“Well, I hope your mind is in better condition than mine,” returned Berwick, “I don’t seem to see any way out.”
“Then, we must make one.”
“I confess it’s too much for me,” went on Berwick, sitting back resignedly. “That old rascal of a Bill Broome seems to have made a clean sweep of it this time. He’s got the young senorita safe in his clutches on the Sea Eagle, and with that sister for a jailer, as far as I can see he will sail away with her and we can sit here and chew our thumbs for all we can do.”
Berwick was referring to his own and Jim’s experiences as related in a previous book, the [“Frontier Boys in Frisco.”]
“I am not so sure of that,” exclaimed Jim, shutting his teeth down with a snap. “I am not through with that old pirate yet.”
“I’m with you there, Jim,” agreed Berwick. “I owe him something on my own account, but I don’t see any prospect of an immediate payment.”
“If we only knew which way he was going.”
“That’s a pretty big if,” said Berwick.
“Maybe not as big as it looks,” returned Jim. “At any rate, I mean to find out.”
“How are you going to do that?”