The men were now engaged in heaping more stones on the pile where the lantern had set, and were making so much noise at it that the whispering of the boys could not be heard.
“Any special vessels in view?” asked one of the men, after they had worked away for some time in silence.
“No, but there’ll sure be one along before long. We can count on that. Of course, we’ll have to keep the light going several nights, maybe, but it’ll be worth while.”
“It ought to fool ’em, all right,” went on Hemp Danforth. “If it hadn’t been that Nate Duncan tripped us up, and didn’t come across with that information we wanted, we wouldn’t have all this trouble.”
For a moment Joe seemed to stiffen as he heard the name, and then, in a hoarse whisper, he turned to Blake and said:
“Did you hear that? These men know my father. They used his name.”
“Yes, but keep quiet!” urged Blake, for Joe had raised his voice. “We don’t want them to know we’re here.”
“But they know my father, Blake,” went on Joe, using more caution, however, in his tones. “I must speak to them. Maybe they were associated with him in lighthouse work, and this may be some new patent lantern they’re trying. Maybe my father hasn’t gone to China at all, and these men can tell where he is.”
Joe made a move as though to leave the screened hiding place and approach the men.
“No—don’t go!” whispered Blake, hoarsely, holding his chum back. “Stay here, Joe. Don’t speak to those men!”