“I’m much obliged to you for the information,” said Mr. Farson, “and I—of course—I’m bound to believe you,” he went on, a bit awkwardly. “Then you didn’t see a trace of them?”
“Of course not!” cried Phil. “Don’t you believe us?”
“Oh, yes—yes, of course. I only thought that maybe, as my boat is so broken up, and the parts scattered about, that you might have looked farther along the shores of the island. The box may have held together, and be lodged somewhere.”
“Perhaps it has,” said Frank, calmly. “I’d advise you to look thoroughly. You might find it. Come on, fellows,” and he led the way back to the boat.
Tom Parsons acted as though he intended to speak, but Sid nudged him in the ribs, and the youth kept quiet.
Mr. Farson stared after the boys as though much disappointed at their desertion, and then, looking to the fastening of the rowing craft in which he had come ashore, he began walking along the edge of the island, where many signs of the high water still remained.
“What did you want to come away for in such a hurry?” asked Tom, in a low voice, when they were some distance out. “You were on your high-horse for fair, Frank.”
“And why shouldn’t I be? Do you think I was going to stay there, and help him hunt, after he practically insulted us the way he did? As if we knew anything about his musty old jewelry!”
“That’s right!” broke in Phil. “I wouldn’t lift my hand to help him, after he made that implied accusation. We didn’t see any of his stuff!”
“Oh, so that’s the reason,” replied Tom. “Well, I guess it was a good one, Frank.”