Sam leered savagely at the boy for a moment, picked up the revolver which lay on the floor not far away, put it into a pocket, and then severed the cord.
“Mind you,” he said, as Clay sprang for the pole, “if you try any tricks on us we’ll chuck you to the fish!”
Without paying much attention to the threat, Clay grasped the pole and ran to the prow, which was now entangled in a wilderness of branches springing from the bole of the tree the boat had struck. The boy’s strength was insufficient, and Red came to his assistance. Both pried and pushed, but it seemed impossible to back the boat against the sweep of the current.
As if to make matters worse, a long timber lodged against the stern and added its weight to that of the motor boat and the running water. Sam stood looking on with a cynical smile on his hard face.
“You never can do it,” he finally declared. “We’ll have to let the boat drift down in company with the tree. Just our luck to strike such a snag!”
“If that limb wasn’t in the way,” Red asserted, “we could get the boat out. It binds on the side of the cabin.”
Clay hastened into the cabin and soon returned to the prow with an axe. Both men eyed him sharply as he came forward with the keen-edged implement.
“You know what I told you!” Sam shouted, stepping toward the boy.
“Let him alone!” commanded Red. “I reckon the kid knows what he is about!”
“Now,” Clay explained, addressing the big fellow, who seemed more inclined to be friendly than his companion, “if you’ll stand ready with the pole, I’ll get over on the trunk and cut that limb away. Then we can edge over to the shore.”