The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket Part 8

"Oh, I hope not," Tom jeered cheerily. "At all events I'm doing the best I know how. And I'm glad you're not going to make any fuss. I hate to be cranky with anyone."

The place to which the pier belonged looked, from what Tom had been able to see of it, like a run-down coast farm. Away up on a hill to the left were a dilapidated old farm house and other buildings. Halstead feared, though, that the stranger might have friends up at that house and so decided to keep on through the woods at the right.

Before long they struck a fairly well defined road through the forest, a road that looked as though it might lead to somewhere in particular.

"We'll keep right on along this road, if you don't mind," said the boy.

He kept now only a fair hold of the other's wrist. As the swarthy one offered no opposition, they made pa.s.sably good speed over the road. But Tom, though he looked unconcerned, was wholly on the alert for any sudden move on the part of his captive.

"If I find I'm wholly in the wrong," said Tom pleasantly, after they had gone at least a quarter of a mile in this fashion, "there isn't anyone in the whole United States who'd be more glad to make a complete apology."

"But that will not save you from trouble," breathed the swarthy one angrily. "The laws of your country do not allow such high-handed deeds as you have been guilty of."

"Down in Honduras the laws are a bit different, aren't they?" asked Halstead very pleasantly.

"Down in Honduras, they--"

The swarthy one checked himself suddenly.

"That is the second time you have asked me about Honduras," he went on presently. "Why do you say so much about Honduras?"

"I've trapped you into admitting that it's your country," laughed Halstead. "And that tells me, too, why you are so interested in having Ted Dunstan kept out of sight for the next few days."

"What's all this talk about Honduras?" demanded a gruff voice. The challenge made both jump. A stocky figure stepped alertly out from behind a tree. It was the solidly built, florid-faced man-the other of the pair Tom had first seen in the seat ahead.

"Oh, you, you, you!" cried the swarthy one delightedly, as he wrenched his captive wrist free from Halstead's weakening clutch. "You have appeared in time, my friend!"

"So?" roared the florid-faced one, taking a business-like grip of Tom Halstead's collar. "What was this young cub doing?"

"Doing?" cried the swarthy one, dancing in his wrath, his eyes gleaming like coals. "He had the impudence, this boy, to say he would take me to a constable. He insists that I know all about one Ted Dunstan."

"Does, eh?" growled the powerful, florid-faced one, giving Tom a mighty shake. "Then we'll take care of this young man! Oh, we'll give him a pleasant time!"

"Yes, yes! Just as we would in Honduras!" laughed the swarthy one gleefully. "He has been asking much, just now, about the way they do things in Honduras."

"Then he'll be sure to be just the lad who'll appreciate a little information at first hand!" jeered Tom's captor.

CHAPTER VI-TOM HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR

"So the youngster was going to be high-handed with ye, was he?" demanded the florid-faced one, and despite the intense darkness there in the woods, Tom Halstead could see the ugly gleam in his strong-handed captor's eyes.

The swarthy one stepped to the other side of his friend and whispered something in that worthy's ear. It was a rather long communication.

Though he tried with all his might to overhear some of it, Halstead could not distinguish a single word. Yet, as the narration proceeded, Tom felt that powerful grip on his coat collar increase in intensity.

"Well, we'll take care of you, youngster," declared the florid-faced one at last. "You're too big a nuisance to have at large! And as you've been giving your time to other folks' business, we'll take good care of your time after this! Come along now!"

Tom had not tried to resist and for a most excellent reason. He well knew that his present captor could fell him like a log. Here no contest of muscles was to be thought of. Craft must be subst.i.tuted for strength.

In the boy's brain revolved swiftly many plans for escape. Just as the florid-faced one started to force him over the path lately taken the right idea came to the young captive. He puckered his lips, emitting a shrill whistle.

Nor had he guessed wrongly. There _was_ an echo here. Back on the air came almost the exact duplicate of the whistle Halstead had let loose.

In a jiffy both of his captors halted. Perhaps they suspected it to be only an echo, but they wanted to make sure.

Quicker than a flash, though, before they could make any tests for themselves, Halstead shouted:

"Fine! Rush 'em quick, fellows! Jump on 'em and hold 'em down. Don't let either rascal get away!"

His voice was so joyous, so exultant, that it completely fooled the pair for an instant. Though the florid-faced one did not release the tightness of his grip on the young skipper's coat collar, he, like the swarthy one, used his eyes to look about in all directions.

That moment was enough for Tom Halstead, doubly quick-witted in his peril. His hands flew up the front of his uniform coat, ripping b.u.t.tons out of b.u.t.ton holes at one swift move. Wrench! Tom slipped out of his coat, springing ahead under the trees.

"Here, you! Come back here!" roared the florid-faced one absurdly, as he plunged after the young fugitive. The swarthy one, too, joined in the chase, freeing himself of a torrent of Spanish words.

Tom Halstead had just a few seconds' start, aided by the darkness that enveloped them all. A hundred yards or so Tom dashed, rather noisily.

Then, off at right angles to his former course he sped on tip-toe, nor did he go much more than fifty yards ere he landed up against a straight tree whose low-hanging limbs bore an abundant foliage.

Up this tree-trunk, without hesitation, shinned the young skipper, drawing himself well up among the leaves in what he felt must be record time for such a feat.

For a few moments more he could hear his pursuers stumbling along the wrong course. Then he knew, by the sounds, that they had turned back and were keeping well apart in the hope of covering more ground. But the uncertainty of their steps, however, told the boy up the tree that his pursuers were wholly off the trail and giving up the chase. Then, veering, the florid-faced man and the swarthy one came toward each other. They halted almost squarely under the tree that held young Halstead.

Tom's first, throbbing thought was that they had tracked him here. He did not stir, but the grim lines around his mouth deepened. Let them try to get him then. They would have to climb the tree to get at him and he meant to make use of his hands and feet in defending himself.

"I can give them all they want for a while," he told himself between his teeth. In fact, in his excitement he all but made his remark half aloud.

"Well, he's got away from us, all right," growled the florid-faced one in a tone of mingled disappointment and rage.

"We shall at least know him well after this," sighed the swarthy one in a sinister tone.

"And I hope you'll have your wish," flared listening Tom indignantly, "though I'll try to control the time and place of meeting."

"I'd rather have lost a thousand dollars than that boy," went on the larger man gruffly.

"A thousand?" sneered the other. "_Diablo!_ I'd give five thousand to have him in our hands this moment."

"And I believe I'd give more," echoed Tom silently, "to keep out of your clutches-if I had the money."

Then, drawing closely together, the pair conversed in whispers. Again Tom groaned over his hearing which, keen as it was, could get nothing connected from the low tones of the pair on the ground. Whatever they were saying, these plotters must be terribly in earnest over something.

In his eagerness Tom bent too far forward. His foot slipped. Frantically he clutched at a branch overhead to save himself from plunging to the ground. Of course the move made some noise.

"_Diablo!_ What was that? And so close, too!" demanded the smaller man.

"What?" demanded the larger man.

"That noise! Some one must be prowling about here," continued the swarthy one in a whisper just loud enough to reach Tom's ears.