The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket Part 18

Thus several minutes went by. Tom Halstead, unable to talk, spent his energies in wondering whether Ted Dunstan was anywhere in the near neighborhood.

After many minutes had pa.s.sed the deep silence of this wild spot was broken by an owl hoot. Alvarez, raising his head, answered by a similar hoot. Then from the distance came two hoots.

"Come, we will go forward to meet our friends," proposed the swarthy little man eagerly, as he sprang to his feet. French got up more lumberingly, though almost as quickly. Together they trod up to the head of the ravine. Out of the darkness ahead came Pedro and a little brown man who looked as much like a Spaniard as Alvarez did.

"We'se done brought yo' dis," stated Pedro with a grin that showed his big, white teeth.

"This" was Joe Dawson, his hands tied behind him, his face as sullen as a storm cloud in a summer shower. Joe was walking, led by Pedro, and pushed at times by the brown man.

"Ho, ho!" laughed Alvarez, in keen relish. "You have not done badly. You bring me the other meddling boy. Halt him here-so. Tie him against this tree that he may have a chance to lean." Alvarez watched until Joe had been moored fast, then asked:

"How many did you come out with to-night?"

"Guess!" proposed Joe pleasantly.

"Don't dare to be impertinent, boy!" warned Don Emilio, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "Answer me straight, and-what do you call it?-to the point, as you Americans say."

"Lemon?" laughed Joe Dawson coolly. "No, thank you. I always take vanilla."

"Boy, if you get me any more angry," stormed Don Emilio, "you will regret it."

But Dawson merely looked at the swarthy, false-bearded little man with an air of boredom.

"Let me handle him," proposed Jonas French, stepping forward.

"I'll be glad if you will wait on me," drawled Joe, looking at the larger man. "I don't believe this little fellow knows his business or his goods."

With an angered cry Don Emilio darted in, striking his cool tormentor across the face.

"Hold on," objected Joe lazily, "I didn't ask to be called until nine o'clock."

"Are you going to stop this nonsense?" demanded Don Emilio, his voice quavering with wrath.

"Dawson," remarked French, "you don't appear to realize your fix."

Joe stared at him haughtily, remarking:

"My bill is not due until the end of the week. Go away and let me read in peace."

Pedro, in the background, was holding one hand over his broad mouth to hide his expansive grin over this cool nonsense. But Don Emilio was fast losing his not very certain temper.

"Go and bring that other boy Halstead," ordered Alvarez. "When the two of them see each other they'll know their game is up, and they'll come to their senses. If not, nothing will make any difference to them after a few minutes more."

Without a word French turned, treading down the ravine. Just a little later he reappeared, looking bewildered.

"Alvarez," he gasped, "come here. That other boy isn't where we left him. Hurry!"

Uttering an exclamation of amazement, Alvarez darted after his friend.

Pedro and the little brown man, caught in the astonishment, bolted after their leaders.

Joe could not get away from the tree to which he was bound, but he stood there grinning with cool enjoyment. In another moment he felt a lively sound at his back. Then Halstead whispered in his ear:

"I'm cutting you loose, old fellow! Bolt with me!"

Dawson, straining at the cords while Tom slashed at them, was quickly free.

"Come along," begged Tom. "Never mind stopping to leave cards or writing a note of regret. Hustle-this way!"

Halstead led in the swift flight in the direction that he judged the roads to lie. They tried to go noiselessly, but they had not gone far when a shout behind showed them that their flight had been detected.

"Sprint, old chum!" floated back over Halstead's shoulder.

In looking back, the young skipper stumbled. Joe had to pause long enough to drag his comrade to his feet. That lost them a few precious seconds, but they dashed onward once more. As they ran they heard the feet of the pursuers behind. From greater familiarity with the ground some of those in chase were gaining on the fugitives.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tom Remembered the Toy Pistol, Just in Time.]

Joe now led in the chase, with Tom at his heels. They, came to what appeared to be the wooded slope leading down to the road. Joe ran up against a wall almost sooner than he had expected. He nearly fell over it, but recovered and jumped. Halstead landed in the road beside him.

There was another flying figure in the air, and Pedro was beside them, reaching out. Behind were French and Don Emilio.

"Yo better stop, fo' shuah!" called Pedro, parting his lips in a grin of huge enjoyment. "Dere ain't no use in tryin' to git away from me."

CHAPTER XIII-A CAPTURE IN RECORD TIME

"Look out! He's mine!" shouted Joe.

But Tom Halstead had sprung in the same instant at Pedro. The result was that the combined a.s.sault of the boys bore the fellow to the ground, and Tom, remembering, just in the nick of time, the toy cap pistol that Jennison had handed him, and which had escaped discovery a few minutes before, hauled that ridiculous "weapon" out, pressing it against the temple of the black man.

"Don't you stir, if you know what's best for you," warned the young skipper sternly.

Joe, seeing the lay of the land, leaped up to meet Captain French, who was just reaching that wall.

At that moment the noise of a speeding auto was borne to them, while around the bend whizzed the machine, sending its strong searchlight ray ahead to illumine the scene.

The yells of its occupants caused the other pursuers of the boys to halt in confusion. Before they had time to think what to do the automobile was racing up to the spot and stopping. Alvarez and his two companions bore away up the wooded slope as fast as their alarm could spur them.

"What's this going on here?" demanded Constable Jennison, as he leaped out into the road.

"You'll find some of the rascals up there among the trees," replied Tom, coolly. "I have one of 'em here, but he's tame now."

Pedro, in fact, in his dread lest he be shot, was lying on his stomach, his face between his crossed arms, while Halstead stood over him, holding that wholly useless "pistol."

"Just move that car a few yards ahead, will you?" begged Tom of the chauffeur, fearing that in the strong light, Pedro might steal a look sideways and find out what a comical "weapon" had scared him.

"There are three of the crowd up there," added Joe. "They were chasing us, but your arrival scared them off."