“Go ahead, Pedro,” agreed the other speaker. “You needn’t be afraid of me. I’ll keep a bright lookout.”
There was the sound of the negro stowing himself away in the forward cubby, much roomier than the one Tom had tried at the stern.
Halstead had heard the conversation with a feeling at first as though his brain were whirling inside his head. The long dousing in the water was beginning to make itself felt in a chill, but it was not wholly this that made the young skipper shake.
“That’s Ted Dunstan’s voice,” he told himself, trembling. “He’s on board this very craft. I’ve found the missing Dunstan heir.”
Soon Pedro’s snores could be heard. Then Tom Halstead hauled himself up along the rope until he could just peer over the gunwale. His last doubt vanished; he could no longer question his ears, for now his glance fastened upon the living heir of the Dunstans!
CHAPTER IX—TED HURLS A THUNDERBOLT
The youngest of the Dunstans was sitting where Pedro had been seated only a short time before. Ted held a book in his hands, his gaze fixed on one of the pages.
“He’s playing crafty,” thought Tom. “He’s waiting until he’s sure that black man is sound, sound asleep. Then he’ll make his dash for freedom. Oh, if he only knew how close a friend is!”
“Whirr-ugh!” Pedro’s snore smote heavily on the air.
“He’ll sleep now, as only a colored man can sleep,” thought Tom jubilantly. “There’s only just one time to do this thing, and that’s now! Here goes to let Ted Dunstan know that help is right at hand.”