"Not to the best of my knowledge," almost drawled their employer. "The last I heard of him he was still on his plantation in Honduras, probably hatching more revolutionary plots and giving the government a good excuse for sending its soldiers to shoot him one of these days. But I _do_ know that, for a while, Greg had American lawyers hard at work trying to find some way to smash Aaron's will. They gave it up, though, and so did Greg, after hearing from me that Master Ted was wild to follow a soldier's career."

Both boys were silent for some time. Yet, if they did no talking, their thoughts very nearly ran riot. To them it seemed that Ted Dunstan's lot in life lay in all the bright places of glory and fortune. How they would have relished such a grand chance!

"By the way," said Mr. Dunstan, rising slowly and stretching, "I haven't seen the youngster in hours. I think I'll locate him and bring him around here."

He went into the house. Within the next ten minutes two of the men servants left the house, running hurriedly out of sight in different directions. At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Dunstan himself appeared, looking actually worried.

"We can't seem to find Ted anywhere," he confessed uneasily. "The young man hasn't been seen since he stabled his pony at half-past twelve. I thought he would lunch with Mrs. Dunstan; she thought he was lunching with us. We've sent all about the grounds, we've telephoned the neighbors and the town, and all without avail. The pony is in the stable and the young man seems to have disappeared."

"Disappeared?" repeated Tom Halstead, springing to his feet, electrified by the news. "Don't you think it more likely, sir, he's been _helped_ to disappear?"

"You think he may have been spirited away?" demanded Mr. Dunstan. "But why?"

"Haven't you yourself told us, sir, that it would be worth some one's trouble, to the extent of nine hundred thousand dollars, to have the boy vanish?" asked Tom breathlessly.

"You suspect my brother?"

"Pardon me, sir, for forgetting that Gregory Dunstan is your brother,"

Tom went on whitening. "Yet that talk about disabling the 'Meteor'! The man who looked like a Spaniard-but the people of Honduras are of Spanish descent. Why should anyone want to disable the 'Meteor,' unless to stop a pursuit by water? You yourself have told us that your brother has a weakness for mixing up in revolutions down in Honduras."

All this Halstead had shot out jerkily, thinking even faster than he spoke.

"But at this very moment Greg is down in Honduras," objected Mr.

Dunstan.

"Even if he is, wouldn't friends of his, who may want funds for a new revolution, see how easy it was to get the money through getting Ted out of the way?" asked Tom quickly. "Grant that your brother is wholly innocent of any plot about your son. Wouldn't supposed friends of his perhaps be willing to spirit the boy away, knowing that if the big money prize went to your brother, Gregory Dunstan could afterwards be persuaded to throw his fortune into some new revolutionary cause?"

"Yes, yes, it's all possible-horribly possible," admitted Mr. Dunstan, covering his face with his hands. "And Greg, who is a citizen of Honduras now, has even had aspirations in the way of becoming president of Honduras. Halstead, I will admit that I had even thought of the possibility of some just such attempt as this, and yet in broad daylight I dismissed it all as idle dreaming. And now Ted's gone-heaven only knows what has become of him!"

"Of course," put in Joe coolly, "it may turn out that the youngster just went fishing. He may walk in any moment for his supper."

"But he went without his lunch," retorted Mr. Dunstan. "That was wholly unlike Ted."

"The 'Meteor' may be disabled now," broke in Tom. "If she isn't, won't it be more than well worth while to get the craft out and go scouting through these waters?"

"Yes, yes!" cried Mr. Dunstan. "Come on, boys."

As they raced down through the grounds they espied the coachman returning.

"Come along, Michael!" shouted Mr. Dunstan. Then, to the boys he explained:

"If the 'Meteor' is fit to go out, Michael can go along with you. If there's any fighting he's a heavy-fisted, bull-necked fellow who'd face a regiment of thieves."

Joe had the key of the engine-room hatchway out in his hand before they reached the pier. In a jiffy he had the sliding door unlocked, almost leaping down into the engine room. With swift hands he set the engine in motion.

"All right here," he reported, while Bouncer, just liberated, frisked about his master's legs and then whined.

"Keep the bulldog aboard, too, Michael," called Mr. Dunstan, as he stepped ash.o.r.e. "Start at once, Captain Halstead. Go as far and wide as you can and hail any craft you think may have news. Michael, I rely upon you to use your fists if there's need."

"If there's the chanst!" grinned the Irishman readily.

"I'll run back to the house and get in touch with the police," Mr.

Dunstan shouted back over his shoulder.

Tom sprinted aft along the pier, throwing the stern-line aboard. He leaped aboard forward with the bowline, not stopping then to coil it.

Not even calling to Joe, whose head was barely six feet away, young Captain Tom Halstead gave the bridge bellpull a single jerk. As the response sounded in the engine room alert Joe gave the engine slow speed ahead. Tom threw the wheel over and the fine boat glided out from her berth.

Two bells! Full speed ahead! The "Meteor" forged forward, gaining headway every moment. The hunt for missing Ted Dunstan was started in earnest.

CHAPTER IV-SIGHTING THE "PIRATE"

"How much speed do you want for this trip?" asked Joe, poking his head up through the hatchway as soon as the "Meteor" was running smoothly northward.

"On a hunt like this I think Mr. Dunstan will want us to burn gasoline,"

Tom answered. "Give her about all the speed she can make."

"That means twenty-five miles-or more?" insisted Dawson.

"Twenty-five will be close enough to going fast," Tom replied.

Almost immediately the fast motor boat began to leap through the water.

Though the boat minded her helm sensitively, Halstead rested both hands upon the wheel, watching intently ahead.

"Hey! What you trying to do? Swamp us, with your wake?" demanded an irate fisherman in a dory, as they raced past him.

But they had gone only close enough to enable big Michael, standing on the deck house, to peer at the inside of the dory.

Several other small craft without cabins they ran close to in the same manner, making sure that no stolen boy was on any of them.

Up near Great Point they encountered a cabin sloop. Michael, however, recognized a clergyman friend as one of this party, so Halstead pa.s.sed them with only a friendly toot from the auto whistle.

Then down around the east coast of Nantucket they sped, further out to sea now, since insh.o.r.e no craft were observed. They kept on until the south coast, too, had been pa.s.sed, but there was no sign to gladden their eyes nor arouse their suspicions. Next along the south sh.o.r.e of the island the "Meteor" raced, and on out to Muskeget Island. From this point they had only to round the latter island and steer straight back for the inlet where Mr. Dunstan's pier lay.

"Sure, I don't like to go back stumped like this," growled Michael.

"No more do I," rejoined Tom. "Say, we've got daylight enough; I'm going to retrace our whole course and keep in closer to sh.o.r.e."

Joe, who for some time had been on deck, nodded his approval. Cutting a wide sweep, Tom headed back, going now within a quarter of a mile of the sh.o.r.e.

"It begins to look," hinted Joe, "as though whoever is leading the young Dunstan heir astray hasn't taken him off the island of Nantucket at all."

"There are plenty of hiding places on Nantucket, aren't there?" inquired Tom, turning to the big coachman.

"Plenty," nodded Michael, "if the rapscallions knew their way about the old island. But, by the same token, the rascals would be in plenty of danger of being found by the constables."