“Hold on, you fallers,” he heard the Norwegian say, “vile I skoll gat light by my pipe.”
“Hurry up, then. We’ve work ahead of us,” came Malvin’s voice. “Those brats are off up town to try to talk to Jim Whey. We want to get ahead of them.”
“If that boy talks, I’ll——” Hawke’s voice trailed off in a threatening growl.
“If that boy talks, I’ll——” Hawke’s voice trailed off in a threatening growl.
“So Jim Whey is the name of that lad you said was your son till we called your bluff,” thought Harry, as he listened while the Norwegian struggled to get a light in the brisk breeze that was blowing.
“Pshaw! That lad won’t be able to talk for some time to come, if he was as badly hurt as you told me,” said Malvin, reassuringly. “It was right after I’d slipped my anchor and given the kids the go-by that I heard the explosion and saw the flash. I always told you to be careful about that dynamite, Hawke.”
“It was Rawson that would have it stored there,” grumbled the other. “He had a crazy notion that some time we might make a submarine mine out of it, and make things hot for anyone who came snooping around Windmill Island uninvited. How was I to know that that crazy dog would come galloping into the shack and upset the lamp and blow everything to Kingdom Come? If the boy and I hadn’t skinned out as soon as it happened, we’d neither of us be on earth to-night. I wonder where the Artful Dodger was when things exploded?”
“I don’t know,” responded Malvin; “we’d sighted her not long before, and she played the phosphorescent trick, the light stunt and all, but it didn’t scare those pesky kids, except one of ’em who swore she was a spook!”
Hawke burst into a laugh. Harry’s ears burned as he heard.