He dropped from the top of the bowlder, and vanished. Glennie looked after him as though he would have liked an invitation to accompany him, and stretch his legs on hard earth, but he did not follow. Instead, he picked up a coil of rope, and began securing an end to one of the wire periscope guys.
“I’ll attend to that, Mr. Glennie,” said Dick, still with an undue emphasis on the “mister.” “You’re an innocent bystander, you know, and are here to look on.”
Glennie dropped the rope, flushed, and drew back. Bob had not asked him to go on the exploring expedition, and now Dick refused to have him render even trifling aid.
“I’m sorry you fellows have taken such a dead set at me,” said Glennie.
“You told us where we stood when you first came off to us from the Port of Spain landing,” returned Dick. “I don’t see that you’ve got any kick coming because we took you at your word.”
Glennie started to say something, but closed his mouth suddenly, and left the words unspoken. Perhaps he was beginning to see where he was at fault.
While he stood by the conning tower, watching Dick move aft with the rope in his hands, a sharp cry came suddenly from among the rocks.
“Dick! Clear the propeller, and sink the boat in——”
It was Bob’s voice; although faint, it was unmistakable, and each word was strangely clear-cut and distinct.