But at that moment a loud and hearty voice from without cried:
“Where is he! Where’s my old friend Hiram Beegle? Tell him Jolly Bill Hickey is here! Where’s my old friend Hiram Beegle!”
A man, broadly smiling, his bald head shining in the sun, stumped into the room, one wooden leg making a thumping sound on the floor.
CHAPTER V
A MYSTERIOUS ROBBERY
Jolly Bill Hickey—for so he called himself—stood staring in the middle of the room—staring at the huddled figure of the old man in the chair covered with bed clothes.
“Why, Hiram—why—what has happened?” cried the man with the wooden leg—an old-fashioned wooden peg, his stump strapped fast to it—and the wooden leg showed signs of wear. “What has happened to my old shipmate Hiram?” demanded Jolly Bill Hickey.
Again that pitiful effort to talk, but only a meaningless jumble of sounds came forth.
“Hiram, did they ram you?” demanded he of the wooden leg. “Did they let go a broadside at you? Did they try to sink you?”
Hiram Beegle nodded his head.