“What’s that you say?” thundered one of the men from the steamer, as Alex explained to the houseboat men that neither party had any interest whatever in the Rambler.
“You’d better keep truth on your side, young man!” the other whiskey boat man put in.
“That’s right,” Alex declared, dodging away from one of the men who made an attempt to seize him. “That’s right! These whiskey boat men never saw this craft until last night. We rammed their steamer because they tried to block us in a lagoon, and I hope we sunk her.”
“You did all of that!” one of the others replied.
“According to the boy’s statement,” Mose cut in, “you fellows have no right on this boat at all, so I’d advise you to make yourself skurce.”
The recent arrivals saw that they were not making good in their bluff to the houseboat men and so resorted to sterner measures.
Quick as a flash one of them seized the muzzle of the rusty old shotgun, drew it away from the clumsy hands holding it, and dropped the weapon into the river. Almost at the same instant, two automatic revolvers flashed out of the hip pockets of the outlaws.
“Now,” the man who had been doing most of the talking thundered, “you river thieves get off this boat!”
“We will when we get pay for our net!”
“You never owned a net!” shouted the other. “You never had the price of a dozen fish hooks at one time, say nothing about a net!”