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The irony, however, was wasted on the other. “Well, now you understand that I’m not,” laughed Rexford, easily. “So we can begin to talk real business. Let us begin by dropping this money into your pocket.”
He attempted to slip the roll of banknotes into one of the boy’s coat pockets, but Halstead quickly side-stepped, receiving the proffered money in his right hand.
“Oh, very well,” laughed Rexford, “do just as you please with the money. It’s yours, you know.”
“Thank you,” acknowledged the young skipper. Then, before Rexford could even guess what he meant to do, Tom Halstead swung back his right arm, bringing his hand up over his shoulder.
“Here, stop that!” quivered Rexford, darting forward and clutching the young skipper’s arm. But the move was too late, for Captain Tom had already hurled the compact little mass of banknotes as far as he could through the forest. On account of Rexford’s sudden movement neither of them heard the money drop to earth.
“What do you mean by that?” demanded the red-haired one, hoarsely, his breath coming fast, his eyes gleaming angrily.
“You told me to do as I pleased with the money,” retorted Tom. “So I got it out of my hands as quickly as possible. I don’t like that kind of money.”
“Do you mean to say that you throw our business over?” cried Rexford.
“Of course I do,” smiled Tom. “Are you so slow-witted that it cost you all that money to find it out?”
“Confound you, I’ve a good mind to give you a good beating,” came tempestuously from the other’s lips.
“Try it,” again smiled Halstead, undauntedly.
“Then we can’t get you on our side?” demanded Rexford, his tone suddenly changing to one of imploring. Still smiling, Captain Tom shook his head. There was a quick step in the bushes behind him, and a sturdy pair of arms wound themselves about the young skipper, while Rexford leaped at him from in front.
“If we can’t count on Halstead,” declared a new voice, from the rear, “then we can’t let him get away from us, either – not when there are millions at stake!”
CHAPTER IV
TOM HALSTEAD’S FIGHT AGAINST ODDS
TOM’S sea-trained muscles could always be relied upon to stand him in good stead at need. He strove, now, like a young panther, to free himself. But this was a battle of one boy against two men, and one of the latter had the boy’s arms wrapped close to his body in a tight embrace.
There was a short, panting struggle, after which the young skipper was bent over. He lurched to the earth, face downward, while his yet unseen assailant fell heavily upon him.
“Fight fair, can’t you?” growled the captain of the “Rocket.”
“This isn’t a fight,” retorted the voice of the newcomer. “It’s a matter of self-preservation. Lie still, can’t you. I don’t want to have to club you out of your senses. It isn’t a gentleman’s kind of work.”
“You’re right it isn’t,” gritted Halstead, though he now lay more quietly, for the auburn-haired Rexford had thrown himself, also, upon him. “There isn’t anything about this business that smacks of the gentleman,” the boy added, tauntingly.
“Hold your tongue, will you?” demanded the unknown one, angrily.
“When it pleases me most,” growled Captain Tom, fast getting into an ugly, reckless mood.
“Rexford, I can hold him,” went on the man. “Station yourself by the youngster’s head. Go as far as you like, if he tries to make any noise. Now, young man, I think you would better listen, while I do the talking. We’re sorry enough to treat you in this fashion, but it’s all your own fault.”
“How is that?” challenged the youthful skipper.
“We gave you a fine chance to make your fortune. You wouldn’t have it. Now, if we let you go, you’d spoil all our plans by repeating what has happened to your employer.”
“Right!” snapped Captain Tom. “That’s just what I’m going to do.”
“Just what you’re not going to do,” retorted the man. “It’ll be many a day before you’ll see anyone we don’t want you to see.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Halstead, gruffly.
“You’ll find out. Rexford, get out some cord, and we’ll tie this young Indian up. If he tries to yell, hit him as hard as you like, and after that we’ll gag him. Remember, Halstead, you’ve got to keep quiet and go with us. If you behave quietly you won’t be hurt at all. You’ll only be held for safe keeping for a few weeks. Then you’ll be turned loose, with a little purse to console you for your present loss of liberty.”
That didn’t sound very dangerous, but the young motor boat skipper was not one who would tamely submit to any such proposition. Yet he said nothing as the unknown man rose from his back, to kneel beside him while Rexford tied his hands.
