With his glasses still on the _Easy Action_, he saw one of the boys raising the anchor. He saw the yawl set a course toward Ka Lae, leaving the sunken sloop abandoned.
Too bad about Dr. Weber. Maybe someone would find him, maybe they wouldn’t. Perez Soto didn’t care. All he wanted to do now was to establish his salvage rights, and do so in the shortest possible time.
He stepped back from the ledge and started walking rapidly toward his hideout.
Thomas Brewster and Hanale Mahenili watched with torn emotions as Perez Soto threatened and tormented Dr. Weber. Both men wanted to act. Both knew, however, that to do so would not only endanger the doctor’s life, but would also jeopardize their chances of rescuing the old man.
The morning passed. Perez Soto continued his threats. But the old doctor held firm. He refused to answer any of his captor’s questions.
Madeira, Perez Soto’s henchman, kept his snub-nosed revolver steadily pointed at the doctor. Brewster and Mahenili didn’t dare try to jump the kidnapers.
About noontime, Perez Soto took the gun from Madeira. Madeira prepared some food by lighting a small fire and heating up some stew he took from a can. The smell of the steaming stew rising to the cliff where Brewster and Mahenili were hiding, sent sharp pangs of hunger rumbling through their stomachs.
Shortly after Perez Soto and Madeira had eaten, Perez Soto, as if having an afterthought, poked a spoonful of food at the doctor’s mouth. The doctor turned his head away.
“Look at that, Hank,” Brewster whispered. “I think the doctor wants to die. He’s refusing food.”
“Perhaps he feels that death is preferable to any more of Perez Soto’s threats and demands.”
About two o’clock, Perez Soto entered the cave which he was using for a hideout and emerged minutes later with a pair of binoculars slung over his shoulder.
“Guard the old man well,” he ordered. “I’ll be back before sunset.” He strode off.
Brewster whispered to Mahenili. “I think our chance will come now. We’ll let Perez Soto get well on his way, then we’ll find a way of jumping the guard.”
The time came more quickly than either man could have hoped for. Madeira, his stomach filled with stew, could be seen to yawn. They saw him shake his head to ward off sleep. Apparently feeling that there was little threat of Dr. Weber’s attempting to escape, the guard checked the ropes binding the doctor’s hands and feet. He sat down nearby, propping his back against a large boulder, the gun in his hands.