Will arose, put on his cap, and, walking to the door, opened it, stepped outside, and looked searchingly around.
A low whistle from the direction of the woodshed told him that some one was there--some one, he theorized, who had thrown the pebbles against the window to attract his attention, and who did not care to manifest himself openly--in all probability, Tom Dalton.
Will found his suspicions verified as he approached the shed, and a disorderly figure stepped from behind the door.
“Tom?” he queried, peering into the face of the other.
“Yes, it’s me,” came the low, dogged response. “I hadn’t ought to bother you, Will, but I’m nigh starved.”
“I should say so. Bring me a hunk of bread and meat, and I’ll get out of town and your way.”
Poor Tom had become so used to being in people’s way that he could not regard his association with any human being as otherwise than a disagreeable tolerance.
“You ain’t in my way, Tom,” said Will, kindly, “and I’ll not only get you something to eat, but I’ll find a place for you to sleep to-night. Wait a minute.”
Will returned to the house, and, when he came back, tendered his belated companion the promised “hunk” of bread and meat, which Tom seized and devoured ravenously.
“Well, Tom,” said Will, finally, as the runaway bolted the last morsel of food with a sigh of intense satisfaction, “what are your plans?”
“Not much. Do you think I want to get killed? I tell you, Will, you don’t know what a brute the captain is.”
“Of course they will. They were down the street searching for me everywhere half an hour ago.”
“Captain Morris and two of the sailors in one party, and the mate and the boatswain in another.”
Will reflected. He had intended to obtain permission of his parents to allow Tom to sleep in the house that night, but if Captain Morris was looking for him it would be unsafe.
“If I can only keep out of the way until the Golden Moose sails, I shall be all right,” said Tom, confidently.
“Keep quiet, Tom; some one is coming,” whispered Will, warningly.
Some one was coming, sure enough, for as he spoke the heavy tramp of footsteps at the side of the house was followed by a thundering knock at the back door as the forms of two men loomed into view.
“What did I tell you?” quavered Tom, beginning to tremble violently.