Ben and Jo crowded around, and the three children looked at the money with silent awe. Suddenly the sharp-eared Jo lifted his head. Then they all heard.
Again that sound! Sussh-sussh, sussh-sussh.
“It’s the money,” Jo exclaimed. “He’s after the money.”
The shuffle did not waver this time nor did it stop. It came steadily down the deck toward them although whatever made the noise was veiled by the storm. Warren Bain snatched the bills from Ann’s paralyzed hands and dropped them into his pocket.
The sound was very near the group by the figurehead when it stopped.
CHAPTER XIII A REASON FOR EVERYTHING
Ann was most dreadfully afraid, but her feelings were not in the least like those when she heard the noise last night. She had no sense of panic, no desire to run away. Her father was here now and she would stand by him, come what might. He wasn’t running. Neither were Ben and Jo. The three children stood as firm as the two men.
Without warning, Bain shut off his light, for they stood in its circle of brightness while anything beyond its rim was invisible in the darkness of the stormy night. Suddenly he flashed it on again.
A big black dog was there.