“Ay, ay, sir!” retorted the marine. “I will lay to instantly. Ever hear the little story about the captain who ran out of provisions and, getting hard up, decided to have eggs for breakfast and made his ship lay two?”
“Cut your chestnuts out, now!” growled the Texan. “Where is Frank?”
“I last saw his royal nibs in close communion with a gentleman who is literally rotten with money.”
“Not Macklyn Morgan?”
“Well, hardly. He is not chumming with old Mack to any salubrious degree. It was Thomas Kensington.”
“Do you know where Frank is now? If you do, find him instantly and tell him something has happened to Dick.”
“Ay! ay!” again cried Wiley. “Just you bear off and on right where you are, and I will sight him directly and bring him round on this course.”
The sailor hurried away, leaving Brad to question Felicia still further about the road they had taken outside of Prescott.
Fortunately Frank was easily found, and Wiley came hurrying back with him.
“What is it, Brad?” asked Merry, controlling his nerves and betraying little alarm, for all that he saw by the appearance of Felicia that some serious thing had occurred.