Just at that moment some one else must have reached Don Emilio Alvarez and must have reported, for the Honduran’s voice screamed:
“What do you say? The youngster’s gone from the attic? Listen, men! Let nothing stand in your way, now. We must have that boy back. We’ll watch the road and drag the woods. Waste no sympathy on any meddler you find!”
It was at once made plain to the motor boat boys that Don Emilio and his comrades were now frantic. Everywhere could be heard the steps, or the low voices of the searchers. Tom and Joe dreaded capture at each instant. Dawson had made it his task to secure Ted’s feet again, and to hold them doubly secure with his own hands.
Once, as some of the searchers went by, Gambon’s voice was heard. Joe nudged his chum; the latter understood how the young engineer of the “Meteor” had come so handily upon the scene through trailing the Frenchman here. Not once, after they had hidden themselves, did the motor boat boys dare to stir. Their covering, though dense enough in the dark, was thin at best. Two or three times some of the searchers passed by within a yard of those they sought. At such times Ted Dunstan’s body shook with suppressed emotion. But he was so tied and held that he could not make a sign to betray himself. Whenever the seekers came close Halstead reached out a hand holding the young heir’s nostrils closed, so that he could not even sniff.
The conviction of Don Emilio that his longed-for prey was close at hand was shown by the repeated searchings over an area of barely more than five acres. The time even slipped into hours without the hunt being abandoned.
Half the time Tom and Joe felt as though their hearts were up in their throats, so close did discovery seem. The first gray streaks of dawn showed at last, but Don Emilio would not agree that the chase extend beyond this strip of lonely woods.
“It is more important than anything else could be that we should find the boy,” Tom heard the Honduran explain to Gambon. “And daylight will show that they have not gotten away from here. It was here that the sounds of flight stopped. Somewhere, within a stone’s throw or two we shall yet come upon the meddlers in hiding. I shall not give up.”
“Confound him,” whispered Joe, a little later, in his chum’s ear. “Before this I always admired persistency.”
Following the first dawn the light came in more strongly. Now, the two chums crouched more closely than ever, also seeing to it that Master Ted was forced to lie as flat as possible.
Joe Dawson, lying flat on his stomach, peering out beyond their retreat, moved one of his feet restlessly. Something made him turn to glance behind him. With that he began to slide slowly backward. His feet went further and further into a narrow hole. Then, after nudging Halstead in one leg, Dawson crept back until only his shoulders were exposed. Tom watched his chum in overjoyed wonder. Joe’s next performance was to vanish from sight. Then, very soon, he wriggled silently out again, until his lips were beside one of his comrade’s ears.