The man, he recalled, in pulling with his arm, had winced, before he got the dory where he wanted it. His cry, his subsequent favoring of his shoulder, told Larry the truth.
“You’re the man who was in the amphibian when Mr. Everdail flew it!” he said. “How did you get here, with your injured shoulder?”
“Tide brought me through a channel. I felt better, saw a spare dory and watched some debris on the water and reckoned the tide would get me to where I could see where the amphibian set down. I saw it hop off the beach, saw it disappear, heard it and saw it coming back—and was curious—but how did you know about Mr. Everdail—and who was in the seaplane, and in the other crate I saw?”
“Here comes the tug and floating crane, to salvage the seaplane,” said Jeff. “You’ll have to stay in the tug deckhouse, till we get the straight of this—and for holding a gun on us. You can explain to the police, maybe—as for us, we don’t need to explain!”
And, as later, he and Larry resumed their places in the amphibian, Larry’s captive remained under guard on the tug.
CHAPTER XI
“POP! GOES OUR MYSTERY!”
Before the lowered landing wheels of the amphibian touched the private landing field, after a flight delayed by the need of more fuel, Larry saw his chums waiting by the hangar.
As the aircraft taxied to the end of the runway he saw that their expressions were doleful.
“Bad news?” Larry asked, climbing to the turf.
“Our adventure is over and done with,” Dick said. “It has gone ‘poof’ like a bursted soap bubble.”