“That won’t occur again in a thousand years. Put the flags and other stuff in the cockpit, lock the engine cover, take the switch plug with you, and the boat will be as safe as if she had a regiment of men on guard.”
“Mike ought to have been back before this,” said the Captain, with a touch of impatience. “Unless he has a good excuse I shall demote him, by making you first mate.”
“It is a dazzling promise you hold before me, but it won’t be fair to condemn Mike unheard. Give him a chance.”
After some hesitation, Alvin acted upon the advice of his comrade. The launch was made as secure as possible, and they sprang ashore, where the gloom among the trees reminded them of that other tramp after taking supper with Uncle Ben Trotwood. There was no reason for going astray and they followed a direct course until they reached the roadway between the wharf and the village of Beartown, alongside the main road running the length of the island of Westport.
The moon had not yet risen; in fact it would not be up for several hours, but the sky was clear and studded with stars which shone with dazzling brilliancy. They could plainly see the broad trail into which they turned and walked toward the village.
Less than a score of paces were passed when the two caught sight of a figure approaching through the obscurity. The person kept in the middle of the road, and an instant later both recognized him as their comrade.
“Hands up!” called the Captain, in his most startling voice.
Mike stopped short, but made no motion to obey.
“Didn’t you hear me?” demanded Alvin fiercely, as he strode forward with the grinning Chester at his elbow.
“If ye’ll be kind enough to spell out the words I’ll think ’em over and let ye know me decision to-morrer,” replied the Irish youth, who knew the voice, though the speaker screened himself as much as he could in the shadow at the side of the highway. The parties met and shook hands.