“Never mind the law!” Clay answered. “If you don’t want to get bored through with a forty-five, keep away from the boat.”
“I’ve got to come aboard!” was the answer to this.
“And I’ve got to keep you from doing so!” Clay answered. “We are not interfering with you, or with the laws of Mexico, and we have no notion of spending a few months in a Mexican jail while you people dispose of our boat and our supplies. Keep off! I’ll shoot if you come a foot closer. What have you done with the boy you took off the Rambler?”
Case looked up from the motors with a hopeful smile. Perhaps that was the solution of the puzzle! These men might have in some way stolen the food and taken Alex away. This thought was more cheerful than the one that the boy had fallen into the river and been drowned.
The roar of the motors drowned the answer, if, indeed, any was made. As the propellers swung into motion two figures separated themselves from the prow of the boat, where they had been clinging, out of sight, and struck out toward shore. Clay called to them to stop, but they paid no attention to the command. Directly they were taken into the rowboat. Clay smiled as he took in the situation.
“It is easy now,” he shouted. “Those men were evidently diving and shifting the anchor shoreward, being unable to break the chain, and being afraid to go on board. Guess they know nothing about motors, or they’d have had the Rambler miles up stream long before this!”
The Rambler now struck out for the Gulf, traveling at a swift pace. If Alex had indeed fallen into the stream, they might yet be able to save his life, as he was a strong swimmer and resourceful. The men in the rowboat followed on, losing ground, but persistent. At last Clay halted the boat and called back to them:
“What do you people want of us?”
“Just a little talk,” was the reply, shouted over the water.
“You tried to steal the boat!” Case shouted back. “You’re thieves!”