Just as that shifting was accomplished, however, Tom Halstead rolled swiftly over on his back. With a cry of anger the man made a swift movement to bend over the lad. It was an unfortunate move. One of Halstead’s flying feet caught him squarely in the face. Another kick was aimed at Rexford, who sprang back out of the danger zone.
“Now I don’t care what you do to the boy!” snarled the unknown, after venting a groan of pain and raising his hands to his face, which, however, had not been struck hard enough to mark it. “Sail in, Rexford, and help me teach the young idiot a lesson.”
But Captain Tom had made brisk use of that moment of freedom. As his heels struck the earth again he threw his arms and body forward, leaping to his feet. In the instant he started running.
“Here, you can’t get away – don’t attempt it!” growled the unknown, bolting after the boy.
Rexford, being at one side, ran so as to head off the young skipper ere he could reach the road. And Rexford at once showed signs of being a sprinter.
If either of the pair caught hold of him Tom Halstead knew that capture would be swift enough. Well ahead of the unknown, Halstead veered enough to give him another momentary start on Rexford.
Tom darted to a young oak tree, one of whose branches hung low. This gave an opportunity not to be overlooked at such a moment. Leaping at the branch, grappling with it with both hands, Halstead drew himself up with a sailor’s speed and surety. From that he stepped like a flash to the next higher branch. Now, he grinned down at his enemies.
Rexford and the unknown collided with each other just beside the trunk of that tree.
“I hope you won’t either of you try to follow me up here,” hinted Captain Tom, mockingly. “If you do, I shall have to kick one of you in the face.”
Holding on above him, he swung one foot suggestively. It was not too dark for the pair below to realize how much bodily risk there would be in attacking this gritty youngster in his present place of advantage.
“You’re all right up there,” admitted Rexford, coldly. “We can’t come up after you without getting damaged heads. But, my boy, what is to hinder us from throwing enough stones up there to make it pretty warm for you?”
Tom’s grin of confidence suddenly vanished. He had overlooked the possibility of being dislodged by a volley or two of stones. Had the field been clear for a six-foot start from his tormentors he would have felt like taking the chance of leaping down and taking to his heels once more. But they were right at hand, below. The boy felt himself trapped.
“Don’t let him get away,” advised Rexford. “I’m going into the road after a few stones.”
The unknown got even closer to the base of the tree. Rexford, after a careful look at the relative positions of trapper and trapped, ran out to the road.
“Who are we? Who are we? C-o-l-b-y! Rah! rah! rah!”
Down the road came volleys of ringing yells, as though from the throats of a lot of happy savages.
“Rah! rah! rah!”
“College boys, or a lot of young fellows masquerading as such!” flashed jubilantly through Tom Halstead’s brain.
“Rah! rah! rah! Wow! Right here! Trouble! Hustle!” roared Tom, as huskily as his lung power permitted.
“Stop that, you infernal imp!” snarled Rexford, leaping back from the road.
“Colby! Here on the run! Trouble!” roared Halstead at the top of his voice.
“What’s that? Who’s there?” came a hail from up the road.
Whizz-zz! Thump! A stone, guided by Rexford’s hand, came through the air, glancing from one of Halstead’s shins.
“Hustle here quick! Follow the voice!” roared Tom.
He ducked his head just in time to avoid a stone propelled at his face by Rexford.
“Rah! rah! Hold on! We’re coming. Trouble, you say? Colby to the mix-up and the happy ending!”
“Come, Rexford! We’ve got to sprint,” advised the unknown.
Up the road the sound of charging feet came nearer. Rexford and his companion sprang into the woods, running as fast as they could go. But Halstead wisely concluded to remain treed until he beheld more than a dozen athletic looking young men under the tree. Then he slid to the ground.
“Did you call ‘trouble’?” demanded one of the newcomers.
“I did,” the young skipper admitted.
“Then hand over the goods! Show us the face of trouble, or take your punishment as a raiser of false hopes!” insisted the leader of the boys.
“And be quick about it. We haven’t seen any trouble in an hour,” proclaimed another of the boisterous crowd.
“Come into these woods with me,” begged Halstead. “Scatter and sprint. There are two men trying to get away – the rascals! If you can find them for me I’ll try to have them held by the police for assault.”
“What do they look like?”
Halstead gave a quick description of Rexford. Of the unknown one the young skipper could say only that he was a dark-haired man of thirty, clad in a gray suit.
