The others nodded approvingly, and the eyes of the three boys lighted up with enthusiasm. Mr. Temple shook his head gravely, but continued to make a hasty toilet nevertheless.
“Pants and shirt, Dad,” said Bob. “That’s all we need. Have to hurry.”
In a trice the two were thus sketchily clad, standing
in their bare feet, and then Jack, who had assumed command, gave his orders.
“Mr. Temple,” he said, deferring to the older man’s judgment, “I believe we had better split into two parties and enter the two cabins simultaneously, don’t you? If we all go into one cabin first, either ‘Black George’s’ or Murphy’s, intending to follow into the other later, the probability is that we would alarm the occupant of the other cabin and put him on his guard.”
“Yes, Jack, that’s right. Suppose Bob and I tackle ‘Black George’ and you and Frank go after Matt Murphy.”
“Right,” said Jack, his hand on the door.
“One thing more, boys,” cautioned Mr. Temple. “Go in quickly and quietly, and get your man before he has a chance to fire. We shall do likewise.”
The boys nodded. Then Jack opened the door and, with beating hearts, the four filed out. Jack tiptoed across the salon to prevent his shoes making any sound. The others were in their stockinged feet. Two and two they ranged outside the doors of the two cabins. Mr. Temple nodded that he and Bob were ready. Jack did the same. Then they flung open the doors and dashed in.
Jack and Frank found Matt Murphy sleeping heavily. One look showed an automatic in an ammunition belt