Don laughed outright. “I think you’ll have to go a long way to make any big money on it,” he said.
But Benito shook his head easily. “Oh, no, we won’t. Your father will be willing to pay a heavy price for your safe return, my boy. So we’ll just keep you here until he does come across with a neat little day’s pay. All you have to do is write a letter to your father, telling him where you are, or about where you are, and asking him for a sum I will name for you. That will be your end of the game.”
Don grinned. “That’s all I have to do, huh?”
“Yes, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s just twice as much as I intend to do. I won’t write a line for you, and you can do what you like about it.”
Benito jerked the cigar from his lips. “You’ll do just as we tell you!”
“I’ll not write one single line,” Don came back, steadily.
They glared at each other for a moment, Benito inwardly raging, Don angry but perfectly calm. Then Benito smiled evilly.
“So that’s the way you feel about it, is it? Well, I don’t think you’ll feel just that way after you haven’t eaten for a few days. You’ll change your tune by that time.”
Don’s thoughts flew to Jim and Terry aboard the sloop, but as though the man could read his thought he said: “You needn’t think your friends on the boat can help you any. We’re going out there as soon as it gets dark and take that little ship for our own. Then we’ll put those two boys in here with you, for company.”