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"But Billy Widgeon told me this morning when they started as they was coming back t'other way." The stowaway's news fell like a thunderbolt, and Mark felt a curious chilling sensation come over him, as he tried to keep it from his mother and Mrs O'Halloran. But the latter was quick at seeing there was something wrong, and she stopped and asked what it was, and wrung it unwillingly from the lad.
"Stop a bit," said Joe Basalt, feeling the stowaway's chest. "He's not dead yet. I can feel something moving here. Yes, it's beating." "He's only fainting, then." "Yes." "Quite enough, top. I'll go up and let them know, before he can go on again about it." Up he ran. Joe Basalt used his best exertions to bring the swooning man round. Tiller found Harkaway on deck.
Swiftly his body dwindled, shrinking to a dwarf, an antlike thing, a black dot. Far below on the steely sea-plain, a tiny bubble of white leaped out, then faded. That pinpoint of foam was the stowaway's grave. "Very good," approved the Master, unmoved. He lurched against the rail, as a sudden maneuver of the pilot somewhat flattened out the air-liner's fall.
"How how how how!" burst out Bruff, and shaking his head free he leaped out, followed by Mark and the major, to confront their spear-armed enemy, about whom the dog was leaping and fawning. "Why, Jimpny," cried Mark, "is this you?" as he caught the stowaway's hand. "You scoundrel!" roared the major.
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