“Not on this side,” replied Jack.
“And I don’t glimpse him here,” George went on.
“But he’s been under almost a full minute now, and that’s a long time for one as exhausted as he must be,” the agent remarked, seriously.
“Oh! I hope he hasn’t acted like I’ve known wounded ducks to do,” said George, “go to the bottom, and hold on to the eel grass until they drown. That would be terrible.”
“And if he’d only held out a few minutes more he might have had the chance he was looking for, sir,” said Jack; “for there’s another bunch of clouds making up toward the moon.”
“Just so, Jack,” remarked the revenue man, glancing aloft; “and I wager Glenwood knew that fact, too.”
“But where can he be, sir? It would be impossible for any one to stay under so long. I’m something of a swimmer myself, and I know I couldn’t,” George went on, anxiously.
“Sure he didn’t bob up quietly, take a breath or two, and sink out of sight again?” asked the other.
Both boys declared they were positive that such had not been the case. The revenue man remained there for another minute, as though pondering. Then Jack saw him look up and smile. He did not call out, but made a mysterious motion with his hand that seemed to call for silence.
Then Jack saw him creeping slowly and cautiously toward the stern of the boat. George stared with wide open eyes, as though the startling thought had come to him that their passenger had suddenly gone crazy. But if so, there was a method in his madness, and Jack had guessed it.