“Wait a minute,” put in Jack soothingly. “Go on,” he remarked to Dick Donovan.
“Oh, well, all I wanted to say was this,” said the reporter, getting very red. “You needn’t be afraid that I’ll write a line about this thing, because I won’t. I can get another job somehow, I guess, and anyhow I’ve had enough experience crammed into this last half hour to be able to sit down and write a novel.”
The impulsive Tom’s manner changed in a jiffy.
“Say, you’re all right, Donovan,” he exclaimed, “and—and I tell you what, when we get this thing perfected we’ll give you the first news about it,—a scoop, don’t you call it?”
Dick’s amiable face beamed broadly as Jack nodded his assent to Tom’s promise.
“Say, that’s bully of you!” he cried boyishly, extending his hand. “I don’t want you to think I’m a bounder just because I came peeping and peering about your shack back there. I didn’t look at it from your point of view. I——”
He broke off abruptly. His lower jaw remained dropped just as it had been as he was about to continue speaking. At the same instant both the Boy Inventors sprang to their feet.
It was a startling enough interruption that had occurred to cut short Dick Donovan’s contrite speech.
From the decks of the Valkyrie there had come the sharp, ringing report of a pistol.
It was followed by shouts and a loud tramping of feet on the planks above them. Jack paused a second for thought and then, grabbing up a monkey wrench and calling to the others to do the same, he jumped for the companionway.