“Hi, there! What’s the matter? Got no sense? Get that skiff of yours away so I can get out. What do you mean locking me in that way? Trying to hog the river?”
Frank turned to see whose was this heavy, coarse, fierce voice, and faced Fordham Jeek!
“Oho, it’s you, eh? What’re you trying to do? Get stuff out of my boat?” and the big fellow showed his yellow teeth and pushed his head forward from the broad shoulders.
Frank was looking him straight in the eye, while two shifty men stood behind the man from Bellport.
“Best thing we can do for you, young fellow, is to throw you into the river. What’s on my boat that you want?” the big man kept on.
“Listen, you!” returned Frank, calm of voice and cool. “You’ve said just about enough. I’m here to attend to some business and not to have you throwing insults.”
“Don’t talk to your betters that way, you low-down dog killer!” yelped Jeek.
“Move along, big boy,” quietly answered Frank. “I’m not hunting for trouble. Want to get out? I’ll move off while you get away,” with which he motioned Minnie aboard, followed her, and backed the Rocket.
“Thought you’d change your tune!” sneered Jeek. “You ain’t paid for the dog yet. Going to pay for it? What? Better pay in money or I’ll take it out of your hide.”
Frank kept silent. He circled around and came back to the landing as the other boat pulled away.