“Oh!” Phil gave a start. “Who is that in the bushes? Merwell, as sure as I’m alive!”
“Yes, Phil. And what do you think? I’ve got part of the jewels—Link had them in his money-belt.”
“Good enough! I was so afraid they had been lost out of that jewel-case. Did you make Merwell a prisoner?”
“Well, in a way. He might have run away a dozen times, but I guess he didn’t want to be alone. Besides, he has quarreled with Jasniff. I’ll tell you all about it later,” went on Dave, in a lower tone.
Merwell had halted and now he came shuffling into the temporary camp. He nodded sheepishly to the shipowner’s son and to the sailors.
“Got ye, did they?” said one of the tars, with a sneer.
“Yes,” answered the culprit, meekly.
“Humph! You’re a fine Dick to run away and steal jewels!” muttered the sailor, and turned his back on the youth.
“Where are Roger and Captain Sanders and the others?” questioned Dave.
“Gone after you, and after Jasniff and those three rascally Englishmen,” answered Phil. “I said I’d stay here and try that trick with a column of smoke. I thought you might remember and look for it.”