“It’s probably closed, by this time, I know that!” answered Jack, quickly, giving Ed a sly kick. “But we can get somebody up, I guess.”
Then, in a tense whisper he hissed into Ed’s ear:
“These are the men after Denny. I know them by their boat. Don’t let on who we are. We’re going to Buler’s.”
“Sure, we can rouse somebody up if they are closed,” answered Ed, quickly falling in with Jack’s scheme. “That will do us, all right,” he added to the men. “That is, if it won’t be too much out of your way.”
“Not at all,” said one. “We’ll be glad to leave you there. Maybe you can find somebody to fix your boat. All ready?”
“Let her go,” said Jack. He wanted the Pickerel to get far enough ahead so that he could talk to his chums without the danger of being overheard.
The engine of the rescuing boat was set going more rapidly, and the clutch was thrown in. The craft forged ahead, and soon the Dixie was under way again. She was being brought back from the sea which had so nearly claimed her, and in a strange manner.
“Why did you want to say we’d like to be landed at Buler’s?” asked Dray of Jack.
“Because I want to fool these fellows,” and Jack quickly told how he had seen the name of the boat that had raced with his sister’s. “If we do land there,” he went on, “they won’t know who we are. We can tell them to cut us off before we get to the dock, in case the place should happen to be open and lighted up. Then they can’t see us.”
“Good idea,” said Dray. “You’re a wise boy, Jack.”