“You don’t have to ask why. This is private property. You can’t land here. You’d better leave at once.”
The boys hesitated. As though to emphasize his commands, the man in the black hat reached suddenly into his pocket and whipped out a wicked-looking revolver. Then he folded his arms, tapping the barrel of the revolver against one shoulder very deliberately.
“Turn that boat around and get out of here!” he snapped. “Don’t come back. Don’t ever come back. Don’t ever try to land here. This is private property. If you ever do land here you’ll be shot.”
The boys were unarmed. They realized that nothing would be gained by argument. Tony slowly brought the boat around.
“Good-bye,” shouted Joe cheerfully.
The stranger did not reply. He stood there, gazing fixedly after them, his arms still folded, still tapping the revolver against his shoulder as the motorboat made its way out of the strange bay, out into open water.
“Looks as if he didn’t want us around,” remarked Tony, as soon as the Napoli was out of the cove.
“I’ll say he didn’t!” exclaimed Frank. “What a wicked-looking customer he was! I expected to see him start popping at us with that gun of his before we got out.”
“I don’t want to run into him again,” Joe declared. “He sure gave us our orders. And he meant ’em, too.”
“I wonder who he is,” said Tony.