"All right," agreed Tom. "Can we keep Rowdy quiet, too?
"Sure you'll be quiet, won't you, old chap?"
Rowdy's answer was an attempt to "kiss" his friend.
For some time the boys sat in silence, hoping every moment for the
return of their friends. It was growing dusk and Jack was becoming
anxious. Just as he was about to speak, Rowdy seemed to stiffen as if
pointing something. The hair on his shoulders rose on end, while a
scarcely audible growl escaped from his throat.
Although the boys sat in the shadow of the pilot house and were
indistinguishable to anyone below in the shipyard, they could still see
each other. Jack touched Frank and Tom lightly and then using the sign
language employed by mutes he said to them:
"Rowdy sees or smells something he doesn't like."
"I see it, too," signaled Tom. "It's that watchman friend of yours. He's
coming back to see if we left some of our supper."
"He was a hungry looking chap," wigwagged Frank. "I'd like to feed him
up a little and put some fat on his ribs once."
"It would take a mint of money to buy the grub," Tom's fingers spelled
out. "He's what the livery stable owner would call a hard keeper. He
needs a dose of something. I don't like him."
"Rowdy doesn't like him either," Jack's fingers were working. "But who
is that other chap beside him? Hush! They're coming this way as sure as
I'm alive. Is he bringing the family?"
"Wait a minute," spelled out Frank. "I wish I could talk.
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