From the shadows beside the boathouse a man stepped into view. He darted to the window of the boathouse and called out: “Beat it, Barney, the kids is coming!”
Don dashed forward, clutching at the man, who was tall and thin, but the man twisted savagely and got away. At the same time Terry and Jim ran to the window, but they were too late. A small man leaped nimbly over the sill and joined his companion in flight.
“After them!” shouted Don, as they heard the men thrashing their way through the tangled undergrowth. All three boys joined in the chase, following the men with ease by the sound of their headlong progress. The chase led them to the edge of their own creek, where the men jumped into a small boat and pushed away from the shore.
“The dinghy!” gasped Jim.
The Mercer boys turned and ran to where the sloop was anchored, and Terry followed them. Riding gently on the waters of the creek, attached to the Lassie by a rope, was a new dinghy. Into this rowboat the boys piled, Don and Jim seizing the oars.
“Cast off, Terry,” Don called.
Terry slipped the rope from the deck of the sloop and the brothers began to pull toward the other boat, which was drifting aimlessly along the creek. Both men seemed to be in the back of their boat, bending over something. Just as the boys got within hailing distance one of the men whirled his arm, there was a flash of a spark, and a small motor began to hum.
“I knew it!” Don groaned. “He’s got an outboard motor.”
One of the men seized the tiller and the other boat ran rapidly down the creek, leaving the rowboat with the boys in it far behind. Although they knew it was useless they followed, reaching the broad expanse of the ocean. But once in the open water they lost track entirely of the other boat and its occupants.
“It’s no use,” Jim declared. “We haven’t a chance to find them.”