“I guess that’s the way with the whole human race, Jed. The man who lugs off the reputation for being brave is the man who won’t run, because he is ashamed to let anyone see how mortally afraid he is.”
“But what do you make of Ted Dunstan’s queer talk?” asked Jed Prentiss. “Do you believe his father really did give him orders to go off with that crowd?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Halstead answered. “Mr. Dunstan is our employer.”
“But young Ted always has been a mighty truthful boy,” pursued Jed, wonderingly. “Oh, it’s all mighty queer, whatever’s the truth.”
“I guess we’d better let it go at that last statement,” proposed Tom; “at least, until we’ve heard what Mr. Dunstan has to say.”
With three or four caps of coffee down, Halstead felt so much warmer that he returned to deck to take the wheel. The “Meteor” was necessarily going much more slowly than usual, with her tow astern. The trip was bound to be such a long one that Jed started things in the galley, then went back through the passageway to the cabin, where he set the folding table with a white cloth. When Lawyer Crane seated himself at supper he was astonished to find how excellent a meal could be prepared in short time aboard this craft.
It was nearing dark when Captain Halstead guided the “Meteor” in toward the Dunstan pier.
While the boat was being made fast by Joe and Jed, Mr. Crane stepped hurriedly ashore.
“Come along, Captain Halstead,” said the man of law. “Mr. Dunstan must hear your remarkable story without a moment’s delay.”