"I must go ashore again after my rifle, you know," replied Frank—"it was to be done at half-past seven—and I'll go along the dock and keep an eye out for them."
"All right. Hurry them up, if you see them, and be sure that you are in time yourself."
Frank went ashore accompanied by the trapper—Dick was not afraid of attracting so much attention now that it was growing dark—and hurried away toward the gunsmith's. He followed the wharves as long as they led him in the direction he wanted to go, looking everywhere for the missing sailors, but without finding them. The actions of himself and his companion attracted the attention of two men, who were walking along the dock behind them. They watched them for some time, and then, after whispering together a few minutes, one of them came up and tapped Frank on the shoulder. "Who are you looking for?" said he.
Frank turned and fastening his eyes on the man took a good survey of him before he answered. He was a flashily-dressed person, with a sneaking, hang-dog cast of countenance, and the grimy hand he placed upon Frank's shoulder, and which the latter promptly shook off, was heavily loaded with bogus jewelry.
"Don't be quite so familiar, if you please!" said Frank.
"Beg pardon," said the man, stepping back and straightening up his battered plug hat which he had thus far worn cocked over his left ear. "I thought you belonged to the Stranger."
"And what if I do?" asked Frank.
"I thought maybe you were looking for them two men."
"What two men?"