Part 28 (1/2)

”All wrong, I'll bet a hundred cookies,” mocked Tom Halstead under his breath.

”Come along, now,” directed Don Emilio. He seemed to be the leader in to-night's work.

”I don't believe I'm included in that invitation to 'come along,' but I'm going to cheek my way along,” grinned the young skipper.

He had no need to keep them exactly in sight, these industrious workers in the dark. Laden as they were, it was enough to keep within sound of the rather regular shuffle of their feet.

As Tom had surmised, the four pairs of men, keeping together, proceeded toward the sh.o.r.e. Once, on the way down the slope, they halted to give the weaker ones an opportunity to rest their muscles. Then, picking up their heavy cases once more, the men went on down the slope toward the pier.

”That is the stuff that was billed under 'machinery' labels!” muttered the young skipper to himself. ”I'll wager those boxes contain guns and cartridges to start a new revolution with down in stormy Honduras. But is their filibustering craft here? Are they getting ready to sail before daylight? If that's the game, then I must get awfully busy.”

As Tom, taking advantage of the uneven ground and dodging behind bushes and trees, followed un.o.bserved and came within sight of the pier he made out with certainty that no craft was tied there.

”That doesn't prove a lot, though,” he reflected, watching the procession of toilers from behind a bush. ”If they have a tug or some other steam vessel it could slip in here two hours before daylight and be away again in another hour. But what's that? Where are they going now?”

In the darkness it was not quite easy to see more than that the procession had moved into the shadow of a depression in the ground near the pier. Crawling that he might not be seen against the dim skyline, Halstead secured another point of observation. He thought, now, he could make out the outlines of a small building.

”I'll wait until the crowd gets away from there before I try for a closer look,” thought the young motor boat skipper.

Nor had he long to wait ere the same eight filed by not far from his hiding place. Halstead watched until they were out of sight behind Sanderson's house.

Then the youthful investigator slipped down the slope and into the shadow. He went cautiously, though, for fear that Don Emilio might have posted a guard below.

There was none, however. Tom found himself staring at what looked like a new boathouse on sh.o.r.e, such as is used for the winter storing of yachts or motor boats. There were no windows. The door, a strong affair, was secured by a padlock.

”If they're putting the stuff in there and locking it up, then they don't intend to s.h.i.+p it to-night,” Halstead wisely decided.

He had learned, apparently, all that was to be learned at this point. To keep his eyes upon the case-carrying toilers might mean only to witness a repet.i.tion of the same monotonous work through all the night.

”That one bright light up in the attic,” Halstead wondered, the memory of it coming back to him. ”I wonder what's going on up there? And I mean to know, too.”

Satisfied that he knew all about the waterfront business, Halstead took such a wide, curving sweep in getting back to the farmhouse that he ran no risk of running into the busy eight.

Once more he sought the deep shadow of the wagon shed, from which point he stared long and wonderingly.

Beneath that attic window was a kitchen annex of one story. And Tom made out, presently, that a lightning rod ran down the back of the main building close to that brilliantly lighted window on the third floor.

The rod touched the roof of the kitchen annex, running thence down to the ground.

”It's a job for stocking feet, anyway,” Halstead decided at last. Having removed his shoes and feeling about in the dark, the young skipper ran his hand against a coil of rope hanging on a peg.

”Good enough!” he cried inwardly. ”I don't believe there are many climbing jobs where a rope won't come in handy.”

As he removed the coil of rope from the peg he discovered a few lengths of cord. These he stuffed into one of his pockets.

”For I can't tell what kind of a sling I may need to rig before I get through,” he thought.

The busy eight were returning from still another trip to the water front. Halstead stopped all movement, remaining utterly quiet until they had started sh.o.r.eward with the next load.

”Now I've got to work fast,” thought Captain Tom thrilling. ”I reckon it's about fifteen minutes between their arrivals here. That means fast work, my boy.”

Shoes in hand, the coil of rope fast at his waist, Halstead stole out toward the southern side of the kitchen annex. Leaving his shoes on the ground Tom found it an easy task to climb up onto the roof of the annex.