“Here’s the bump that did all the mischief,” said the engineer, pointing to a wound on the back of Carl’s head. “He must have been hit with something. What was the fuss all about, anyway?”
“Carl knows, and when he gets ready perhaps he will tell you about it,” said Thompson. “Is he never going to speak to me again?”
“Oh, yes. He’s coming around all right now. You had better take him upstairs and put him in his bunk.”
“I had not been off the boat twenty minutes before this thing happened,” said the clerk, who came up at the time Carl was beginning to show signs of coming to. “I have had an eye on them ever since Mr. Preston told me about it.”
“What did he do?” repeated the engineer.
There were a good many deck hands standing around by this time, and the clerk did not think it best to speak about the money. He replied that they wanted to whip Carl for something he had done; and taking him under one arm, while Thompson took hold of the other, they took him up to his bunk and put him into it.
“It beats the world what that fellow hit me with,” said Carl, placing his hand to his head. “He struck me with something besides his fist.”
“I suppose it was a sand-bag,” said the clerk. “A scoundrel can carry one of them up his sleeve until he gets ready to use it.”
“Well, they didn’t get the money, anyway,” said Carl, drawing a long breath of relief. “Where are you going, Thompson?”
“I am going out to have those men arrested. If I can find a policeman anywhere——”