"Tell that to the marines," retorted the long-nosed man. "We'll have that boat, or we'll know a better reason than you're giving."
"Reason enough, and here's my proof," quoth the Frémont man. "The boat's pre-empted by us three. You must hunt another claim."
Mr. Adams promptly stepped forward, to the Frémont man's side.
"What's this about?" he demanded.
"Oh, it's you again, is it—you and your kid!" snarled the long-nosed man. "You're chalking up another score to settle, are you?" And, to his fellows: "What do you say, boys? Shall we throw them overboard?"
"Over they go," announced one of the other men—a thin sallow, drooping-moustached kind—with marvelous swiftness whipping from under his coat breast a fifteen-inch blade bowie-knife.
"Over they go!"
Charley's heart leaped into his throat with horror. He wanted to spring to his father's side, but his legs would not work. However, the affair was settled very easily. The Frémont man quickly handed his rifle to Mr. Adams, grabbed the long-nosed Jacobs, in bear-like grip, and fairly threw him into the man with the knife. Together the pair went down in a heap, almost knocking over several of the onlookers.