“There was no shooting when we left,” Alex answered.
“Come, come, now!” the merchant advised. “You boys may as well tell me the truth. Was it one of them pirate boats that sent you here after motor supplies?”
“We have a motor boat of our own,” Alex answered angrily. “She is lying in an eddy on the other side of the bend, and we don’t dare to drift her down stream.”
“That’s too bad!” said the suspicious merchant with another long and insulting wink. “What is it you want in the way of supplies?”
“Spark plugs,” was the short answer.
“Well,” said the merchant, “extending a bony finger and poking Alex on the chest, “I keep a few spark plugs because there are a good many motor boats passing along the river.”
“Yes,” laughed the man who stood with him on the platform, “you keep spark plugs, but you take pretty good care not to sell them to men who will put them to unlawful use.”
“That’s the idea!” said the merchant.
“Will you sell us some?” asked Case indignantly.
“I might,” was the reply, “after a time. Just now, you see,” he went on, regarding his companion knowingly, “just now, we think we’d better hold you boys until we find out what all that shooting is about.”