“Yes, that was a slick trick, pretending to break down. We’ve got ’em whar we want ’em now. They can’t do anything to us fer fear uv causing trouble fer the kid here.”
“That’s so,” struck in a third voice, that of old Israel’s other son, “but jes the same, it ’pears to me like we’ve bitten off more’n we kin chew this trip.”
“Sho!” exclaimed the old man scornfully. “Ain’t we a-gittin’ paid fer it?”
“Yes, and enough to git us right out of these diggins if they git too hot to hold us,” chimed in Seth reassuringly. “Ain’t no call to be narvous.”
“Of course there isn’t,” struck in another voice, which Nat recognized as Minory’s. He lay perfectly still, feigning that he was still unconscious. He wanted to hear all that he could. From what he had already caught, he realized that a trick had been played on them and that the motor craft owned by old Harley had not been injured at all; and that the pretended breakdown was only a deception to get him on board and divert the hunt from Minory to himself.
“You’re perfectly safe in this,” Minory went on, addressing old Harley and the others; “the interests I represent would go to a good deal more expense than this to get me safely on my way with what I have in my possession. As for the boy there, you’d best keep him out of the way for a while. That’ll keep his friends busy chasing around after him instead of bothering me.”
“Say, mister, you’re a slick ’un, all right,” declared old Harley in an admiring tone. “It was a good thing we had that little cubby hole up in the bow to stow you in, though, or your scheme might hev fallen through.”
“Phew! I thought I’d die cooped up in there,” declared Minory. “How did you ever come to have a secret hiding place on your boat?”
“Wall, guv’ner, that’s our business,” responded the old man; “but once in while we have stuff on board that it might be inconvenient for the Customs officers to find, an’ so we just rigged up that little stowage fer safe keeping.”
Nat guessed that the “cubby hole” referred to and in which Minory had evidently been hidden while he vainly searched the boat for him, was used in old Israel’s illicit trade for the convenient and safe hiding of the opium he smuggled.
“Well, I’ve fallen into the hands of a fine lot of rascals,” he thought to himself, “but they’ll hardly dare to do more than keep me a prisoner, and maybe I’ll find some way of getting out before long. I wonder where we’re headed for? Gracious, how my head aches!”