“Good enough,” was all that came from quiet Joe, as he started at once.
For a few minutes the boys could see each other’s lights when matches were struck. Then the winding of the road hid them from each other.
Twice the young skipper had found imperfect footprints in the sandy road, but they were not clear enough for him to be sure that these were the tracks he sought. Now Tom stopped again, striking a match and walking slowly along as he shielded the flame from the light breeze with his hands. Then suddenly he came to a brief halt, as his gaze traveled across the road. He saw an object on the ground in front of a bush, an object that caused him to bound across the road.
“Great! Fine!” breathed the boy jubilantly. “I’d know this little article anywhere. It’s the tobacco pouch of——”
“Ah, good evening, my friend,” broke in a taunting voice. “It’s the meddling boy himself!”
Halstead, even before he could straighten up, found himself staring between the branches of the bush into a pair of gleaming, mocking eyes.
“Señor Alvarez!” cried the young skipper.
Then something struck Tom heavily from behind, felling him to the ground, unconscious.
CHAPTER XII—JOB HAS HIS COURAGE TESTED
When young Halstead next knew anything his mind was hazy at first. He realized dimly, and then more clearly, that he was upon some one’s shoulder, being carried. There was a buzzing, too, over his right ear, where his head throbbed dully and ached.