“That was Jim Heron,” explained Terry. “We’ve met that man. Go on, what next? How did you hurt your arm?”
“I got into a little scrap. The old man grabbed Syd and tied him up. Syd was no match for such a gorilla. I got mad clean through to see them rough-handle my flying buddy. I couldn’t stand it, so I started something.”
“I bet you did, Allan,” cried Terry. “And I don’t blame you. I think I’d have done the same.”
“So I got fighting mad. Bud didn’t shoot after all, but he reversed his gun and hammered me with the butt of it. Jim Heron joined in and the two of them pressed me back to the edge of a cliff which I couldn’t see in the fog.”
Terry interrupted. “They backed you over the cliff! Oh Allan, it’s a wonder you weren’t killed.”
“I might have been if I hadn’t caught at a bush and saved myself. It was just luck that I got off with some bruises and a broken arm.”
“Then they took you out in a launch to Mackey Jones’ fishing fleet,” said Terry. “I know about that.”
“How did you trace us, Terry?” asked Allan. “How did you get wise to where we were?”
“That story can wait until we get to Elmwood—until I’ve had a good long sleep.”
Allan looked at the girl anxiously.