"Doright," he ordered, "go back up to that there path and see what them folks wants. If they're strangers let 'em go on. If they're the fellers I think they is, toll 'em along and lose 'em. You'll know where to find me at the factory if I lose you now."
"Yaas, sir, Boss," grinned the negro. "Ah'm named Doright."
Arnold and Harry were compelled to lie with outstretched arms and fingers digging into the sand while their comrades parleyed with Doright in plain hearing of their place of concealment. Neither dared to make a sound or in any way attract the attention of their friends. Lopez was swinging the rifle muzzle slowly back and forth.
After Doright and the other, party had proceeded to the destroyed cabin Lopez compelled his prisoners to get to their feet and walk ahead of him in the path.
"We'll have a nice little boat ride, boys," stated Lopez in a pleased tone of voice. "We're going to have a pleasant trip, too."
No answer was made to this remark by either of the boys. Their silence seemed to anger Lopez, for he upbraided them for their sulkiness. His moods changed quickly. Frowns tramped the heels of smiles. One moment he was gay, the next in despair.
Arrived at the leaning oak he compelled the lads to untie both boats, towing the small skiff that had been brought by Harry and Arnold behind the big scow rowed by their friends. Into this scow he put the boys and then seated himself, rifle in hand.
"Grab a root and growl, now," commanded Lopez. "I'm ridin' this trip. And mind you," he continued, "you better row quiet. No splashin' and bangin' around with them oars."
"We'll row as well as we can," replied Harry. "A Boy Scout always does everything he undertakes as well as he knows how."
"You're great Boy Scouts, you are," sneered Lopez. "If I had a boy like you, I don't know what I would do with him."