The inventor, while not a selfish man, was so wrapped up in the success of the Sea Eagle that, to him, the loss of the plan of the wreck did not appeal in the same way that it did to Ben Stubbs. But the old adventurer took him up indignantly.
“Bad rubbish, as you say, sir,” he grated out, “but if that paper hadn’t bin worth something Duval wouldn’t have taken it. It’s good-by to recovering that stuff from the Belle of New Orleans now.”
“By Jove! I’d quite forgotten my promise to you,” said Dr. Perkins contritely; “but never fear, Ben, I’ll see that you are not a loser.”
“It ain’t that,” rejoined Ben; “I don’t give a snap for the plan; but it’s the ingratitood of that young whippersnapper that’s got me sore. I’d like—I’d like to find that wreck just to get ahead of him.”
“Humph!” rejoined the inventor, “I understand your feelings. He has certainly treated you very badly. But possibly we can think up some way to outgeneral him.”
“Don’t see how we are goin’ to do it without that plan,” rejoined Ben; “but I ain’t one to cry over spilt milk. It’s gone, and that’s all there is to it. The best thing to do is to forget it.”
Frank and Harry, on their way to the Sea Eagle’s shelter, were passing at the moment. After asking the inventor if he thought it would be advisable, and receiving an affirmative reply, Ben called them over. As briefly as he could he told them what had happened.
“Well, the precious rascal!” broke out Frank; “I thought there was something snaky-looking about the chap last night. Isn’t there a chance of catching him?”
“Not such a slick rascal as he is, Frank,” rejoined Ben despondently; “no, the plan is gone, and gone for good—so good-by to that.”
But Harry now spoke up, and to the astonishment of the others his voice did not hold a trace of the disappointment they could not help but feel.