“Joe’s fired his torpedo!” cried Pat.
A lookout on the Iron Mate saw the torpedo and the old tramp swung its stern into the clear just in time. The torpedo streaked on out to sea.
Tim’s attention shifted back to the pilot of the crippled seaplane. It was landing at least a mile away from the Iron Mate and he admired the cool nerve of the other pilot, who brought his craft down to a safe landing. With motor dead, the flyer would have to wait for a boat from the Iron Mate to pick him up.
Tim sent the Sea King into a dive while Pat shouted questions at him, landed and taxied alongside the disabled plane.
Pat covered the other flyer with his machine gun. Tim recognized the pilot as the man who had flown the amphibian for Sladek on the trip to Cedar river valley.
Fierce anger glowed in the eyes of the other pilot, but he remained silent as Tim scrambled onto the right pontoon and made his way toward the rear cockpit.
“Don’t try any funny business,” Tim warned. “My partner’s got an itchy trigger finger.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” snarled the other.
“Don’t let that trouble you,” retorted Tim. “You’d better worry how you’re going to get away from here. You know if we decided to put a few holes in your pontoons it would be a long swim to the Iron Mate and the sharks might be hungry.”
“You wouldn’t dare do that.”