“Cracky!” gasped Al, remembering the description his chum had so recently given of the disguise the German spy had donned. “Is that the fellow? And who triced him up that way? Looks like somebody has been ahead of us.”
The other two Navy Boys and Willum Johnson joined Al Torrance at the top of the bank. They, too, saw the huddled figure below over which Whistler was standing.
“Oi, oi!” exploded Ikey characteristically. “They got him tied up ready for the spit yet.”
“Is that the bloomin’ spy?” growled the big British seaman. “Let me get me ’ands on ’im.”
“Easy, Bill,” said Al Torrance. “You know what that brass hat said about your bringing the spy in alive.”
“Hi wouldn’t kill ’im—now I’m cooled hoff,” the ex-coster declared. “But ’ee won’t get awye from hus—no fear!”
Whistler had not joined in this conversation. He turned the body over and Frenchy uttered an ear-piercing yell:
“What do you know about that?” he added. “It’s George Belding!”
“Say!” growled Al. “They could hear you on the Colodia. If that spy is here——”
“He’s got far enough away by this time!” Whistler exclaimed, swiftly getting out his knife to cut Belding’s bonds.