“You’ve got the check safe, Dean?” asked the judge. “Yes, sir.” “Then, good-by. I shall expect to see you back here by to-morrow night.” “Surely, sir,” replied Jack Carboy. “Come, captain, we’re started on the voyage at last!” Seeing no reason for further delay in starting for the pier, Dean suggested that they go aboard the _Warrior_ at once. Accordingly, he and his quaint companion bade the judge adieu and started toward the lake shore at a rapid pace. They had barely got in sight of the pier when Dean stopped with a low exclamation of surprise. “Look! See! We are too late!” he cried. “The _Warrior_ has left her moorings and is headed down the lake!” “Ship ahoy!” bellowed Jack Carboy at the top of his stentorian lungs, while he dashed madly toward the shore, closely followed by Dean Mercer. A crowd of boys witnessed their hasty advance, and shouted after them in derision and mirth. “Hie, there, or your feet will run away with your heads!” “See old brine roll along!” CHAPTER III. THE SLY HAND OF THE ENEMY. After what we have said of Tim Downey, it is to be expected that he would act promptly in doing what he could to baffle Dean Mercer in his purpose. Unexpectedly he had come into possession of the other’s secret. He had followed Dean Mercer to Judge Oglesby’s house, and by means of an open window in the library he had overheard the conversation about the new steamer. If this had been no fault of Dean’s, it was Tim’s good fortune, and he resolved to improve his advantage to the utmost. Fired with the spirit of this discovery, he started toward the pier, his crafty eyes lighting with satisfaction as he murmured the words which indicated his intentions: “I’ll see Rodney Darringford!” he chuckled. “Won’t he be surprised? Won’t the old colonel be kerflummixed? A new steamer! that cooks their dough sure.” Tim reached the pier. It was always a scene of bustle and activity at leaving time. Juvenile Millville loved to haunt the shadow of the steamer, and, besides, the _Warrior_ carried considerable freight and many passengers on its afternoon trip to Springfield. “Hey, boy! come here!” Tim had addressed a keen-eyed, ragged urchin. “What is it?” demanded the latter, eying Tim with no great favor. “Want to earn a nickel?” “Yes, I do, but you haven’t got one!” “Haven’t I? See here!” and Tim produced the designated coin. “Come with me.” He led the way to where a pile of lumber shut out a view of the boat. “Now, then,” he said, “you go aboard the steamer.” “What for?” “And find Rodney Darringford.” “All right, I know him!” “Tell him that Tim Downey wants to see him, and bring him here.” “All right. Gimme the nickel.” “There it is.” The urchin scampered off. Tim sat down and waited patiently for the result of his experiment. The place was secluded from the sight of people on the pier, the only persons in sight being some children down the beach, playing with an old box that had floated ashore.