! I came within anace of forgetting. I've got to turn back and drive to Sanderson's for abasket of eggs. Won't take me long, though. Pile in."
Tom gladly accepted the invitation. After his late experiences it seemedgood to be again with some one who appeared to be wholesome andfriendly. The other boy turned about, laying the whip lightly over thehorse.
"Look as if you were off of some yacht," commented the other boy, notingHalstead's blue trousers and cap.
"I'm the skipper at present on Mr. Dunstan's 'Meteor,'" Tom explained.
"Say, that's the man whose son disappeared to-day," exclaimed the otherboy.
"Then you've heard about it?"
"Yep; it's all over the island now, I guess. Constables been goingeverywhere and asking a heap of questions. Have they found young Ted?"
"I'm afraid not," sighed Tom.
"Too bad. But who could have wanted him to disappear?"
"That's a long story," Tom answered discreetly. "But say, where are yougoing?"
For the young driver was turning off the road to go to the veryfarmhouse to which the pier seemed to belong.
"To Sanderson's, as I told you," replied the other boy.
"Does that pier down at the water front belong to him?"
"Yep, though I guess he don't have much use for it."
"What sort of man is Sanderson?"
"Good enough sort, I guess."
"What does he do for a living?"
"He farms some, but I guess that don't amount to a lot," replied theyoung driver. "I hear he's going into some new kind of business thisfall. Some kind of a factory he's going to build on the place. I knowhe's been having a lot of cases of machinery come over on the boat fromWood's Hole lately."
"Machinery?" echoed Halstead. Somehow, from the first, that word strucka strange note within him.
"There's Sanderson, now," continued the young driver, pointing towardthe house with his whip.
Then the buggy drew up alongside the back porch. Halstead had plenty ofchance to study this farmer as he greeted the young driver:
"Hullo, Jed Prentiss. After them eggs?"
"Yes; and nearly forgot 'em."
"I reckoned you'd be along about now. Well, I'll get 'em."
Farmer Sanderson appeared to be about fifty years of age. He would havebeen rather tall if so much of his lanky height had not been turned overin a decided stoop of the shoulders. He had a rough, weather-beaten skinthat seemed to match his rough jean overalls and flannel shirt. The mostnoticeable thing about this man was the keenness of his eyes. As thefarmer came out again to put the basket of eggs in the back of the buggyTom Halstead asked suddenly:
"Do you know a man who looks like a Spaniard and wears brown stripedtrousers and a black coat?"
Farmer Sanderson, so the young captain thought, gave a slight start.Then he unconcernedly placed the basket in the buggy before he answered:
"Can't say as I _know_ such a party. But I've seen a fellow thatanswered that description."
"When, if I may ask, and where?"
"Why, late this afternoon I saw such a party hanging around my pier. Is'posed he was fishing, but I didn't go down to ask any questions."
Tom put a few more queries, though without betraying too deep aninterest. Farmer Sanderson answered with an appearance of utterfrankness, but Tom learned nothing from the replies.
"I wonder," ventured Jed Prentiss, after they had driven some distancealong the road, "whether you think your Spanish-looking party hadanything to do with Ted Dunstan's being missing?"
Tom laughed good-naturedly, but made no reply, thinking that the easiestway of turning off the question.
"Say," broke in Jed again after a while, "I wish you could get me a jobaboard the 'Meteor.'"
"What kind of a job?" inquired the young captain.
"Why, I'm generally handy aboard a boat. Been out on fishing craft agood deal. The job I struck Mr. Dunstan for, some weeks ago, was that ofsteward. You see, I'm a pretty fair sea cook, too. But Mr. Dunstan saidhe didn't need a steward or a cook aboard. I wonder if he'd change hismind."
"He might," replied Tom.
"Do you think you'd like to have me aboard?"
"From what I've seen of you, Jed, I think I would," replied Tom Halsteadheartily. "At any rate, I'll speak to Mr. Dunstan about you."
"Will you, though?" cried Jed delightedly. "Say, I'd give my head--no,but the hair off the top of my head--to go cruising about on the'Meteor.' It must be a king's life."
"It is," Tom assented.
Then, for some time, the two boys were silent But at last Tom Halstead,after some intense thinking, burst out almost explosively:
"Machinery? Great Scott!"
"Er--eh?" queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.
"Oh, nothing," returned the young skipper evasively. "Just forget thatyou heard me say anything, will you?"
"Sure," nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaintlittle old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom's glance alightedon a bicycle shop, still open. Thanking Jed heartily for the lift,Halstead hurried into the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle,agreeing that it should be returned in the morning. Then, after someinquiries as to the road, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.
He got off the road once, but in the end found the Dunstan place allright. At the gateway to the grounds Halstead dismounted. For a fewmoments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which waslighted.
"Machinery?" repeated the young skipper to himself, for the twentiethtime. "Machinery? Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and,what's more, we've got to know. Machinery! It pieces in with some otherfacts that have come out to-day."
Then mindful of the fact that the news he bore was, or should be, ofgreat importance to the distracted master of the house beyond, TomHalstead, instead of remounting, pushed his wheel along as he walkedbriskly up the driveway.
"Machinery!" he muttered once more under his breath. He could not ridhimself of the magic of that word.
Yet it was a huge pity that the young motor boat captain could not havepossessed sharp enough vision to see into the heart of a dense clump oflilac bushes that bordered the driveway. Had his vision been that keenhe would have seen his very Spaniard crouched low in the clump.
That worthy saw the boy and watched him with baleful, gleaming eyes. Itwas a look that boded no good to the young skipper.
"You are too wise, young _gringo_, and, besides, you have struck medown," growled Alvarez. "But we shall take care of you. You shall do nomore harm!"