“We’ve got to keep mighty still,” Bill whispered, “’cause somebody’s down here, an’ we must find out who it is.”
“But s’posen they’re gettin’ ready to haul the boat away?” Tom suggested in the same cautious tone. “We should be in a fine fix if we got towed up the river ten or fifteen miles, wouldn’t we?”
This was a contingency for which Master Foss had made no provision; and as the possibility of such a change of location presented itself, he in turn began to grow alarmed.
“We’ll have to find out who’s there,” he said, after a brief pause. “You fellers keep quiet, an’ I’ll see if I can peek through the cracks in the hatch.”
Bill soon learned that this was an impossibility; and, since the noise was not repeated, he believed it safe to venture out.
“There isn’t anybody up here,” he said, after gazing around an instant.
“They must be out on the dock: you wanter look careful, ’cause if Sim Jones’s crowd should be anywhere ’round they might make trouble.”
As Bob spoke he ascended the companion-way, followed by the others; and during ten minutes the feasters remained on deck, while Bill and Jimmy scoured the immediate vicinity in a fruitless search for possible mischief-makers.
While the investigation was being made on shore, every one was so intent on satisfying himself the work was done in a thorough manner, that no attention was paid to a slight noise from the cabin, as if the stern windows had been raised.
Therefore it was without question of any mischief having been done, that Bill led the way below once more, convinced they were in no danger of an interruption.