“Get going—you two!”
CHAPTER VIII
Hegarty’s Plans
AFTER a restless day at home and an even more restless night of fitful sleep, both Stanley Sandborn and John awoke and dressed in the still dark early morning hours. After bidding his brave mother good-bye, for she knew that the boys were mixed up in a dangerous adventure, Stan left by the cellar door for a very good reason. His reason proved sound for, as he vaulted the back fence he could make out, in the darkness, the figure of a man prowling the front sidewalk. As luck would have it, Stan fell heavily over something in the dark, and instantly he heard the sounds of running feet!
The stranger, who could be none other than a member of the Nevens gang, was in full pursuit!
Stanley got to his feet as the man came over the fence, and ran like a frightened hare across the next yard and down the next street. For several minutes he ran, crossing yards, vaulting well-known fences. He’d done that in play many a time; now he was doing it in earnest and for life, and he was grateful for a knowledge of the territory about his home. So successful was he in shaking off his pursuer that he was able to get into John’s back yard just as John came out the door, and the two of them beat a hasty path down town. There they ate coffee and ham sandwiches in a small restaurant, and then walked briskly out of town towards Zenith. They were a mile or so from the city when the first street car came along, and they boarded it, riding the rest of the way to the village.
Stanley had told of the man who had chased him, and John, too, had a story to tell, about another who had hung about in the vicinity of the Tallman home all that day.
“We’ve got to be very, very cautious, John,” Stan commented, “if we expect to live long enough to bring this case to a close! I hope no one has monkeyed with the Staghound while we’ve been gone!”
They found the sloop untouched, and unlocked the cabin slide. The morning was a bit chilly as fall was approaching, and the little cook range soon gave forth pleasant warmth while they discussed the day’s plans.
“The truck with the new mast, sails, and rigging should be here before noon, and I’ve got more than enough money to pay him. Mother drew it out of the bank for me yesterday. This morning let’s get the sloop closer inshore, and paint the underbody red. Then we’ll re-rig the interior here, make a secret-paneled closet for our fingerprint stuff and personal treasures, and Dago won’t know the place if he happens to snoop in here again, by any chance.”
They got the sloop closer inshore against the pier, and the tide left her quite high and dry so that they had no trouble putting a fresh coat of copper paint, red this time, over her previous coating of green. The truck brought the mast, sails, and rigging shortly afterwards, and Stanley and John set up another tripod of timbers from which to sling the new spar into place. With the aid of wharf idlers they soon had the beautiful, tapering Marconi mast in place, carefully “stepped,” and the sails on. The new wire rigging was somewhat intricate because of the height of the mast, but it was in place by mid-afternoon and not until then did they knock off for a meal.