“Because neither side can get into the boat,” replied Case, grasping the situation at once. “Anyone showing himself under that prow light would be shot to death in a second. The only way the ruffians can get to the Rambler is to shoot out the light.”
“Then how are we ever to get on board?” asked Frank.
“Drive the outlaws away!” replied Case.
“Sure!” Jule put in, thoughtfully, “and I’ve found a way to do it. You just watch me.”
The two boys watched Jule with both wonder and amusement in their eyes as he drew out a great bunch of old-fashioned sulphur matches and began rolling them between the palms of his hands. Very little came from his efforts, and Case began poking fun at him.
“Doesn’t work like it did when you scared the wits out of the Indian, does it?” he demanded. “I reckon we ran so fast through the thickets that we left the sulphur stuff behind, leaving only the dry sticks in your pocket!”
“Never you mind,” Jule answered, “you just wait until I get ready, then I’ll show you something worth while.”
“That’s what Frank said about his cargo!” cried Case, apparently determined to find whatever humor there was in the situation. “Where is that cargo now, kid?” he added, turning toward Frank and giving him a pull by the arm. “Do you think that Indian carried it off with him?”
“I’m going after the cargo before daylight,” the lad replied, stubbornly.
“Yes you are!” Jule broke in. “We’re going to get as far away from Ruination creek as we can before sunrise! You see what Clay says about your going into that mess again! Why, kid, those men you saw—the friends of yours who are trying to get the boat now!—will hang around here for a month if we don’t go away—just on the chance of getting the Rambler.”