“Well, you won’t find Alvarez, so what’s the use of arguing?” asked Dawson, slowly. “He and his red-faced friend have skipped away from this part of the country, I believe.”
“And Mr. Dunstan has only until Monday,” sighed Halstead. “And Ted to lose millions! Did you ever hear of a case of such tough luck before?”
Jed began to whistle sympathetically. He, too, would have given worlds to be able to pounce upon the vanished Ted. For young Prentiss was all loyalty. Having entered the Dunstan employ, he felt all the sorrows of the family. The more he thought about the affair the more restless the whistling boy became.
“How long are we tied up here for?” demanded Jed, at last.
“Until the late afternoon train gets in from Boston,” Tom answered, listlessly. “Mr. Dunstan is expecting Mr. Crane, his lawyer, along. If Mr. Crane doesn’t arrive we’ve got to come over again to-morrow morning.”
Jed glanced at the clock before the steering wheel.
“Hours to wait,” he went on, dismally. “Well, I’m going ashore to stretch my legs, if there’s no objection.”
“None at all,” Halstead replied, “if you’re back on time.”
Jed was over the rail in no time, whistling as he went. A few minutes later Tom Halstead found himself bored by this inactive waiting, and so, as Joe had some cleaning to do on the engine, the young skipper decided to take a stroll ashore.
In the village all looked so decidedly dull, this hot July afternoon, that Tom walked on through and beyond the little place. After he had gone the better part of a mile he seated himself on a tumble-down bit of stone wall between two big trees. It was cool here, and shady. The drone of insects soon made the boy feel drowsy.