Captain Carter did not answer. Ignoring the Scouts, he started to supervise the loading of a small motor tender.
“Shake it up!” he ordered his helper. “We got to move this stuff fast. First, those boxes of grenades.”
The Scouts witnessed the loading with increasing misgiving. They were firmly convinced that Mr. Livingston never had ordered guns or grenades for the expedition. But without him there to confirm it, they hesitated to tangle with Captain Carter.
“How will this stuff go through customs?” Ken muttered, watching as another box was lowered to the tender. “It doesn’t make sense to me!”
“Nor to me,” Jack agreed. “I’m sure Hap had no hand in this business. You notice the captain isn’t moving the regular Scout boxes—only the guns and ammunition.”
“He’s in a mighty big hurry too! Say, maybe he’s scared of custom officials, and is trying to get rid of the stuff while it’s dark!”
“We could stop him.”
“Maybe,” Ken conceded. “He’s armed though, and someone would be likely to get hurt.”
“I’m going for Mr. Livingston,” Jack announced with sudden decision.
“How?” Ken drawled. “You aim to swim?”