CHAPTER XI.

BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN.

The appearance of Captain Ben Bolt’s ship so close by sent a thrill through the crew of the Ranger.

Not a soul was to be seen upon the whaler, and Frank at once caused the ice ship to recoil out of sight.

“Well,” said Dr. Vaneyke, “there is the ship we are after. Now what, do you intend to do about it, Frank?”

“First ascertain if Walter Grey is aboard of her.”

“How will you go about it?”

“I’m going down alone to investigate.”

“That’s a dangerous piece of business.”

“Very true, sir; but I am not afraid to venture.”

“Well, we will keep a sharp watch upon your movements from up here, and if we see that you need our assistance, all hands will be ready to go down to your aid.”

“That suits me.”

And so saying, Frank armed himself with a brace of pneumatic pistols and a knife, and leaving the Ranger, he strode away.

At some distance from the boat, he observed a cleft in the ice, down which he could go to the shore of the bay.

The water in which the whaler floated was open in the middle, but the shores were frozen up, excepting for a stretch that extended outward from where the boat laid.

Frank made his way down to the shore.

It was then quite dark.

The young inventor started toward the ship.

He did not see any one upon her.

But there was a man’s face pressed against a parted curtain at one of the bull’s-eyes in the stern.

He was intently watching the inventor.

This individual was Ben Bolt.

He was astonished to see Frank, but did not recognize him in the fur costume he wore, for the hood covered most of the young man’s face to ward off the cold.

Frank walked from one end of the boat to the other.

Finding a ladder at the side, he made his way up to the deserted ice-covered deck and saw a light in the cabin windows.

From down in the forecastle came the sound of sailors’ voices, and a stream of smoke was pouring up from a funnel in the deck, showing that the whalers had fires going below decks.

He had scarcely observed this when the cabin door was opened.

The captain strode out, muffled up in heavy clothing.

“Hello, thar!” he exclaimed.

“Hello yourself!” replied Frank.

“Whar d’you hail from?”

“My ship, in another section.”

“What craft is that?”

“The Ranger.”

“Whaler?”

“No; an exploring boat.”

“Oh, I see. Won’t you come inside?”

“I don’t mind. It’s bitterly cold out here.”

The captain led the way into his cabin, and Frank followed him, closing and locking the door, and taking the key.

Not another man was in the cozy little room.

“Sit down,” said Bolt, pointing to a chair beside the table.

“Thank you,” replied Frank, complying, and Bolt seated himself opposite.

“Now give us an account of yourself.”

“Well,” replied Frank, “I’m searching for a certain party.”

“Shipwrecked crew?” queried the captain, curiously.

“No,” replied Frank, fixing a keen glance on the man, “A stolen boy.”

“What!” roared Bolt, with a sudden start.

“A boy who was shanghaied.”

“The deuce!” gasped the captain, excitedly.

“His name is Walter Grey.”

“By thunder!” roared Bolt, turning pale.

“And he was carried off on this ship from Boston.”

With a wild glare in his eyes, the captain regarded Frank as if he were some horrible apparition.

“That voice!” he muttered, rising.

“Do you recognize me?” asked the inventor, uncovering his face.

A yell of alarm escaped the captain when he saw who his caller was, and he recoiled a step, exclaiming:

“Ther feller wot I shot!”

“Yes,” assented Frank, as he whipped out a pistol and covered the wretch with it; “and if you utter a word to betray me to your crew, I’ll put a ball in your brain.”

“For God’s sake, don’t shoot!”

“Fall on your knees!”

“Yes, yes!” said Bolt, and down he went.

“Now lie on your face!”

“I won’t!”

“Quick!”

“Yes, yes!”

And down he went.

Frank smiled and glanced around.

There were plenty things to tie him with.

The inventor secured a long, stout lanyard.

“Place your hands behind your back!” he ordered.

“Don’t kill me!” whined the captain, as he obeyed.

“I won’t, if you behave. I’ll simply render you helpless so you can’t show any treachery.”

And Frank bound the captain’s arms behind his back.

Bolt was then allowed to sit up.

He was pale and agitated beyond all measure.

“Now, see here, my man!” said Frank, sternly, “I’ve chased you all the way here from Boston to rescue Walter Grey——”

“I don’t know nothin’ about him,” growled Bolt.

“That’s an infamous lie, for I saw Alfred Milburn carry him aboard of this ship when you and your two men were at me. Before I left Boston Mrs. Grey was out of the lunatic asylum and Milburn was forced to disgorge her fortune. He is now in prison for what he did.”

The feelings of Ben Bolt upon hearing this were indescribable.

He realized that the plot had been exposed which made him liable for complicity, and reasoned at once that he had lost all chance of getting the extra $2,500 Milburn offered to pay him for putting the boy out of the way.

Indeed, he now stood a good chance to go to prison for what he had done in the matter.

“Ther game’s up!” he groaned.

“Yes,” assented Frank. “All the lies you utter now will not avail you in the least. If I like I can take you away and put you in jail. But I will be easy with you.”

“Yes, yes!” eagerly said the captain.

“But only under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You must give up the boy.”

A look of despair crossed the captain’s face.

Frank saw the expression, and began to feel uneasy.

He waited a few moments, and as the captain said nothing, he cried:

“Well, well! Why don’t you answer?”

“I can’t do wot yer want.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I ain’t got ther lad.”

“You haven’t?”

“No.”

“Where is he?”

“Sent adrift.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Yesterday this craft was on ther sea. A quarter boat wuz towin’ astarn, ther boy in it, a-paintin’ ther ship. Ther rope must ha’ broke, leavin’ him adrift on ther sea, ‘cause we found ther end of ther broken painter, an’ missed ther quarter boat.”

Frank eyed him searchingly.

He was a good reader of character, and realized that Ben Bolt was telling the truth about the matter.

“What time yesterday did this occur?” he asked.

“In ther afternoon, about three o’clock.”

“Where was this ship?”

“Two leagues from land, off the mouth of this bay.”

“What doing?”

“Huntin’ for a whale one of ther men seen.”

“That settles it. I’m going to look for that boy. If I find that you have committed any crime in this case, I shall run you down and put you in jail.”

The captain was silent.

He had secretly cut the painter, leaving the boy adrift.

But this he of course kept to himself.

Frank unlocked the door and flung it open, when the captain caught sight of some of his men on deck.

“Help! Help!” he yelled.

“Shut up!” exclaimed Frank.

“Shoot that fellow! He tried to kill me!” proceeded Bolt.

“Villain!” cried the inventor, angrily.

He saw the men rushing aft, and not to get caught in a trap, he hastened out upon deck.

One of the men had a pistol, and seeing Frank, fired at him.

The ball chipped a piece out of the side of his jacket, and he at once shot the man down.

A yell arose from the others, and they ran up forward.

Frank rushed to the side and hastened down the ladder.

No sooner had he reached the ground than the rest of the crow came tumbling up from below.

The inventor saw that an encounter with the whole crew would be a very serious matter.

He therefore started to run away, when they all came swarming over the ice after him.

With loud cries of hostility they started off in pursuit of Frank.