“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I see! Here’s a game!” roared Bob Chowne, dancing about in the exuberance of his delight.
“What do you mean, sir? How dare you!” roared the officer turning upon Bob.
“Why, I know,” cried Bob. “What a game! Don’t you see how it was?”
“Will you say what you mean, you young idiot?” cried the lieutenant.
“Oh, I say, it wasn’t me who was the idiot,” cried Bob bluntly. “Why, you let smuggler Uggleston dodge back in the night. He was here about twelve or one, and he and his men must have been and fetched all the stuff away again, while you and your sailors were miles away in the dark.”
“Sep,” cried my father, as the lieutenant stood staring with wrath, “was Jonas Uggleston back here in the night?”
“Yes, father,” I replied.
“And you did not tell me?”
“I have had no opportunity, father; and I did not think anything of it. He was here about one.”
“That’s it, then,” cried my father. “Lieutenant, he has been too sharp for you. I noted that the sand was a good deal trampled. He has been back with his men and cleared out the place in your absence.”