"Wait, we must see what that is," called the youthful yacht owner. "Perhaps it's a note from the police about the kidnappers."
Captain Barton swung the indicator over to half-speed astern, and the craft's way was checked. The boy with the letter came on faster.
"Wonderful!" cried Beeby, as he saw the speed the lad was making. "I must get a snapshot of him. I have really lived to see some one in Cuba in a hurry! I must make a picture of it, or no one will believe me when I tell them."
He focused his camera on the lad, who, seeing the glistening glass point at him, ducked, and would have run back.
"Stop it!" commanded Dick, with a laugh. "Wait until he delivers that letter, Beeby, and then you can snap him going back. He's afraid to come on."
The cadet put his camera out of sight, and the boy advanced again.
"Is Senor Alantrez on board?" he asked in Spanish.
"Yes, yes, I am here! What is it? Is my boy found? Is it news from the scoundrels who carried him away?" and the father was trembling in his eagerness.
"It came to the office for you," explained the boy, "and they hurried me down here with it. It arrived through the mail, senor."
With a skilful flip of his fingers he sent the enyelope scaling on deck, like a miniature aeroplane.
