not going to make any fuss. Ihate to be cranky with anyone.”
The place to which the pier belonged looked, from what Tom had been able to see of it, likea run-down coast farm. Away up on a hill tothe left were a dilapidated old farm house andother buildings. Halstead feared, though, thatthe stranger might have friends up at that houseand so decided to keep on through the woods atthe right.
Before long they struck a fairly well definedroad through the forest, a road that lookedas though it might lead to somewhere in particular.
“We’ll keep right on along this road, if youdon’t mind,” said the boy. He kept now only afair hold of the other’s wrist. As the swarthyone offered no opposition, they made passablygood speed over the road. But Tom, though helooked unconcerned, was wholly on the alert forany sudden move on the part of his captive.
“If I find I’m wholly in the wrong,” saidTom pleasantly, after they had gone at least aquarter of a mile in this fashion, “there isn’tanyone in the whole United States who’d bemore glad to make a complete apology.”
“But that will not save you from trouble,”breathed the swarthy one angrily. “The lawsof your country do not allow such high-handeddeeds as you have been guilty of.”
“Down in Honduras the laws are a bit different, aren’t they?” asked Halstead very pleasantly.
“Down in Honduras, they – ”
The swarthy one checked himself suddenly.
“That is the second time you have asked meabout Honduras,” he went on presently. “Whydo you say so much about Honduras?”
“I’ve trapped you into admitting that it’syour country,” laughed Halstead. “And thattells me, too, why you are so interested in havingTed Dunstan kept out of sight for the nextfew days.”
“What’s all this talk about Honduras?” demandeda gruff voice. The challenge madeboth jump. A stocky figure stepped alertly outfrom behind a tree. It was the solidly built, florid-faced man – the other of the pair Tomhad first seen in the seat ahead.
“Oh, you, you, you!” cried the swarthy onedelightedly, as he wrenched his captive wristfree from Halstead’s weakening clutch. “Youhave appeared in time, my friend!”
“So?” roared the florid-faced one, taking abusiness-like grip of Tom Halstead’s collar.“What was this young cub doing?”
“Doing?” cried the swarthy one, dancing inhis wrath, his eyes gleaming like coals. “Hehad the impudence, this boy, to say he wouldtake me to a constable. He insists that I knowall about one Ted Dunstan.”
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