Could they believe their eyes? They saw before them their own boat and the young man whom they had cowardly deserted in his extremity. What was the explanation to be?
By this time the parties were so near that they could talk with only a slight raise in their voices. Kit Woodford was the first to open his mouth. With a profane expletive expressing his surprise, he demanded:
“Where did you come from?”
It was on the tongue of Noxon to make a biting reply, but he did not forget the part he had to play.
“I found this boat at the wharf at Beartown and thought I’d hunt you up. How came you to have that launch?”
“Some one had run off with ours and left that. So we made a trade and I rather think we got the best of the bargain. I don’t understand how ours was found by you.”
“Maybe the owners of that wanted to trade back. I say, Kit, I would like to know something—why did you and Graff run off and leave me behind?”
“We didn’t!” replied Woodford, with virtuous indignation. “Me and Graff hunted high and low for you and made up our minds you had run off yourself with the swag.”
“A fine lot of swag I had, when I had to scoot just after I got the safe open.”
While this snatch of conversation was going on, Noxon, who had cut off the power, was edging nearer. Calvert and Hagan squeezed each other so hard that it looked as if they would push themselves through the hull of the launch.