He saw that the man had in some manner, secured possession of a piece of heavy driftwood. This club he was raising to bring down on the head of Frank, who was nearest to him. There was no time to call out, for the stick was already descending, and Andy did the next best thing.
With a quick shove of his foot he sent his brother sprawling over on his side in the sand, while the club came down harmlessly, but only a few inches away.
CHAPTER XXVIII
BUILDING A RAFT
“What was the matter?” gasped Frank, somewhat dazed, as he crawled away and sat up. “Why did you shove me over?”
“Don’t you see?” asked Andy quickly. “He was going to hit you! Then he’d have tackled me I guess. Look out! He’s at it again!”
With a snarl of rage the man had again raised the club. But Frank was too quick for him. Fairly leaping at him, the sturdy lad tore the piece of driftwood away and tossed it some distance off.
“So! That’s how you keep your promise, is it?” the elder lad asked. “We won’t give you any more chances. We’ll tie him up again, Andy, and let him go hungry for a while.”
The man glared hatred at them, and tried to fight them with the hand they had freed so that he might eat. But the two lads were more than a match for him in his condition, and soon had him made fast again. He had eaten only a part of his dinner when he thought he saw this chance to make his escape.
“Are you going to leave me like this?” he growled, when Andy and Frank resumed their interrupted meal. “I’ll get sunstruck.”
“It would almost serve you right,” murmured Frank, “but we’ll return good for evil. Let’s make a sort of shelter, Andy.”