After a short interval of wading the boys stood on the deck of the Brigand, where she hung on the edge of the reef. Frank's sharp eyes noticed that except for her forefoot the vessel was in deep water, as the reef dropped off quite abruptly.
Old Barr received them with almost hysterical joy.
"This is better than I deserve, boys; better than I deserve," he kept repeating.
"You had better stop your sniveling," said Frank sharply, thoroughly disgusted with the cowardly old rascal. "Where are pens, ink and paper?"
The ivory merchant led the way to the chart-house. "Be quick, boys—she might sink," he stuttered.
The document that Frank dictated, Luther Barr signed and the others witnessed, read like this:
"I, Luther Barr, of New York, do here by deed, make over and assign to the Boy Aviators—namely Frank and Harry Chester, William Barnes and Lathrop Beasley, all my share, claim or equity in the ivory which I wrongfully stole from them, which fact I with shame acknowledge. I hereby affix my signature which I admit in the presence of witnesses to be my true manner of signing."
"Now," said Frank, "just to show we are not mean, there is some ivory left in the Moon Mountains, near the spot which is indicated on your map. Sikaso, a faithful Krooman, hid it for us when we could not carry it away. If you find it you can have it."
The old man rubbed his hands in greedy glee.
"Oh thank you, boys; thank you, I'll find it, I'll find it," he croaked, his wrinkled old face wreathed in smiles.