“He sure did.”
Without a word of thanks, Professor Skeel drove off over the ice. He never looked back, but the boys could hear him muttering angrily to himself, probably giving vent to threats he dared not utter aloud.
“I wonder what he is doing in this neighborhood?” ventured Bert.
“It’s certainly a puzzle,” admitted Tom Fairfield. “He’s up to no good, I’ll wager.”
“That’s right,” agreed Jack. “Well, I’m glad he’s gone, anyhow. That sure was some upset!”
“Say, did you notice his ear?” asked George. “It wasn’t that way when he was teaching school here. Looks as if a knife had cut him.”
“Was his ear like that when he was shipwrecked with you, Tom?” asked Bert.
“No. That’s a new injury,” was the answer. “Rather a queer one, too. He might have been in a fight.”
The lads remained standing together, for a little while, gazing at the now fast-disappearing cutter and its surly occupant.