Sandy wanted to nudge his comrade, to warn him to be careful. There was no chance; the man was observing them intently.
“Amphibian? You know the different types, eh? May I ask if you belong around here, and if not, how you got here—and who took the ‘phib’?”
Unable to check Dick, his younger chum had to stand, listening while Dick related some of their most recent adventures.
“As I live and breathe! So you’re two of the lads who were in the other ‘crate’. Where’s the third—and was that Jeff with you? I thought it must be.”
“Superstitions and all!” chuckled Dick.
Dick judged the man to be both friendly and “all right,” from his pleasant, affable manner and his evident knowledge of their pilot’s identity.
Not so Sandy!
His mind leaped through a multitude of theories and of suspicions.
This man might be “in cahoots” with Jeff, and Sandy was determined not to take Jeff, or anyone else, at face value too readily.
The whole strange affair looked “queer” to him.