"Hold hard there, my hearties!" exclaimed the man in a gruff but not unpleasant voice. "What are you trying to cross my bows for in this fashion? That's no way to run, not showing a masthead light or even blowing a whistle. Avast and belay! You might have sunk me if I didn't happen to be a heavier craft than you."
As the man spoke he instinctively grasped the two boys, preventing them from continuing their flight.
"What's the trouble?" he went on. "I heard a female crying—sounding a distress signal like. Where are the burglars? Are you going for the police?"
"No, sir. It was us, playing tic-tac," explained Bob, thinking it best to make a clean breast of the affair.
"Tic-tac, eh? I haven't heard that since I was a boy. On whose window?"
"The Widow Mooney's, sir."
"And it was the widow, I presume, who was signaling for aid. Well,
I'll stand by and see what's wanted. You'd better come back also."
"Aw, we don't want to," spoke Ted.
"No, I suppose not. Still you're coming."
The man had both boys firmly by their arms, and he turned in the gateway with them. As he did so, Mrs. Mooney, hearing voices, ventured to open her door. The light streamed out and showed the face of the man. At the sight of it Bob uttered an exclamation.