“Yep.”
“Hurrah! Then we’ve bagged him, at last!”
“Have we, though?” muttered Joe Dawson, dubiously.
“Well, we’re going to,” declared Tom, radiantly. “My boy, we’re going to cut out of 68 this cove with, the whole crew held in down there.”
“Hope so,” assented Joe, not very enthusiastically.
“Why, we’ve got to,” argued Halstead. “If we don’t, then that crew would have the upper hand, instead, and make penny jumping-jacks of us until they saw fit to let us go. But wait a moment. I must get back and have a look at them.”
This time it was the young skipper who crawled aft. Joe and Hank followed part of the way, holding their sticks in readiness in case Dalton and his men discovered their presence.
“I reckon, Cap, you’ll find you’ve got the right crowd for to-night’s work,” a rough voice was declaring, as Halstead came within ear range.
“Now, don’t you men misunderstand me,” replied Anson Dalton in a smooth yet firm voice. “I’m not paying you for any piratical acts. I have to give a little heed to the laws of the land, even if you fellows don’t. What I want is this: At about two in the morning, when, most likely, everyone will be asleep except the one who is nursing the fellow Clodis, it is my plan to run in at Lonely Island’s dock. We’ll get quietly up to the house, suddenly force the door, and rush in. But, mind you all, there’s to be no 69 riot. Your numbers, and your rough appearance, will be enough to scare the folks of the bungalow. The two of you that I’ve already picked out will rush in with a stateroom door and one of the stateroom mattresses. With this for a stretcher, you two will get Clodis carefully and gently down to this boat. Then we’ll sail away, and I’ll tell you what to do next. But remember, no violent assault on anyone—no lawlessness, no hurting anyone badly. Trust to your numbers and suddenness. There’s some baggage, too, in the bungalow, that I mean to bring away with me. I’ll make off with it in the confusion.”
“Oh, will you?” wondered Captain Tom Halstead, his jaw settling squarely.