CHAPTER IV.
A CRAFT OF MYSTERY.
Tom, lying quiet amid the blankets, heard some one cross the cabin and come to a pause so close to him that he could hear the man's heavy breathing.
"Wake up, there, Tom Dacre," the man said.
The lad did not move, and the command was repeated in a louder tone. This time Tom, cleverly imitating the gapings and vacant expression of one just aroused from sleep, opened his eyes.
He had no difficulty in recognizing the features of Captain Walstein, even though a long growth of reddish beard now flourished on the lower part of his face. The man's cap was shoved back, and his leonine head of bristling, light-colored hair showed as prominently as ever. His features were heavier and more floridly colored than when Tom had seen him last, but that was the only difference, except that his costume was a rough one,—the ordinary garb of a Great Lake tug-boatman, in fact.
Close behind him, as he entered the cabin had been Dampier. He had paused at the door, to watch events, in the furtive manner that habit had made second nature to him. As Tom appeared to awaken from a sound sleep, however, he, too, came forward. His snake-like eyes, set like two glittering, coal-black specks in his sallow face, gleamed as they met Tom's frank gaze.
"Well," said Walstein, after a pause which Tom did not break, "ain't you surprised to see us?"
"Ye-es," struck in Dampier, in his soft voice, "it must be quite a shock to you to encounter old friends."
"So far as friends are concerned, we'll leave that out," spoke up Tom boldly, "and the surprise part of it is an unwelcome one, I'm sure."
"As you'll see a good deal of us for the succeeding few weeks, you'd better make up your mind to keep a civil tongue in your head," snorted Walstein.