“Bought it, same as we did,” came from Jerry, “or hired it. His father keeps him supplied with money, in spite of his escapades.”
The boys paid several other visits to the lighthouse, and each time received a warm welcome. They found Jessica home only once; the other occasions she was out riding with Noddy Nixon, her uncle said.
“He’s getting altogether too thick around here,” the keeper complained. “I don’t want to say anything, as Jess needs cheering up, and I guess he isn’t such a bad sort. One thing I don’t like though, he and that helper of mine, seem to have some sort of a secret between them.”
“How’s that?” asked Jerry, trying to speak as though he did not much care.
“Well, I was surprised to notice that a rich young chap, such as this Nixon boy seems to be, would know a fellow like Bill Berry. Bill’s a good enough worker, but he’s a sort of shiftless man, and I don’t know much about him. He’s tramped around considerable, he tells me, and I reckon there’s lots he hasn’t told me. But one day I saw him and young Nixon talking as though they had known each other all their lives. Now wouldn’t that strike you as being sort of queer?”
“Oh, well, maybe it’s all right,” spoke Jerry, warning his chums, with a look, to say nothing.
“But that’s not all. The other day I saw young Nixon pass Bill a note, and when he saw I was watching, he got red, as though it was something to be ashamed of. I don’t like it, and I’m going to be on the watch.”
On their way home that afternoon, from the lighthouse, the boys talked over what Mr. Hardack had said.
“What do you make of it?” asked Bob.
“It’s hard to say,” replied Jerry. “Maybe they’re up to some of their old tricks, trying to get us into trouble.”