After proceeding a few paces, however, the power was shut off, and she remained swinging in the almost stagnant waters of the bight. Her position was, perhaps, a hundred paces to the north of the cut-off, and perhaps ten paces from the shore where the boys were.
“I guess they’ve got us going now!” Case exclaimed regretfully. “They’ll shoot upstream in a minute, and that’ll be the last of the merry old Rambler! We’ll have to build another boat, boys!”
No one replied, for just at that moment the splash of oars and poles was heard, coming swiftly down the cut-off. The boys turned their eyes in that direction and almost shouted in their amazement as three blue lights, following the channel of the cut-off, proceeded to the west, to all appearances floating six or eight feet above the surface of the water! The boys stood silent for a moment.
“Now, what do you think of that?” whispered Clay. “Three times and out!”
“I know now what the three blue lights mean!” gasped Case. “They constitute a signal used by the night-riders!”
“There ain’t any tobacco warehouses to burn here!” Jule scoffed.
The three blue lights came on steadily, stopping after a time at the very mouth of the cut-off, two or three hundred feet from where the Rambler lay.
Heretofore the lights had seemed to be floating in the air. Now the boys could faintly distinguish the bulk of a boat looking weird and ghostly under the mysterious illumination.
“I wonder if that won’t scare the pirates?” asked Jule.
The answer came from the Rambler itself, for the motors were turned on and the boat whirled swiftly away toward the opposite bank of the river. Then a volley of shots rang out from the mysterious boat, and a voice called over the water: