Now he caught the sound of heavy breathing, bordering on snores.  From the fact that these suggestive noises were partly muffled, he believed they came from inside the sharpie’s cabin.

Foot by foot Frank found himself nearing the stern of the sharpie.  He did not need to use the paddle at all, for the current was gently wafting him along in just the direction he wished to go.

So softly did he come that when he reached the sharpie’s counter all he had to do was to just put out his hand and fend off.

He now saw that it was really and truly a boy sitting there.  The other seemed to be not over ten years of age, judging from his size.  He was barefooted, and without either hat or coat, though the night was getting cold now.

Several times he sighed deeply, and once Frank was sure he heard what seemed to be a stifled sob, as though he would have cried had he dared.

Obeying an impulse he could not control, Frank put his hand on the other’s arm, at the same time whispering softly: 

“Don’t make a noise, please.  I’m from the other boat, and I want to help you, if I can.  You may trust me, my boy, to the limit!”

The crouching figure started, and Frank saw a small face bent down close to his own; then a trembling hand caught his, and there came a whisper: 

“Oh! if you only could get me out of this scrape!  I’ll die if I stay here!  They kick me and beat me terribly!  Please take me away, mister!”

Frank’s first impulse was to draw the lad into the dinghy, then his natural caution caused him to hesitate.

“Who are you, boy?” he whispered.

“Joe Abercrombie; and I guess it’s near killed my mother, because they think I run away,” came the quick answer.

“Is your father aboard this boat?”

“I ain’t got any father.  He’s dead long time ago.  I live with my mother and sister down at Cedar Keys.  Please get me off here, mister!  I’ll do anything for you, if you only can!” the boy kept on saying, and unconsciously raising his voice in his excitement.

Frank’s determination was taken.  He would accept the chances of trouble and assist this poor little chap, whose condition seemed so miserable, as the slave of the trio of big, rough spongers.

Before he could say another word, or draw the boy into his dinghy, a gruff voice came booming out of the cabin: 

“Hey!  Who yer talkin’ to out thar, younker?  Wake up, fellers!  I reckon we’re boarded by some reptiles!  Hank!  Carlos!  Git at ’em!”

“Oh!” exclaimed the lad piteously.  “They’ve heard us!  They’re coming out to kill you!  Don’t stop for me, but go!”

But Frank Langdon was not built that way.

Chapter XVI

JOE

With one sweep of his arm Frank drew the little fellow into the dinghy.

Then he snatched up his paddle, and dipped it deeply into the flood.  The corklike boat answered instantly to the demand, and backed away from the side of the anchored sharpie.