“But why?”
“There is no reason.”
Silence once more. A swell larger than those that went before lifted the boat high, tilted her to a rakish angle, then let her fall. The boom rattled, the lazy sail flapped. After that the silence was greater than before.
To Pant the situation was a trying one. He found himself only a passenger on a boat chartered by his grandfather. He had no authority here. If he had, would he awaken the crew? He hardly knew. One does not suspect a single sound. In the tropics not all who come near are rascals.
And yet, aboard that schooner, or its mate lying close alongside, was the gunnysack with the green thread running through it—a rude container for a rich treasure.
“If I should lose it now!” His breath came short at the thought. He had risked his life for a treasure which he somehow felt did not belong to him, but which, nevertheless, he was now morally bound to preserve.
Suddenly his thoughts broke short off.
“There! There!” he whispered hoarsely.
But Tuan was on his feet. He was striking out at something in the dark. His eyesight was quite as remarkable as his hearing.
There came a loud splash. Tuan had not gone overboard, but some one had.