“They’ll wish they had hold of you and me,” says I.
“They will,” says he, “and they’ll come looking for us. Not for you and me special, but for the Albatross and Mr. Topper. And,” he said, “if I’m any judge of where we’re heading, they won’t have much trouble finding us.”
“Why?” says I.
“We sent them to Nantucket, didn’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’re heading towards Nantucket ourselves.”
“Don’t believe it.”
“Going across to Martha’s Vineyard now, aren’t we?”
“Sure.”
“Next island is Nantucket.”