The Young Engineers on the Gulf | Page 8

time, and I often do a bit myself, but not when I'm as rushed as
I am to-night. There's the dock ahead, men---a little faster spurt now!"
Tom urged his men along to the dock. With no loss of time they
tumbled aboard the "Morton," a broad, somewhat shallow, forty-foot
motor boat of open construction.

"Get up and take the wheel, Evarts," Tom. directed. "Get at work on
your spark, Conlon, and I'll throw the drive-wheel over for you. Some
of you men cast, off!"
In a very short time the "Morton" was going "put-put-put" away from
the dock.
Tom, after seeing that everything was moving satisfactorily, turned
around to look at the four men huddled astern.
"Don't any of you go to sleep," he urged. "A good part of our success
depends on how well you all keep awake and use your eyes and ears."
That said, Tom Reade hastened forward, stationing himself close to
Evarts, who had the steering wheel.
Some of the men astern began to talk.
"Silence, if you please," Tom called softly. "Don't talk except on
matters of business. We want to be able to use our ears. Conlon, make
your engine a little less noisy if you can."
Now Reade had leisure to wonder how matters had gone with Harry
Hazelton.
"Of course that threatening figure Harry saw behind him was an
imaginary one," Tom said to himself, but he felt uneasy nevertheless.
A few moments later Reade clutched at one of Evarts's arms.
"Did you hear that, man?" the young engineer demanded.
"Hear what?" Evarts wanted to know.
"It sounded like a yell out there yonder," Tom rejoined.
"Didn't hear it, Mr. Reade."
"There it goes again!" cried Tom, leaping up. "Some one is calling my

name. It must be Harry Hazelton, and he must want help. Conlon, slam
it to that engine of yours!"
CHAPTER III
VANISHING INTO THIN AIR
Left by himself Harry had stood, at first, motionless, or nearly so. He
strained his hearing in trying to detect any unusual sound of the night,
since it was so dark that vision would not aid him much.
There was nothing, however, but the mournful sighing of the wind and
the lapping of the waves. It seemed to Hazelton that the wind was
growing gradually more brisk and the waves larger, but he was not sure
of that until the water commenced splashing across his shoes. The
footway on the masonry became more slippery in consequence.
"With these rocks well wet down I wouldn't care much about having to
run back to the land," muttered Harry, dryly. "However, I won't have to
go back on my own feet. Tom will have the boat out here, and
undoubtedly he will plan to have us both taken back to shore after we
get through cruising around here. We should have brought the boat out
in the first place."
A night bird screamed, then flapped its wings close to Harry's face in
its flight past him. The young engineer saw the moving wings for an
instant; then they vanished into the black beyond.
Farther out some other kind of bird screamed. The whole situation was
a weird one, but Harry was no coward, though a less courageous youth
would have found the situation hard on his nerves.
Still another night bird screamed, of some species with which Hazelton
was wholly unacquainted. The cry was answered by some sort of
strange call from the shore.
"It's a fine thing that I'm not superstitious," laughed the young engineer
to himself, "or I'd surely feel cold chills chasing each other up and

down my spine."
As it was, Harry shivered slightly, though not from fear. With the
increasing wind it was growing chilly out there for one who could not
warm himself with exercise.
"It's a long time, or it seems so," muttered the young engineer presently.
"Yet I'll wager that Tom is hustling himself and others on the very
jump."
Again the call of a night bird, and once more a sound from shore
seemed to answer it.
"Real birds?" wondered Hazelton, with a start of sudden curiosity. "Or
have I been listening to human signals? If so, the signals can't cover
any good or honest purpose."
That train of thought set him to listening more acutely than before. Yet,
as no more calls reached his ears the attention of the young engineer
soon began to flag.
The monotonous lapping of the waves against the stone wall, the
constant splashing of water over the rocks and the steady blowing of
the wind all tended to make the watcher feel drowsy.
"What on earth can be keeping good old Tom?" Harry wondered, more
than once.
It would have been well, indeed, had Harry kept his eyes turned oftener
toward the shore