he formal hearing of the men arrested the
night before would take place in court. Hank Butts was left to watch
over the boat and keep an eye over the joiner.

"Any strangers around here?" queried the young skipper, after the
joiner, his work completed, had gone aboard.

"Only a young black boy," Hank replied. "He seemed curious to look
over the boat, but he didn't offer to go below, or touch anything, so
I didn't chase him off."

"Cast off, Hank. Give us some power, Joe, and we'll get back to Lonely
Island," declared the young captain, going to the wheel.

Hardly more than a minute later the "Restless" was gliding out of the
harbor.

"Guess Hank's young negro visitor left a note," called up Joe, showing
in the doorway of the motor room and holding forth a note. Hank took
it, passing it to Halstead.

"Mind the wheel a minute, Hank, please," requested Tom, looking
closely at the envelope.

It was addressed only to "Halstead," the writing being in red, and
thick, as though laid on with the point of a stick. The message on the
sheet inside was crisp and to the point. It ran:

If you think your doings have been forgotten, you'll soon know
differently!

"Humph!" muttered Joe, following up, and taking the sheet as his chum
held it out. "That must be from Anson Dalton."

"Or Captain Dave Lemly, of the 'Black Betty,'" returned Tom, without a
trace of concern in his tone.

"It's a threat, all right," muttered Hank Butts, his hair bristling
when the sheet came into his hands. "Confound 'em, I hope whoever
sent this tries to make good--when we're looking!"

Just then Captain Tom changed the course abruptly, the bows of the
"Restless" sending up a shower of spray that sprinkled Hank from head
to foot. As he turned to get out of the way the wind caught the sheet
written in red from his hand, blowing it out across the water.

"Let it go," laughed Tom. "We know all the red message had to say."

"The negro that I allowed on deck came on purpose to drop the note
where it would be found," muttered Hank.

"No matter," smiled Tom. "We're always glad to know that we're
remembered by nice people."

"I'd like to have that black boy here for a minute or two," grunted
Hank, clenching his fists.

"What for?" Tom Halstead queried. "He probably didn't have any guilty
knowledge about the sender."

"That reminds me," broke in Joe. "Stand close by the motors a few
minutes, will you, Hank?"

With that Dawson vanished aft.