“Goodness! What’s that?” thought Frank, and then for the first time it flashed across him that if more than one man was engaged in the nefarious work that he was sure was going on, he was at a serious disadvantage. He had no weapons but his hands, whereas the others were undoubtedly well armed.
“I’ll slip back uptown as quickly as I can and arouse the authorities,” he decided, “if they are quick we can catch the rascals red-handed. I wonder what can have become of that fellow Jumbo or whatever his name was? I suppose he went to sleep or something. Well, it serves us right for leaving such an eccentric fellow on guard.”
Frank, who had been crouching in the shadow of the very boxes behind which he had heard the suspicious sounds, rose quickly to his feet. He was just slipping off, congratulating himself that he had been unobserved when from behind the boxes a dark figure suddenly emerged.
“Hands up, Frank Chester,” it exclaimed; “we’ve got you where we want you this time.”
“Zeb Daniels!” exclaimed Frank, dumbfounded with astonishment. He had not supposed the rascally young fisherman within miles of the place.
“Yes; that’s me. Don’t move a step or you’ll get hurt.”
But Frank’s indignation overcame his prudence.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded angrily.
“None of your business.”
“It isn’t, eh? Well I know that you are damaging Dr. Perkins’ boat in some way and——”