"Ve vas too many for you," he taunted, in his characteristic fashion. "Goot-py, olt sore-headt! Meppy ve dake dose guns und ammunidions und der resdt oof der druck to New Orleans und make some salfage money. How you like dot?"
Carl, when he sprang back to Dick's side, was not so sure that it was a good thing to have the schooner sail away and leave them.
"Vat ve going to do on der terelick oof anodder shtorm hids us?" he asked.
"I don't believe there'll be another storm for a few days, Carl," answered Dick, his face strangely troubled.
"You don'd vas a Vedder Pureau, Tick. How you know dot?"
"I'm just guessing, that's all."
"Dot schooner must haf peen vaiding for der Sanda Maria, somevere oudt in der gulf."
"That's about the way I figure it, Carl. Some one, just in from the gulf, sent that telegram to Sixty giving him the location of the wreck. He got word to some one to have the schooner meet him near the steamer's track, and he was transferred. This must have been some time yesterday, after the storm. I'm a juggins, though, if I have any idea what the old shell-back's game is."
"He drowed Modor Matt oferpoard, anyvay," growled Carl, savagely, "und dot's pooty goot efitence, Tick, dot der game don'd haf some bleasantness in id for us, hey?"