“That’s just what, fellers. Nobody could have been kinder. Don’t stop there, but push your way aboard. Cabin’s small; but you can all get your heads in,” Josh went on to say.
Of course, after that even suspicious George saw no reason for holding back longer. So the three splashed along until they stood hip-deep in the lagoon. The man even stretched out a hand and assisted Jack aboard, as though he bore them not the least bit of malice for having held him up at the muzzle of their guns.
As Jack clambered aboard, the first thing he saw through the opening was Josh, with a bandage around his head, which showed signs of gore, telling that he must have received something of a bad cut when he tripped and fell.
Then all those signs around the spot, which they supposed meant a struggle between the boy and his two captors, had in reality been made when the men attempted to lift Josh, and carry his senseless form to their boat near by.
Well, one thing was apparently explained. There was no longer any mystery as to why Josh had failed to respond when they shouted, and fired their guns. If at the time, he was lying there senseless, he could not very well be expected to give an answering halloo. But then, why had not these two men done something to let his companions know what had befallen him?
That was what puzzled Jack. He should have thought that the very first thing to occur to them would be to send word to the camp of the motor boat boys—unless, now, there was some good reason for holding back until they could question Josh, and make sure that he did not have any connection with the sheriff and his posse!
“This is my friend, and cruising partner, Mr. Bryce Carpenter,” said the one who had thus far been conducting the conversation from their side. “My own name is Sidney Bliss. How about your friends, Jack?”
“George Rollins, the first one, and Jimmy Brannigan the other,” Jack immediately spoke. “We’ve left two more in camp, while we hunted for our lost chum. Hello! Josh; awful glad to find you alive and kicking; but don’t like the looks of that bloody pack around your head.”
“Huh! I guess I got a pretty hard knock on my coco, all right,” grinned Josh; and he did look so comical, with that turban-like bandage, and his face flecked with little specks of dried blood, that Jimmy burst out into a merry laugh.
“Sure, ye did, Josh, ye spalpeen!” he declared, thrusting one arm into the cabin, so as to clutch the hand of the discovered comrade; “but ’tis a tough nut ye’re afther having, I do declare, which is a fortunate thing for ye this night.”