“Who says so?” whispered Chet thickly.
“I say so, and I mean it. You will go. We will go on deck now, and you will order the engineer to bank his fire. Come along!”
Moran looked on in surprise, for he began to perceive that the tables were turned and Merriwell was master of the situation in every respect.
“Just a joke,” mumbled Chester. “Just a little fun. Didn’t mean anything by it. Confound that dago! He tried to stab me, didn’t he? Did you stop him, Merriwell? What did you do? I didn’t see.”
“Never mind what I did. Come on, now. Follow us, Moran, and see that the Italian gets no fresh opportunity to use a knife. Arlington must go ashore, for his life wouldn’t be safe if he remained here.”
“Guess that’s so,” acknowledged Chester, as he permitted himself to be led up the companionway to the deck.
Having reached the deck, Dick again told Chester to order the fires banked.
Lazaro was waiting near, and he concealed his surprise, if he felt any, when Arlington gave this order. The yacht had not left the wharf, and a few minutes later, accompanied by Dick and Moran, Arlington was on shore.
“Just a little joke,” he kept muttering. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Drank too much. Made a fool of myself, I guess. Wonder if June knows ’bout it. She’s good girl. Nobody can say anything ’bout her to me. I won’t stand for it! She’s all right!”
“We will get him over to the hotel, Moran,” said Dick. “I wonder if there is any way to do it without his being seen?”