“Keep your courage up, Tommy,” laughed Dan. “What you need is something to eat. So do I, for that matter. But I suppose we can’t talk supper yet, eh?”
“No; let’s wait until we see how this thing’s coming out,” said Bob. “Where’s the runaway, Nelson?”
“He’s down here,” answered Nelson from below. “I’ve told him what’s up, and he says he’ll go back to his friend if it’s going to get us into trouble.”
“To the captain? Get out!”
“Nu-nu-nu-not on your lu-lu-life!” cried Tom.
“That’s the stuff, Tommy,” said Dan, clapping him on the back. “The old guard dies, but never surrenders, eh? Now, look; you go down and see if you can’t find something we can nibble on—crackers or bread and butter—will you?”
“Yes, there’s plenty of pilot bread,” answered Tom. “Shall I butter some?”
“No; let’s have it au natural, Tommy. That’s French and means something, but I don’t remember just what. No; pilot bread is better without butter. Scoot along, now; we may have a desperate battle before us,” with a wink at Bob, “and we must have our bodies fortified. Whatever that is,” he added, as Tom went below.
“I don’t see that she’s gained any,” said Bob presently.
“No,” answered Dan. “Lost, if anything.”