“Yes, it’s all ready,” was the answer. “As for me, I’ll bet I can sleep a few lines to-night. This thing of kidnaping folks is interesting, but wearing.”
“Yes,” yawned Tom. “It makes you sleepy to be shot at.”
The next morning the Vagabond took up her journey for Mullen’s Cove. It was a sixty-mile trip, but the launch made it in record time, something under five hours and a half, turning into Mattituck Inlet at a little before two in the afternoon. Spencer begged them to go home with him.
“At the top of the sandy road he
turned and waved them farewell.”
“Ma,” he said earnestly, “she’d like to thank you fellers for bein’ so good to me.”
But the four were shy of gratitude and so Spencer was set ashore a mile from his home, his belongings knotted up in a blue cotton shirt under his arm. They watched him out of sight. At the top of the sandy road he turned and waved them farewell with the bundle. Then he passed from sight.