“The best way out of this scrape,” put in Alex, “is for you to stop shooting and also get out of the boat! If you don’t, the craft will be destroyed. Do you get that?”
“The first man who tries to get to the anchor-chain will regret it,” Clay put in. “That will be the signal for the blowing up of the Esmeralda.”
“The best thing you can do is to quickstep off the boat!” Buck suggested. “The lads have you too dead to skin.”
“And no shooting after you get ashore, mind,” added Rube.
Had there been a man in the crew with the nerve of either one of the boys, or of Rube or Buck, there would have been “doings,” but all feared the sticks of dynamite in Clay’s hands.
While the outlaws consulted together, not knowing what course to pursue, one of their number fired a shot at Clay.
The boy staggered and would have fallen had not Alex sprang forward and caught him. Blood was pouring in a stream from a wound in his arm, and he sat down behind the railing to catch his breath.
“Close call, that!” he said, with a faint smile.
Buck seized the dynamite, which had fallen to the deck, and hurled it across the water in the direction of the Esmeralda.
It struck the bow of the boat and shattered it to splinters. The next instant marked an exit from the boat.