“Unless Ted has merely gone to some friend’s home and has forgotten to notify his parents,” suggested Dawson.
“But Ted doesn’t strike me as the boy who’s likely to do that. He’s a fine little fellow, and I don’t believe he’d be guilty of being so inconsiderate as to leave home for hours without telling some one.”
They had the “Meteor” under full headway now. Tom, with one hand on the wheel, kept a keen lookout. They had run along some miles when Halstead gave a sudden gasp, made a dive for the rack beside the wheel that held the binoculars and called sharply:
“Take the wheel, Joe!”
With that Tom Halstead bounded down into the engine room. Over at one of the open portholes he raised the marine glasses to his eyes.
“What’s the matter?” called down Joe, filled with the liveliest curiosity.
“Matter enough!” came his chum’s excited rejoinder. “Don’t look when I tell you. Keep your eyes on your course ahead. But you saw that little pier over at port?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you noticed a man sitting there?”
“I did,” Joe admitted.