“It is a long story, fellows, and I will tell it to you the first chance I get. But just how we have something else to think of. There comes Pierre,” said Wilson, pointing over the stern. “He is after me. Tomlinson and the rest are ashore stealing some provisions.”
“Does Pierre know where Featherweight is?” asked Eugene.
“I shouldn’t wonder. He seems to be pretty well acquainted with Mr. Bell’s plans.”
“Then we will see if we can make him tell them to us,” said Walter. “Eugene, go down and get a lantern; and the rest of us stand by to receive our visitor with all the honors.”
“Why, where did you get this?” asked Wilson, as Eugene placed his carbine in his hands.
“‘Thereby hangs a tale;’ but you shall hear it in due time.”
“Here he is, fellows,” whispered Walter. “Keep out of sight until he comes over the side.”
Pierre was by this time close aboard of the schooner. He came up under her stern, and sprang over the rail with the yawl’s painter in his hand. “I told you that you shouldn’t go off in this vessel,” said he, looking about the deck in search of Wilson. “You needn’t think to hide from me, for I am bound to find you. You will save yourself some rough handling by getting into this yawl and going straight back to shore. We don’t want you here.”
“But we want you,” exclaimed Walter, starting up close at Pierre’s side and presenting his carbine full in his face.