The next instant the bulldog had a set of very capable teeth clamped about the throat of the outlaw. The man struggled and gurgled horribly as the impact of the dog’s body threw him back, releasing Alex from his grasp. The boy sprang away and shouted:
“Turn on the lights, boys, turn on the lights!” In a second the powerful searchlight on the prow of the Rambler was turned on the spot from which the call had proceeded. It revealed one of the men lying helpless on the ground, writhing under the dog’s jaws and the other disappearing in a thicket.
Alex picked up the outlaw’s revolver, which had fallen to the ground, and called the dog away. He was stooping over the prostrate figure to ascertain, if possible, the extent of the injuries inflicted by the dog when a shot came from a tangle a short distance away.
“Come on, Captain Joe!” the boy shouted. “Let him alone.”
Leaving the two outlaws on the bank, one-half unconscious, the other raging helplessly in the jungle, the boy and the dog sprang into the lagoon. As they did so another harmless shot came from the interior, and then the lights on the Rambler were switched off.
Several spiteful shots were now fired toward the boat, but the two swimmers were, of course, out of sight of the outlaws, so the bullets were not directed at them.
In a very brief space of time, Alex and Captain Joe were hauled on deck, where they lay dripping and panting for an instant before a word was spoken. The lights were still out.
“You’re a beautiful pair!” Jule whispered, then. “We were just talking about you two getting into a scrape before we got out of the lagoon.”
“Never mind the scrape!” Alex panted, still breathing hard. “Put on full power and steam up out of the lagoon. That whiskey boat is going up to block the way!”
Without waiting for further information on the subject, Clay sprang to the motors and the Rambler was soon making her way upstream.