The spirit of adventure being upon these young fellows, they scattered, dashing through the woods on a chance of finding anything that might look like a scrimmage. Five minutes of strenuous chasing, however, failed to discover Rexford or his companion, who must have known these woods well. Then the rah-rah boys, hot and disgusted, came back to the road.
“See here, young man,” remarked one of their leaders, severely, “you haven’t been trifling with our young hopes, have you?”
“On my word of honor, no,” Tom replied, earnestly. Then a happy, somewhat vengeful thought struck him.
“See here, fellows,” he went on, “I know pretty near the spot where a roll of five hundred dollars lies in the woods yonder. If you can find it I guess it will be yours, for frolic or dividing, just as you like.”
But that proved an almost dangerous piece of information to offer.
“Five hundred – what?” scowled the leader of the young men.
“We’ve found a crazy boy!” roared another.
“To the asylum with him!”
“No! Drag him along and duck him – that will be enough!”
Whooping, these irresponsible young fellows charged down upon Halstead. But he knew better than to run. Laughing, he stood his ground.
“Oh, well, if you won’t believe me,” he said, with mock resignation, “let it go at that. But what are you going to do?”
“Listen, child!” roared the leader of the crowd. “We are pushing forward for the surprise and capture of East Hampton. Willst go with us, and witness scenes of military glory?”
“I’m gladly with you for going to town,” replied the young skipper.
“Then come along. Preserve the utmost silence and stealth, all ye, my brave men,” ordered the leader, leaping out into the road.
“Rah, rah, rah!” they answered him, roaringly, and turned their faces townward. Tom glad to get out of it all so easily, stepped along with them.
“What was that about trouble, younker?” one of the supposed college boys asked Halstead. “Did you think you saw a shadow among the trees?”
“It was a good deal more than a shadow,” insisted Halstead. “I was attacked by two men.”
Tom’s questioner looked at him searchingly, then replied good-humoredly:
“Oh, well, say no more about it, and I guess the fellows will forget. It gave us a good excuse for a sprint, anyway.”
To Halstead it looked as though these college boys suspected him of some hoax, but were good-naturedly willing to overlook the joke on them. The young skipper was willing to accept the protection of their boisterous, husky companionship on any terms until safely out of the woods and over the bridge once more. As he found himself entering the town again Tom slipped away, unobserved, from the noisy dozen or more. Two or three minutes later he was back at the hotel.
Inquiry showed that Messrs. Delavan and Moddridge had not yet returned. Captain Tom again sought a veranda chair, and, sitting down, awaited their coming.
CHAPTER V
MR. MODDRIDGE’S NERVES CUT LOOSE
UP in Mr. Delavan’s suite of rooms Eben Moddridge paced the floor in great excitement. For Captain Tom Halstead had just finished his story of the night’s queer happening.
Francis Delavan, on the other hand, drew slowly, easily, at his cigar, his outward composure not in the least ruffled.
Yet, at the outset, Moddridge had been the one to doubt the young motor boat skipper’s strange yarn. Delavan, on the other hand, had believed it implicitly. At the end the nervous smaller man was also a believer.
“Frank,” declared Eben Moddridge, “this is a simply atrocious state of affairs. There is a plot against us, and a desperate, well-organized one.”
“Let them plot, then,” smiled Delavan. “It’s all right, since we are warned. Yet, Halstead, I’m just a bit disappointed that you didn’t pretend to fall in with the schemes of your strangers. You would have learned more of what is planned against us.”
“I don’t believe they intended to tell me anything definite, sir,” Captain Tom answered, slowly. “They spoke of a signal, on seeing which I was to pretend that the ‘Rocket’ was disabled and unable to proceed. I have an idea, Mr. Delavan, that all their other instructions would have been as vague, as far as real information is concerned.”
“I dare say you are right, my boy,” nodded the “Rocket’s” owner. “You did best, after all, no doubt. I must confess myself puzzled, though. Your descriptions of the two men don’t fit any possible enemies that I can call to mind.”
“They were most likely agents, acting for someone else, don’t you think, Mr. Delavan?”
“Undoubtedly, captain.”
“Frank,” broke in Eben Moddridge, in a shaking voice, as he halted, looking the picture of nervous breakdown, “you must engage detectives instantly.”
“Nonsense, Eben,” retorted his friend.
“Or at least, two or three strong, daring men who will remain with you, to defend you against any possible attack.”
