"No; he paid me for the afternoon and the evening," replied the old man.

It was plain that he had told all he knew about the stranger. The old man stated that he himself was a fisherman, but that in summer he often made more money taking out parties of summer boarders.

Joe, in the meantime, had gone down to the beach to watch the sloop.

There appeared to be no one stirring aboard the craft, but, as a precaution, Jennison and the boys rowed out, thus making sure that the sloop was deserted. They hurriedly returned to sh.o.r.e. Jennison now displayed his badge, asking permission to look into the shanty. The old man readily gave the permission, adding, somewhat shakily:

"I'm not used to having my house suspected, but I'm glad to give the law's officer any privileges he may want here."

The search was unavailing. Jennison and his young companions hastened back to the automobile where they stood deliberating.

"That sloop has come in since dark," observed Halstead. "That old man looks as though he could be thoroughly believed. Yet that's the very sloop. I'm positive about that. So the rascals can't have had much the start of us."

"They're a needle in the haystack, now, anyway," sighed Constable Jennison. "We're at the end of the water trail and we know where they landed."

"But we also know that they're on the mainland; at least it looks mighty certain," suggested Tom Halstead.

"That's true," nodded the officer. "Well, Mr. Musgrave must know of this at once. The next village is less than three miles away. I'm going there in the auto as fast as I can and telephone him."

"You'll come back this way?" hinted Tom.

"Yes, without a doubt."

"Then leave us here. We'll hunt for any signs we can find of them while you're gone."

"But how'll I find you on my return?"

"Why, if you stop here, and honk your horn twice, we'll come running to you."

"You might run into the rascals," mused Jennison.

"I hope we do," muttered Tom.

"See here," demanded the officer curiously, "aren't you boys afraid to take a chance like this?" His glance fell on Joe Dawson.

"No," returned Joe very quietly.

"Well, it may not be a bad idea to leave you here until I return," said Jennison briskly. "You may pick up some sign. Anyway, I hope you don't get into any trouble. Good-by for a few minutes."

The car sped out of sight, but neither boy waited to watch it.

"It's a pretty fair guess, Joe," said Tom, "that Alvarez and French came up this way from the sh.o.r.e. Now, that way, the road leads to Wood's Hole. And there's the opposite direction. Alvarez has a little foot like a woman's; French has a very large foot. Now if we can find two such foot marks together, it would look as though we could find the direction our men have taken. Have you any matches?"

"Plenty," Dawson replied.

"So have I. Then suppose you go that way," pointing toward Wood's Hole.

"And I'll go the other way. We can light matches every two or three hundred feet and examine the ground. One of us may pick up the trail we want to find."

"Good enough," was all that came from quiet Joe, as he started at once.

For a few minutes the boys could see each other's lights when matches were struck. Then the winding of the road hid them from each other.

Twice the young skipper had found imperfect footprints in the sandy road, but they were not clear enough for him to be sure that these were the tracks he sought. Now Tom stopped again, striking a match and walking slowly along as he shielded the flame from the light breeze with his hands. Then suddenly he came to a brief halt, as his gaze traveled across the road. He saw an object on the ground in front of a bush, an object that caused him to bound across the road.

"Great! Fine!" breathed the boy jubilantly. "I'd know this little article anywhere. It's the tobacco pouch of--"

"Ah, good evening, my friend," broke in a taunting voice. "It's the meddling boy himself!"

Halstead, even before he could straighten up, found himself staring between the branches of the bush into a pair of gleaming, mocking eyes.

"Senor Alvarez!" cried the young skipper.

Then something struck Tom heavily from behind, felling him to the ground, unconscious.

CHAPTER XII-JOB HAS HIS COURAGE TESTED

When young Halstead next knew anything his mind was hazy at first. He realized dimly, and then more clearly, that he was upon some one's shoulder, being carried. There was a buzzing, too, over his right ear, where his head throbbed dully and ached.

As he opened his eyes wider he saw that he was being carried along under trees and over rising ground.

Then his thoughts became clearer and he felt certain it was none other than Captain Jonas French who was carrying him. Some one else, probably Alvarez, was treading the ground behind him.

Halstead gave a sigh, then murmured:

"Put me down!"

They were luckless words, for French vented but the one syllable, "Right," then dropped him to the ground and sat on him.

"Don't make the mistake of trying to make any noise, either," growled the once florid-faced one. "No one could hear you here except us, but we'll take noise as an evidence of unkind disposition on your part."

"Tie him," murmured Don Emilio, standing over the boy.

Without making any response in words, French rolled the boy over on his face. Tom didn't attempt to resist. He was too weak; his strength was just beginning to come back. French knotted a rope around his wrists, held behind him, then quickly lashed the young skipper's ankles together.

"And this!" insisted Alvarez. A gag composed of two handkerchiefs was forced between Halstead's lips and made fast there.

"Now, my meddling boy, you may be as unpleasant as you please," mocked Don Emilio Alvarez, bending over and smiling into Halstead's face. "Ah, you have been troublesome to us-very. And you have inquired what I would do to you if I had you down in Honduras, where they do things differently. Ah, well! Perhaps, my meddling boy, you shall discover what I would do to you! Will you, my large friend, lift him and carry him on again? We are not far from the place where we can keep him securely enough."

With a grunt French once more shouldered his burden, tramping on through the forest, Alvarez still bringing up the rear. Then, from the crest of a rise they pressed between a fringe of bushes and next began to descend a narrow, rocky path. They stopped in a ravine, densely grown with trees.

"Even in the daytime this place is hardly likely to be found by prying eyes," laughed Alvarez confidently. "And now, my captain, you might rid yourself of the meddling boy."

French dropped Tom at the base of a young spruce tree, knotting another cord to his feet and pa.s.sing it around the trunk of the tree.

"He won't get away-can't, even though we were to leave him here through the night," muttered French gruffly.

"And I, since my meddling boy found for me the tobacco pouch that I dropped in his path for bait, will enjoy a smoke once more," laughed Senor Alvarez. He rolled a cigarette, which he soon was puffing. French, having filled a pipe, lighted that and stretched himself at full length.