I told him that we weren’t moving.
“The propeller’s turning,” he said, looking into the water.
“Sure thing. But the boat is standing still.”
“Something’s got hold of it,” spoke up Red.
“What do you mean?” Scoop inquired sharply.
“He thinks it’s the ghost,” I put in.
“Bunk! I’d sooner think it’s a trick of the Strickers.”
“But how——” I began.
My words broke off sharply as something struck me on the leg and rattled to the deck. Stooping, I picked up a small metal washer. There was a rolled-up note in the disc’s bore.
Here is what I read: