“I think not, Bob,” he said. “Frank and I saw them first. We ambushed them, practically. They didn’t have a chance.”
“You don’t mean—”
Jack’s gaze was steady but troubled.
“We had to do it, old man,” he said. “It was our life or theirs. And yours, especially. When we heard your shout, and those first shots, Frank went wild with fear that you had been trapped while we were away enjoying ourselves. And I guess I felt as bad as he did.”
“Hey, fellows,” interrupted Frank, hailing them, “the two that got away must have been all that were left. They’ve jumped in a canoe and are paddling like mad for the mainland.”
“Can you see them?” called Jack, starting to the top of the knoll to join his chum.
“How would I know what they were doing if I couldn’t?” rejoined Frank. “Yes, I can see them. Look there.”
He pointed.
“Tie up that other fellow, Bob, and make him walk up here to join his little playmates,” Jack called back.
Bob complied. The man groaned, but by now he had fully recovered his senses, and he obeyed Bob’s order to move with an alacrity that showed he stood in abject fear of the husky young American.