“You go and fetch it, Tommy.” Nelson whispered. In a moment Tom was back with the revolver in his hand.
“It isn’t loaded,” he whispered, “and it lu-lu-lu-looks like Bob’s.”
“It is Bob’s,” said Nelson, examining it.
“Bob su-su-says to stop the engine so as he cu-cu-can leave the wheel.”
Nelson obeyed and Bob tumbled impatiently down into the engine room.
“Are you going to let him out?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Would you?”
“Yes, we can manage him. And he can’t get away unless he swims. First, though, tell him to hand out the cartridges.”
Nelson followed the suggestion and Tom brought down Bob’s box of cartridges. Bob grimly loaded the revolver. When he was through he nodded to Nelson. The latter went to the door.
“I’m going to let you out on the understanding that you give yourself up and make no attempt to escape. Understand that?”