As soon as Hopalong caught sight of the captain, the rifle went up and he announced his presence without loss of time. “Throw up yore hands, you pole-cat! I'm running this ranch from now on!”
The captain wheeled with a jerk and his mouth opened, and then clicked shut as he started forward, his rage acting galvanically. But he stopped quickly enough when he looked down the barrel of the Winchester and glared at the cool man behind it.
“What the blank are you doing?” he yelled.
“Well, I ain't kidnapping cow-punchers to steal my boat,” replied Hopalong. “An' you fellers stand still or I'll drop you cold!” he ordered to the assembled and restless crew. “Johnny!” he shouted, and his companion popped up through the hatch like a jack-in-the-box. “Good boy, Johnny. Tie this coyote foreman like you did the others,” he ordered. While Johnny obeyed, Hopalong looked around the circle, and his eyes rested on Hogan's face, studying it, and found something there which warmed his heart. “Friend, do you know the back trail? Can you find that runt of a town we left?”
“Aye, aye.”
“Shore, you; who'd you think I was talking to? Can you find the way back, the way we came?”
“Shure an' I can that, if I'm made to.”
“You'll swing for mutiny if you do, you bilge-wallering pirate!” roared the trussed captain. “Take that gun away from him, d'ye hear!” he yelled at the crew. “I'm captain of this ship, an' I'll hang every last one of you if you don't obey orders! This is mutiny!”
“You won't do no hanging with that load of weapons below!” retorted Hopalong. “Uncle Sam is looking for filibusters—this here gun is 'cotton,'” he said, grinning. He turned to the crew. “But you fellers are due to get shot if you sees her through,” he added.
“I'm captain of this ship—” began the helpless autocrat.