“What made the noise?” inquired Mr. Seymour.
“Nobody kn—” began Ben, but Charlie interrupted him.
“That blasted figurehead makes it, coming to scare folks away from the captain’s money. I told you, Tom Minor, that no good would come from signing on a ship with that figurehead.”
“Do you suppose the figurehead really walked about?” asked Jo, his confidence shaken by Charlie’s firm belief. “The sound was just like scaly feet rubbing over the deck boards.”
Instead of laughing at him, Bain was considerate enough of the boy’s feelings to answer soberly, “No, I can’t think that. But it is a queer noise, I’ll admit that much. You see, the other night I thought it was made by the men, so it didn’t occur to me to attribute it to the figurehead.”
“And who took Mr. Bailey’s milk and our cheese?” asked Ben.
“Foodstuff stolen from your place?” inquired Bain of Mr. Bailey.
“I never touched a crumb of it!” denied Tom. “Don’t you say I did. Everything I ate I bought! Don’t you dare say I stole your milk!” He glared at Mr. Bailey.
“Yes,” said Mr. Bailey, “enough was stolen so it wasn’t safe to leave anything about; but nothin’ else ever was took.”
“That’s curious,” commented Bain thoughtfully. “Well, who is coming to see where Rand hid the treasure? How about it, Bailey? Will you stay down here to guard the prisoners and let these young people have the first look?”