“Well,” Clay said, “we’ll get on the boat to talk it over! In the meantime, we’ll be putting space between the Rambler and this island. If ever a wrecker’s beacon told where to lure a boat to be plundered, that flame we saw on the island told our sneaking guest when to cut the Rambler loose!”
The boys hastened on board and Clay ran to the motors. At that instant, four men made their appearance on the ledge above the cove, beckoning with their hands and calling out to the boys that they had something of importance to say to them.
“They look to me like triple-plated thieves,” Alex commented, “and I wouldn’t be caught on an island with them for a farm.”
Captain Joe seemed to approve of this decision, for he stood with his feet braced, growling furiously at the beckoning men.
“Boat ahoy!” one of the men cried. “We have a message for you.”
“All right,” Case answered, “you may send it by wireless.”
“But it is important!” came from the man.
During this brief conversation, the motors were slowly drawing the Rambler out of the sandy cove, the electric connection having been made, and the men were rapidly approaching the shore. The boat moved slowly, for the keel was dragging slightly in the sand, and the wreckers, if such they were, stood at the water’s edge before the craft was more than a dozen yards away.
Directly, all appearance of friendship ceased, and the men stood threatening the boys with automatic guns.
“Run back!” one of the men cried, “or we’ll pick you off like pigeons!”