“Right pert boat you’ve got there,” he said, at last.
“Never mind the boat now,” Alex answered. “She’s drifting downstream every minute. Tow her to shore and help me to get this net out of the propeller.”
“So it’s a net in the propeller, is it?” snarled the man from the houseboat. “I hope you hain’t gone and took up my net.”
“Did you have a net out in the river?” asked the boy.
“I certainly did!” was the reply. “And if you’ve gone and cut it up, you’ll pay for it.”
Alex knew very well that the man from the houseboat had never owned a net of the value of the one he had destroyed, but he decided to have no words with the fellow until the Rambler was ready to proceed on her journey. He saw that the man was evidently seeking a quarrel.
“Yessir!” the riverman went on. “If you’ve gone and cut up my net you’ll pay me a good price for it. There’s too many of you sports romping up and down the river with your gasoline boats.”
“Time enough to talk about that when we get the boat over to the shore,” Alex declared. “I don’t want to drift downstream any farther.”
Scowling and complaining over the exertion required, the fellow finally managed to work the Rambler into the mouth of the creek where the houseboat lay. As Alex took in the situation at one quick glance, he saw two evil-faced fellows lounging on the deck of the houseboat.
“What you got, Mose?” one of them called out to the riverman.