“No, it—it wasn’t anything!” protested Jack. “Just a rumor. You shouldn’t bother about it. Those things are never true—at least it’s not confirmed—and—Oh I say Tom, it isn’t really anything!”
“Let me see it!” cried Tom hoarsely, amid a silence in the car as it sped along. “You’re trying to hold something back from me, Jack. Is the Kangaroo wrecked?”
“No, nothing like that!” he answered eagerly. “There, if you’ve got to see it!” and he pointed to a cable dispatch in the paper.
With staring eyes Tom read:
“Sydney, N. S. W., March 25.—The steamer Bristol, which reached this port to-day reports passing at sea, a week ago, in lat. S. 21:14:38, long. 179:47:16, wreckage from some large sailing vessel. Part of a lifeboat picked up bore the letters ‘ngaroo.’ It is surmised that it belonged to the large sailing ship Kangaroo which left this port for San Francisco last week with a mixed cargo, and several passengers. Captain Ward, of the Bristol, reports encountering heavy weather before sighting the wreckage. He cruised about in the vicinity for half a day, but saw no signs of life, and no trace of the vessel. The underwriters have posted the Kangaroo.”
Tom read this once, and then over again. Then he stared at the paper, his face white and his hands trembling.
“Maybe it isn’t true,” suggested Jack gently. “And, even if there was a wreck, maybe your folks were saved. Maybe they changed their minds at the last minute and didn’t sail. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”
“I—I can’t help it,” whispered Tom. “Dad and mother are—missing! This is bad news—bad news!”
Jack put his arm around his chum.