“But,” Clay began, but the leveled revolver stopped him, for he saw murder in the little eyes.
The first work of the intruder was to collect all the weapons in sight and put them out of reach of the boy, who stood in the meantime with his hands raised above his head.
Then Paul received his attention. The fellow made a critical examination of the broken leg, smiling as he did so.
“You have taken excellent care of him,” was his only comment.
“What is it that you want?” Clay asked again, still watching for his chance.
“Your boat,” answered the fellow.
He paused a moment, as if considering, and then nodded his head in the direction of the place where Paul was lying, with his hands also well up in the air.
“And the kid,” he added.
“If it is money you want, name the sum,” Clay said. “He has been hurt, and can’t be moved.”
The fellow chuckled and made no reply. He took some strong cord from a pocket and proceeded to tie Clay. Was there no chance of escape? If Case would only return!