By this time Clay was thoroughly frightened. He saw that he was in the hands of a desperate and reckless gang of river thieves. While pretending to be a store-boat, the Hawk was merely a floating receptacle for stolen goods, with gambling as an assistant money-maker.
“You said,” the boy began in a moment, trying his best to conceal what he really felt, “that you could fit me out with spark plugs if I came on board.”
“Sure, we can!” answered the captain, with a sty wink at another. We can fit you out with anything on this little old boat.”
“All right,” Clay answered, “if you’ll get me the plugs, I’ll pay for them and go back to the Rambler.”
“No hurry!” laughed the captain. “No hurry at all. Still,” he continued, “if you’re anxious to get back, I’ll send one of the boys into the storeroom to look for the spark plug while you come up for a little social visit in the cabin.”
“No need of that,” smiled Clay, “I may as well remain on the lower deck. It probably won’t take long to find what I need.
The captain took the boy by the arm in a manner evidently intended to be friendly.
“Oh, come on!” he said. “We’ve got a slick little boat here, and I want you to look her over.”
“You bet we have!” cried another, “and we don’t let guests leave us without giving them something of a treat.”
Clay’s inclination was to deal the insulting captain a blow in the face, plunge into the river, and make for the Rambler. He knew very well, however, that such a course would instantly bring about hostilities; whereas, if he pretended to be unaware of their purpose, assistance in some form might come to him.