The little motor boat had left the Apollyon far behind, ignoring shouts from its deck to halt, before Skippy dared break the tense silence.

“Gee, Pop,” he stammered fearfully, “what happened between you and Mr. Flint anyway, huh? Because you didn’t even say goodnight to the mate an’ you got in the boat an’ told me so cranky an’ all to push off before I got a chance to say goodnight to him, either—gee whiz! I never seen you act so funny before in my life. What’s the matter, huh?”

Toby Dare groaned and buried his face between his hands. Then, for what seemed to Skippy an interminable time, he rocked to and fro and the groans that escaped him were distressing to the waiting boy.

Finally Skippy could stand it no longer.

“Pop, you gotta tell me what’s the matter! Gee, it’s somethin’ terrible the way....”
45

“Sonny,” Toby interposed brokenly, “git back ter the Minnie M. Baxter jest as quick as yer kin! I got ter put as much water between me—me an’—an’ him as it’s possible ter put.”

“Pop?”

“It’s like a dream, Sonny—a bad dream—a terrible dream. I can’t make head or tail uv it yet. I went ter his cabin ’midships like that mate told me....”

“Yes?” Skippy encouraged.

“I knocked on the door an’ I could uv sworn I heard a kinda grunt like Ol’ Flint does. He’s a man uv few words. Anyways, I goes in an’ there he’s sittin’ in a big chair with a funny grin on his face.”

“Grinnin’ at you, Pop?” Skippy asked clenching his straight white teeth.
46

“That’s what I thought an’ right away I got wild,” Toby answered running his hands nervously through his disheveled hair. “I forgot what I promised—I forgot everythin’ ’ceptin’ the way he’d cheated me an’ I got tellin’ him so but he didn’t say nothin’, but jest kep’ sittin’ there a-grinnin’ that funny way. Well, I knowed as how he always was a man uv few words but I thought he could stop grinnin’ an’ at least say somethin’. But he didn’ an’ that’s what made me see red—I thought he was a-makin’ fun uv me, sorta, an’——”

“You didn’t go for him?” Skippy interposed fearfully.

“Sonny, I jest sorta lost my head,” answered Toby brokenly. “I kin hardly remember what happened ’ceptin’ I realized all uv a sudden that I had my hands ’round his throat an’ I was chokin’ him.”

“And didn’t he make any noise or anythin’?” Skippy was horrified.

“That’s what made me let go. I got wise right then that somethin’ was funny ’cause he didn’t let a sound outa him all the time. His eyes seemed ter git funnier lookin’ though, but he kep’ on grinnin’ jest the same. Then I let go quick an’ plop—over he fell, head first he fell an’ that’s when I saw it——”

“What?”

“That he’d been shot in the back,” Toby whispered looking about uneasily.

“Pop!”

“Sure as guns, Skippy,” Toby moaned pitifully. “Then I knew he musta been dead all the time—even before I got in the room.”

Skippy too groaned.
47

“How—how could he sit up like that then, if he really was dead?” he asked with an audible gulp.

“That’s what I’ve been wonderin’ an’ all I kin think is that whoever did it, sat him up that way after it happened. I could see in his bedroom off uv the room he was sittin’ in an’ papers was lyin’ all ’round like as if there’d been a scrap.”

“With somebody else,” Skippy murmured as if to himself. Then, in a frightened whisper: “What then, Pop?”

“All I could do was stand there like a crazy man,” Toby groaned. “I don’t even remember how long I stood there. It’s all like part uv that nightmare so I can’t remember.”

“I know, Pop.” Skippy tried to sound comforting. “Who—what groaned that time? The second mate and me heard it plain’s anythin’.”

“Me. That was when I knew he was dead! It jest sorta come ter me full in the face an’ I was so full uv fright that I had ter let it out some way.”

Skippy turned around and for a few moments searched the face of his unhappy father.
48

“Pop—Pop,” he faltered, “just one thing I can’t understand—why—why didn’t you tell the second mate, an’ me, right then? Why—why didn’t you spurt it right out an’ not run away when you know you didn’t do it?”

“Who’d believe it?” Toby answered hopelessly. “There was the mark uv my fingers on his throat—there they was! I’d even have ter admit ter that mate that I was mad enough ter choke Ol’ Flint ter death—he could see my fingers there ter prove it, couldn’t he? Well, why wouldn’t he think I give him an automatic in the back afterwards, hey? Why wouldn’t he?”

“But, Pop! If you only had said sumpin!”

“I wanted ter git away from that awful grinnin’ face. As far away as I c’d get. I—I couldn’t stay there ter tell nobody nothin’, Skippy. Besides, do I know I didn’t choke him ter—ter...” He sobbed a moment, then looked up. “Mebbe ’twasn’t the automatic what really got him, Skippy—mebbe ’twas me, hey?”

Skippy reached out and grasped Toby’s damp flannel shirt sleeve in agony.

“Pop, it wasn’t you—I know it—I just feel it!” he cried. “I can tell from all you told me about him grinnin’ like from the time you got inside the room.” He hesitated a moment, then: “You don’t remember him makin’ a sound at all?” he asked, anxiously peering into his father’s face.
49

“Not one sol’tary sound, Sonny—I didn’t hear a one!”

Skippy sighed and again took up the task of steering the little motor boat upstream. His tired young face, however, had taken on a new look of resolution.

“You’re tired, Pop, an’ I’m gonna take you back to the Minnie M. Baxter. Then I’m gonna turn this kicker straight back and head her downstream again an’ I’m goin’ aboard that Apollyon an’ explain the whole thing. I’ll tell ’em everythin’ like you told me an’ I bet they’ll believe it all right ’cause they’ll see that my Pop couldn’t kill anybody.”

Toby said nothing but continued to rock back and forth with his head in his hands.

“Maybe—maybe you’re not so tired an’ you’d turn ’round with me an’ go back an’ tell ’em, huh Pop?” Skippy returned anxiously.

“Skippy,” Toby cried hoarsely, “jest now I wanta go back ter the Minnie M. Baxter an’ think. Like a good boy don’t talk about it no more till we get there, hey?”
50

Skippy, bewildered, promised that he wouldn’t, and let the little kicker out to the best of her ability. From time to time he heard the miserable sighs of his father, and over and over again he told himself the story of Josiah Flint’s strange death just as Toby had told it. But with each recurring thought, a strange suspicion asserted itself and clamored so hard in the boy’s conscious mind that he was forced to recognize that it was a doubt, a small one, but nevertheless a doubt of his father’s story.

And by the time they were once more on board the Minnie M. Baxter, Skippy was fearful that possibly, after all, his father might be the actual murderer of Josiah Flint!