“I don’t know. I’m going to see if I can make a guess,” hazarded Halstead.
He crawled forward, thrusting his head a little beyond the mouth of the hole, though still concealed by the thicket.
He tried to get at the position of the sun in the sky, but at first the limited view he could obtain was bewildering. At last, however, Halstead guessed at the position of the sun with a result that made him feel heartsick.
“Joe,” he faltered, after wriggling back into the hole, “I’m sure it must be afternoon. At that rate, we’re in our last minutes of chance. If we reach Nantucket later than four o’clock we might about as well not get there at all.”
“I’m with you for the dash, then,” breathed Joe, hard. “I don’t doubt though, that the Alvarez crowd will go to any extreme, even shooting, if they get sight of us. They’re just as desperate as we feel. However, when you’re ready to lead the dash, pass the word, and I’ll hand Ted Dunstan out.”
An impatient snort came from that helpless young man.
“Now, see here,” whispered Joe, warningly, as he gripped tightly at the heir’s arm, “just leave any sign of noise out. If you don’t—well, you’ll find me bad-tempered when I get roused.”
Tom once more stuck his head out into the thicket. He had no doubt that it was already afternoon. Yes, surely, all must be risked on the one last dash to win.
As he looked about him, and listened, he heard a new sound. It made his heart beat fast. The sound was such as would come from the slow-running gear of an automobile.
“Hear it, Joe?” he whispered, drawing his head in.