But Captain Joe settled the matter of priority in his own way. He had been roaming about the deck of the Esmeralda like a lost spirit ever since the conversation had opened.
He evidently knew that he belonged on board the Rambler, and was peeved at the idea of being kept out of his rights. At any rate he sprang into the river and struck out for the shore.
In a moment all was confusion on board the Esmeralda. Knowing that the dog would be recognized as the canine which had made the attack on the robber at the bank of the river higher up, the boys all sprang to their feet and started pellmell for the railing of the boat. It was Rube who stopped them.
“Now see here, boys,” he expostulated, “you’ll only get cold lead in your systems if you make the attempt to board the Rambler now. The robber will see the dog coming and, doubtless, shoot at him. The dog will give him about one shot, then there’ll be a mix-up.
“The chances are about even the way I’ve got it figured out, but I’m betting on the dog. He has the speed and——”
Rube got no farther. The dog had by this time reached the boat and mounted to the deck, clearing the railing at one leap, aided by driftwood which gave him footing.
The attack was so sudden that the robber fired only one shot and that one an ineffectual one, and then the dog was upon him.
“Come on, boys!” shouted Alex.
“And the grit,” continued Rube, picking up the sentence, “and I’m bettin’ on the dog!”
There was no time to reach the Rambler by boat, so the boys plunged into the river and started to swim. But the man in the bushes had to be reckoned with.