Matt left his wrathful chum to do the talking. So far as he was concerned, he had nothing to say.
"We're going to put you ashore near a place where you can catch a train north, to Catskill," said Grattan, after a brief, whispered conversation with Pardo. "There doesn't happen to be any telegraph station at the place, but the train will stop on signal."
"There are other telegraph stations," fumed McGlory. "I reckon we can find 'em."
"I hope, Motor Matt," went on Grattan, "that you don't cherish any hard feelings?"
"No matter how I feel, Grattan," returned Matt, "I think you've made a big mistake."
"How?"
"Why, in your choice of a career. Half the energy you put into your criminal work would make you a power in the world."
"I used to talk like that," said Grattan, with a tinge of bitterness, "when I was young. Good-by."
Matt did not answer, but went out of the saloon and through the stateroom to the steps leading to the after deck. McGlory came close behind him. When they gained the deck, Pierson was in the tender, and another man stood ready to help them over the side.
Silently Pierson rowed them ashore through the moonlight. When the boys had debarked, Pierson rowed swiftly back to the Iris, and the lads on shore could hear the noise as the tender was taken aboard.