“Wake up, you old mud turtle. He’s leaving us to-day and we’ve just got not to let him go.”
“Oh, ay,” said Hank, remembering things. Then he yawned frightfully, blinked and looked around.
“Where’s he gone?”
“He’s got up early—outside somewhere. Say, we’ve got to keep him—have a straight talk with him. He’s one of the best for all his queer ways.”
“Sure,” said Hank.
Fully awake now, he rose and slipped into his clothes, George following suit. Hank was the first out. He stepped on to the sand, looked round for Candon and then looked out to sea.
“Jumping Moses!”
“What’s wrong?” cried George, coming out. “What are you——Good gosh!” He had followed the pointing of Hank’s finger. The Wear Jack was gone.
Almost at the same moment came Tommie’s voice from her tent door. “Why, where’s the ship?”