“And now, sir, what do you think of Master Ted’s claim that he was having the time of his life, and was hiding by his father’s orders?” Tom wound up, inquiringly.
“Really, I shall have to think it all over,” replied the lawyer cautiously. “And I shall be much interested in hearing what Mr. Dunstan has to say about it all.”
“Say, that’s queer,” broke in Joe, suddenly, staring hard at the launch, now not much more than half a mile distant.
“What is?” asked Halstead, who had kept his mind on what he was telling the lawyer.
“That launch is following an almost straight course. Yet I don’t see a soul at the wheel, nor a sign of a human being aboard,” Joe replied.
“Say, there isn’t anyone in sight, is there?” demanded Jed, stopping his whistling and staring the harder.
“It will certainly complicate the adventure,” commented Lawyer Crane, “if we overhaul a craft navigated by unseen hands.”
Halstead didn’t say any more. He didn’t like the half-skepticism of the legal gentleman. The young skipper held straight on until they were astern of the yellow-hulled launch and coming up on the windward quarter.
“Get out on the deck forward, Jed,” directed, Halstead. “Stand up as straight as you can, and get the best look possible as I run up close. See if you can spot anyone hiding in the boat.”
“Look out,” cautioned Joe Dawson, dryly, as Jed Prentiss started to obey. “Someone on the other craft may open fire.”