The sight of a passenger on the wharf put a stop to the conversation, and the rivals once more found themselves engaged in an exciting race. Bob had a decided advantage, having a much lighter boat, and two oars to Sam's one, and he would have beaten him very easily, had not one of the bully's friends sculled up and intercepted him. This occasioned a delay—for Bob was obliged to stop in order to avoid a collision—and by the time he got started again, another of Sam's right-hand men had run alongside the wharf and secured the passenger.
This convinced the fisher-boy that his enemies were not disposed to allow him "fair play," and being determined not to yield to them an inch, he pulled in his oars and began to hoist his sail.
"Look out there now, Sam Barton!" said he, "I'm coming after you."
"Eh!" ejaculated the bully. "What are you going to do?"
"If you wait until I get this sail hoisted you'll find out!" was the reply. "Clear the track, now, if you don't want to get hurt! Jack Bennett, if you want your scow sent to the bottom of the harbor, just run athwart my hawse again!"
Sam needed no second warning. He comprehended Bob's plan in an instant, and seeing that the sail began to draw, and that the skiff's bow was slowly veering round toward him, he caught up his oar and pulled for the shelter of the pier as if his life depended upon the issue.
"Run, run, fellers!" he exclaimed. "That ar Bobby Jennings'll sink the last one of you."
The ferry-boys, believing that they had at last succeeded in arousing an ugly customer, scattered in all directions; and Bob, thinking it a capital opportunity to show them that he was in earnest, and that it was not his intention to allow himself to be imposed upon any longer, started in hot pursuit of Sam, who was doing his best to keep out of harm's way. Had the fisher-boy succeeded in overtaking him, it is hard to tell what he might have done in his excitement. He might have allowed Sam to escape after frightening him thoroughly, as he had done before, but fortunately his forbearance was not put to the test. Fear infused new strength into the bully's arms, and he succeeded in running under the wharf, where the skiff could not follow him.
During the remainder of the afternoon Bob had that part of the harbor all to himself. Keeping his sail hoisted, he moved swiftly about in all directions, picking up a passenger here and there, and all the while watching the movements of Sam Barton, who hardly dared to stir from his place of refuge. He was not idle, however, for, calling together some of his friends, he tried to induce them to join him in an attack upon the fisher-boy. They were all highly enraged, and there was not one among them who would have been sorry to see Bob and his new boat sunk out of sight in the waters of the harbor; but none of them could muster up courage enough to make an assault upon him.