CHAPTER XVI.

HARRY PLAYS DETECTIVE.

It is strange upon what slender circumstances big results sometimes depend. Had the fear of ridicule not held back Harry Ware from telling the others about the figure he had seen glide along the deck and vanish in the crew’s quarters of the _River Swallow_, a great part of the events of that night might have turned out differently.

As it was, however, Harry kept his counsel, with what results we shall see before long. The trouble with the engines once located, it did not take Percy Simmons long to adjust matters, and within half an hour he had the big motors whirring as evenly as if nothing had ever disturbed the even tenor of their workings.

As soon as he was notified that everything was all right below, Ralph rang for the reverse and the _River Swallow_ backed out from her dock into the darkness that was falling fast. But for the delay, thought Ralph, who had chafed impatiently over it, they might have been in Cardinal by that time. But there was no help for it, and as soon as he had room to turn he sent down a clanging signal to Persimmons for “full speed ahead.”

Harry Ware was on the bridge by the young captain, but after a while he said he thought he smelled gas, and went forward. He wanted to explore the crew’s quarters for himself. Malvin and Hansen were on the lookout stations in the bow, and, as Harry approached the forescuttle, the former came up to him.

“Where are you going, sir?” he asked in a tone that struck Harry as being rather agitated.

“Why, we suspect there’s a leak in one of the gas tanks,” was the boy’s ready reply. “I’m going down there to see if I can locate it.”

“I’ll go, sir,” interrupted Malvin eagerly; “let me go, sir.”

“Don’t bother yourself,” replied Harry; “your place is forward on the lookout. Captain Stetson would be angry if he knew you had left it. You’d better go back.”

Malvin did not obey at once. Instead, he placed his head right over the scuttle, and in a loud voice announced, after a minute of sniffing, that he could smell no fumes of gasoline.

“It’s no use your taking the trouble to go nosing around down there,” he said, turning to Harry. “If the gas was leaking, I’d smell it sure.”

“Nevertheless, I shouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t obey Ralph Stetson’s orders,” stoutly declared Harry. “Let me pass; I’m going down. I’d recommend you to get back on your station.”

Malvin’s rejoinder was peculiar. He did not, in fact, address it to Harry at all. He placed his mouth over the scuttle and in a loud voice, unnecessarily loud it sounded to Harry, he bawled out:

“Oh, all right, sir. Go below if you want to. But—LOOK OUT BELOW—there’s some low carlins there you might bump your head on.”

The last part of this speech was delivered in low and cautionary tones. Having uttered the warning, Malvin turned and, with a respectful nod, paced back to his post of duty.

“Now I wonder why he hollered, ‘Look out below,’ at the top of his lungs like that?” pondered Harry.

“Well, I’ll give it up,” he murmured, renewing his meditations. “Anyhow, here goes for an exploration of the forecastle.”

He dived below, having first switched on the electric light in the sailors’ quarters by means of a switch at the head of the ladder leading below.

As he descended the steep rungs, not without difficulty, for the _River Swallow_ was being driven fast and was pitching and rolling considerably, he looked sharply about him. But there was nothing to indicate that anyone was in hiding there. In the men’s bunks the beds were neatly made up. In one corner were their chests and personal belongings. Everything was shipshape, orderly and—empty.

“It was my imagination then, after all,” breathed Harry as he looked about him; “I’m glad I didn’t say anything to the fellows.”

At precisely the same moment, Ralph was remarking to Persimmons, the latter having come on deck to gulp down a breath of fresh air:

“Don’t say anything about the sanded carburetors to Harry, Percy. He’s scared enough as it is.”

“You can bet I won’t. He’d be off on his old spook tactics again if I did,” responded the Simmons boy with alacrity.

And thus did the lads on board the _River Swallow_ play at cross purposes, little dreaming what mutual benefit might have resulted from a comparison of notes.

Firmly convinced that he had been the victim of a delusion, Harry made his way back to the deck and retraced his steps aft to join Ralph on the bridge.

“Everything all right?” asked the latter.

“Oh, sure.”

“Malvin at his post?”

“Oh, yes. He and Hansen were right on the job. There with both feet.”

“Good. I didn’t feel altogether sure of that Malvin fellow.”

Without further comments Ralph reverted to his duty of steering the _River Swallow_ through swiftly moving currents and eddies, for they were bound up the river. Harry leaned against the rail beside him.

“Whereabouts are we?” he asked as the boat sped along through the darkness.

“Passing Chimney Island. You can make it out off there to the left.”

“Not up to Windmill Island yet?”

“Not yet. Anyhow, we won’t go near it going up. I’ll pass it on the return trip, though. We can make better time by striking the current there.”

The remainder of the journey to Cardinal, a rather sleepy, though fairly populous, Canadian town, was made without incident. As they came abreast of the town dock, which was brilliantly illuminated with electric arc lights in expectation of the arrival of the steamer bound down the river for Quebec, they noticed the crowd idly gathered there. It was ready for any excitement and broke into a cheer as the fast boat came sweeping up to the dock. Then, at a signal from Ralph, the _River Swallow_ suddenly slackened speed, churning the waters whitely with its reversing propellers, and eventually came to a standstill with the precision of an auto being driven up to the curb.

It was a fine bit of boat-handling that the spectators were quick to recognize and applaud.

Malvin, bow line in hand, leaped ashore as the _River Swallow_ glided up, and Hansen equally quick, for the man was a good sailor, hopped nimbly about, dropping fenders to prevent the racing motor boat’s sheeny sides being scratched or marred by contact with the timbers of the dock.

“Good bit of work that, lad,” said a grizzled old man on the dock, as the boys came ashore, all dressed in natty yachting garments, visored caps, blue coats, white flannel trousers and white canvas shoes.

“Thank you,” laughed Ralph. “I guess my engineer was as much responsible for it as I.”

“Ah-hum,” said the old man. “I used to handle a boat once, but now I ain’t fit for nothing but just night watchman at the grain elevator yonder,” and he pointed to a towering structure that loomed against the dark sky.

Malvin and Hansen had been left in charge of the _River Swallow_. Arm in arm the three boys started up the street. But after they had gone a short way, Harry suddenly declared that he had left something he wanted in the cabin.

“I’ll go back for it. You fellows keep right on,” he said.

“Where shall we meet you? We’re bound for the hospital,” said Ralph.

“Where from there?”

“To the Western Union offices.”

“And then?”

“Why, I guess to the police station or whatever answers to it over on this side. I’ve a burning desire to lay the facts in the case before the authorities.”

“Very well then, I’ll meet you at the telegraph office.”

And so it was arranged. While Percy and Ralph hastened to the hospital, which lay at one end of the town, Harry made the best of his way back toward the _River Swallow_. His conscience hurt him a bit for not having told his friends the true reason for his return to the motor craft.

Harry was not in search of something forgotten.

He was on the trail of the third man who, despite all evidence to the contrary, he was still firmly convinced was concealed somewhere on board the _River Swallow_.