"Of course Mr. Dunstan is having the local officers search," pondered Tom aloud. "He said he would. He can telegraph the mainland from the island, too, can't he, Michael?"

"Sure," nodded the coachman.

"Then Mr. Dunstan must have waked up some pretty big searching parties by this time, both on the island and on the mainland," Halstead concluded. "But see here, Michael, why wouldn't it be a good plan to put you ash.o.r.e? You can telephone Mr. Dunstan and see if there's any news."

"And if there ain't any," suggested the Irishman, "I might as well be going home across the island on foot, and keeping me eyes open. I can ask questions as I go along, and maybe be the first of all to find out any rale news."

"That'll be the best plan of any," approved Halstead. "It begins to look more sure, every minute, that we're not going to need your fine lot of muscle."

At the lower end of the east coast of the island Tom remembered having seen a pier that would serve them for landing the Irishman. They made for that pier accordingly and Michael leaped ash.o.r.e.

"I'll telephone and then come back within sight," the coachman called back to them, as he started. "If 'tis good news I'm hearing, I'll throw up me hat two or three times. If 'tis no news, I'll wave a hand."

The "Meteor" then fell off, but kept to her bearings while ten minutes pa.s.sed. Then Michael appeared in sight from the sh.o.r.e. He waved one hand and signed to the boys to keep on their course.

"Too bad!" sighed Tom. "But it makes it more certain than ever now, doesn't it, Joe, that some real disaster has happened to young Ted Dunstan? It's past the lad's dinner time now. No healthy boy goes without either luncheon or dinner, unless there's a big reason for it."

"Unless Ted has merely gone to some friend's home and has forgotten to notify his parents," suggested Dawson.

"But Ted doesn't strike me as the boy who's likely to do that. He's a fine little fellow, and I don't believe he'd be guilty of being so inconsiderate as to leave home for hours without telling some one."

They had the "Meteor" under full headway now. Tom, with one hand on the wheel, kept a keen lookout. They had run along some miles when Halstead gave a sudden gasp, made a dive for the rack beside the wheel that held the binoculars and called sharply:

"Take the wheel, Joe!"

With that Tom Halstead bounded down into the engine room. Over at one of the open portholes he raised the marine gla.s.ses to his eyes.

"What's the matter?" called down Joe, filled with the liveliest curiosity.

"Matter enough!" came his chum's excited rejoinder. "Don't look when I tell you. Keep your eyes on your course ahead. But you saw that little pier over at port?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you noticed a man sitting there?"

"I did," Joe admitted.

"When I first saw him," Tom went on, showing his animated face at the hatchway, "I didn't think much about him. But the second time I looked I thought I saw something that brought back recollections. That was why I came down here for a near-sighted peep through the gla.s.ses. The fellow couldn't see me down here and so ought not to suspect that we have noticed him particularly."

"But who is he?" cried Joe eagerly.

"Oh, he's the right man, all right," Tom retorted perhaps vaguely. "He's got on either the same pair or another pair just like 'em."

"Pair? Of what?" demanded Joe.

"Trousers, of course, you dull old simpleton!" whipped out Halstead.

"Joe, it's the same old pattern of brown, striped--"

"The Span--"

"The pirate, I call him," growled Halstead, stepping up on deck and replacing the binoculars in their rack without another look ash.o.r.e. They were rapidly leaving astern the solitary one seated against the pier rail.

"Do you think--" began Joe, but Tom gave him no chance to finish.

"I don't think anything," broke in Halstead, alive with energy. "I am going to know-that's what."

Tom took the wheel himself, swinging the craft around a point of land just ahead.

"Look back, Joe. This shuts us out from the sight of that striped pirate, doesn't it?"

"Yes," nodded Dawson.

Tom shut off the speed, adding:

"Stand ready, Joe, to use speed or wheel, and keep her about so-so. I'm going to lower the dingey into the water and row ash.o.r.e. I'll rig a line to her stern, so you can haul her back. Don't bother to get the small boat up at the davits. Just make her fast astern. And then--"

"Wait here for you," guessed Joe.

"No, as soon as you get the dingey made fast, put on headway and run the boat back to Mr. Dunstan's pier. Report to him, telling him just what I'm doing and a.s.sure him I won't be afraid to telephone if I learn anything worth while. I'll get over to his place as soon as I can, later in the evening."

Tom got the small boat into the water, left one end of a small rope in Joe's hands and rowed somewhat more than a hundred feet to the beach.

From there he waved his hand. Joe began to haul in on the line. Within thirty feet of the beach the woods began; Halstead was quickly lost to his chum's sight.

Full darkness came on while Tom was still in the woods heading cautiously south. As he hastened along, making little or no noise, Halstead wondered what he would do with the man in case he discovered him to be really one of the pair who had sat in the seat ahead on the train.

"I suppose I'd better wait and make up my mind after I'm sure it _is_ the same fellow," Tom concluded.

The young skipper did not, at any time on this swift walk, move far from the sh.o.r.e line. At last he came to the edge of the woods, a very short distance from the pier he was seeking. There was still a man there, seated on the rail of the pier. There were some bushes, too, to aid in shielding the boy's forward progress if he used care. Tom went down, almost flat, then crept forward, moving swiftly, silently, between bushes.

At last he was near enough to be sure of his man, trousers and all. It was the same man Halstead had seen on the train. The "pirate" was at this moment engaged in rolling a cigarette.

CHAPTER V-A JOKE ON THE ENEMY

The slight, swarthy stranger rolled his cigarette up nicely, moistening the edge of the paper, stuck the thing between his lips, lighted the tobacco and began to smoke in evident enjoyment.

"That's my party, all right," quivered Tom. "And now I've found him what on earth am I going to do with him?"

That was a new poser. Halstead had been so intent on identifying his suspect that, now he recognized him, he must figure out what was to be done.

"If the fellow is all right he ought to have no objections to going along with me and answering questions. If he won't do that"-here Tom's eyes began to flash-"I believe I'll make him. This is a business that calls for stern measures. This fellow belongs to the crowd that must know all about Ted Dunstan's disappearance."

Yet, to look at him, one would hardly suspect the swarthy man leaning against the pier rail of being a conspirator. As he smoked he appeared to be wholly at peace with himself and with the world. He did not seem to have a care on earth.

As he still crouched behind a bush, watching the nearby fellow in the dark, an impulse of mischief came to Tom Halstead. He remembered that night prowling about the "Meteor" over at Wood's Hole, and he remembered how Bouncer had frightened this same man.