Tom gripped Nicky’s arm. “Come on!” he cried, “let’s get there so they won’t forget and leave us!”
“No!” urged Nicky. “Wait—come on with me!”
“What for?” demanded Cliff. “Where are you going?”
“Come on!” Nicky demanded of his chums. “We don’t want to go.”
“Don’t want to go—” began Cliff. Then he followed Nicky.
The self-appointed leader went hastily down into the forecastle. His two comrades followed, wonderingly.
“I don’t see—” began Cliff.
“Look at it this way,” begged Nicky. “If we go with them we are in their hands, aren’t we? When the cutter has come and gone, without finding anything but the wrecked boat, these men will want to make us tell them where the treasure is supposed to be. Then they’ll desert us!”
“That’s good common sense,” agreed Cliff.
“Yes, it is,” Tom nodded.