He might have been speaking to his companion, who was attending to the fastening of the towing rope, but to Jack it seemed as though there was an injunction to be careful of what was said.
Somehow or other, though why he could not tell, Jack’s suspicions were aroused. He tried to get a good look at the faces of the men, but the moon was hidden behind some clouds just then, and it was out of the question. The light was too baffling.
“Well, I guess we’re ready,” announced the man who was making fast the towing rope. “Now where do you fellows want to go? We can’t promise to take you home, as we have some business of our own to attend to.”
Jack always said, afterward, that nothing could have been more providential than the way the moon shone out brightly just as he was about to reply.
He had it on the tip of his tongue to ask that, if possible, they be landed near Denny’s cabin, when a ray of moonlight glinted on the name of the rescuing boat, painted on her stern. There Jack read the word:
Pickerel.
“Great Scott!” he almost ejaculated aloud. “The boat that raced with Cora! The same men who are after old Denny!”
Jack made up his mind in a flash. It would never do for the men to know that he and his friends were on their way to save Denny from the very fate the men had in store for him.
“Oh, if you can land us anywhere near Buler’s Pavilion, it will answer,” said Jack, naming a place not far from the entrance to the bay, and not far from where they were at that moment.
“Buler’s Pavilion!” cried Ed. “Why that’s——”